Bloodstone (Talisman)

by S. E. Akers

  I pulled up to Samuel’s modest mountainside abode, pleased to see his beat-up old white Jeep and equally irked by the sight of a shiny gold Camry. I looked at my watch. It’s seven-thirty in the morning, I fumed. I grabbed the sack of doughnuts I’d picked up at the Kwik-Serve and slammed my door. Perfect. Ms. Health-Nut will love these.

  “What’s wrong?” Katie asked.

  “Oh, that Ms. Marion is here,” I growled.

  Katie found my pissiness highly amusing. “What’s that saying? Don’t go knockin’ if the cabin’s a rockin’?”

  “That’s NOT how it goes,” I snapped, glaring at the freshly planted pansies now lining what had always been a barren walk.

  “Whatever…but I’d check for a towel on the knob. And knock really loud,” Katie advised with a giggle.

  I knocked loud all right. I gave the door five hard taps inside the center of an awfully feminine-looking grapevine wreath hanging on his weathered door. She’s decorating too? Of course, the last person I wanted to see happened to be the one who whipped open the door.

  “Good morning, Ms. Marion,” I said with a smile so fake you’d swear I was standing on a stage about to profess my wishes for world peace.

  My gesture went unreturned. “Oh, Shiloh… We weren’t expecting any visitors this early?”

  I ignored the “we” crack and clenched the sack of doughnuts behind my back. “I got in late last night. I hope the two of you don’t mind, but I really wanted to see Samuel.” The only movement Ms. Marion made was adjusting the tie on her robe and giving it a concealing tug up to her neck. I didn’t even want to think about the reason why the testy, bitter hag was “wearing” it. Ugh…

  “But it’s so early,” Ms. Marion sighed with discontent. “And not to mention, ru—”

  I cut her off before she finished what I considered a fighting word. “He’s never minded a surprise pop-in before?” I questioned, sweetly of course, and edged my way inside. “But I’ll remember that…next time.”

  Samuel strolled into the living room, landing in the thick of our prickly stares. “I thought I heard your voice out here, honey,” he beamed. “Come on and give me a hug!”

  I hurried over and wrapped my arms around my surrogate father. I was pretty sure Ms. Marion had conjured a mental image of my four year-old self — thumbs in my ears, wiggling my fingers, and sticking out my tongue. Truth be told, she wasn’t that far off.

  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you,” Samuel remarked. “You look different.”

  With everything I’d been through over the past week, that was the last thing I wanted to hear, especially since it didn’t have the overtones of a compliment. “Is there someplace we can chat?” I mouthed, “ALONE?” and opened the bag of doughnuts to where only Samuel could peek inside it.

  “Marion, I think I will let you fix me that spinach and beet shake after all,” Samuel insisted.

  “All right, sweetie,” Ms. Marion smiled and headed for the kitchen. “It’ll be ready in jiff.”

  As soon as the coast was clear, Samuel dove into the bag and inhaled a jelly doughnut in one swift, powdery-white puff.

  “Save some room for your shake,” I teased, cringing at the thought of what color and texture the disgusting concoction would take.

  “I thought I’d have to wait until her Bunco game tonight to sneak out for one of these things,” Samuel mumbled through his chews.

  I glanced back at the kitchen. “I know you’ve got company, and as much as I would like to stay for a visit, I think I’d better just cut to the chase.”

  Samuel forced down his remaining bite. “What about?”

  I’d never asked the man I loved like a father for a thing, so this was unbelievably hard. I tried to get the words out, but my lips felt like they’d been sealed with glue.

  “Out with it,” Samuel insisted. “You’re starting to worry me.”

  “I need money, Samuel…a lot of it,” I groaned.

  “You know you can always come to me,” Samuel encouraged as he tore into another doughnut. “How much do you need?”

  “One-hundred, twenty-three thousand dollars,” I blurted. I sprang up immediately and started smacking his back. There goes his Krispy-Kreme. Thankfully Ms. Marion didn’t hear him over the blender roaring. Samuel leaned back, trying to clear his throat. “And fifty-one cents,” I added. That I threw in to lighten the mood.

  “What on earth for?” Samuel finally choked out.

  “To save our house… Daddy’s house,” I clarified. “It seems my mother hasn’t been keeping up the payments on it. And, to make matters worse…she’s charged over thirty-eight thousand dollars on a line of credit against it. She hasn’t made any payments on that either. And don’t even get me started on the second mortgage,” I grumbled. “Or her credit cards.”

  “What in the Hell did she do with Caiden’s life insurance?” Samuel grunted with his brown eyes now looking almost as big as the chocolate-iced doughnut that had inadvertently fell out of his limp hand.

  “Spent it…on her new car, furniture, clothes for her and Chloe, their trips…Who knows? But rest assured, none of it was on me.”

  “Why isn’t SHE trying to fix this mess?” Samuel grumbled.

  “Denial, maybe?” I guessed. “She’s still at Myrtle Beach with Chloe, living it up I’m sure.”

  Samuel slammed his fist on the coffee table. “I’ve always hated that woman. And I’m a good judge of character when it comes to the opposite sex.”

  Considering I still needed his help, I let that one go right out my other ear. “Yeah, well…that’s why I need the money, because of my extravagant, spendthrift mother who has squandered away what nest egg my hardworking, penny-pinching father had left us.”

  Samuel placed his hands over mine tenderly. “Darlin’, you know I would help you if I could, but I don’t have—”

  “NO,” I interrupted him in a gasp. “That’s not what I need from you.”

  The lines on Samuel’s mocha brow deepened. “Now I’m confused, honey. What is it you’re needin’?”

  I took a deep breath. “I need you to help me sell something.”

  Samuel’s expression felt flat. “Oh, honey. Don’t tell me you’re gonna sell off your land?”

  “No. I can’t let that go anymore than I can the house. I’m talking about something else,” I hinted. Samuel didn’t catch on. “Something small and sparkly?”

  His head tilted suspiciously.

  “Something I had to cut out of my arm?” I stressed in a whisper, knowing Ms. Marion was probably in the next room eavesdropping.

  “Can you…do that?” Samuel questioned.

  Now comes the gray part. “I can,” I fudged, leaving out the “shouldn’t” part. “They’re real diamonds. But I didn’t charge them with any of my powers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Samuel rubbed his fingers along his jaw. “Why are you asking me for help?” he questioned skeptically.

  That’s what I loved about Samuel. He was no dummy. “Because I would have to drive to Atlanta or Nashville to do it, and I can’t miss anymore school.” Half-truth.

  “What about Beatrix Sutherland?” Samuel asked.

  “I don’t want her to know anything about this,” I insisted. At least that one’s not a lie. “She would want to give me the money, and I don’t want that. This is my family-mess to clean up.” Reasonable enough, I thought.

  Samuel sighed. “That’s very responsible. Crazy and overly generous, but responsible.”

  “Will you do it for me?” I pleaded. “I don’t have much time before the house goes into foreclosure…and the clock is ticking.”

  “How many would you have to sell?” Samuel asked.

  “I cut out thirty-one,” I answered.

  “Thirty-one?” Samuel gasped. I had to “shush” his voice down. “That many?”

  “Yes,” I grunted. “Can you do this? If not for me…for Daddy?”

  “I’ll do it,” Samuel sighed. “B
ut I’m doin’ it because it’s important to you. If I had my druthers about it, Charlotte would be out on her highfalutin, wasteful ass.” Samuel shook his head. “Do her some good to push a buggy of cans and crap around town. Humble her if anything.”

  “What makes you think she’d choose that as her occupation on the streets?” I hinted, half-joking.

  A loud “bump” forced us up to our feet. I looked around the corner, while Samuel opted to kick the doughnut he’d dropped under the couch.

  “She’s still in the kitchen,” I said as I sat back down. I leaned closer and whispered, “How are you going to get away from your warden?”

  Samuel gave his stubbly face a few thoughtful rubs. “I don’t think I can. My bones ain’t what they used to be and that Jeep rides like a bucket of bolts, so I’ll need her Camry.” Samuel let out a winded sigh. “I’ll tell her it’s a surprise getaway.”

  Something in his voice sounded forced. Though I’d never done it before, I contemplated looking into his mind (questioning if it was lodged up his butt in regards to dear ’ole Ms. Marion). I truly wanted Samuel to be happy, but I wanted him with the “right” person — not wasting time with the wrong one out of sheer loneliness. I ushered my thoughts away when Ms. Marion popped back into the room (and because if he knew what I was up to…boy would he be ticked!). I watched the obsessively doting woman place his interesting-looking beverage down on a cloth napkin in front of him. She’d even topped it with a frilly stalk of celery and bent the tip of his straw.

  I guess anyone who goes to that much fuss can’t be all bad. She obviously cares for him a lot. She made a curt shooing motion with her hands, directed at the tip of my shoe, which was barely grazing the edge of the worn-out, scratched, and older-than-I-was coffee table.

  “Ah, ah, ah…” Ms. Marion scolded. “Feet on the floor please. Tables aren’t footrests.”

  I lowered it, but slowly. Or maybe she’s just that anal?

  After Samuel had finished the last of his smoothie (and trust me, it wasn’t a speedy descent), he sent Ms. Marion out on an errand for some almonds to snack on. With her Camry cruising off down the road, I pulled out my sack of diamonds and relayed all of Katie’s valuable and precise instructions to the letter.

  Samuel hid the old marble sack I’d placed them in under a stack of his Hanes and closed the drawer. “They’ll be safe in here until I can get to Atlanta,” he promised. “Marion has a niece living down there that she’s fond of. That should keep her distracted. We’ll head that way tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty of time to get everything lined up with who I need to see.” Samuel caught me staring at the closed drawer and snapped his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing…just be careful,” I said cryptically. “I’d hate it if someone whacked you over the head for those, so make sure you’re not followed by anyone,” I stressed. Or anything.

  Samuel tilted his head towards the corner where his double-barrel shotgun was propped. “Would you feel better if I brought Bessie Mae?” he said with a wink.

  “I don’t have money to pay off my mother’s debt. What makes you think I can scrounge up enough for bail?”

  “I’ll be careful,” Samuel assured with a stringent stare. “Are you sure there’s not something you aren’t tellin’ me?” he asked again.

  Yep. He’s no dummy. “Honest,” I lied and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m just anxious. Thank you for doing this.”

  “You know you can always come to me for anything,” Samuel said and gave me one of his warm and cuddly bear hugs. I hugged him back, mostly to release some of the pain. Any other time the squeeze would have been appreciated, but right now, my barely-healed injuries made his touch feel like a vice clamping down on my skin.

  With our good-byes taken care of, I made a break for the door, hoping to skedaddle way before the “lady of the manor” retuned. No sooner than I’d pulled back on the knob, Ms. Marion stepped onto the porch.

  Damn.

  “Off so soon?” Ms. Marion asked, sounding cheerful.

  I couldn’t dignify that with a comment. Ms. Marion grabbed my arm as I started to head off.

  “Did the two of you have a nice visit?” She glanced at her watch. “Well, it couldn’t have been much of one.”

  “Ding, ding, ding… Round Two,” Katie announced.

  “I have to get going,” I simply replied.

  “Will we be seeing more of you?” Ms. Marion probed. I figured my gaping mouth answered her question. “I only ask, because Samuel and I have gotten into a routine. I’d hate for someone to upset our applecart,” she added with a brash smile.

  There were SOOO many things I wanted to say, too many to rattle off. But I didn’t utter a single word. I was content with mentally watching the daydream I’d concocted — one of me, kicking her controlling butt off Samuel’s front porch. Oh, and she could tell by my pulsating veins that I was full-on red — but she didn’t care.

  “All I’m asking is that before you ‘pop in’, you simply do the polite thing and call,” she backtracked, but still in her endearing, abrasive way — like rose petals crafted of sandpaper.

  I gave my keys a firm squeeze. “Not a problem,” I sang back, so icky sweet I was sure shit-covered icing was dripping off my lips.

  Ms. Marion followed me to my car. “Here. Let me give you my number.”

  “Not necessary,” I replied as I slid into my Charger. The stubborn nurse grabbed the handle just when I thought I was finally free.

  “But, I insist,” Ms. Marion snapped.

  “Trust me… I’ve already got it,” I warned with a fierce glare and gave my door a pissy slam.

  Chapter 28 — Second Chances

  My heavy footsteps trailed me down the long hollow hall, and every one of their echoing “clomps” felt even more daunting. I’d arrived at the windowless wooden door before I knew it. Before I felt ready. Before I felt truly ready. But who could be ready for something like this? There were no monsters lurking on the other side, no wicked supernaturals waiting to claim my prize, just three fragile humans that already laid claim to my most sacred possession — the truth about my identity. You’d think I was about to prance into Geology class wearing nothing but my birthday-suit. Though I hadn’t reached out to any members of my newly illuminated trio this past weekend, I’d learned indirectly that they had all arrived home safely. But now, not knowing what I was walking into, I wished I had. Thankfully I hadn’t spotted the slightest crazy look or picked up on the first alarming thought from anyone in my first three classes (and I was focusing pretty daggone hard — especially on the cheerleaders). Kara’s mouth worried me the most. It’s one thing to play “friends” away from the eyes of the masses, but its quite another when the Queen Bee returns to the hive. Whether it was fear or regret that formed the cloud hanging over my head, one thing was certain: Even if I ended up having to brainwash the entire school, the last thing I wanted in the world was to have to tell Tanner Grey he was right!

  I waited for the last traces of the late bell to fade before I grabbed hold of the cold metal handle. I flung it open with a deep breath, hoping the extra air would dissipate my apprehension or at least give me that confident boost of “ass”, which Katie helpfully pointed out I was terribly “lacking”. I felt the prick of everyone’s stares all at once, though mine remained solely on Ms. Fitzpatrick standing at the board. Her customary warm smile was enough reassurance to usher me to my seat quickly, eyes down, with only the random blocks of color on the terrazzo tile floor to serve as my guide.

  My plastic seat felt considerably more uncomfortable today, but that was no fault of the chair’s. My shifting and twisting stemmed from the guy across the room wearing a cast, the redhead two seats to my rear, and the cocky jock sitting directly to my left sporting a couple of splints on his fingers. I locked my head forward and didn’t attempt any visual or mental contact with them.

  Leave well enough alone, I thought, mostly because I just didn’t want to know.

&nbs
p; I counted off the minutes on the clock. Ten to go until lunch, I thought anxiously, already manning my backpack for a speedy getaway. Suddenly, a note landed on my desktop, tossed up from someone in the back. It may as well have been a daggone carnelian, cause I kept waiting for the thing to explode. I opened it up and read,

  We need to talk!

  K

  Crap…

  I couldn’t focus on anything after that.

  My body may have been motionless when the bell sounded, but my mind crafted scenario after scenario — and not a one of them were good.

  I caught the hint of a familiar and flowery scent — Kara’s perfume. I’d no sooner looked up when she shoved her hand out and ordered, “Your phone. Let me see it.” I honestly don’t know what possessed me to reach into my purse. Curiosity? Or maybe because she sounded like a drill sergeant and I was simply that shocked by her brash, off-the-wall demand? I’d hardly gotten it out when she snatched it from my hand. The next thing I heard was the sound of her very own phone ringing.

  “There!” Kara announced and threw her hands on her hips. “Do you know how flippin’ manic I was this weekend? And you’re NOT in the school directory, by the way.”

  “No…I’m not,” I mumbled.

  “Ha! You are now,” Katie blurted.

  “I tried online too. I sent you a Facebook request. Did you get it?”

  “I haven’t been on my Facebook in months,” I replied as I retrieved my phone out of her tight grasp.

  Kara looked like I’d just announced that I’ve never brushed my teeth in my entire life. “Twitter?” the social media diva questioned as soon as she popped out of her stunned trance.

  “Oh, Holy Hell!” Katie grumbled.

  I shook my head, looking as equally stunned.

  “That’s cool,” Kara declared with a jubilant smile as she waved her phone in the air. “I can just text you.”

  I rose from my seat and walked towards the door dazedly, questioning if this was a good thing or not. The thought of her shooting me text after text, day in and day out, made me want to crawl into the closest locker and slam the door shut. I was exhausted already and my phone hadn’t even beeped!