She hated it when he left her alone. She hated it because the loneliness swallowed her, drowning her in memories, reminding her of everything she'd lost...
“Don't look so sad, Addie.” He brushed her forehead with a kiss. “I'll be back in a week.”
“A week,” she whispered back. “Seven long days...”
Jacob took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. He met her eyes, holding her gaze. “Don't think about it, okay?”
“How can I not think about it?” She swallowed, fighting the urge to break away—fighting against the pain. “Every time you go off again—on another one of your business trips—I remember. I remember everything I did with him. Everything I said. Every smile.” She paused, finding no comfort in his thumb caressing her chin. “Then I remember how I—”
“Don't say it, Addie.” His thumb stopped caressing; his hand dropped from her chin; his arms fell away from her, until they hung limply at his sides. “For my sake, don't say it.”
“But it's true.”
“No. It was an accident.”
She blinked back the tears and held her head a little higher. “Why do you lie to me, Jacob? Because you think I can't handle the truth? Because you think I'm not woman enough to face the fact that I killed my own son? Is that what you think?”
“Addie.” He drew her back against him, but there was no love in his embrace. No comfort. No soothing.  Only the ruins of a once happy marriage. Only the dead ruins of hearts torn apart—love turned cold—hatred and bitterness and fear...
“No, Addie,” he said more softly. “It's just that blaming ourselves isn't going to heal. Don't you see what it's done to us?”
She pulled back. Her blue eyes were icy—cold with the anguish of losing her son—darkened with the horror surrounding his death. “You'll be late,” she finally whispered.
Jacob nodded. “I suppose so.” He leaned down and kissed her, even though her lips were cold to his touch. “You'll be fine?”
She reached behind him and opened the door. “Yes,” she answered, as he stepped outside, “I'll be fine.”

XXXXX

Now he was gone. The house empty and quiet. Jacob's shoes weren't scattered at the doorway, because before the trip he'd moved them to make her happy. She was always nagging him about that, but now...
But now I wish all his dirty shoes were there again. I wish my neighbor would trip over them on one of her long visits. I wish I'd get embarrassed and nag him about it when he comes home. She straightened her shoulders and breathed. But he's not coming home. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night.
Moving to the window, she gently pulled the curtain away so she could see outside. Children were playing across the street, a young college student was walking her poodle, her paper was being tossed to the yard by a reckless deliverer...
Addie's brow crinkled. She looked again, just to make sure she'd seen right. There was a man walking down the sidewalk, pompously and quietly, almost mysteriously. He stopped in front of her house and leaned against the fence, looking in, staring at her door.
He was wearing a red suit.

XXXXX

How strange that he keeps standing there.
Addie studied him. The bright red suit trimly covered his lean, tall physique, and his soft brown hair was slicked back neatly. His face was square and tight—almost impassive. But there was a hint of purpose in his stance, a slight predestination in the way he glared at the house. Almost as if he were watching for something—or someone perhaps. As if he were searching...
A chill slithered through her as his eyes met hers through the window. She turned away—so quickly her head started spinning. She grabbed the banister and paused, half expecting his feet to start across the porch. But they never came and finally she looked back.
The fence was empty.
And the man was gone. 

XXXXX

Edna Benett shuffled into Addie's living room at half past three. She adjusted her glasses and stared at Addie. “Something's ailing you.”
Addie pulled out a chair and sank into it. “No, nothing.” It's just that I'm tired and I miss my husband and I'm lonely—and I hate it when you come over here to gossip about people I don't even know. She bit back the words and smiled. “Why would you say that?”
“Because your eyes are sagging. Just like after Ted—”
“Please, Edna.” She stood from her chair, though her legs protested. “I don't want to talk about it.”
The old woman nodded. “No, you never do.” She harrumphed, and she got that lift of her chin that had become so familiar to Addie. “I hate to be the one to bring back memories, Addie, but I'm not one to pamper people like they were children.” Snatching a cookie from the jar on the table, she bit off a small part. “Ever since your Ted died—rest his soul—you haven't been the same. And neither has your marriage.” She bit off another piece. “Things look rosy from the outside, Addie, but don't you think for one minute that I don't know truth—”
Edna's words drowned away. All Addie could hear was a soft tapping on her front door. It wasn't unusual for her to get company, but something about the knock made her legs feel weak and her body to shiver...
“Excuse me, Edna.” She pushed past the old woman. “There's someone at the door.”
Snatching her elbow, the old woman stopped Addie in the doorway. “I didn't hear nothing, Addie. You're nervous.”
“No, there's someone at the door—”
“Nonsense!” Edna scowled. “I pride myself in having extraordinary ears, and I hear absolutely nothing.”
Pulling away, Addie hurried to the door. She reached out—grabbed the handle—opened it.
There he stood, with his tall body looming over her, dressed fully in his red suit.
“H-hello.” Addie smoothed the hair away from her face and forced a smile. “Can I help you?”
But the man didn't say anything. He just kept looking at her. And the longer he looked, the more strange she felt. It were as if...something about him...something about his mouth and his nose and his soft colored hair...
Addie straightened. “Can I help you?” she repeated more loudly.
“Addie, this is nonsense!”
Addie whirled to the sound of the old woman's persnickety voice.
“Who are you talking to? There's no one there! Things are worse than I thought with you, Addie, much worse...”
Slowly, Addie turned. Numbness coursed through her. There was no man, no suit, no red.
Just an empty doorstep. 

XXXXX

The clock chimed eleven thirty. Addie sat up in her bed, shivering even though the room wasn't cold. She remembered everything—everything about that night, right up to the last kiss, the last smile. She wished she could push it all away—make the memories stop haunting her—make the guilt vanish into peace. But all she could think about was her precious baby boy, her sweet little Ted. It was different when Jacob was here. She didn't remember so vividly, didn't grieve so much. But the loneliness reminded her, because she'd felt the same loneliness the day it had happened...
Addie gasped, her hand flying to her throat. She heard it again—the soft, indistinct knocking, so quiet she might have imagined it.
Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her robe and went for the front door. Her hand trembled as she groped for the knob and eased it open.
Cold eyes stared back at her—strange, familiar, frightening eyes that were luminous in the darkness.
“Yes?” She swallowed and willed herself to breathe, but the man in the red suit wouldn't reply. “What is it you want?”
But he just looked at her...
Addie slammed the door and dead bolted it. She backed away—slowly and quietly, back down the hall, back to her own bedroom. She locked the door, but the feeling wouldn't go away. That strange and nagging feeling that someone was watching her...
Addie slipped back into her bed and froze. Anguish ripped through her; her heart jumped to her throat, pounding in her chest. She was breathless as she lifted the small blanket in her hands. It was Ted's blanket. She'd wrapped him in it that night. But I burnt this blanket. I burnt all Ted's things.
She lifted the blanket to her face. She rubbed it along her cheek, basking in the smell of her baby. I burnt this blanket. I burnt this blanket and now it's here...

XXXXX

Morning came, but it didn't seem real. It were as if she were in a fog. As if the touch and smell of Ted's blanket had drawn her into a new stage of grief, so intense she felt nothing at all. She was in the kitchen eating breakfast, when she heard it again.
She didn't want to answer it. She didn't want to see that man. She didn't want to see his red suit and his strange eyes. But something drew her to her feet and again she stood face to face with him. “What do you want with me?” Her voice was dry, soft, broken.
He didn't answer her. He never did.
“I said what do you want?” she screamed.
The first signs of a smile curved at his lips, but no words came forth. Tipping his hat, he turned and walked away.
Addie stood trembling in the doorway.

XXXXX

She screamed. She backed away. She fell to her knees and hid her eyes from the sight. No. No. I burnt that. No. I burnt it.
A sob ripped from her throat as the tears dripped from her eyes. His teddy bear. He had it that night. I burnt that. I burnt it!
Finally she stopped crying. She lifted her head and stared at the tiny bear with dull eyes. I burnt that. She touched her face—pinched her arm. She was dreaming. She was stuck in a nightmare, but she'd wake up soon. Then everything would be okay. There would be no man in a red suit. There would be nothing to remind her of that night. Nothing to bring back the guilt. Nothing to bring back the memories.
She'd wake up soon. Then everything would be alright.

XXXXX

But she didn't wake up. It was one o' clock in the afternoon, and she was sitting in her chair, holding his things, when there was another knock on the door.
She sat there, numbness coursing through her, fear that was so sharp it left her motionless. I'm not getting up. I won't get up. I won't let him stare at me. I won't. But the knocking wouldn't stop. Softly, it kept on.
Finally, she laid Ted's things to the side and stood to her feet. She walked to the window and peered out.
His red suit flashed against the soft yellow of her house. His tall body stood erect as he persistently tapped on her door.
He can't bother me any longer. I won't allow it. She grabbed the phone and dialed the number. “Police?”
“Yes, how can I help you?”
She swallowed and turned away from the window. “There—there's this man. He won't leave me alone. He won't stop knocking.”
“Is he at your house now?”
“Yes.” She paused, and her voice dropped to a very small whisper. “He wears a red suit.”

XXXXX

She slipped out the back door to avoid the stranger and met the police in her yard.
The first police glanced toward her house and gave his head a small shake. “Guess we're too late.”
Addie glanced back at her doorway. The man in the red suit stood just the same, knocking quietly. She looked at the police with her brows knitted. “No, you aren't. He's right there. Listen, just tell him I want to be left alone and that—”
  “Lady.” The police scratched his head with a half smile. “There's no one there.”
Addie's heart seemed to stop. “Don't you see him?” she whispered. “The red suit?”
Again, the half smile that seemed to portray his thoughts of her. “No, lady. I don't see any man, and neither does the rest of these guys.” His men murmured their agreement while getting back in their cars.
“But, I see him. I hear him. He's real—”
“Lady,” the man cut her off with little patience. “Why don't you just go take a nice, long nap, okay?” He chuckled and reached for his car door. “That's all you need. A nice, long nap...” And then he drove away.
Addie glanced up at the man standing in her doorway. He was looking at her, very calmly, very quietly. Just looking.

XXXXX

She came in the back door and locked herself in her bedroom. And there she sat, listening to the clock tick by, hour by hour, until finally it struck ten. Sometimes she could imagine away the knocking—pretend it wasn't there, pretend she was imagining it. Maybe the police were right: maybe she was crazy. Maybe losing Ted had made her this way, and yet...
The knocking stopped. Slowly, she stood to her feet. Maybe the nightmare is over. Maybe he'll go away. Maybe he'll leave me be...
She unlocked her door and started through the dark hallway until she made it to the front door. She tried to look out the window, but she couldn't see. Maybe if I just wait, she thought, turning around...
She screamed. She backed up against the door and gasped, her head throbbing. Lying on the floor and lighted by a pale ray of the moon bursting through the window, was his sleeper. His red sleeper. The one he'd been wearing that night. The one he died in. The one she burned...
She didn't touch it. She didn't move. I was sleeping with him. Pain coursed through her, but she couldn't stop the memory now. I never did that when Jacob was home, but I was lonely and I thought it couldn't hurt. I was asleep and Ted was too. We were both sleeping. Just sleeping. How could I have known? I had my arm around him, cuddling him, just loving him. I rolled over. I didn't know the blankets went over his head. I didn't know he was dying. I didn't know I was killing him, that he couldn't breathe...
She was numb, even as the door vibrated against her back when the knocking started again. Turning around, she opened the door. She wasn't scared as she looked at the man. Not now. Now she knew. Now she understood...
“What do you want of me?” She stared into the eyes. They were the eyes of her little child, her precious baby. They were hurt eyes—eyes that trusted her, eyes that loved her. “Ted,” she breathed the words. “Why are you here?”
He didn't smile. He didn't even seem to move his lips. But she heard the words, whispered softly into the night, “I just wanted you to remember. Just wanted you to remember, Mama...”
Then he shut the door.
Addie was alone.
And healing was slowly on its way.