Earthbound

by Melora Johnson

  * * *

  I actually ended up enjoying my time with Shelly. We had more in common than I would have thought. I probably should have suspected it since we were both in the same line of work. Rick had picked me up at six-thirty and taken me to the hotel on campus where the party was being held. The ballroom was tastefully decorated.

  Now, waiting for Rick to return with our drinks, I felt something like the heat of a spotlight or sunbeam, warming me. I looked up and saw Matt near the entrance. His gaze was fixed on me. As I met his stare, a beatific smile moved across his face. My heart lurched in response. The corners of my own mouth rose as I brightened. It just felt natural. Then I realized what I was doing and scowled. No. I would not be drawn into whatever he was up to. His face went suddenly blank, then Rick touched my arm. I tore my gaze away to accept the drink Rick proffered.

  The light blue gown Shelly had in mind turned out to have a conspicuous stain on it, so I borrowed a rose-colored dress which left my upper arms bare by tying over my shoulders and elbows. My long, light brown hair hung, plaited loosely, over one side of my shoulder. I was determined to have a good time and not to think about Matt. He was dangerous, in more ways than one.

  When I looked around again, Matt was halfway across the room to us with a stride of fixed determination, despite the dancers he moved through. Oh Shit, this cannot be good. Where’s Shelly? I looked around; however, I didn’t see her.

  A moment later, he stood next to Rick. I suddenly felt electrified. How does just being in the same room with him do more for me than all evening with Rick? I met his eyes then looked away. His gaze accused me somehow. But I haven’t done anything wrong.

  “Matt,” Rick greeted him politely, though clearly less than happy to have someone joining us.

  “Rick. Do you mind if I steal Ally for a dance?”

  Before Rick could respond or I could protest, Matt took me by the arm and guided me to the dance floor. He lifted the drink from my hand, set it on a table as we passed, then pulled me into his arms. I stumbled at the swift pace, but he held me close, steadying me.

  “What the heck?” I hissed at him. “How about asking me, rather than my date? And where’s your date?”

  “Powdering her nose.” He whirled me around the dance floor, edging closer and closer to the French doors leading onto the balcony. His breath warmed my ear, and I shivered involuntarily as he said, “You may be scared, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you hide behind him just because he feels safe.”

  I sputtered while he smoothly took my hand and drew me outside. I tried to yank my hand away, but he held me fast. I glared at him. “Scared of what?”

  “Scared of the truth.”

  He leaned back against the stones of the building and tugged me further out of sight of the doorway. I tripped over a divot in the cement and fell against him, our lips now inches apart.

  Time slowed, and I could hear his heartbeat as clearly as my own as they came into sync. Our lips met, as if magnetized. My eyes slid shut; golden sparks darted across the night sky behind my eyelids. I heard the piercing shriek of an eagle. He tasted like peppermint. When he finally released me, I inhaled sharply. The spicy scent of his aftershave filled my senses. My eyes opened and I stared into his, the golden flecks dancing like light on the blue green ocean.

  “That was not fair,” I gasped out.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” he said lightly, then cleared his throat and leaned back to meet my eyes. “Surrender?”

  What would that make me, his prisoner? I shivered at various associations that brought with it. I shook my head. “I thought you were gay.”

  The right side of his mouth quirked up. “What on Earth would make you think that?”

  “Excuse me, you were the one who pulled away last night.”

  He laughed, a deep, rich sound. “We’d just met, technically.”

  “So, what’s changed?” I asked, pushing back from him.

  He shrugged. “We’ve had time to talk and get things out in the open.”

  He leaned in as if to kiss me again.

  This is a bad idea. I planted a hand against his chest. He let me retreat a foot, still keeping a hold of my hand.

  I glowered. What was he doing? Trying to use sex to confuse me and get me to acquiesce to… whatever he wanted me to become embroiled in? “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not amused.”

  “Personally, I found it more than… amusing.”

  I considered kicking him in the shins. Instead, I yanked my hand out of his. He let me go this time. I turned and walked back into the party.

  It was as if reality had somehow shifted. I could still smell his scent, and my senses were overwhelmed by the people dancing and laughing as if nothing unusual had happened. I supposed it hadn’t for them. I kept seeing his eyes, staring into mine.

  For the rest of the night, I smiled and laughed in all the right places, yet my gaze was drawn to Matt, who laughed and danced with Shelly.

  “Are you okay?” Rick asked, more than once.

  I just faked a smile and nodded each time. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  The final time, I’m afraid I snapped a bit. “I’m fine.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling well. I think I should head back to my hotel.”

  * * *

  He stood next to the bed where I lay. I lifted my arms to him. He leaned down and gave me one kiss, then took a step toward the railing and melted before my eyes, shrinking and swirling in on himself until a golden eagle flapped and climbed skyward. It gave a single piercing cry. I rose and watched from the open sandstone balcony. He soared over the angelic city, the sun on his back, shining on his wings. He didn’t return.

  I woke, covered in sweat, my chest heaving with my breath. I felt as though I’d just surfaced from a long swim. I got up and went into the bathroom, flipped on the light switch and turned the shower on to cold, put my hand under it then wimped out. I rotated the handle to lukewarm.

  What was that? It felt so real, like a memory. Did somebody put something in my drink at the party earlier? What the hell?

  I stripped down and got in, trying to wash the memory of the dream away. However, every time I closed my eyes under the water, I saw him. I could still feel him against me and smell his scent on me.

  I got out, dried off, and put a robe on, then went directly to my laptop on the desk and booked a flight home. I knew the eagle would be fine now when they removed the brace. It was time for me to fly the coop.

  Chapter 5

  I turned the key in the door to the house and pushed it open. Shanda sat right in front of the door, purring loudly and squeezing her eyes shut, letting me know how happy she was to have me home.

  Though it had only been a few days since I left, and Jen had been stopping by daily to check on Shanda, the place smelled stuffy in the warming weather. I walked around, opened a couple windows, and let Shanda out when she scratched.

  Tires crunched on gravel outside just as I started to walk away from the door. Alarm ricocheted through my body. At the window, I drew back the curtain a few inches. Relief flooded through me, making me want to slump against the wall when I realized it was just Jen. I had forgotten to call and tell her she didn’t need to stop by. I went back to open the front door for her.

  “What are you doing home so soon?” Jen asked, bounding up the steps in a slim skirt, red blouse, and pumps.

  How does she do that in heels?

  “Things were a little strange in New York,” I said evasively. “Do you want something to drink? I think I have some diet Coke in the fridge, if it isn’t flat.”

  I led the way into the kitchen. Jen caught up and studied me, cocking her head one way then the other. “Something’s different. What happened in New York?”

  Heat suffused my cheeks. I didn’t respond right away. How much should I say? How much did I want to say?

  “Or should I say who happened?” Jen asked insightfully.
/>
  I shook my head. “No one. I mean nothing.”

  “Yeah, tell that to some other sucker. I’ve known you too long, and I’ve never seen you like this. He has to be something else. What’s his name? Come on, dish.” She went over to the fridge and got out the hot fudge she knew I kept there and stuck it in the microwave, then grabbed bowls out of the cupboard, spoons out of the drawer, and the peanut butter cup ice cream out of the freezer.

  I sat down at the kitchen bar and watched her scoop ice cream as I decided how much to tell her. She dumped hot fudge on the ice cream, stuck a spoon in, and handed one bowl to me. “Thanks.”

  She sat down next to me at the counter and lifted a spoonful of ice cream. “Dish,” she demanded again.

  “Okay,” I acquiesced. “There was a guy there. An ornithologist.”

  Jen grinned. “I knew it. What does he look like?”

  I squirmed a bit in my seat. Even though he wasn’t there, I somehow hated to admit out loud how handsome I had found him.

  “Well, he had really short golden blond hair and piercing blue green eyes.”

  “Oh? Skinny? Built? Tall? Short?”

  I grinned. “Ha. He was actually an inch or two shorter than me, though he was very muscular.” As we dug into the ice cream, I couldn’t help picturing those arms when I shook his hand the first time or remembering the feel when he held me tight against him. Swallowing hard, I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

  Jen watched me with a grin on her face. “Oh yeah, you got it bad.” She twisted side to side in her chair and said in a sing-song voice, “Ally’s got it bad for Mr. Bird Man.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are so immature,” I scorned.

  She glared haughtily down her nose at me. “Heh, you could use some immaturity, my dear.”

  “Whatever.”

  All too quickly the ice cream was gone, and I was scraping the bottom of my bowl. I took it to the sink and set it under the tap.

  Jen padded over to the sink with her bowl, set it in, and gave me a quick hug. “You deserve somebody. I’ve got to split, I’ve got a date tonight, but I want to hear all about your new man. How about lunch tomorrow?”

  “He’s not my man, and yes to lunch. McGinty’s?”

  “Sounds good, see you there at 11:30, before the lunch crowd.”

  In a whirl, she rushed out the door, and I was alone again. Was that a good thing or not? Feeling out of sorts, disquieted, I decided to go for a walk through the woods to calm my restless spirit. I had developed a little bit of a headache since I’d gotten home too. Maybe some fresh air would relieve it.

  I changed into some old jeans, pulled on my hiking boots, grabbed my walking stick and set off, leaving the door unlocked. As the science-fiction writer Spider Robinson said in one of his books, “What if someone came by while I was out and they couldn’t get in?” It wasn’t exactly Nova Scotia, but I was out in the boonies and tried to be helpful if someone got lost while they were out for a hike or something.

  There was an old dirt road across from my house. Heavy rains had washed some of the dirt away in rivulets, so the ground was uneven, and rocks of varying sizes could easily turn an ankle. At the bottom of the incline, I crossed a metal grating which served as a bridge over the stream and leaped the wide ditch that separated the dirt road from the old logging trail. The rest of the hike would be uphill.

  The logging trail had passed through these woods for far longer than I could remember and had become a course for water when it rained, keeping the path relatively free of debris over the last ten years. The trees were mainly pines, dropping needles that crunched softly underfoot. Occasionally a tree would come down over the path, and I came out with a chainsaw to clear it. I’d taken a course in using chainsaws from a local outdoor supply store.

  I stopped for a moment, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. The spicy smell of the trees and the moisture in the air made the evening perfect for relaxing. So why am I not relaxed? I took another deep breath, filling my diaphragm, inhaling through my nose slowly, holding it, then releasing it even more slowly. I did that five times, trying to force my body to relax. It didn’t work. I opened my eyes. Hyperaware of my surroundings, I was momentarily dazzled by the sunlight filtering in through a gap in the trees.

  Things went quiet as I stood there, like birds sometimes do when something unusual approaches. The sun still shone down, and a slight breeze ruffled my hair, but something was definitely off. I caught a very faint whiff of something acrid, like creosote. Turning in a slow circle, I peered into the trees and undergrowth. I stopped and listened, but still nothing became apparent. Not liking this, not one little bit.

  Taking a different tack, I started jogging uphill toward the light, then slowly increased my speed until I burst out of the top of the trail, into the field, at a run. I slowed to a walk, breathing heavily.

  Adrenaline now coursed through my veins as well, but I still had a headache. I skirted the edge of the field, occasionally looking back to the trail head as if expecting something to come bounding out. One of the hounds of hell? Perhaps.

  The birds began to sing again. I followed the edge of the field around to the entrance onto the main road and started back down the hill toward my house. A hawk wheeled overhead so I stopped to watch him. I could almost feel his pleasure in the wind and the sun and the power of his own wings.

  As I walked down the hill, I caught the glint of sun off the windshield of a car parked in back of my house. Had Jen come back? I shielded my eyes and saw a silver sedan. Not Jen’s. Somebody with a hurt bird? It was possible. I wanted to hurry, but at the same time, the incident in the woods had spooked me. I continued walking at a leisurely pace, watching for any sign of the car’s owner.

  As I came around the corner off the main road onto the dirt one, the car started up. The feeling of being hunted returned in a rush. I stepped off the road into the thicket of trees, where a chicken coop of weathered gray wood had stood until a couple years before. The car went down my driveway and turned left. It sped up before it passed the side road so I couldn’t see who was in it.

  As the car crested the hill and its sound receded into the distance, I began to feel foolish. Had I really just hid from someone who might have come to my house for help? I sighed and stepped out of the bushes onto the packed dirt of the road then walked around the back side of the house. Shanda joined me, scrabbling and then leaping down from an apple tree. I didn’t see any note when I got to the side door.

  She preceded me inside. In the kitchen, I was assaulted by a strange smell, like rotten eggs. “What the hell?” Shanda had already turned around and started scratching to be let out again as if she’d forgotten something important she had to do. Had whoever it was been inside? I let her out, then opened the rest of the windows to air the place out.

  The smell was most pronounced in the kitchen, but there was no spot of concentration. It hung in the air, like pipe smoke. I didn’t find anything out of place as I inspected my home, so I made sure the doors were all locked. Somebody had come into my home, somebody who had smelled distinctly odd, and not left a note.

  The smell reminded me of something which set off alarm bells throughout my body, yet I couldn’t remember what. There was a wall between me and the memory that I couldn’t see over. I kept searching for it, like a word on the tip of my tongue. I finally put it out of my mind, knowing when I concentrated on something else, it would come.

  For better or worse, the memory returned that night. As I lay in bed, my mind free to wander, I realized where I had smelled that distinctive scent before. My eyes popped open. It had been as a child, the day the man had come to the door, pushed his way in, then grabbed me. The smell had remained even after I killed him.

  I turned on the lamp and sat up in bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I hadn’t thought of this stuff for so long, pushing the memory away to please my parents. It was like Matt’s validation of my story had made it okay for me to remember. The phone on my
nightstand beckoned. I could call Jen. Or I could call Matt. The number was still stored in the history of my phone. Somehow, I had the feeling he wouldn’t mind if I called, no matter the time.

  I jumped as Shanda padded into the room. When she leaped onto the bed, I pulled her into my lap, finding a measure of comfort in the soft gray of her fur. I laid down with her next to me, but it was a long while before I got back to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Sunlight streamed in my bedroom window around the shade, waking me. I opened my eyes and pulled my covers up. Spring meant I had turned the heat off. No point in running up the electric bill in this drafty old farmhouse when I’d rather sleep under a pile of blankets in a cool room anyway. It warmed up fine during the day, but the chill crept in as I slept. If it was too cold, I could always bake something and open the oven door afterward or throw a few sticks in the wood stove.

  I flexed my toes and yawned, glancing over at the clock. My fears of the night before felt far removed in the cold light of an early May morning. I had refrained from calling anyone, least of all Matt. I felt foolish. It was the same old room it had always been; everything was eminently normal.

  The light came in through the gaps between the window frame and the shade, illuminating the white wallpaper with purple sprigs of lavender. The yellow of the cedar closet to my right glowed in the morning light, threaded through with reddish streaks. I had a chest of the same wood at the end of the bed, where I stored material for quilting and sewing projects. The bookcase and tall dresser against the far wall didn’t match. Their finish had darkened with age. The latter was something I had purchased myself a few years back at a yard sale, while the former had been there when I moved in, part of the hodgepodge. My great aunt had been self-sufficient, though not a wealthy woman. Her grandfather had been fairly well off in his day, so there were actually closets in two of the bedrooms, rare for a house built in 1895.

  I flexed my toes again, trying to summon the courage to get out of bed. Best to do it like ripping off a bandage. Shanda was already gone, so I braced and threw the covers off, swung my feet over the edge of the bed as I sat up, and shoved my feet into furry moccasins. I grabbed my red flannel bathrobe from where it lay on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and put it on.