THE GOOD NEIGHBORS

Darlene Barnes showed up with a chicken casserole and a bottle of wine while Bethany and Tom were still unpacking boxes.

"I figured you probably haven't unpacked your kitchen yet," she said, stepping around a couple of boxes.

Bethany took the casserole. "Oh, thank God. We've been eating pizza for three days. I don't think I can look at another pepperoni."

"Oh, honey, I remember moving. My husband and I ate sandwiches for a week because we couldn't find the silverware."

"Well, I've found the silverware. It's the plates I'm worried about."

Darlene laughed. "You're going to love it here. Everybody looks out for everybody."

Bethany thanked her and carried the casserole into the kitchen. Through the window, she watched Darlene cross the street and stop to talk to a woman pushing a stroller. They both glanced toward the house, probably talking about the new neighbors. Bethany figured she'd be doing the same thing once she got to know everyone.

Over the next two weeks, she began to understand what Darlene meant. Someone brought their trash cans up from the curb while Tom was at work. A retired man across the street helped her get a window unstuck and refused the twenty dollars she offered him. People waved whenever she went outside, and by the second weekend, Tom had made friends with a couple of men down the street.

Bethany had started making plans for the backyard. The previous owners had left a flower bed full of weeds, and she wanted to clear it out before winter. She'd already bought a pair of gardening gloves and a few bulbs to plant along the fence.

Tom had laughed when she brought them home.

"You haven't even unpacked the bathroom yet."

"The flowers aren't going to wait for me to find the towels."

"Pretty sure they'll manage."

"Then you can explain that to them when they don't come up in the spring."

She spent most of the following Saturday pulling weeds while Tom helped a neighbor repair the fence next door. He came home three hours later complaining about his back.

"You're getting old," Bethany told him.

"Then I guess you'll have to start taking care of me."

"Guess again."

He caught her around the waist and kissed her cheek. She laughed and pushed him away.

"Go take a shower. You stink."

"You're mean to me."

"And yet you keep coming back."

"Must be the cooking."

She looked at the empty takeout containers on the counter. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

He kissed her again before heading down the hallway.

That night, Bethany woke to find his side of the bed empty. She found him sitting at the kitchen table with his phone in his hand.

"Can't sleep?"

He looked up. "Just thinking."

She pulled out the chair beside him and glanced at the screen. Alyssa stood in their old kitchen wearing one of Tom's baseball caps. It was so big it covered most of her face.

Bethany smiled. "She wouldn't take that thing off for two days."

"Remember how mad she got when I needed it for work?"

"You had three other hats."

"She wanted that one."

Tom smiled, but it didn't last. He'd been looking through Alyssa's pictures more often lately. Bethany understood. Some days she could spend an hour remembering the smallest things about their daughter. How she insisted on having her sandwiches cut into triangles, even though she usually pulled them apart before eating them. How she'd stand in front of the refrigerator with the door open, trying to decide what she wanted, then ask for something they didn't have.

Bethany put her hand on his arm.

"You know you can talk to me."

"I know."

He turned the phone facedown. She waited a little while, hoping he'd say something else.

"Come on," she finally said. "Let's go back to bed."

Tom followed her down the hallway. When they climbed beneath the covers, he pulled her close. For a while, she lay awake listening to him breathe.

The next morning, she found him outside talking to Darlene near the mailbox. Whatever they'd been discussing ended when Bethany opened the front door.

"Morning, sweetheart," Darlene called.

Bethany waved, and Tom came inside a few minutes later.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing. Just neighborhood stuff."

"What kind of neighborhood stuff?"

He smiled. "You really want to hear about somebody's sprinkler system?"

"Not particularly."

"Didn't think so."

He kissed her forehead and went to get ready for work. Bethany watched him disappear down the hallway. He'd been distracted lately, but she knew he was having a hard time. They both were.

She went back outside to finish clearing the flower bed.

On October thirtieth, Darlene stopped Bethany while she was checking the mail.

"Are you two going anywhere tomorrow night?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Just wondered. We have a little neighborhood tradition."

"Oh, that sounds fun."

"We don't take the kids trick-or-treating here, and nobody hands out candy."

"Really? With all these families?"

"We've always done it that way."

Bethany looked down the street. Several houses had pumpkins on their porches, and someone had hung a skeleton from a tree.

"Seems like a shame."

Darlene smiled and patted her arm. "Just make sure you're home before dark, sweetheart."

By seven o'clock on Halloween night, Bethany hadn't seen a single trick-or-treater. She'd bought two bags of candy anyway, figuring somebody might bring their kids around despite what Darlene had said.

Tom was watching television when she came into the living room carrying a bowl of miniature candy bars.

"Well, looks like we're eating all of these ourselves."

"That's a shame," he said, reaching for a Snickers.

She slapped his hand away. "At least wait until I sit down."

He grinned and took one anyway.

Bethany sat beside him and pulled the blanket over her legs.

"Remember when Alyssa wanted to be a princess and a dinosaur?" Tom asked.

Bethany laughed. "She was so mad when you told her she had to pick one."

"She wore that dinosaur costume everywhere."

"Even to bed. Remember how she cried when I tried to wash it?"

Tom smiled. "She was something else."

Bethany reached for his hand. He squeezed her fingers but kept looking at the television.

She glanced toward the living room windows. Across the street, the houses were lit, but she hadn't seen anyone outside since dinner.

"Kind of strange, isn't it?" she said.

"What?"

"Nobody taking their kids trick-or-treating."

"Guess they take their traditions seriously."

"You don't think it's weird?"

He shrugged.

The doorbell rang.

"Oh, finally!" Bethany set the bowl aside. "I knew somebody would come around."

Tom caught her arm.

"Beth, wait."

She looked at his hand. "What?"

He glanced toward the front door, then back at her.

"Just give me a minute."

"A minute for what? It's probably a kid."

He loosened his grip but didn't let go.

"Tom, what's going on?"

The bell rang again.

"Bethany, please."

He almost never called her Bethany. She looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but whatever he wanted to say, he wasn't saying it.

"You're acting really strange."

"I know."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

He looked toward the door again.

"Beth, I—"

She pulled her hand away and opened it.

An elderly woman stood on the porch wearing a dark green coat and black shoes. She carried a large brown handbag with a brass clasp, the kind Bethany remembered her grandmother taking to church.

"Good evening, dear. You must be Bethany."

"Yes?"

"I'm Hattie Whitaker. Everybody calls me Miss Hattie."

She looked past Bethany and smiled.

"Hello, Thomas."

Tom had come into the hallway. His face was pale.

"You know her?" Bethany asked.

"Of course," Miss Hattie said. "Your husband and I had a nice visit last week."

Bethany turned toward him.

"Tom?"

"Beth, I was going to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Miss Hattie stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Perhaps we should sit down."

"Excuse me. I haven't invited you in."

"This won't take long."

The old woman walked into the living room and sat down in the armchair. Bethany looked at Tom, but he didn't try to stop her.

"You're just going to let her do that?"

"Please, Beth. Hear her out."

Miss Hattie placed her handbag on the coffee table.

"Well, I suppose we'd better start with this."

She opened the bag and took out a little girl's pink hair ribbon.

Bethany recognized it immediately. Tiny white flowers were sewn along the edge, and one end was frayed where she'd accidentally caught it in the zipper of her purse.

She remembered putting it in Alyssa's hair before the funeral. She'd smoothed the little white flowers with her thumb before they closed the casket.

"Where did you get this?"

Miss Hattie held it out. Bethany took the ribbon and turned it over, running her thumb along the frayed edge.

Then she looked at Tom.

He wouldn't look at her.

"Okay, I don't know what the hell is going on here, but somebody better start explaining."

"Darlene Barnes told me about your little girl," Miss Hattie said.

Bethany remembered sitting with Darlene on the porch swing a few days earlier. They'd gotten to talking about their families, and Bethany had told her about Alyssa. She'd cried a little, which had embarrassed her afterward. Darlene had held her hand and told her she could come over and talk anytime.

"I told Darlene about Alyssa because I thought she was my friend. That doesn't give her the right to go telling strangers."

"She was only trying to help."

"Help with what?"

"Bringing Alyssa home."

Bethany stared at her.

"Our daughter is dead."

"I know, sweetheart. But I can bring her back."

Bethany looked at Tom, waiting for him to tell the woman to get out. Instead, he stood beside the couch with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Tom?"

"Just look at what she's got."

Miss Hattie reached into her handbag again and took out a photograph.

Alyssa sat on a yellow slide, wearing a red jacket and holding her stuffed rabbit. Bethany recognized the playground. She'd taken plenty of pictures of Alyssa there, but in this photograph, her daughter looked six or seven years old.

She brought the picture closer. Those were Alyssa's brown eyes, the same little smile she always gave when she wanted something. Her hair was longer, and her face had changed.

Bethany remembered that playground. Alyssa had been afraid of the slide at first. Tom had waited at the bottom while Bethany helped her climb the steps. After the first time, they couldn't get her off it.

The girl in the photograph was older than Alyssa had ever been. She wore a red jacket Bethany had never seen.

Bethany turned the picture over, half expecting to find something written on the back. There was nothing.

Alyssa had died when she was three. Bethany had missed birthdays, school pictures, and all the little changes that came with growing up. Now she was looking at some of those missing years.

Her hands began to shake. She set the photograph on the coffee table.

"Whatever you're doing, it needs to stop."

"Thomas," Miss Hattie said, "I think it's time you explained what we discussed."

Bethany turned toward Tom.

"Beth, I know how this sounds."

"Do you?"

"Look at the ribbon. Look at that picture."

"I'm looking at them, Tom. There's no way they are real."

"She knows things nobody else could know."

Bethany held up the ribbon.

"This was buried with our daughter. Someone's been in her grave, Tom. Doesn't that bother you?"

He looked at it, then turned away.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Beth, I just want her back."

Of course she wanted Alyssa back. She wanted to hear her little girl running down the hallway, make her breakfast, brush her hair, and complain about the toys left all over the floor.

But Alyssa was dead. They had buried her.

Miss Hattie glanced at the clock on the mantel.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get on with it."

"Get on with what?" Bethany asked.

"There's no need to worry about that just yet, dear."

Bethany shook her head and looked at Tom.

"You both are crazy."

"Beth, please. Just listen."

"No. I've heard enough." She pointed toward the front door. "I want her out of my house. Now."

Miss Hattie stayed where she was. Bethany waited for Tom to say something, but he wouldn't even look at her.

"You know what? I'm done."

She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and headed toward the door.

"Beth, wait."

She ignored him.

"Mommy?"

Bethany stopped.

"What was that?"

Tom stood beside the couch. Miss Hattie was still sitting in the armchair, watching her.

"Mommy, can you hear me?"

Bethany knew that voice. She'd heard it calling from the bedroom at night, asking for juice in the morning, complaining whenever Tom tried to brush the tangles out of her hair.

"Alyssa?"

A sharp pain caught her beneath the ribs. Bethany bent forward and pressed a hand against her stomach. Something moved inside her chest, and she gasped as she reached for the wall.

Tom looked at Miss Hattie.

"Is it supposed to start already?"

"She's ready, Thomas."

Another pain hit before Bethany could straighten. She stumbled backward into the front door and dropped her phone.

Something moved beneath her ribs again, and she screamed.

Tom started toward her, but Miss Hattie raised her hand.

"Best leave her be, Thomas."

"She's hurting."

"Of course she is."

Bethany grabbed the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn. She twisted it again and threw her weight against the door. Pain shot through her chest, dropping her to her knees.

Her phone lay near the hallway table. She stretched toward it, her fingertips brushing the floor inches away, when another spasm drove her back against the wall.

Through the narrow window beside the door, she saw Darlene Barnes standing at the end of the walkway.

Then she noticed the others.

Her front yard was full of people. The retired man who'd helped with her window stood beside his wife. The couple from three houses down had brought their children. She recognized the young mother who walked her dog every morning and the man who'd brought their trash cans up from the curb.

Some stood along the walkway. Others had gathered outside the large living room windows, where they could see straight through to the front door.

A little boy cried against his father's leg. Nearby, a girl of about ten clung to her mother, trying to pull her away. Her mother wouldn't move.

Bethany slammed her palm against the glass.

Another pain seized her, and she fell against the door, screaming.

Darlene stepped closer. Bethany hit the window again, hard enough to hurt her hand, but Darlene only watched her.

"Stop it!" Tom shouted. "I've changed my mind!"

Miss Hattie turned toward him.

"I'm afraid it's a little late for that, Thomas."

"I don't care! I don't want to do this anymore!"

"You should have thought about that before you made your decision."

Tom hurried toward Bethany, but Miss Hattie stepped in front of him.

"Please. I'll do anything. Just make it stop."

Miss Hattie looked at him for a moment.

"You've already done everything I wanted, dear."

Tom looked past her at Bethany.

"You said I'd have to give her up. That she'd take Alyssa's place. You never said you'd do this to her."

"But you knew you wouldn't be getting your wife back, Thomas." Miss Hattie watched him for a moment. "Would it have changed your mind if you'd known?"

Tom looked at Bethany. She was struggling to breathe, one hand pressed against her throat.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Another spasm seized Bethany. She curled forward, struggling to breathe, as something pressed against the inside of her throat. She gagged and clawed at her neck.

"Mommy?"

The voice came from inside her.

Bethany's jaw tightened. Something cracked, sending pain through both ears. She tried to close her mouth, but something brushed against the back of her tongue. She couldn't breathe. Her eyes watered as the pressure forced her mouth wider.

Then a small hand appeared between her teeth.

Five little fingers opened and closed before catching against her lower lip. Bethany screamed around them.

Another hand followed, gripping her lower jaw. The corners of her mouth split, and blood ran down her chin as a small face pushed its way between her teeth.

Alyssa.

Her daughter's eyes were squeezed shut. Wet hair stuck to her forehead, and her mouth opened as she struggled to breathe.

Bethany felt Alyssa's shoulders catch inside her throat. The pressure kept building until she felt something tearing deep in her neck.

Outside, the girl who'd been clinging to her mother started screaming. Her mother pressed the child's face against her shoulder.

Miss Hattie knelt beside Bethany.

"That's it, sweetheart. Almost there."

Tom turned away.

"I can't watch."

"Then don't, Thomas."

Miss Hattie caught Alyssa beneath the arms and pulled. Bethany's body jerked forward, and for a moment she couldn't see anything.

When her vision cleared, her daughter was lying on the floor.

Miss Hattie wrapped Alyssa in a blanket and rubbed her back until she started coughing.

"There we are. You're all right."

Bethany lay on her side. Blood ran from her mouth onto the hardwood floor, and every breath made a wet, rattling sound in her throat.

Alyssa sat in Miss Hattie's lap.

Bethany stared at her. The same round cheeks. The same dark hair that never stayed behind her ears.

Her little girl was right there.

Bethany struggled to lift her arms. She wanted to hold Alyssa, wipe her face, and tell her she was all right.

"Mommy?"

Her fingers stretched toward her daughter.

Miss Hattie stood and handed Alyssa to Tom.

"Here you are, Thomas. Just as I promised."

He stared at their daughter before burying his face in her hair and crying. Alyssa wrapped her arms around his neck, the way she always had when he picked her up.

Bethany dragged her fingers across the floor, trying to reach them.

Tom looked down.

"Miss Hattie?"

"Yes, dear?"

"She's still alive."

"Of course."

"But you said—"

"I said she would take Alyssa's place. I never said she would die."

Tom stared at Bethany. She watched him, trying to lift her hand.

"Now, Thomas, take the little one outside. There's no need for her to see the rest."

Tom hesitated.

Alyssa was crying against his shoulder, but he took a step toward Bethany. She reached for him.

"Thomas," Miss Hattie said.

He stopped.

Alyssa pulled at his shirt and started crying harder. Bethany watched him looking at her hand, and for a moment she thought he might come to her.

Then he shifted Alyssa higher against his shoulder, the way he used to when she fell asleep in his arms.

Bethany knew that movement. She'd watched him do it a hundred times, usually while she held the bedroom door open for them.

He turned away.

Miss Hattie opened the front door, and the neighbors stepped aside to let him through.

Darlene came forward.

"Oh, Thomas. She's precious."

Bethany heard Alyssa crying as Darlene reached for her.

Miss Hattie closed the door.

"Now, dear. Let's get you settled."

Bethany tried to crawl away, but Miss Hattie caught her ankle and pulled her back. Her leg bent beneath her with a crack, and she screamed through her ruined mouth.

"Hold still, sweetheart. You're making this harder."

Miss Hattie folded Bethany's other leg beneath her, then bent her arms behind her back. Something gave in Bethany's shoulder, and she tried to pull away.

The old woman retrieved her handbag from the coffee table and set it on the floor beside them. She opened it, and Bethany could see the brown lining, the little zipper pocket, and a set of keys lying at the bottom.

She clawed at the floor.

"Almost finished."

The old woman pushed Bethany's head toward her knees. Her neck cracked, and the room tilted.

Then Miss Hattie lifted her.

Bethany felt the edge of the handbag scrape against her cheek as she was lowered inside. Her shoulders slipped through the opening. Her legs were crushed beneath her, and she could still feel the floor with the fingers of one hand.

She grabbed at the hardwood, but Miss Hattie folded that arm in too.

The leather pressed against Bethany's face. She tried to straighten, but there was nowhere for her body to go. She could feel her broken limbs, the blood drying around her mouth, and the pressure of her knees against her chest.

She was still alive.

Miss Hattie lifted the handbag, and Bethany swung against its lining as the old woman crossed the room. She heard the front door open and felt the cooler night air through the gap at the top of the bag.

Outside, Alyssa was crying.

"Where's my mommy?"

Bethany struggled to move.

"Your mommy's gone away, darling," Miss Hattie said.

"Is she coming back?"

"No, sweetheart."

Bethany could hear the neighbors talking. A child was crying nearby, and someone told him to hush.

Then she heard Tom.

"Will she remember Bethany?"

"She's very young, Thomas. Give her time."

Alyssa called for her again. Bethany tried to move, desperate to make some kind of sound that would let her daughter know she was there.

The handbag barely stirred.

"I want my mommy."

"It's okay, baby," Tom said. "Daddy's here."

Alyssa kept crying.

Miss Hattie closed the clasp. The voices became muffled, but Bethany could still hear her daughter.

She lay in the darkness, listening, until Alyssa's crying finally stopped.

Then Darlene's voice came through the leather.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get everybody home. It's a school night tomorrow.