by I Beacham
She still held her breath and prayed it couldn’t hear her. If it did, it would come to her and she had no defense.
She kept watching the door. As long as she could see it she was safe.
But the light was fading.
What lay on the other side grew in the dark.
She moved back into the room and looked for somewhere to hide. There was nowhere.
The door disappeared, and the wall began to shimmer.
Its solidity altered, and it grew semitranslucent. As it did, she saw a black, wispy hand of smoke with long, extended fingers push through. A weightless, sinewy arm followed, and the beginnings of a body behind it. It slithered to the ground.
And it sensed her.
It turned.
She screamed.
Joey awoke from the nightmare shouting.
She switched the bedside lamp on and checked the room. Her heart beat wildly as she waited to see if she’d woken her aunt. Only when she knew she hadn’t, she turned the light off and tried to go back to sleep.
*
Joey was organizing the arrival of her furniture.
The delivery men had removed everything out of the protective cardboard and thick plastic wrapping, but Joey was still left with the enormous decisions of where to place everything. She was in the middle of her apartment figuring where she wanted the three-seater couch when the doorbell rang.
She was amazed to find Sam on the other side of the door holding flowers.
“These are for you,” Sam said as she handed over a bunch of red carnations. “A belated welcome to your new place gift.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Joey beckoned Sam in. “This is it.” She proudly showed off the room. “Bit of a mess. Furniture has just arrived. But what do you think?” She closed the door.
Sam tilted her head in studious contemplation. “I like the concept of all the furniture in the middle of the room. It saves movement and will make hoovering easier. On reflection, perhaps you could space it out a bit.”
Joey was getting used to Sam’s dry humor.
“The delivery guys did ask if I wanted them to put it in place. They sorted the bedroom furniture, but the rest needs my deepest thoughts. I’m not one for domesticity, and I want to get it right the first time. I’m not into shifting stuff around the room like a tango. Once it’s down, it stays there.” She looked at Sam. “I thought you were busy?”
“I am, but as I was passing, I thought I’d be right neighborly and bring you some flowers.”
Joey didn’t believe her.
“You thought you’d check up on me after my meltdown yesterday in church.”
“I thought no such thing,” Sam said.
“Yes, yes.”
“No, no.” Sam was adamant.
“Yes,” Joey repeated. “But that’s okay, and you don’t have to worry, I’m fine. Besides, I’ve got other problems to cope with.”
“Such as?”
“Where to put this couch.”
It rested like a huge carbuncle in the middle of the room.
They studied it.
“What about shoving it up against that wall?” Sam eyed an area to the left.
“Not that side?” Joey was briefly favoring the opposite wall.
“No. It’ll take up all the room and you’ll want space for side lamps.”
“Good point.” Joey made a decision. “You’re right. Now how strong are you?”
“Did I mention I was just passing?” Then Sam grinned. “Okay, you take that end and let’s shift it.”
A few minutes later, the couch was where it needed to be.
“That little table will look great in the corner with a lamp on,” Sam said.
Joey hadn’t thought of Sam as the domestic goddess type, but her idea was sound. She agreed. “I’ve got my eye on a cheap Tiffany style lamp in a shop down the road. I think it’s about to get bought.”
“Sounds good.”
“Can you stay for coffee?”
“Alas, no. I really am passing and have a meeting to get to. I just wanted to bring you the flowers—”
“—check up on me,” Joey interrupted in a lighthearted manner.
Sam smiled back politely.
As she got to the door, Sam said, “You still up to getting deep and dirty on Saturday? We’ve a bike to fix.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Bring all those notes and suggestions your father sent.”
“If I can find them.” Joey looked at the mess surrounding her.
Sam feigned serious. “Forget the if. You find, you bring. Get it?”
“Got it.” Joey grinned.
“Good. I’ll give you a call and let you know what time I’ll be back at the vicarage.” Sam opened the door. “Are you going to be all right with this?” She was looking at the disorder before her.
“I’ll cope.”
“Good luck.” Sam left.
Joey turned and leaned up against the closed door staring at the chaos awaiting her attention. But she felt happy. It was a nice caring touch for Sam to drop in. She was busy and yet she’d found time to buy her flowers. She thought about the arrangements for Saturday. She was looking forward to tinkering with the bike and spending time with Sam. It amused her that her first friend over here was a vicar. She’d told her mother the other night when they’d Skyped. It had amused her to no end.
Joey picked the flowers up off the chair she’d set them down on. Where was she going to put them? More important, in what was she going to put them? She didn’t have anything. She decided the flowers would take center stage in the middle of the dining room table and that she needed to go buy a vase, along with that lamp she was eyeing. She’d do it now.
As she left the apartment to go shopping she thought how nice it would be to invite Sam over for a meal sometime.
Chapter Five
Sam and Joey were seated cross-legged on a mat in the vicarage kitchen in front of the motorbike. They were surrounded by an array of engine bits as their noses almost touched the bike casing.
The air was still, the moment serious.
Neither of them talked.
They barely breathed.
When they opened the bike up, it was clear the old gasket was in a bad state and beyond repair. They eyed each other without words, knowing what they had to do. It was touch-and-go, but they managed to replace it with little difficulty. No oil was spilled. But now they needed to replace the magneto. It was a tricky task.
Sam psyched herself up, stretched her fingers, and rotated her neck. She took a deep breath.
“Magneto.” Her voice was a whisper as she held her hand out.
Until now, the magneto had been on a metal tray resting on Joey’s legs. She placed the item into the palm of Sam’s hand who took it gingerly and slowly pushed it into position. When she was sure it was where it needed to be she held her hand out again.
“Bolt One,” she said.
“Bolt One,” Joey repeated, handing it over.
“Spanner.”
“Spanner?”
Sam glanced at her, then at the spanner and pointed to it.
“We call that a wrench.” Joey tutted.
Seconds later. “Bolt Two.” Everything was going well, but it was a fiddly operation. Sam knew that one slip could lose a valuable part somewhere in the engine casing. Would it ever be recovered? Not without removing more parts. She could not afford to get this wrong.
“Bolt Three,” she said.
Its name was whispered back and handed over.
Sam nearly dropped it and heard Joey’s breath catch. Sam caught it before it hit the floor. Joey watched her intently as she wiped the sweat from her eyes.
Seconds later, Sam leaned back. “Attach the multimeter and test the wiring.”
Joey’s long fingers moved fast. “Attached,” she breathed quietly.
“Do we have output?”
“Yes!” Joey couldn’t hide her elation.
Sam stared at her, unab
le to hide her respect. “Would you like to close?”
Joey gave a quick serious nod and moved into position.
“Clean spark plugs,” she ordered, and Sam passed them to her one by one without delay. They had checked the gap clearances with a gauge earlier. She watched in awe as Joey’s nimble fingers placed them into position and tightened them.
“Ouch,” Joey suddenly bleated. “Band-Aid.”
“One Band-Aid.” Sam handed it over, noticing it was the last one. The tin had been half full when they started. There had been setbacks. “Can you go on?” she asked Joey.
“We must.”
Sam nodded in admiration. Joey was good. Her bike was in safe hands.
“Oily rag,” Joey said finally as she then proceeded to wipe around the area of operation. She leaned back. “We’re done. We can’t do more.”
“Let’s hope we’ve done enough.”
“We’ve tried.” Joey sounded sympathetic.
They rose together, stretching their limbs.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Sam asked.
“You can always get a new bike.”
“A new bike?” Sam broke the reverent surgical mood. “Are you mad, woman?”
Didn’t Joey understand? She hoped she was joking. “I could never part with her. She’s the one thing that gets me through. Without her, I’m lost. She keeps me sane, even if she does break down and leave me stranded.”
When everything got on top of her, Sam would come home, saddle up, and ride out. Even when the damn thing didn’t work, she loved getting her hands dirty and tinkering with the engine.
Work really was pushing her to her limits.
The church had bestowed upon her the title of canon.
The Reverend Canon Samantha Savage.
Such a mouthful and she seldom used it. It was supposed to recognize honorable work within the diocese, for faithful and valuable service. What it really meant was being given more responsibility. There was too much work before. Now it was ridiculous. She was in charge of several other vicars, one of whom she had no respect for, nor he for her. She found working with him, the Reverend Nicolas Bentley, stressful. She couldn’t call him old school, but some of his values were antiquated at best, and wrong at worst. But that was another issue.
She was without a treasurer, and having to do all the tasks that involved. Then there was the roof, or lack of it. Her list of tasks was endless, but she tried to obliterate them all from her mind and stay focused. It didn’t help when her day seemed to start almost as soon as the last one ended.
Sam was amazed she hadn’t been called out today. She was at the end of her tether. No one could keep going like this forever. Maybe her gasket was about to blow. She felt more like an accountant than a cleric. Even before she saw Louise, everything had been gnawing away inside. She simply wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for some time for she was being pulled in the wrong direction. And now Joey had the audacity to suggest she might consider parting with her bike if it didn’t work?
“I can’t imagine you have problems,” Joey said. “You seem so in control and loving what you do. I doubt anything rocks your cradle.”
“You think? Believe me, even vicars have issues.”
“Like?”
“Like I have absolutely no intention of spoiling this enjoyable moment by whining about work. I’m having a wonderful time and don’t want to ruin it.”
Joey apparently understood and let the subject drop as she stretched her long limbs again. Then she looked at Sam and her face wore a tight smile.
“Tell me, Vicar. Are you in a habit of bringing strangers back to your home?”
The slant of the question was unexpected.
“You’re not a stranger. You’re my organist.”
“Temporary.” Joey tilted her head.
“Perhaps.” As Sam joked, she couldn’t help noticing the ever-present dark shadows around Joey’s eyes.
“Temporary. Don’t get any ideas.” Joey hesitated. “So are you?”
Sam squinted. “Not usually.”
It was true. She didn’t often bring people back here. Any official business was usually conducted in the church offices. As for real friends beyond acquaintances, she didn’t seem to have many. She was too busy. Any spare time she had, she coveted it. It was unusual that she’d invited Joey back to her sanctuary. She wondered why. Apparently, so did Joey.
“Why me, then?” Joey asked.
“I don’t know.” Sam did find it curious, and it was too easy to say it was the biking connection. She liked Joey from the moment she met her, and the more she was with her, the more she grew on her. “Maybe it’s your accent.” But the simplistic lighthearted answer didn’t appease Joey. Something was on her mind. It didn’t stay there long.
Joey’s face grew serious, and Sam wondered what was coming.
“I want you to know I’m gay.”
Sam didn’t see this coming. “Are you in the habit of telling everyone your sexuality?”
Joey’s gaze was intense. “Only when I think it might matter. When I think the person in question matters…and when I want to be dumped quickly before I get hurt. I’ve found it pays to sort these issues out early. I don’t hide who I am, and this allows people to back off.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Sam said.
“There are people out there who don’t like people like me.”
“I’m not one of them.” Sam stared back at her.
Joey said nothing.
“Okay?” Sam said pointedly.
“Okay.”
“I’m glad that’s sorted. Now come and sit on my bike.”
Sam straddled the motorcycle and indicated Joey get on behind. She stretched her arms out, resting her hands on the handles. It felt good, and she closed her eyes, imagining she was out on the road, totally in control and cruising fast. She felt Joey snuggle up behind her. Several thoughts ran through her mind. Most were to do with the intimacy Joey’s physical closeness brought, and how Sam was surprisingly comfortable with it. But the dominant one was of the pale Joey seated in the church only a few days earlier, agitated and sweating brought about by the unexpected crash of building equipment. Joey’s reaction had been extreme, and it was adding to Sam’s concerns and curiosity.
Sam removed her hands from the handles and placed them in her lap. She straightened her back.
“Joey, since you’ve aired your sexuality, and the ground hasn’t opened and swallowed you, would you mind if I ask you something of a personal nature?”
“You can ask.”
“What is it that puts those dark shadows under your eyes?”
“You think they take away from my flawless beauty?” Joey played superficial.
Sam saw it as a defense mechanism.
“Your flawless beauty remains intact, my child. But the shadows?”
“I don’t sleep well.”
It was an honest answer and one Sam didn’t doubt.
“Why would that be?” she asked.
“I suffer from nightmares.”
“May I ask what fuels those nightmares?”
Sam felt Joey tense.
“It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“Something happened?”
There was a pause before Joey answered, “Yes.”
“And you don’t like to think about it.”
“When I do, everything gets tense and I can’t breathe. I try not to revisit it.”
“But you do.”
“Memories keep coming back at me unexpectedly. They’re always intense. The nights are worse. It’s when the nightmares come.”
“Are you seeing a counselor?”
“No.” Joey’s answer was quick. “It was a waste of time. She made me feel worse.”
Speech is silver, but silence is golden. Sam believed the saying and she waited. She was rewarded when she felt Joey rest her head on her back.
Sam sensed a window in Joey’s defenses. She played her ace and hoped
she wasn’t misjudging the situation. If she was, Joey might run.
“Is this about what happened to you and your team in Syria?”
Joey sat up. “You know?”
“Only what I’ve read on the Internet,” Sam said softly, “and what has ended up in the media.”
“You never said anything.”
“No. I’ve been waiting for you to.”
Sam sensed Joey’s discomfort.
“How long have you known?” Joey asked.
“I’ve known something was wrong for a while now. Elsa said something about you needing to heal, and when that scout knocked the ladder over in church, your reaction wasn’t simple shock. That’s when I hit the Internet and did some research.” Sam paused. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, Sam.” Joey rested her head again on Sam’s back, this time wrapping her arms around her waist.
Sam’s attention was briefly distracted by the action. She forced herself to focus.
She thought of what she’d read on the Web, of what had happened to Joey and her colleagues. It was painful reading. That Joey had survived and been rescued was a miracle. The fact she was haunted by the event was expected. Sam was treading on delicate ground. She didn’t want to ruin anything. She hoped her words would encourage Joey to talk, that they would be a bridge she might cross. Sam sensed she needed to.
“What I read scared me, Joey. What happened to you out there defies all civilized explanation. I pray such incidents are isolated events, but they never are. History shows their recurrence regardless of what we do. And for those who get caught up in the vileness of it?” She looked down at Joey’s arms wrapped around her and her own hands covering hers. A fierce streak of protectiveness ran through her.
“Joey, we grow up in some leafy, safe place where everything that happens is predicted, assumed, and we know how to act. When we end up somewhere and experience carnage and atrocities beyond our imagination, we place standards on ourselves and we think we have to carry on as normal, and take it all in our stride. When we don’t, we punish ourselves, and we become confused. Our brain tries to rationalize what’s happened. If we can’t, we break down. We can no longer do the things that once seemed simple.”
Sam turned her head to speak over her shoulder.
