To Hide in Holly Springs

Chapter One

She could feel her heart flip-flop inside her chest as she lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come.  But every time Layla’s eyes closed she could see it again.  Her long brown hair pooled around her pillow as tears begged to drip down the sides of her face.  Teenage emotion betrayed her as Layla attempted to push her fears away.

All that could be done had been done.  The only thing left to do was wait.  Wait for the pain to subside, for the fear to melt away, for her troubles to forget about her and go away.  But would they?

As the final tear leaked out of the corner of her eye Layla brushed it off and turned over in bed.  The shadows on the wall were different in Holly Springs, North Carolina, much different than what images danced on her bedroom wall in New York.  There she saw only the moonlight from her high-rise.  No formations captured her attention, begging painful memories to return.  Here, in Holly Springs, even high up in her attic bedroom, she saw birds that flew overhead like in a horror movie, anticipating danger.

Trying to erase the images from her mind, the teen closed her eyes tight.  Finally, Layla began to dose.  Stuck between sleep and wakefulness she heard a voice.  Fuzzy and from a distance, Layla could still detect the whisper as it cast threats to her.  She didn’t dare open her eyes for fear that the image would return in all its glory.  See?  Watch, Layla.  That’s half the fun, isn’t it?  You see what I’m doing?

Deep in sleep, Layla shook her head, vehemently disagreeing with the voice.  No, it wasn’t fun at all.  And if her arms didn’t weigh a thousand pounds each, she might have been able to do something, she thought.  What do you think about this? The voice asked, anticipating the next move, enjoyment dripping from the words.

Again, the teen’s head shook, punctuating her disagreement.  Then, to Layla’s horror, as if magnets played a game of tug-of-war with her eye lids, they opened.  In her mind’s eye the scene played out again, washing her with fresh disbelief, pain, and sheer terror.  How did this happen?  How could I have been so stupid?  Why did I let this happen?Layla’s own voice echoed in her dreams.  Get up, Layla!  Get up!  Her conscience ordered.

But she couldn’t.  The teen was left there to do nothing but be a witness.  Layla prayed her older sister would break in and save her.  But she knew Linda was at the clinic, helping her father do rounds.  Her mother was at the hospital, covering her shift, unable to hear her middle daughter’s silent cries.  No, Layla was alone; alone in her dreams, alone in her conscious thoughts.

At the time, the teen had no idea how brave she’d been.  She thought she was a coward.  To hide in Holly Springs instead of tell the truth about what happened.  But she couldn’t tell.  The voice wouldn’t let her.  Layla would have to do what she could on her own, with only Carla’s help.  Carla had been her best friend since kindergarten, and Carla was the only person whom she could wholly trust.

Layla had planted the seeds to make her nightmare go away.  She had done desperate, unthinkable things that she never dreamed she would do…or ask Carla to do for her.  The teen didn’t know if what she did was right or wrong, but the alternative was impossible.  She didn’t want to think about what could have happened had she told the truth.  Part of her plan had worked, proof was that she was laying in her bed in Holly Springs, North Carolina, thousands of miles from New York, where the trouble still remained.

But would her problems follow her?  Only time would tell.  Her older sister Linda still had ties with Layla’s old fears, but that could be fixed with the proper measures.  The teen would see to that promptly.  Did her parents know?  No, Layla made sure of that.  Carla had been her partner in crime and hid all the evidence far away in New York, where nobody would find it.  Did her little sister Tasha know?  Layla prayed to God each night that she didn’t.  In fact, she prayed that nobody would ever know except Carla and the voice.

But would her prayers be enough?  Had she escaped successfully in Holly Springs?  As Layla drifted deeper and deeper into sleep, the voice finally faded away and the teen slept peacefully.  But little did she know, miles away in New York, the voice lay in bed with eyes wide open.  "It was fun, wasn’t it, Layla?  We’ll have to do that again some time."

Chapter Two

About Six Months Before

Linda Dixon was perched on a chair with heavy eye lids as her and her fellow eleventh grade students listened to yet another lecture about internet predators. Sylvia, her friend next to her, elbowed her, nudging her awake. The woman pacing the stage held the microphone too close to her lips and had evidently reached a pivotal point in her speech.She’s talking about that internet site I was telling you about, Sylvia whispered to Linda. Remember? Sylvia felt special because this high profile woman was discussing something the semi-reclusive teen could relate to.

With her eyes glazed over, Linda ignored her friend and began thinking about the book she couldn’t wait to continue reading, which also happened to be the reason she was falling asleep in school. Linda had become completely enthralled with Fifty Shades of Grey, and watched the sun rise before finally stuffing the book under the mattress in the early morning.

Oh my God! I can’t believe it! I know this site! Sylvia squeaked. My aunt was showing me it just last week!

Sylvia’s Aunt Cathy was divorced, and a weekend drunk, but Linda liked her. Cathy was the one who lent Linda the Fifty Shades trilogy.

Linda was irritated. Would you relax? she hissed. She’s not singing the praises of MidlifeMatchup.com, it’s one of the sites that was hacked recently, which is the reason these weirdos are gaining access to their victims.

Sylvia pursed her lips, smirking under Linda’s scrutiny. God, Linda, you’re such a prude. Besides, you’re one to talk. She gave Linda an evaluating glance. You talk to guys online all the time.

Linda made a tsking sound, rebuffing her friend. "Yeah, but they’re intellectual sites. It’s completely different. The people, she accentuated the word ‘people’, I talk to are in pre-med chat rooms; both males and females. And we’re on there to discuss entering medical school."

Sylvia raised her hand in a gesture that silenced Linda. Whatever.

The woman on stage changed tack, introducing a man who appeared as if from nowhere, suddenly taking the stage. He was in his early twenties, dressed in a dark, casual suit. His voice was gentle, enrapturing, and an audible shuffling was heard from around the lecture hall as all the females sat up straighter, taking notice.

Wow, he’s cute! Sylvia gushed. Don’t you think?

He’s not bad, Linda lied. He was very good-looking, but she didn’t want to admit it, opening herself up for further torture from her overzealous friend.

Not bad? she exclaimed under her breath. Man, how cute are these pre-med guys you talk to online?

Linda had to admit the bar had been raised recently. But she wasn’t about to share that with Sylvia.

Do you have to be pre-med to go on that site? Sylvia pressed. I wanna check some of these hotties out.

Any academic student was welcome to join the site. It was specifically designed for those needing to share ideas and experiences with different colleges and universities, even some high school and college alumna. The site was set up by students for students, but Linda linked herself with strictly the medical chat board, although all registered students were accessible no matter what board you were participating in.

No, future tree trimmers need not become involved, Linda lied. Sylvia was getting on her nerves. And she didn’t want overly excitable Sylvia to have yet something else to talk to Linda about. She preferred to keep her private life just that—private.

Mention of the site reminded Linda that she needed to talk to her dad about something. He would be making rounds at the hospital, so Linda pulled out her cell phone and sent him a text message. As she hit send she noticed there were two unread messages. One was Layla, her younger sister, gushing over the man speaking on stage. She looked over to the other side of the auditorium and saw the sixteen-year-old waving at her.

Sylvia, still gaping at the attractive speaker, ignored Linda’s messaging. But just to be sure, Linda lifted one leg over the other, shielding her phone from her friend’s view before checking the other message.

It was him again.

***

Dad?

Chris lifted his head briefly from the mountain of paperwork staring at him from his desk. His eighteen year old daughter Linda stood in the doorway, looking at him expectantly. The small den was used for him and his wife, Mary, also a doctor, to finish their patient charts at home so they could at least see their children for more than an hour a day. Yep, he answered tersely.

Erm…do you have a minute? I need to ask you something.

Can it wait? I’ve got tons of work to do here.

She gave him the palms up. I sent you a message.

Phone died. He pointed to his iPhone sitting in the charging dock. Can you talk to Mom about it?

Linda and Mary had a falling out a few days prior when Linda missed her curfew, which was normally ignored because Mary and Chris were never home to enforce it. On the one night Mary was home, Linda was caught and was grounded. Not really, Linda answered under her breath, looking off to the side, still feeling wounded.

He sighed and lifted his arm, motioning her to come in. His eyes did not leave the open file in front of him.

Taking a step closer, Linda began. I don’t know what to specialize in.

Chris continued scrawling notes, his eyes moved over the paper as he wrote. You’ve still got time.

Mary was a paediatrician and Mark was a general practitioner. I know, but I’d like to have my mind made up before I go to college.

You can change your mind later.

But I want to be sure.

Chris was becoming agitated. Why? His head didn’t lift, but he stopped writing to emphasize the question. I wanted to be an oncologist first off. Your mother wanted to be an OB-GYN. It’s not a big deal.

Exasperated, she sighed heavily. I don’t know.

Chris had just finished a thirty-six hour shift treating victims of a road accident, a guy who jumped the tracks at the subway stop on Bleecker Street, dozens of people with influenza, one case of hypothermia, and a multitude of other ailments. Plus he had to witness a crazy woman having a mental meltdown in Chris’s subway car on the ride home. At least an hour’s worth of patient charts was left to do, and he still hadn’t even spoken to his wife or his other two daughters since arriving home. Listen, Linda. Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you? His tone was clipped, knowing this was Linda’s game. Chris’s eyes met Linda’s for a brief moment.

When she stood there, her jaw muscles worked in deep thought. Chris took notice of his daughter’s expression and his eyes softened. Whatever you decide, your mother and I will support you.

Linda paused, digesting his statement, feeling like she’d been dismissed. Okay, Dad.

She turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen, but she couldn’t stop thinking that he could have finished the sentence differently and it would have made her feel that much better. Linda hoped he would add, Whether it’s becoming a doctor or not. But she noted that he didn’t.

***

Having five hours of blessed sleep, Chris was awakened in the night by the house phone ringing. He’d been called in to the hospital as the emergency room was flooding, typical of the end of the week. Reluctantly he dressed himself, feeling remotely resentful of his wife still sleeping soundly, and boarded the subway.

Six hours later he found himself in the break room talking with one of his mentors, Dr. John. Chris’s foot was propped up on the corner of the metal table. His arms were crossed over his chest while Dr. John stood against the counter by the fridge, picking his teeth with a wooden toothpick.

How’s that daughter of yours doing? Dr. John asked.

Chris guffawed. Which one?

Dr. John chuckled. That’s right, you have a house full of women, I forgot.

Linda’s doing well. Still on the fence with what specialty she’d like to pursue.

My Paul went through the same. It’s pretty standard to change your mind. Flip-flop here and there. That’s why we do residency. Exposure is good. Dr. Paul was matter-of-fact. He’s expecting a baby, you know?

Chris’s eyebrows lifted. They’d gone to his wedding two years ago. Oh, yeah? And how many grandchildren will this be for you and Gwenyth?

Sixth, Dr. John said as though he didn’t believe it himself. Gwenyth’s a little upset that her baby’s having a baby so far away.

Dr. John’s youngest son, Paul, met his wife while vacationing with friends in North Carolina. They carried a long distance relationship until marriage. No thoughts of moving back to New York?

The senior doctor shook his head emphatically. No, that was the agreement. They got married in Manhattan and they would settle in North Carolina.

Chris nodded understanding.

Matter of fact his practice is thriving over there. He’s looking for two or three doctors to join him in the office. He tossed the toothpick in the garbage. I’d take the job myself, but he doesn’t want to work with his dear old dad anymore. That’s half the reason he didn’t mind taking up in North Carolina.

Chris laughed gently. I can understand that, you old coot.

Dr. John chucked him playfully on the shoulder. What about you? Would you leave all this mayhem for a job in Holly Springs, North Carolina?

Chucking him back, Chris joked, And leave you here, old man?

I best get back to work, Dr. John advised, looking at his watch. Then he glanced at Chris. You look like hell. Why don’t you go home?

It seemed Dr. John had been saying that to Chris a lot. Thanks, he answered with only a trace of humor. You don’t look so hot yourself.

Winking, the senior doctor left the break room, leaving Chris to himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he let Dr. John’s words linger in his mind. Still deep in thought, Chris pulled out his cell phone and saw the message Linda had left him the previous day. He looked at the door where Dr. John had just parted, and stood there blinking numbly until he was startled by another overworked doctor coming in for a moment’s respite.

Chapter Three

Mary Dixon entered the bedroom. She had bags under her eyes, but the huge grin on her face was telltale. Did she say something particularly cute again? Chris inquired, looking over his laptop screen as he sat against the fluffy pillows on the headboard.

It wasn’t what she said but how she said it, Mary answered, pulling her fuzzy slippers off her feet. The three bedroom apartment was quiet, and it was a rare occasion for both Dixon parents to be going to bed together. She squeezed me so tight when she said ‘I love you, Mommy’.

She’s a doll, Chris said.

Mary slid her feet into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. Chris looked over at his wife, noticing the slightly pained expression on her face. What is it?

Shaking her head, as if she’d worried for nothing, Mary explained. She’s just not the same in the last little while. Clingy and more juvenile than recently…I just think she’s regressed. Mary was a paediatrician and it was difficult to keep her doctor’s hat off when she was around her own children.

Waving his hand in a cavalier gesture, Chris interjected. Tasha’s still adjusting to the new school and to Martha, dear. Really, it’s only been a couple of weeks. Give it time.

But she’s doing well in the new school, Mary argued. Better than she was in the other one.

Six year old Tasha was enrolled in a wonderful school at the recommendation of one of Chris’s colleagues. Sadly, four months later the school unexpectedly closed down, forcing them to abruptly change her current daytime schedule and surroundings. Also, with Tasha being in school full-time, and the hospital placing both parents on call nearly the whole week at times, they could no longer rely on their own schedules or that of their two teenage daughters anymore, so they had to hire a part-time nanny.

And don’t forget about Martha. Tasha’s never had a nanny before. She’s been spoiled with Layla and Linda being around all the time.

He caught his wife’s disapproving stare and lifted his arms in defeat. I’m not arguing the point. We needed someone, what with the other girls and us in and out all hours of the day and night, Chris said as if by rote.

Hiring a nanny had been a bone of contention between Mary and Chris. Chris thought it was unnecessary, that between the five of them they could make things work, but Mary disagreed. Having been raised in a large family of seven, Chris was accustomed to never requiring outside help, but Mary was child one of two, and the youngest. Her family was wealthy and had both a nanny and a housekeeper in their large rural estate in Ohio.

So it came down to insulting her upbringing when Chris fought the issue. Caving after the first unwelcome quarrel, Chris placed an online ad and the following week came Martha. I’m sure she’ll come around. He patted his wife’s leg.

Still appearing unsettled, Mary bit her lip. Chris prattled on about his day when Mary suddenly interrupted him. Do you think Martha is treating her well? I don’t see them bonding much, she said, as if she’d been deaf to his conversation.

You’re never around to see whether or not they’re bonding, Chris said in a non-malicious tone. It was simply reality for them. Have you asked Tasha if she likes Martha?

She says so, but I don’t know.

Give it time. Ask her again in a couple of days and see if her attitude changes, Chris ventured, typing away on his computer.

I have a better idea, Mary said, picking at her nails.

He closed the lid on his computer, giving Mary his full attention. Oh, yeah? What’s that?

You ever heard of a ‘Nanny-Cam’? she looked directly at her husband; that same ‘you’re-not-going-to-win-this’ look arose in her eyes. Chris ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

Fine. Do it. I’m sure everything’s fine though. He opened his laptop again and she slid further under the covers. A small, contented glimmer was in her eyes as she glanced at Chris’s screen.

He had their shared personal email account open. A message from Dr. John was there; it was an ultrasound picture of their sixth grandchild.

Oh, isn’t that nice, Mary beamed. Gwyneth must be beside herself with joy.

Yeah, I talked to him today, Chris assented. She’s a little upset that Paul’s having a baby so far away.

Mary nodded. I can understand that. She sighed, turning over onto her side, away from him. It’s better that way, though. Given the choice, I’d rather have raised our kids out in the country. That’s how I was brought up.

Chris and Mary met through a mutual friend when Mary had moved to New York to attend NYU School of Medicine after University in Ohio. Then, she fell in love with the city, having never seen it. She’d travelled all across Europe with her family throughout her life, but she found city living intriguing, and so when she and Chris met up in New York, they made a life there.

Turning his head towards his wife’s back, a thought suddenly struck him. You ever think about going back?

Mary shuffled over so she was facing Chris. Going back where? To Ohio?

No. Just to living in the country.

She paused a moment for thought. I don’t know. We’ve established ourselves here. It would be hard to leave, and for what? Our jobs are here in New York.

He chewed his lip, rewinding some of the conversation he had with Dr. John earlier. What if there was a job for both of us somewhere else?

Her eyes opened and a crease formed between her brows. What do you mean, like opening a practice or something? That costs way too much money out here, Chris. We’ve discussed that. Heck, we can’t even afford to buy a house or a condominium here.

Chris looked at his wife and, sensing his segue into an oddly timed conversation, she propped herself up onto the pillow so she was face to face with him.

Paul’s looking for two or three doctors for his practice. Dr. John mentioned it to me in jest, but…I don’t know, Mary… He recalled the words he shared with Linda the previous night, and it pained him to realize how much he’d brushed her off, and how much they’d both been somewhat neglecting their family responsibilities. We never have time for the kids anymore, and we’re both constantly exhausted. Maybe a career move wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Mary averted her glance, as if in shock. But he lives in North Carolina, doesn’t he?

Chris nodded. Holly Springs, about a half an hour outside of Raleigh. John’s showed me pictures. It’s a beautiful area, Mary.

She gaped at her husband. Are you serious? She whispered a hiss that expressed half surprise, half excitement. It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.

Boldly, Chris asked, Would you consider it?

Mary shook her head slowly. I don’t know, Chris. What about the kids? We just put Tasha into another school, and Linda might want to go to NYU, and Layla would die if we told her we’re moving out of the city. She can’t stand ‘hicks’. Mary air-quoted the word ‘hicks’.

Why don’t we discuss it with them tomorrow?

She had a sparkle in her eyes when she faced Chris. Are you serious?

Chris placed his hand on hers. Yeah, his said in a warm tone. I’m serious.

Bending over, she kissed him tenderly on the mouth. You know I’ve always dreamed of this.

When opportunity knocks, it’s simple, you answer.

***

Chris had butterflies in his stomach. Mary had gone to round up the kids to talk about the possibility of moving to North Carolina, and he was very nervous about it. The last thing he wanted was to cause a problem in his family. Lord knew they had enough of that already, and he hoped that they would see this as being a solution to that. His wife reappeared with slight irritation in her face. Layla’s in a snit; can’t get her hair just right.

Waving, Chris put his other arm around Mary. She’s always in a snit about that. I’ll buy her one of those flat irons and she’ll be our best friend again. Sometimes teenagers were so tough to deal with, but other times they were so simple. Chris was thankful this was the latter.

Tasha came skipping into the living room. Mommy, can I have a cookie?

Sure, honey, go grab a plate of them and we’ll all share.

Linda appeared a second later. For once she didn’t have her cell phone glued to her palm. Chris smiled. How are you, Linda?

She was nonplussed. She shrugged. "I’m fine.

When sixteen-year-old Layla trudged out of her bedroom, she had one side of her long brown hair pinned up just above her ear and the other side laying flat down her chest.

You figure out your hair, sweetie? Mary asked.

Layla gave her an ‘okay, what’s the catch’ look. Yeah, so?

Linda and Layla slumped down on the couch in their ‘oh God, it’s another teenage lecture’ position, eyes averted, picking at a loose thread or at a fingernail, sour looks on their faces.

Tasha walked to the living room carrying a large white tray with a plate full of chocolate chip cookies. Just set them down there. Chris assisted, and wasted no time proudly announcing what Mary and he had in mind. Your mother and I have been working a lot lately and we understand this family needs a little change.

He looked at his daughters, checking for attention span. Linda was pouting as she peered out of the window to her left, which overlooked Manhattan. Layla was chewing a cookie, showing more interest in counting the chocolate chips than in what her dad had to say. Tasha was still inspecting each cookie for chip count before finally selecting one and taking a large bite.

I was talking with a colleague of mine, err, Dr. John, yesterday, and his son Paul is looking for a couple of doctors to help him run his practice. Chris paused. No response. They were all miles away in their own worlds. He gave Mary a wink and continued. In North Carolina.

All eyes were on him suddenly. Audible gasps came from all three daughters. Tasha immediately began wailing. Mommy, I don’t want to move! I love my new school!

Layla darted up, sitting straight. Her face was pained as she barked, Are you crazy? Move to North Carolina? No way! I’m not moving to some hickville neighbourhood! I love it here in New York! Her hands were flailing, exhibiting her fiery upset.

Linda sat silent, shaking her head slowly. She was biting her lip and Chris could clearly see her chest heaving. She waited for Layla to finish her tirade and then she started. Great, Dad. I haven’t even decided which University I’m going to. What happens if I decide to go to NYU? Why couldn’t you decide this at a better time...like after I’m done with school? She rose quickly from her seat and lifted her arm to emphasize her point. "I'm not moving, Dad! Forget it! I’ll stay with Sylvia until September and then I’ll live in residence." Her voice was vile, full of hatred for her father.

He looked at his hands in defeat, as though he expected Linda’s heated response. Instead of fighting back he let her storm off to her room and slam the door. Layla left the room abruptly as well and shouted to her parents, I’ll stay with Sylvia too!

Little Tasha sat on the couch, sobbing and holding her hands to her ears to shield them from the shouting. Her face was red and wet with tears. Mary knelt down in front of her, fingering a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Honey, it was just a thought. We don’t have to move. Me and Daddy thought you girls would be happy about it, but if you’re not, that’s okay. We can stay here in New York.

She looked up at Chris, as if for permission. He was still standing there staring at his fingers. Sensing his wife’s glance, he looked at her and nodded assent. Walking away, his gait changed, like he suddenly weighed much more than he did before the conversation.

Chapter Four

Mary lay in bed alone, catching up on work emails, when Tasha appeared at her bedroom door. She rubbed her eyes until they were pink; her hair was messed from sleep.

Did you have a bad dream? Mary asked, patting the empty side of the bed.

Tasha jumped onto the bed and nestled herself beside Mary. Where’s Daddy?

He’s at work, honey. I’ve got to go in in about three hours too. Martha will be here by six to get you ready for school. She ran her hand through her daughter’s knotted hair. What was your dream about?

I didn’t have a bad dream. She yawned. I just woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep.

The background image on Mary’s laptop screen was her old childhood house where her parents still lived. It was a beautiful two-storey mansion with large white pillars flanking the front door, and a roundabout driveway that snaked its way to the cobblestone walkway that led to the side garden. An American flag leaned proudly on the side of the house.

What was it like growing up there? Tasha asked sleepily. Did you like it there?

I loved it there, Mary said happily. Me and Auntie Rebecca got to go fishing and hiking, and grampa taught us how to ride a bike. We even had our own pool in the backyard. It was wonderful.

I don’t know how to ride a bike, Tasha observed with a small pout. I have a goldfish though.

Well, honey, Mommy and Daddy could teach you how to ride a bike.

Tasha looked at her mother sitting up in bed, as she lay on Chris’s pillow. I don’t know how to swim, either.

Mary’s face brightened after a beat. If you want, we can get you into lessons?

But who would take me?

Any of us could, Mary insisted.

But I want you to take me, Tasha whined in that mock baby voice that was bothersome to Mary.

I can try, Mary answered, searching her daughter’s face. Now you should get to bed. You’ve got school in the morning.

Can I sleep with you? Tasha begged.

I suppose, Mary said, reacting as though the child had twisted her arm. But no snoring, she joked.

Tasha giggled. A beat later Mary had minimized her screen again, giving a full view of her large childhood house. How big would our house be?

A crease formed between Mary’s eyes. What do you mean?

If we moved. Like what you and Daddy talked about. How big would our house be?

Mary looked around the bedroom as though the walls were transparent and she had a clear view of the full rental apartment in front of her. I don’t know. It would be much different than here.

Why?

Because where Paul’s practice is, it’s a very small town, like the one Mommy grew up in. The houses are cozy and you have lots more land, not like here where it’s mainly apartments. You have lots of grass and an unobstructed view of the sky and the stars. Plus, it’s a lot quieter.

Tasha was silent, digesting the information. "Where would