by Sarah Hualde
Ivy blanched. She might have laughed at the younger's silly remarks, but it was apparent that heated feelings were behind them. Her friend's sudden switch was startling and scary. Emily seethed and then spotting a group from Mission House she walked away from Ivy, leaving her friend to run the rest of the vigil without her.
Ivy felt anger welling and tears of rage inflamed behind her eyes. She might have cried. She might have yelled. Except Maven started talking. Everyone around her went silent. Even in the distance, Ivy could see Shane Mons standing straighter and paying close attention to the speaker on the town's picnic table.
“Excuse me!” Maven’s voice cracked through the portable speakers that surrounded the lawn. All eyes turned upon her, as she held up her phone displaying her candle app.
"Thank you. Thank you all for coming. ASMR is such an unknown treasure. To know Averie has touched so many, it's miraculous."
Ivy studied Maven’s countenance. Her face looked sad and happy. Her lips turned upward at the corners as her brows slid sideways in consolation. Ivy was wondering where so many “fans” had come from. She suspected most of the crowd hadn’t a clue who Averie Stardust was.
Maven continued her speech, “Averie and I have been through a lot these last few years. You all know the trauma and stress we've been enduring.
After the car wreck, Averie was despondent. She needed intensive counseling and constant supervision for years. At times, she lapses back to those first few months.
It destroyed her memory. Her personality nearly erased. Seeing her desperate need, I left my singing career and dedicated myself to her care. She did well for a long time. Our fans kept her going. Knowing we make a difference for others keeps us both going.” The crowd applauded.
“Averie was always a nervous soul. The accident only intensified these worries. I’ve been by her side guiding her back to her true self.
She’s always loved you all. When she signs off her videos, she calls you her precious Stardusts. She believes you are each uniquely destined. As unique as the dust you’re made from, a chance combination compounded over the ages to create, become, and evolve into who you are today. She wants you each to sparkle as only stars can. To remember where you came from and shine.”
Maven lifted her cellphone in the air. “Now, if you would all hold up your lights. Offer them back to the galaxy. Unify in thought and let's send our power, our light, to our beloved Averie. If she overcomes these recent troubles, may she glow with the radiance of your good thoughts. If she returns to the earth, may her energy surround each of you and bring you each a blessing. Hold them high and let us send love to Averie.”
Maven lifted her phone as far as her arm would extend. She shut her eyes and bowed her head low. Her stance was confusing, an awkward mix of self-sacrifice and self-promotion.
Ivy lifted her cellphone, in unison with the crowd, and prayed. She kept her eyes open and raised a cry for help for Emily and then for Averie.
Emily was hiding somewhere in the crowd, but Ivy couldn't spot her. She turned her face toward Shane Mons, but he was no longer standing at the edge of the field. In his place, Hobo Joe stood eyes closed and mouth moving in prayer. Ivy hoped Emily avoided Shane and the other way around. She prayed and then looked to Maven.
In leather pants, Maven fit the stage. Her signature scarf rode the evening wind. Far from Averie's style, Maven dressed for show and Averie dressed for service.
After a deep inhale Maven started the most famous verse of Amazing Grace and the crowd joined in. Her voice, heavy with feeling, cracked and strained away from the notes needed to carry the song. The smooth richness of sound, Ivy heard on her CD, was absent.
Maven’s expression was tumultuous, stormier with each new note. When she finished the second verse, Maven bowed her head, but the crowd continued. They sang aloud the last two verses. Maven crumbled, face to palms and sobbed, while they sang.
The crowd ended almost in unison. Maven stood again, triumphant and unrelenting. She held an index finger to the group, shushing them all, and again she sang the first verse. When a few people straggled onto the song, she stopped singing and hushed them.
“Let this one verse be mine. Let me feel this, like only I can. Averie is my cousin.” Her tone short and angry but her face reflective. The crowd hushed to a lull in confusion. They watched slack jawed as Maven finished the verse with long, vibrating notes. Her throat cracked, and she winced, then with palms open to the crowd Maven continued her speech.
“May the universe cradle you and bless you. Thank you. Thank you. Please, drive safely home. Hug your loved ones and be at peace.” She set the microphone down, stepped from the table, and sauntered through the crowd. Someone held out a hand, and she shook it.
Maven looked almost presidential as she left the lawn. She turned toward Ivy, several feet away, and beckoned her to her side. Perplexed, Ivy went to her and Maven drove her back home to Lydia’s.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ivy and Emily sat watching videos. Emily was in a forgiving and friendly mood. The baby monitor rattled with static and snoring on an end table nearby.
“Well, ladies, what are you up to?” Lydia tossed her purse down.
Emily went off chattering about the vigil. She changed into sweat pants when some boy dropped her off at Lydia’s. She left out all the details about her tiny skirt and the hunt for Shane Mons.
Lydia treated herself to a black coffee, which didn't mesh well with the hamburger and onion rings she'd eaten on her trip home. She needed coffee if Emily kept talking all night. So, the mother sipped on the couch beside Ivy listening to Emily spin drama and romance from a ten-minute conversation of happenstance.
"… and then Maven talked about how we're all made of stardust. I mean I guess I knew, but I hadn't digested it before. Stardust! Can you imagine? Why do we get so down on ourselves? We started so magnificently?" Emily sighed, delighted in her epiphany. "She, Maven, even called me stardust. Why don't we all do that? Why don't we greet each other like the miracles we are?"
Emily sat awaiting agreement. The new revelation soothed her confusing life situations. Ivy didn't aim to pop her bubble. Emily was the same girl who'd screeched at her an hour ago. She wasn’t one for generous or miraculous titles.
“It’s a good question, Emily, especially in the family of Christ. For as believers, we’re all adopted as heirs with Christ. Sons and daughters of the Living God. What could be more miraculous than that?”
Emily raspberried at Lydia’s comment. “Old wives’ tales and ancient beliefs. Even the Bible, says we're made from dust. We're part of something much grander than ourselves. Why believe in a god we can't see? We can be a part of the magnificent stars we can see?”
Lydia set down her coffee mug. Her thoughts spread across her face plainer than her favorite lipstick. “But my sweet Emily, answer me this question. Which is the more magnificent… the dust that makes us or the One whose exhale brings that dust to life?”
Emily rose to her feet and clomped across the carpet. "What is it with you Christians? Why do you try to hold back everyone? Why can't I be part of something beautiful? Why can't I have a cosmic destiny and be a part of a grand plan? How come it's always Christians and their God ruining things and making the rest of us miserable?”
“I believe we are part of something much grander. A beautiful plan, handcrafted by God. He controls our destiny. Not the finite and perishable cosmos. Stars die every day. Please think twice before placing your hopes in them.”
Lydia reached out for Emily, but the teen turned away. “You’re thrilled to be part of something that’s mortal and dying. But there’s One who’s eternal. One who loves you. One who will never leave you. One who will never die. Put your hope in Him.”
Lydia admonished her young friend. Filled with emotion but careful not to grow loud in passion, unless Emily translated that passion as hostility, Lydia let her words float on the air and prayed the Holy Spirit would plant them where they were most needed
.
Emily whipped her cell from her sweatpants’ pocket and punched in seven digits. “I can’t be here, right now. It’s stifling.” She ripped her purse from its resting place and walked out the front door. It’s slamming awoke not only little Scout but her babysitter.
“Hello?”
“Flora, I didn’t know you were here!”
Flora absorbed Emily’s empty spot on the couch. She passed Scout to Lydia who coo-ed at the baby girl and tried to soothe her back to sleep. "I stayed with Scout during the vigil and stayed to get the scoop from you. How was the hospital? Did you give Ethan the phone? How’s Averie?”
Lydia chugged her remaining coffee one-handed and settled in to tell the tale. "Averie was awake for a bit. She wasn't able to speak, but she knew I was there. I could tell she's worried and scared. The nurses checked her out, and one will stay by her bedside. She should wake up again. Ethan will be there until he’s sent home by the Ashton team. How was the vigil? Sorry I missed it.” Lydia turned to Ivy.
Ivy shrugged. "It was strange — creepy, kind of. I can't explain. Emily was, just as she told you. She ran around chasing whatever guy would look at her."
"We've all been there," Flora interjected and tucked a pillow under the curve of her back.
“Yes, well. I hope Emily makes it out of this phase without…” Ivy was about to refer to Scout as damage. But she couldn’t. She believed it was best for a baby to be born to parents ready to care for her. But she could not, and would not regret Scout’s birth.
“Irrevocable consequences?” Lydia pet Ivy’s silver nailed hand.
“Exactly. They restructure your life.” Ivy’s chest ached for her younger self and ached for Emily. “Anyway, the whole thing was odd. Shane Mons was there, but he didn’t come to see Emily or me. At least, I don’t think so. He kept his distance. In fact, he stayed on the edge of the crowd. Then when Maven’s speech started, I looked over, and he was gone."
"I'm glad he left you, girls, alone.”
Flora's belly lurched with her baby's movement. Scout reached out for the lump. "It's like they're already talking to each other." Flora and Ivy both giggled, and Lydia handed Scout back to her sitter. The baby snuggled into Flora's heartbeat but left a chubby hand resting on her huge belly.
“Here, let me show you what I mean?” Ivy flashed back on the topic and pulled her cellphone out of her purse. “I found this video online. It’s Maven’s speech at the vigil.”
Lydia watched closely and shuddered at all the places Ivy found unsettling. “What’s with her voice?”
“I think she was just overwhelmed.” Ivy took her phone and was about to place it back in its home when Flora stopped her.
Flora whispered. She did not want to wake Scout. “I think I have the answer to that.”
Both her listeners shot surprised looks at Flora Brandes. "I know I'm simple and live a simple life, but that doesn't mean I'm a simpleton. I have ideas." She mimicked emotional damage with her scowl before reaching for the remote.
“I’ll do it for you.” Ivy offered and turned on the TV. Flora guided her to a concert from some years back. Maven sang. She hit notes Lydia never imagined possible for such a small grizzly woman.
"Now," Flora instructed. "Show Lydia the crash." Ivy obeyed, and Lydia watched jaw slackening with each new clip. "You see it too, don't you?"
“Averie wasn’t driving that car.” Flora shook her head.
“Maven was.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Berna hated hospitals. She hated their mock living room décor, their horrid wall art, and their sterile yet urine scented filtered air. A hospital was the exact opposite of a Bed and Breakfast. That, and people always died in hospitals. Not a single guest died at the Hive, not yet. As soon as the thought formed Berna chastised herself. A guest may still die. Berna cared but was too nervous to find out.
She didn't feign concern over Henry. The moron found a bag of leaves in Olive's hospitality cart and instead of letting her toss them out, he'd taken them home. There, in the privacy of his camper, he rolled them and smoked them. Olive said when she visited Henry; he was running circles around the van and talking to invisible people.
Berna believed the girl’s story. She discovered the grown man huddled in a sobbing mass, sweating and swearing and sucking his thumb. Henry needed professional help.
Berna dropped him and Olive at the door of the ER and parked her car. She was only going inside to make sure someone checked them in, and they made the waitlist. Then, if she could, she was convincing Olive to leave Henry and come back to the Inn.
Ethan met her in the lobby. “Why Mrs. Berna what are you doing here?” Berna only had to point in Henry’s direction. Ethan glowered. “What’s he done, now?”
"He decided any weed was good enough to smoke, literally. He smoked some stuff Olive found in a guest's room. The sweet girl thought it was trash. But Lightbulb Henry thought he scored big time.”
Ethan’s face changed. His thoughts weren’t on Berna. “Did he bring any of it with him?”
“I expect Olive’s carrying it in her bag. They’re at the front desk.” Ethan went to the strange couple.
Berna sat down in a bright orange chair. She cringed, imagining who may have sat there last and what may have leaked from their body. The man beside her noticed her squirming.
“I know how you feel.” He passed her some hand sanitizer.
Thankful, she turned to the stranger and met a handsome smile. “Why Mr. Mons, what are you doing here?”
*****
“If Maven was driving, that explains all Averie’s injuries and how Maven walked away from the crash.” Ivy retrieved her laptop from her bedroom. She rested it on the kitchen table.
The ladies joined her, leaving Scout curled on the couch. Flora moaned and exhaled. Lydia’s eyes went wide. “You okay?”
"I overdid yesterday. I'm fine. Ignore it.”
How anyone could ignore pain that intense was a shock to Lydia, but she said nothing. She took a chair and swung it to the corner of the table for Flora and did likewise for herself. Ivy perched on the center seat.
“Ouch!” Lydia squealed.
"Not you too?" Ivy felt like a toddler at an old folk's home. The looks she gave both her friends told as much.
“I’ve got something in my shoe. I keep forgetting to take it out. This is more important.”
They watched old concerts and compared it to the filming of Maven's Amazing Grace. The voices were not the same. They watched the wreck, over and over again. "Okay, I can't take the crash anymore. Go to something different."
Ivy obeyed, and a Maven ASMR came up. Maven led the video, and Averie again acted as a prop. "That's different," Flora stated, hand to her back again. "She's wearing her scarf."
"She always wears a scarf." Ivy countered. "She wore it at the festival and the banquet. She's always wearing a scarf."
Flora grinned, “Yes, but she didn’t before the accident.”
The women flipped back and forth between the videos. Early Maven, no scarf. Later Maven, scarf. Singer Maven, no scarf. Whispering Maven, scarf. “Lots of artists recreate themselves.” Lydia went to the fridge.
"Yes, but before. She was all low tank tops and scoop necks. I think she's hiding something." Flora clapped, giddy to be useful in their impromptu investigation.
“Like what? A tattoo?” Ivy shifted in her seat.
“Like a scar.” Lydia dropped a plate of fresh fruit and pretzels in front of her companions.
"A scar?" Enlarging the screen, Ivy zoomed in on a still of the car crash. Maven's hand was at her throat, and Averie was lying flat on the concrete. "From the wreck? But why would she hide it?"
“Because she was driving, and she wanted no one else to know it.” Lydia flung a grape into her mouth and cheeked it. “Because she wanted the world to think Averie had caused the crash.”
“Why? What would she have to gain?”
Lydia thought over the cousin’s relationship. What
did Maven have to gain? Averie and Maven seemed to be the best of friends. Perhaps they were an odd couple, complementary pieces, but they were still close.
“It would have been easy to do. Averie was in a coma. She suffered severe memory loss. Some of her memories still haven’t returned.” Flora pointed out. Again, Lydia stared at her in disbelief. “It was on her life story video.”
“That’s right, it was.” Ivy backed her up.
“Still, if it was accidental then what did she have to worry about? There’s nothing that shows alcohol or drug use. If they had suspected it, the news would have blasted it. They love doing that to celebrities.” Flora nibbled at her bottom lip while thinking.
“What if it wasn’t an accident?” Lydia shivered with the thought.
“But who would do that? Who would crash their car on purpose, with them inside it, and then blame the only other victim of the crash?”
“Someone in a blind rage,” Ivy shivered. She’d witnessed blind rage, first hand. It was more than terrifying. It was paralyzing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Averie looked into the familiar big blue eyes. She’d missed those eyes without knowing it. Both hers and her guest’s eyes watered with grief and gladness. She outstretched her hand. “I know who you are. How fitting you should be here when I wake up?”
“I should have been there. All those years ago.” The man kissed the top of Averie’s pale, weak hand and left his lips there for a long time. He gathered his thoughts and steadied his nerves before daring to speak. There wasn’t much time, and he had a lot to say.
Averie forced herself to stay awake although the pull of sleep was strengthening every moment. She sniffed in the man's scent. She ruffled his hair with her unrestrained hands. It was mesmerizing to be beside this companion — this man who had never left her. "My shadow man," she whispered.
