by C C Daniels
I kissed her temple, worried about her. It couldn’t be Alzheimer’s, though, because no matter how deep she went, she always recognized everyone and never forgot how to knit.
The skull’s energy seemed to trigger this episode and the last. I wondered if all her woo-woo incidents had been triggered by objects of some sort. I vowed to keep notes on when and where she went woo-woo.
I must’ve sighed out loud, because MawMaw’s attention came to me. “You’re a special soul, Wray.” She patted the ottoman. “Sit.” When I did, she leaned forward, took my hands, and turned them palms up.
The creases on both of my palms made perfect triangles. I hadn’t noticed it, not until I showed them to a palm reader at the county fair. My lifelines, the gypsy marveled, were continuous with no beginning and no end. That was the summer between fifth and sixth grade when Amaya insisted we both get readings.
As of late, those triangles had become of special interest to woo-woo MawMaw. She liked to trace them and it seemed harmless enough, so I let her.
“Your tea’s getting cold,” I murmured. The juniper stench faded the cooler it got.
Her tracing abruptly stopped. Her gemstone-like eyes stared into mine. “Something momentous happened to you today, didn’t it?” She tilted her head at my arm.
I looked down at my palms and didn’t say anything, scared that even a syllable from me could make her slip deeper into WooWoo Land. It was like that all the time, walking on eggshells in fear.
“You don’t have to share it with me if you don’t wish to.” The disappointment, though, was in her voice. “I just want you to realize that whatever it is, it’s a good thing.”
I smirked and raised an eyebrow at her.
She cupped my cheek with a hand. “Whether you believe or not, you came to us with an important destiny.” She nodded with certainty. “And it’s almost time.”
With that, she sat back in her chair, and took several sips of her lukewarm tea before gathering up her knitting. Instead of the usual pragmatic socks or warm woolen sweater, she had an intricate lacy cardigan on her needles. She was almost done. A gift for a friend, she said.
I watched her rhythmic stitching for a few seconds. Then, I rose from the ottoman and stepped quietly away to the kitchen. There, I grabbed a bottle of my favorite Mexican cola from the fridge and went upstairs to my room.
Like the skull knew I was coming, its aura intensified. I hesitated outside my door. The vibe intensified as I stood there. Certain it was wafting downstairs too, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There it was, still on my bed right where I rolled it.
“Stop it,” I whispered to it. “You’re hurting MawMaw.” And the vibe went away. Just like that.
I went in, closed the door and lowered myself to the desk chair. Twisting the cap off the glass soda bottle, I stared at the shell-looking thing. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it. That’s what I told myself—daily sometimes—about my quirks. Amaya didn’t know it, but she was right. Despite those quirks, I couldn’t make myself believe in magic or the supernatural. Explanations? Now those I believed in.
The strange energy had totally shut down. What a relief that was.
I spun around to face the desk and woke up my laptop—happy to focus on something other than my peculiar life. My essay for social studies was almost done. I clicked on the doc and the paper popped up on the screen.
A half hour later, after a final edit, I sent it to my teacher’s inbox and printed a physical copy to hand in, just for good measure. By the time I was done, my mind felt calmer—until I turned around to the skull staring back at me. What Amaya and I saw—that thing regenerating itself—was something straight out of a science fiction movie. It wasn’t magic, though. Magic doesn’t exist.
Hunger hit with a sharp gurgle in my stomach. Thanks to getting thrown by Ella, walking home, a roadside dresser, MawMaw’s trances, and a paper due tomorrow, I hadn’t eaten anything other than a granola bar before my morning ride.
Downstairs, MawMaw had fallen asleep in her easy chair, needles still in her hands. She looked uncomfortable tilted forward like she was. I reclined the chair a bit. When I gently moved her head back, she smiled in her sleep.
I knew better than to try to take the knitting from her hands. That could lead to an injury. So, I just put the point protectors on the tips of her needles. That way, she wouldn’t drop any stitches, or poke herself while she napped.
My stomach gurgled again. I tiptoed into the kitchen to find something to eat.
The fridge held rice-and-bean leftovers, a bowl of green Jell-O—MawMaw’s favorite, some chicken that had been in there too long—so I pitched it, and a package of ribs destined for the slow cooker for that night’s dinner. MawMaw must have forgotten about them.
I closed the fridge, putting the ribs on the counter. After I chopped some onions, I layered them with the ribs in the cooker and turned the knob to high. With luck, they’d be done in time. That taken care of, I glanced in the fridge, again. Nothing looked appealing. What I really craved was a great big breakfast. Steak and eggs sounded perfect.
The Pancake House was just a five-minute walk from MawMaw’s. After the Garden and the national forest, it was my next favorite place to escape to.
I went upstairs to the bathroom. There, I braided my straight, boring hair into two loose pigtails. Back in my room, I removed my T-shirt, stripped off the old leggings, and turned to the closet. The turquoise dress was front and center. It definitely wasn’t my usual style.
Lifting the hanger off the rod, I held it against me again. It did highlight my eyes. I fingered the fitted waist stitched with amazing precision. No doubt people would tell Mary I wore it. That’d make her so happy. So, why not?
I pulled it off the hanger and over my head. My necklace hung in the neckline beautifully. I didn’t take too long judging myself in the mirror, or I might’ve changed my mind. I slipped on my white t-strap sandals, grabbed my e-reader, and slung my purse over my shoulder—ready to leave.
The skull on my bed stopped me in my tracks. When I ordered it to stop disseminating its energy, it did, and hadn’t started up again either. Still.
“Your aura bothers MawMaw.” Of course it didn’t have ears or eardrums. I spoke to it anyway. “Leave her alone while I’m gone.”
No response. No aura, no nothing. I blew out a breath of relief. I threw the duvet over it and closed my bedroom door.
Checking on a still sleeping MawMaw first, I went out the back door to the barn. I wanted to check on Ella again too. She was fine, as though nothing happened. I wondered for the millionth time what that kind of serenity felt like.
Just as I’d hoped, the Pancake House parking lot was nearly empty. It was a weekday and way past the breakfast rush, yet a tad too early for lunch. When I opened the door, I was enveloped by the wonderful sweet scent of pancake batter.
“Wray Sky!” Gertie, the owner admonished me. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
I smiled big at her. “Teacher in-service. Seniors are off today.”
Gertie was a pleasantly plump expat German woman. Not fat really, just sort of round in a nice, comforting way. Her A-frame restaurant looked like a chalet straight out of the Swiss Alps and her cooking was phenomenal. I think my, theoretically, Scandinavian taste buds preferred her flavors over the spicy southwestern food that was more popular in Colorado.
“Well, then, you sit down.” She pointed to my favorite booth in the corner.
While I complied, Gertie rushed away and came back with a pitcher of ice water. She poured a glass, eyeing me while she did.
“I like your new look,” she said.
“Thank you. Mary made the dress.”
Lowering her glasses from the top of her head to her eyes, Gertie leaned down to inspect a shoulder seam. “Perfect work, as always.” Done, she stood upright and stuck the glasses back on her head. “But I meant your makeup. It looks good lighter like that.”
I felt my
face with both hands. “I’m not wearing any makeup.” Aside from mascara, that was. Without it, my lashes were nearly invisible. After her comment, I wished I had put on some foundation too. “How pale am I today?”
“Stop!” She swatted the air with a hand. “You’re gorgeous. Always have been.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
Gertie grunted through a smile. “You must be growing up, because you look more mature today.” She slid green beads back and forth on the necklace she always wore. “The usual breakfast for you?” She changed the subject.
I shook my head. My usual was one scrambled egg, one pancake, and some fruit. “I’ll have the giant steak-and-eggs platter this time.”
My stomach took that moment to rumble.
Gertie laughed in earnest. “Tea as well?”
“Of course.” I couldn’t have breakfast without tea.
She left the water pitcher on the table and ripping the order slip from her pad, went back to the kitchen.
Taking my e-reader from my shoulder bag, I paused before turning it on, using the reflective screen surface to study my face. Maybe the trauma of somersaulting to the ground that morning affected my complexion? Or was it the dress? If turquoise made me look paler, I’d never wear it again. It was hard to tell what was what in the small darkish image on the screen.
I shook my head and tapped the on button. I dove right back into the fantasy novel that I was halfway through. It wasn’t long before Gertie placed the biggest platter ever in front of me. She set down a cup of tea and a small dish holding little pots of creamer and lemon wedges too.
“Guten appetit,” she said.
“Danke sehr.” It was fun to practice my German with her.
Smiling, she replied with the usual bitte. Then, she gathered up the dirty coffee pots from the busser station and headed back to the kitchen.
I cut right into the steak and chewed while I fixed my tea…a tiny drop of cream and a full squeeze of one lemon wedge.
The hearty breakfast and mental escape into fiction lasted until the bell chimed over the front door. Until Kanaan Lykota walked in with his older brother.
As usual my stomach did flips at the sight of Kanaan. Not so usual was the vibe he put out that day—like a vibration. I rolled my eyes at my reaction to him before going back to my e-reader, doing my best to concentrate on the story.
I’d known Kanaan as long as I’d known Amaya. I’d had a crush on him that long too—a childhood crush. It wasn’t until I moved back to town that the physical attraction got stronger between Kanaan and me.
But, it was all pretty odd. We were polar opposites in everything. Our appearances, of course: I as pale as pale could be, and he with beautiful native skin. More importantly, our worldviews were just as opposite. I thought of myself as modern, and he was totally old-fashioned.
Physical attraction aside, all we did was argue philosophies of life. So much so that our mutual friends tried to keep us on opposite sides of the room in social situations.
Things changed at Amaya’s birthday party that year. Amaya’s dad said something about birthday cake tasting better and better the older he got. That innocent remark reminded me that my parents would never enjoy birthday cake again.
Not wanting to bring everyone down, I slipped out onto the patio to work through the wave of grief. A few moments later, Kanaan came outside too. He didn’t say anything. We just sat in silence. Every once in a while, he’d tilt his head to look at me and offer a small smile. When I finally smiled back, he kicked out his leg and asked me what I thought about his new shoes. Kanaan had a thing for fancy sneakers. That pair was a loud purple.
The memory made me smile. Clanging silverware startled me.
“How was everything?” Gertie expertly balanced a stack of dishes and a condiment caddy on her arm.
“Yummy, as always.”
She pulled my bill from her apron pocket and put it on the table before disappearing with the dirty dishes. Another plus of eating out, no dishes to wash.
Despite deliberately not wanting to look at the Lykota boys, Kanaan’s stare in my direction eventually pulled my attention to him. He smiled and approached my booth.
“Hi.” His smile broadened to light up his wolf-gray eyes.
“Hi,” I smiled back.
“Are you here by yourself?” He frowned slightly at me.
“Sure,” I smirked. “Are girls not supposed to go out in public by themselves in your world?”
“I’m sorry.” He winced slightly embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, I’m sorry, Kanaan.” I blew out a breath, reaching across the table to grab my bill. “I’ve had a really rough morning.”
His gaze landed on my scraped-up arm. “I can see that. What happened?”
I laughed and shook my head in embarrassment. “Ella threw me.”
“You’re kidding.” His brows pulled together, creasing right above his nose.
“It’s nothing, really.” I slid out of the booth.
When I stood, my eyes were even with Kanaan’s chin. We used to be similar heights, but I stopped growing somewhere around seventh grade. I was going to be a petite adult. He, on the other hand, had continued to grow, and at almost six feet, showed no signs of slowing down.
He gently took my arm, turning it to get a better look at my wound. His fingers touched just outside the scraped-up part. Despite the heavy steak in my stomach, it fluttered so wildly that goosebumps rose on my skin.
Kanaan’s attention came back to my face. “Ella is so gentle, though.” His eyes had turned a dark charcoal and stopped wandering my face to rest on my mouth, which parted in response. I wondered how it’d taste to kiss him.
Divine. I heard Kanaan’s deepened voice whisper in my mind.
I shook my head. “What?”
“I said Ella is so gentle. It’s hard to believe.”
“Oh.” I pulled my arm away with the excuse of getting my wallet out of my purse. Of course I didn’t hear him in my mind. It was just my imagination. “She got spooked.”
“By what? Do you know?”
I looked down at my wallet and shrugged. “No.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. That the skull spooked her was Amaya’s theory. I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced.
I walked to the register to pay. Kanaan tagged along.
“Maybe I can come over tonight and take a look at her?” He almost sounded like he was asking me out.
The friendly cashier took my bill and my money. “Ah, sure.” I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice.
He cocked his head sideways. “Did you do something different with your hair?”
Instinctively, I pulled on one of my pigtails. “No.”
“You look different somehow.” He scrutinized my face.
The cashier gave me my change. “Thank you,” I said and put the coins in the charity jar on the counter.
Kanaan nodded a smirk.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re still the same sweet Wray.” His smile broadened. He took two steps backward, looking me up and down. “And I’m loving that dress on you.” He turned around to walk back to his brother, who sat at a window table pretending to read a menu.
I couldn’t get out of the door fast enough and purposely kept my eyes away from the front windows of the restaurant. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kanaan watch me walk past. It took a block or so for my hormone-laden stomach to calm down.
A few more blocks, about halfway home, the skull was back in my thoughts. I toyed with the idea of experimenting with it. Should I expose it to Ella to see if it really was the skull that made her so afraid?
My skeptical side wanted to rise up in defiance. That side of me was silenced, though, by MawMaw’s reaction to it…and mine. Even Amaya acted out of the ordinary this morning.
What if it was the skull and Ella got super spooked enough to really hurt herself or me?
Chapter 4
MawMaw was awake and in PhD mod
e when I got back home.
Not wanting to go into my room just yet, I hung my purse on the backdoor peg-rack. “Hey, I went to Gertie’s.” I smiled at MawMaw.
“I thought as much,” she said. “Thank you for remembering the ribs.”
PhD MawMaw never mentioned her trances or acknowledged the time she lost to them. I often wondered whether her two sides knew of each other. Wondered, but was afraid to bring it up.
“Sure.” I pulled myself up to sit on the counter and watched her add broth and seasonings to the slow cooker.
She clamped the lid back down and turned to me with a mischievous smirk. First, she admired Mary’s dress and praised me for wearing it—MawMaw’s technique for priming a person for a favor.
“How’s about helping me clean the house?” She watched me wrinkle my nose and laughed. Then, she sweetened the pot. “I’ll let you off the hook for chores for a full week.”
I pursed my lips and put my finger to my cheek pretending to think about it. Light housecleaning was fine. I didn’t mind it. But MawMaw’s idea of cleaning meant taking the rugs outside and beating them within an inch of their lives, changing out the drapes on every window, rearranging furniture and swabbing every baseboard in the house.
“Please.” MawMaw gave me a pitiful frown that didn’t reach her sparkling, smiling eyes.
“Oh, okay.” How could I say no to the woman who meant the most to me?
We divvied tasks—MawMaw reluctantly agreed to leave the drapes alone. Then, ignoring the skull completely, I changed into work clothes—my rattiest jeans and T-shirt. Upstairs, MawMaw started the laundry before working on the kitchen. Since crouching was hard on MawMaw’s knees, I volunteered to attack the baseboards. Vacuuming was also mine. I was on the upstairs hall when the washer chimed its signal that the final load of laundry was ready for the dryer.
“Bed linens next.” MawMaw came up the steps.
Obviously, I was wrong about it being the last load.
