by Judi Calhoun
As I chewed on my bottom lip, my stomach contracted into a tight ball at the idea of talking with mom. I should be happy not nervous; this was the opportunity I had been waiting for, to expose Ian.
Everything was aligning perfectly. Ian had to attend a mandatory school board meeting. Aunt Linda and Peter were shopping at the mall. Tonight, I finally had mom all to myself.
It was almost strange being alone with her. After all, it had been well over eight weeks, and yet it felt just like old times again, and I wanted it to stay this way forever.
We had finished eating pizza. I sighed deeply as I tossed the box in the trash. Mom had been talking about Ian. I hadn’t been able to get a word in. I glanced at the clock. Time seemed to be getting away from me too quickly.
“Oh, Bee, this was such a good idea, I miss our fun nights together,” said mom. “Let’s order a movie.” She reached for her tablet. “What’s out that we haven’t seen yet?”
“Mom, wait, I have something I need to show you.” I pulled the yellow folder from my bag. “It’s about Ian.”
Mom’s smile faded, “I already know you don’t like him. I’m sure you have your reasons…” She stopped.
I studied her face, not understanding why she didn’t finish her sentence.
Her shoulders dropped. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
I was feeling the same way. Maybe my news could wait for another time...right? A warning flashed inside me. Do not put it off!
I started with dad, telling her about his secret life. Apparently hadn’t been a secret to her, just me. “I can’t believe you’d ever want to follow in his footsteps... look what happened to him.”
“All this time you lied to me. Dad didn’t have a heart attack,” I said. “Why did you lie?”
“How could I tell you what really happened? You were only eleven; you wouldn’t have understood.”
“You’ve had almost six years to tell me the truth, mom... six years!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “So this is what you wanted to talk about?”
“No,” I said. I unfolded the newspaper article about Mr. Binco, and handed it to her.
I watched, waiting for a reaction.
“I don’t understand,” she frowned. “This article is from 1942, but that’s Ian? Is this some kind of trick?”
“No, mom. This is a copy of a news article we got in the genealogy room at the library.”
“Who is this Mr. Binco? A relative of Ian’s?”
“Will you please just listen to what I have to say?”
She nodded.
I told her everything I knew of Ian and followed up with my dreams. Mom frowned, sitting quietly, digesting everything. “I know about dreams,” she finally said, handing me back the photo. “After your father died I had some horrid nightmares. Dr. Cone said that PTSNs, Post-Traumatic Stress Nightmares are caused by a response to real-life trauma. We can suffer from them when we refuse to accept major life changes. That makes perfect sense, Shonna. You refuse to accept Ian as my fiancé and perhaps the thought of him as your new father is just too traumatic for you, but they’re dreams Shonna, just dreams, nothing more.”
“What about the photo? It’s proof that Ian is a Familiar Spirit,” I said.
“Oh, honey, this could be his grandfather, or like they say, everyone has a double somewhere in the world at sometime or another. If this were Ian in the photo, he would be well over a hundred years old. Can’t you see, you are so bent on breaking us up; you’re inventing this stuff. Like I told your father, there’s no such thing as spirits taking on human form.”
“They exist, mom. Just because you don’t believe, or don’t want to believe, doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Now you sound just like your father. He used to say the same things.”
“Mom, Ian wants to kill me! He’s probably going to kill you, too!”
Mom’s cell phone rang and she jumped. “Shonna, I wish you would stop saying these things. You’re making me nervous.” She fished her phone out of her briefcase.
I overheard some of the conversation. It was Ian, checking up on her, probably making sure I hadn’t completely poisoned her mind.
I could not understand why she refused to see the truth. Love really was visionless, or maybe, Ian’s evil devices were controlling her mind as well.
“Peter is like me, too,” I said, when mom placed her cell on the table. “You can ask him, he’ll tell you.”
“Peter likes you so much, he’d agree with anything you say.”
I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling. Help me!
“You know,” said mom. “It’s two weeks and five days until my wedding. You still haven’t picked out a dress, and you’re my Maid of Honor.”
“I don’t want any part of your wedding.” That came out a little too harsh.
She looked stunned. “You promised me!”
“Only if you waited to get married and you won’t wait, will you?”
She didn’t answer.
“That freak is controlling you. Can’t you see it? What are you wearing, mom?”
She looked down at herself. I could read it on her face, she hated the way she was dressed, but she would not admit it.
“Wake up mom! He’s dressing you, picking out your food, and he doesn’t even let you drive anymore. He is running your life. He is going to crush you. All he wants is your death and mine. He’s a monster!”
“You just don’t understand Ian the way I do.” Her face turned red. “I’m not going to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine...you’re on your own,” I sneered. Flames of anger flared up. I didn’t even try to fight to control it. “Find another Maid of Honor.”
“Ian really likes you, Shonna. Why do you think he took that job at the high school? To help you. He plans on sending you to college. Did you know that? Wherever you want, Harvard or Yale, anywhere and yet you call him a monster. Who are you? I don’t think I know you anymore.” Her voice on the verge of tears, “Ian is the man I’m going to marry and you’re just going to have to deal with it…or move out!”
I had an overwhelming urge to lash out. “Fine. I’ll move to New Hampshire and live with Aunt Linda.”
Her face twisted in rage. “YOU JUST DO THAT!”
“I WILL!” I started to storm off, but stopped and turned. “You never listen to me anymore, mom. Nothing I say. And it’s always the same old story. You’re so desperate for love you keep bringing home these loser guys. You just haven’t got a clue and you never will.”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
“Yeah, yeah I am! Ian is a monster and you can’t see the truth staring you right in the face.”
“Listen to me, Shonna if you don’t like my choice of men, you can just leave!”
“Gladly!”
I stormed off, slamming the front door. I stepped into the cold night air. A gust of strong wind sent dry leaves twisting, soaring in flight, and my hair lashed my face as I walked. At first, I marched in a blind rage having no idea where I was headed. The more I thought about her hurtful words the more I wanted to cry. I stopped walking suddenly and just started whimpering uncontrollably.
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to pull it together. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and thought about my dad. I could go to the cemetery; perhaps sleep on his grave. That was always comforting. I pulled my hood up; it was cold and not very good for camping outside. Instead, I turned and headed for Gabby’s house. I realized I had left my cell phone in my bag, in my bedroom... not cool!
As I walked every so often an arctic blast hit me, and I shuddered all over. The streets were empty, most of the houses dark, looking deserted. The neighborhood seemed almost eerily quiet. I had an uncomfortable feeling of eyes watching me from the shadows or bushes. I shook it off and kept walking.
More than anything, I wanted a shoulder to cry on. Why did Jake have to play sports all the time? I growled in frustration. I needed a sympathetic ear. I really wante
d to rant about my mother. I thought of Peter, shopping at the mall. Seriously? Why? My only hope…Gabby. She’d better be home!
When I turned the corner onto Maple, my pace slowed. The street was blanketed in heavy darkness; it felt as if I were literally entering a tunnel. Haven’t these people ever heard of street lamps? More than once I lost my footing on loose pavement.
I heard a rumbling noise growing louder.
A motorcycle.
My eyes squinted at the figure slowing down, pulling over to the curb, on a Harley... Rick?
“Do you need a ride?”
I eyed him with apprehension. At school he treated me like I had some new brand of disease. Now he was acting all sweet. “What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“On my way home. I saw you walking.” He gave me a fleeting smile. “Hey,” he said, “I know I was a jerk. I’m sorry. I was having a bad day.”
He wore leather, along with an innocent expression on his face, quite well. I wanted to be sweet, in spite of how he had treated me. I eased closer, then had a sudden flashback of that conversation I’d overheard with Pentagram guy. I debated on how to confront Rick, without actually giving away the fact that I had been spying on him. “A bad day, huh?”
“Come on, let me give you a ride,” he said with an imploring half smile.
It was nearly thirty degrees and I had left the house without a jacket. I didn’t want to walk another twenty minutes to my best friend’s house in the cold. I shivered and pulled my hoody tightly across my chest.
“Look at you, you’re freezing,” he said, slipping off his leather jacket. He wrapped it around me, cradling me in his body warmth. I inhaled his sweet honey smell. “I’m on my way to Gabby's.”
Rick got on his bike and started the engine. Without thinking it through, I hopped on the back, and fastened the helmet to my head. Rick took off fast. I hadn’t told him where Gabby lived. He did a U-turn and he headed back. Where is he going? I tried to yell and get his attention. He didn’t hear me.
Five minutes later, we were on Pine Street pulling into the driveway of an old Victorian house badly in need of some repair. A few lights from the downstairs windows brightened the place just a little.
“Where are we?” I asked, trying to fix my helmet hair.
“My place,” he said. “Come on.” He took my hand and walked me toward the front door. A dog barked loudly from somewhere inside. An eerie feeling clawed at my stomach. I froze.
“I can’t go in there.”
Rick glanced at the door and back at me. “The dog’s not going to hurt you.”
“I was on my way to Gabby's. She’s expecting me,” I lied, only as a way of saving myself from whatever evil lurked behind those old doors.
“Really?” he said, with a hint of doubt. He knew I lied, but how?
“What’s going on here, Rick?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you show up out of nowhere...and take me to your house. Was this planned?”
He shook his head.
I turned to leave. I wasn’t sure how I would find Gabby's house. I’d walk all night if I had to.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“Gabby's!”
“Okay,” he said. “Just stop.”
In spite of the cold, my face was getting hot with anger. I turned, waiting for his explanation.
“I went by your house,” he said. “Your mom told me about the fight. She said you walked out. I was concerned, so I went looking for you. I thought maybe you needed a place to crash...to cool off.”
“You want me to stay with you?” I asked. “Here?”
“Yeah.”
I turned to leave again.
“In my aunt’s room,” he yelled.
Again, I hesitated, mostly because I was freezing and I liked my toes and fingers and I sure didn’t want to lose them to frostbite. Besides I badly needed to talk to someone, anyone. Rick Steel? I groaned. I guessed, at this point, he would do. Yeah, but what would Jake say if he knew I had spent the night here? This just wasn’t happening.
“Can I use your phone to call Gabby?”
“Sure,” he smiled, reaching out for my hand. I walked past him without taking it. He opened two very heavy, old double doors with aged yellowed lace curtains. We stepped into a drab green-carpeted foyer. He turned around and locked the door in three places behind us, then pulled down some dirty, brittle shades.
Locked in? I bit my lip. Just get to the phone and get out of here.
A large, yellow lab came barreling down the wide hallway, insanely barking. Rick seized him by the collar and led him off into the darkness. I heard him mumbling as a door opened, then shut.
I glanced around and a shiver ran through me. On top of the uncomfortable feeling of standing in a stranger’s house late at night, a nagging fear squirmed inside of me… something is really wrong with this place…really wrong. Everything was screaming,
Get out!
A large set of stairs loomed on the left side of the hallway. At one time this place might’ve been beautiful. It had hidden charms like crown molding and hardwood floors. The aged, rose-colored dingy, floral wallpaper hung shredded, exposing a variety of colors underneath. On my right a closed vintage door…painted flat black, had silver letters, SLS, professionally painted on it. What does SLS mean?
A loud, ticking clock came from the room directly opposite. The door was partway open. Rick motioned for me to follow him into that room.
It smelt like wet clothes and cigarettes. Another odor hung thick in the room that I couldn’t identify. Piles of laundry, books, papers, and junk were thrown everywhere, which made it difficult to walk without hearing a crunching sound beneath my feet.
He handed me the phone, while emptying a wooden chair of magazines and newspapers. I sat down and dialed Gabby’s cell. As it rang Rick paced nervously in front of me. After ten rings, I glanced at my watch, 11:30 p.m. I hung up. Rick must have seen the disappointment on my face because he squatted down next to my chair. “It’s okay.” He whispered softly. “You want a cup of tea?”
“Sure,” I said. Rick Steel drinks tea?
I followed him into another messy room… a kitchen. I knew that because it had a stove, which seemed to be the only surface not covered in junk.
Rick cleared a spot for us to sit and put a kettle on a burner. He placed two mugs next to the stove. I was thinking that I should be sleeping in my own bed right now. Everything was so wrong. What does it matter where I slept tonight? Mom doesn’t care.
“Where are your aunt and uncle?” I asked.
“Working,” said Rick.
“Isn’t the restaurant closed by now?”
“They do a lot of extra work before they come home.”
“So you’re all alone?” I asked, feeling my heart flutter in my chest.
“No,” said Rick, “the dog’s here.”
“I can’t stay,” I stood up. “I should leave, walk home.”
He leaned in close, his lips parted, his eyes focused on my mouth. “What are you afraid of?” he whispered in that spider-to-the-fly voice.
A high-pitched whistle gave me a start. Rick grinned and smoothly moved to turn off the noisy kettle, and with his back to me, he filled the cups. I heard a spoon stirring something...sugar, maybe cream?
“You don’t trust me?” he said.
I took a deep breath and sat back down on the uncomfortable chair. “I keep thinking about…”
“Jake,” He finished my sentence.
“No,” I said. “My mom,”
I reached for the cup. Rick hesitated, holding it away from me, his eyes shifting toward the hallway. I was puzzled by his anxious expression and could not figure out why he had hesitated.
My tea smelled like Earl Gray. When he finally let go of my cup, I took a big sip and eased my back into the chair. The sweet honey taste reminded me of Christmas, but what was that other flavor? A wave of fatigue rolled over me, and I felt very tired; the
stress of the day suddenly catching up with me.
We talked for a while as I drank. From beneath my lashes, I noticed Rick studying me intently. “You okay?” he kept asking.
“Just sleepy,” I said. The warmth of the tea melted though my skin into my nervous system. I went limp. My head floated in a dreamy state. I really wanted to close my eyes, so I did.
Something was ringing. I lifted my heavy eyelids to see Rick scurrying from the room to answer…a phone? I noticed his cell phone was sitting right next to me. Weird...
I downed more tea, hoping it would do its magic and I’d feel better. Something was wrong. Why are my hands and legs numb? And why is my head so foggy?
There was knocking somewhere… frantic knocking on a door…the front door.
It felt like an eternity before Rick came rushing back into the room.
“Don’t drink that!” he yelled.
Too late, I had already finished it. He wrenched the mug from my fingers and tossed it in the sink. It smashed into shards and pieces.
“Gabby called. You are going to her house...come on. We need to get out of here...right now!”
What’s the big hurry?
Knocking. Getting louder. He dragged me to my feet. I had lost command of my senses. Strangers had entered my brain and taken control. I really wanted to talk. The desire was so strong to confess everything I’d ever done or wanted to do.
“Am I drunk?” I asked, my own voice sounding strange in my ears.
“You’re drugged,” he said, “They made me do it. You have got to believe me. I didn’t want to.”
What is he saying? He did not want to... I couldn’t put it together, meaningless words drifting inside my brain.
Still more pounding or knocking, was it a door or inside my head? Rick lifted me into his arms and carried me outside. The cold rush of night air touched my skin. Glass shattered someplace and someone started cussing and yelling.
“LET US IN, YOU MOTHER-”
We moved past bushes in the dark shadow of the driveway. He pulled me onto the Harley. He was strong.
“Listen,” his lips brushed my cheek. A shudder ran through my body. I wanted to kiss him, and I tried, but he pushed me away and spoke loudly in my ear. “Try… to… hang… on!” His voice resonated inside my foggy head. “What did I just say?”
“Hang… on,” I repeated, pronouncing each word slowly.
He started the engine not revving it. He wrapped my arms around his chest and my head lay on his back. Above the sputtering exhaust pipe, I could hear voices calling.
“STEEL. We know you have her. Come on, man, UNLOCK THE DOOR!”
We pulled past the house. Nothing made sense…dark figures on the porch, smashed windows, jerking at doorknobs, now running toward us. We had wings, with giant feathers. We soared past the dark figures, escaping like a phoenix into the shadows of night.
“YOU’RE GONNA DIE, STEEL!” Those words filled my brain like a puzzle.
We flew; wind tangling my hair...and my hands let go. How do I hang on? Think. Somehow, try. Then I passed out.
A hand lightly slapped my face. Rick’s voice was yelling somewhere off in the distance. “Wake up!” I saw pieces of things, like his leather jacket on my arm, and a decorative lantern hanging over a door and Gabby. Gabby!
I felt Rick’s breath on my face again, sadness in his voice. “You’re safe now.”
Why is he sad? What is wrong with my mouth? “I don’t- like you,” I said. “I… I…do- you’re, and I’m…” What am I trying to say? Arms were carrying me. Then everything went black.
* * *
Chapter 22
