The Chosen One

by Marla Meyers

  The next morning, when Becka arrived, after Marissa had phoned her, the three of them sat around the kitchen table.

  “Mel, you look exhausted,” Becka told Marissa, as she looked at Marissa’s eyes, with their deep circles underneath. Her expression was solemn.

  Tara sat staring down at the table. No one said anything for a little while.

  Marissa had filled Becka in on the phone about the previous days’ events. Just like Marissa, Becka had always worried that someday things might change, but she didn’t think it would be anything like this. She had always worried that someone would find out that Tara was special, that they would want to run tests, that the media would find out that Tara would be deprived of the normal childhood that Marissa craved so badly for her.

  “Well,” Becka began, “we need some help.” Tara and Marissa looked up at her. “I have the name of someone we can go talk to,” Becka said. “Here is her name and phone number.” She pushed a small piece of paper towards Marissa.

  Marissa read the name on the paper. Rita Dillashaw.

  “Who is she?” Marissa asked Becka, rubbing her eyes and trying to stay awake, but not sounding very enthusiastic.

  “She is a psychic,” Becka answered firmly. “And she is a good one.”

  Marissa continued rubbing her eyes, not even looking up at Becka.

  Tara looked up. “Aunt Becka, how can she help us?”

  “I don’t know if she can,” Becka replied, “but I think it’s worth a shot. Unless you guys have any better ideas.”

  Marissa didn’t say anything, but just shook her head, as if to say ‘no’.

  “Do you want me to call her?” Becka asked Marissa, glancing over at Tara, who seemed to be hoping her Mother would say ‘yes’.

  Marissa slowly lifted her head, saying wearily, “I don’t know, Becka. A psychic?”

  “Mom, I want to go see her,” Tara spoke up.

  Marissa sat there for a few minutes, staring at her beautiful daughter, and wondering what the future held for her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  However, Becka and Tara double tagged her, and their appointment was set for later that afternoon.

  Rita Dillashaw lived about thirty miles away. When they pulled into the driveway, Marissa looked over at Tara. “Are you sure you want to do this, Tara? I mean, we don’t even know if she’s for real or what?”

  “I’ll know, Mom,” Tara answered, confidently, not appearing near as nervous as Marissa felt.

  As they knocked on the door, Marissa was surprised by the woman that answered. Not sure exactly what she had been expecting, a very attractive, tall slender woman with short brown hair slowly opened the door. Dressed in tailored slacks and a flowing white blouse, Marissa looked down at her own sweat pants and sweat shirt, when the woman said, in a soft voice, “Come in…come in…I’m Rita.” And she motioned them into the house.

  As they walked in, a small white poodle came running to greet them. “Scooter…no, no,” the woman said softly, as she scooped the dog up, saying, “let me go put her up. I’ll be right back.” And she quickly scurried off, toting the dog under one arm.

  Marissa glanced over at Becka, who had already taken a seat on the blue, leather love seat, next to Tara. Then she looked around the house, thinking to herself that this didn’t look like a psychic’s house. It looked, well…very normal. No incense burning, or statues, or beaded entrances. None of the hoopla from the movies or from psychic’s houses she had visited in the past. She thought for a minute about the time she and Becka had stopped to have their palms read, coming back from Grove Hill. No, this was nothing like that. This woman looked sophisticated. Maybe even a PTA Mom. She supposed she had expected something else.

  The woman walked back into the room and over to Tara. “Hello, Tara,” she began, still in a soft voice, as she reached over and grabbed Tara’s hand. “Why don’t you come sit over here, by me?” she said, motioning Tara to the other larger couch, a few feet away.

  Tara got up and went to sit with Rita. Marissa sat down beside Becka, feeling like she needed to say something, but Becka had instructed her, “don’t offer too much information. Let’s just see what she has to say’. So, Marissa sat there, as did Becka waiting.

  Rita again reached for Tara’s hand, then looked warmly into her eyes, before saying, “Tara, you know, you are very special.”

  Marissa fought the urge to say, “well, no kidding! We know that!’ But, instead, sat there quietly, as Rita continued, while she held Tara’s hand. “Now, don’t be afraid. Do I look like a scary lady?” Rita asked Tara, winking at her, then turning to smile at Marissa and Becka.

  Again, Marissa thinking. ‘yep’…quite normal looking.

  But, could she help them?

  No sooner had Marissa thought that, Rita focused her attention on Marissa, still holding Tara’s hand, though. She looked at Marissa for what seemed like a while. Then she looked back at Tara. She was rubbing Tara’s hand, when she stopped looked up at Marissa, and very matter of fact asked, “Who is Andrea?”

  Marissa grabbed Becka’s arm, as Rita and Tara both waited for an answer. Becka nodded at Marissa, as if to say, “tell her’.

  Marissa looked over at Rita and Tara, who was now saying, “Mom, do you know someone named Andrea?”

  Marissa looked over at Tara, her face longing for direction, and she wondered whether to continue.

  Then Rita said, “Marissa, Tara needs to hear anything you have to say.”

  Marissa then said, after hesitating, “Andrea was a little girl that died…in a fire when I was very small. I don’t really remember, but…” and she faded off, watching for any expression from Tara, whose eyes had opened wide, as she herself remembered back years ago, to the article to Father Tearney.

  “Okay, Tara,” Rita said, turning to face her. “Do you ever have nightmares? Maybe about fires?”

  Marissa’s heart was racing, as she watched her daughter, say excitedly, “Yes! Not so much anymore. But, I did a lot when I was little.”

  “It’s because you have the same soul as Andrea. And Andrea was very special, too.” Rita told her, still rubbing her hands, and seemingly staring right through Tara.

  “Have you done this before? I mean, have you done it a lot? I mean…” Marissa interrupted, looking at Rita.

  Rita smiled, then said, jokingly, “Oh, a few times.” Then she looked back at Tara, leaving Marissa wondering exactly what that meant.

  “Tara, there is a bad man in your dreams now, isn’t there?” Rita asked her, her face suddenly saddening and she was rubbing Tara’s hand faster and harder. “A very bad man,” she continued, rubbing even harder, her eyes widening and starting to look fearful. “Oh…yes…he is evil,” she went on, beginning to squirm in her seat and looking uncomfortable. “He wants your soul! He is so evil,” she said, no longer in a soft voice, her eyes now glassy, as sweat beads had gathered on her forehead.

  “Stop!” Marissa yelled at her, as she saw the look of horror on her fourteen-year-old’s face.

  Rita kept going, though. She kept rubbing Tara’s hand, as if she had not even heard Marissa’s command. Harder and Harder she rubbed, becoming more worked up. Tara was pulling away and leaning back away from her. Rita climbed up on her knees and now using both hands, clenched Tara’s tiny hand between hers, rubbing it hard.

  Then she rocked back and forth, the sweat now pouring from her forehead, as her eyes became squinted, her teeth clenched. Tara then yelled out, “Stop!” Rita laughed, a deep, hysterical laugh, and now she was yanking hard on Tara, pulling her back and forth.

  As Marissa jumped up and dove for Rita, with Becka right beside her, Rita turned to face them, stopping them dead in their tracks, as her eyes had turned coal black her teeth crooked and yellow, as she was levitating about six inches off the couch, still grabbing and tugging on Tara, who was now screaming at the top of her lungs. After Marissa had only momentarily halted, she again dove for this creature in Rita’s body. Upon contact, she wa
s thrown backwards over the coffee table and onto the floor. Becka took up where she left off, diving for Rita, who also threw her back…much farther, across the room. Tara was screaming and trying to pull away. The laugh was louder and deeper, as it spewed from Rita’s now transformed face. Marissa again dove, in an effort to free her daughter. Becka, recovering…did the same. Several more attempts sent them flying back even further across the room. Becka did not get up, as the last blow to her head had rendered her unconscious. Marissa, now screaming, and desperate to free her daughter, gathered all her strength and pulled on Tara’s other arm. Tara was screaming, “Mom!” Marissa was screaming, “Let her go! Let her go!” Becka lay helpless on the floor. The woman continued to laugh louder, as she floated upward, pulling Tara with her.

  Then suddenly, very suddenly…it stopped. Marissa, who had still been pulling on Tara, fell backward with her daughter, onto the floor. Rita fell from where she had just been elevated, onto the couch, then rolled onto the floor.

  Everything got quiet. Marissa cuddled her daughter, who was now sobbing hard. She held her for a few seconds, then saw Becka laying across the room on the floor, not moving. “Oh God! Becka!” she said, still clutching Tara and pulling her with her, to where Becka lay.

  “Mom, is she dead?” Tara shrieked, still sobbing and looking down at Becka’s still body.

  Marissa quickly reached down and felt Becka’s pulse. She was alive. Marissa tried to lift her. All she could think of at that point was to get Tara and Becka out of that house.

  “Tara! Grab her feet! Touch her!” Marissa yelled at Tara. Tara, hesitant to leave her Mother’s side, kept glancing back at Rita, lying sprawled on the floor.

  “Tara! Help me!” Marissa yelled at her again, as she struggled to lift Becka up from underneath her shoulders. “Grab her feet! Touch her, baby!”

  Tara finally did and they began dragging Becka towards the front door, Tara crying all the while. Then Becka opened her eyes. They laid her down for a minute. “Becka?” Marissa whispered softly to her. “Can you hear me?”

  “Aunt Becka!” Tara was screaming, but stroking her head. They waited a few more seconds and Becka responded, a faint, “Yes, I hear you.” Then she sat up, as Marissa supported her back and Tara sat in front of her.

  Then they both told Becka, simultaneously, “Let’s go, Becka. Let’s go!” They helped her to her feet and headed for the door. Marissa stopped at the door, though, as she looked back at Rita’s body lying still on the floor.

  “Wait!” she said, looking at Tara and Becka. “We can’t leave her like this.”

  “Mom! Yes we can!” Tara screamed, pulling her Mother towards the door.

  Marissa pulled away from Tara’s grip and walked over to where Rita lay.

  “Mom! No!” Tara screamed, still horrified and hysterical.

  Then Becka also pulled away from Tara’s hold, and said, “Sweetie, wait here. I’ll help your Mom.”

  “No, Aunt Becka! Don’t touch her!” Tara begged, but Becka went and stood beside Marissa.

  They looked down at her, not moving. Marissa hesitantly touched her arm, saying, “Rita? Rita, wake up.”

  Tara stood at the door. “Let’s go! Let’s please go!”

  Becka put her arm underneath Rita’s neck and together she and Marissa lifted her to the couch.

  A few seconds later, she came to. She strained to open her eyes.

  “Rita, can you hear me?” Marissa asked her.

  Rita slowly opened her mouth to speak, saying, “Yes, yes, I can.”

  Tara had walked back over to her Mother and Becka.

  The three of them were kneeling down beside this woman, who had only moments before scared them half to death. She looked so peaceful now, as she slowly sat up, straightened her blouse and ran her hands through her hair. Then she smiled, a very warm smile this time. She grabbed Marissa’s hand, and said, “You asked me if I had ever done this well,” then she smiled again, “nothing like this.” she confessed. “Never…never…anything like this.”

  “What happened?” Becka asked Rita, as she continued to straighten her tousled clothes and hair.

  “I’m not sure…” Rita began. “It felt like I didn’t have a body. But, I could see everything that was happening. But, I couldn’t do anything!” she finished, now looking at Tara, who was still hesitant to get too close to her.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know exactly what happened.” Rita went on, ”I felt like I was dying. Then, something happened!” Rita continued, shaking her head. She looked at Marissa and sat up a little straighter and said, “Just as I thought all was lost, something happened. Someone made all the evil go away. It all just went away!” Rita said, looking back and forth at Marissa and Tara, then asked, “Who is Joshua? Do you know him?”

  Marissa and Tara just smiled at her and then at each other.

  Chapter 32

  After that day at Rita’s, four years passed. Four years with no nightmares, no visions of the “man with the black face’ nothing. Rita had told them after the episode, that life would be a The Chosen One for Tara. Whatever her purpose here on this Earth, God had a mission for her. She didn’t know what it was, but that she was very special, in a very good way. Whatever evil forces had tried to sabotage her mission, they had failed. Rita called her a Saint, a gift to us all, from God.

  It took time for Marissa, Tara and Becka to forget and for life to resume itself in the “normal’ manner that they had become accustomed to. But, is anyone’s life really normal, Marissa would wonder. Perhaps normal was just whatever you made it.

  Becka had built up a successful business in Houston, renovating houses, and when she wasn’t working, she spent most of her time traveling the country. Still, no steady man in her life, she played a lot and was truly enjoying all life had to offer. Feisty as ever! She brought Marissa and Tara presents from all over the world, and saw them as often as possible. They had all agreed, mainly for Tara’s sake, not to talk about what had happened.

  Marissa’s dining room served as an office, where she continued to design ads, contracting out to lots of other companies now. She worked a lot. She stayed as close to Tara as any eighteen-year-old would allow. As her own fifty-second birthday neared, she always had the feeling that she was waiting just waiting to see where Tara’s freefall would take her.

  Tara didn’t date or run around with her friends as much as she did when she was younger. She seemed to know that she had things to do. She spent lots of time at the Children’s Hospital downtown. There had been more unexplainable recoveries in a year than ever before. Lots of National news headlines… “Child in a coma wakes up after two years’, or “Brain tumor vanishes for small child’ or Blind child regains sight’. And, there were lots more. Tara would read the headlines and just smile.

  But, Marissa wasn’t sure that this was all there was. Not that saving all these lives wasn’t a miracle in itself. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still to come something very big. She hoped that she would be around to see it. But, until that day came, she would wait, and work and stay as close to Tara as she could.

  Then one Wednesday afternoon, Becka called. “Marissa, we are going on a trip. You and me. No arguments. You stay cooped up in that house too much! Where do you want to go?”

  “Becka, I can’t,” Marissa answered, without even considering it. She would never leave Tara.

  “Oh, yes you can, my dear!” Becka snapped back, then added, “Why?”

  “I have too much work to do,” Marissa whined back at her.

  “Liar,” Becka said, coldly.

  “Becka, don’t be mad. I just can’t right now,” Marissa answered, surprised that she would even think that she would leave Tara.

  Knowing her quite well, Becka said, “Bring Tara or have her stay at Linda’s house while we’re gone. Just for a few days,” Becka insisted, referring to one of Tara’s friends from school.

  “Nope. Tara has finals. She can’t go a
nd I’m not leaving her,” Marissa said, firmly, then added, “but, thanks for asking, Becka. Come stay with us for a while, if you want.”

  “No. I am coming to get you Friday at 7:00. Be ready,” Becka insisted.

  “I’m not going, Becka. You know that,” Marissa responded in a monotone voice.

  When they hung up, she saw Tara standing in the doorway.

  “Mom…go,” Tara said, pleading. “Get out of this house for a while.”

  “Tara…no. And that’s all there is to it,” Marissa told her daughter, without even looking up.

  It took the next three days of pleading, from both Tara and Becka, but Marissa reluctantly agreed, knowing she was out numbered. Tara promised to stay at Linda’s and to call her every day. Colorado was to be the destination for Marissa and Becka. Steamboat Springs, Colorado for four days.

  “We’ll sit at the Gondola at the top of the mountains and order a bottle of their finest wine,” Becka had told Marissa. Then jokingly said, “And at night we’ll kick back and paint our toenails!”

  “Mom, I’ll be fine,” Tara assured her Mother as they said their Good-bye’s at the airport. “Have a great time.

  Aunt Becka, make her have a great time!” Tara insisted, in reference to her hesitant Mom.

  They weren’t far into the first day of their trip, when Marissa realized that she was, indeed, having a great time. They watched the skiers from high atop the white ripped mountains and drank lots of wine. And just for old times’ sake, they even painted their toenails. Tara called Marissa at the times they had designated, and Marissa was glad that she had made the trip.

  Marissa had something she needed to tell, Becka, though. She waited until the last night they were there. They had just finished a huge lobster dinner, and ordered another bottle of wine, as they sat nestled above the mountain tops. Marissa looked at Becka, knowing this was probably the best time to tell her the news. She knew there was never going to be a really good time. She looked across the table at her long time best friend, and said, “Becka, we have really been through it, haven’t we?”