“I tried; I really did, but the nightmares came every night. I relived her dying over and over and soon it wasn’t just Mom but everyone I loved. You all died horrible deaths in my dreams. I probably needed to see a good shrink, but you know that was out of the question with the kind of lives we lead.” He ran a hand over his face. “Shit, I was so screwed up! In the end, I think I pushed you away for two reasons: you reminded me of that time in my life when I felt so weak -- so useless -- and because I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I thought that if I kept my distance from you and something took you away, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. I was a damned fool. It wouldn’t matter how much distance I put between us; if you died, I would, too.” Quinn looked at her, really looked at her, and she pushed the overwhelming feelings back down as she met his eyes. “I know it’s probably too late to forgive me and I deserve that, but I wanted you to know why. Jordan, I have a bad feeling about tonight and I know you do, too. I just…I just wanted to tell you now in case later never comes. I should have told you a long time ago. I didn’t know how.”
Part of her wanted to scream at the pain he’d caused her for so long. She longed for all the time they’d lost, all the hugs and good times they could have shared. Another part of her was relieved that he’d finally come to his senses, even if it was only because he was sure not all of them would make it through the night – a feeling she shared, unfortunately.
She sighed, hoping to relieve the pressure around her heart. It didn’t work. “So, what do we do now?” she asked.
Like a child taking his first steps, Quinn struggled through the motions of putting his arm around her shoulder. An ache filled her chest -- a sweet pain – as her brother pulled her into a hug for the first time that she could remember. The tears came, dropping on his gray t-shirt like the rain that surrounded them. The storm raged on, mirroring her churning emotions.
Still holding her tight, Quinn’s voiced cracked as he answered her. “We do what we always do, Jordan; we try to survive.”
When they went back inside, it was obvious from Case’s puffy eyes and Nathan’s smile that they’d been spying. Jordan didn’t care. She was glad they witnessed it because Lord knows they wouldn’t have believed it otherwise. It was a miracle that, as Uncle Case put it, “ranked as high as that incident where the image of the Virgin Mary appeared on that garage door in Pennsylvania.”
By the time they got ready to roll out, the storm had abated somewhat, giving Jordan hope. The rain was still coming down in spurts. Sometimes it was barely a whisper and then the wind would pick up and blow it into blinding sheets, but the thunder was growing more distant and the lightning less frequent. Quinn was going to guard Buck and his wife at their house – without Buck knowing about it, of course. He’d scouted the terrain earlier. Thankfully, Buck had a shed beside his house with a lean-to on the back where he parked his lawnmower. It was partially hidden by a wall of kudzu and would provide Quinn with a view of the house and put him within earshot if anyone screamed inside. Case and Nathan planned to scout some of the trails they’d picked out on the maps. And Jordan, well, she was going to eat pizza and paint her nails. At least, that’s what her brothers and uncle thought. Yeah, right.
Chapter Thirteen
The headlights on Nathan’s car illuminated the small, cozy cottage that Wendy and her mother called home. Jordan pulled in behind a rusty Buick and shut off the engine. Picking up the pizzas had put her more than an hour late, but Jordan had called and explained that a family matter came up. Wendy understood, telling Jordan she was just happy that she was still able to come over.
Balancing the pizzas in one hand, Jordan pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head and made a run for the lighted front porch. She managed the three stairs without slipping and falling on her ass. The sweet aroma and attractive yellow flowers of Carolina Jasmine waved at her from tendrils wrapped around the banisters. Two wicker chairs painted robin’s-egg blue rocked to and fro in the wind. A screen door guarded an open wooden door, the roof of the porch allowing the cool breeze and fresh scent of rain to permeate the house while keeping everything dry. The screen door bounced in its frame as Jordan knocked.
Seconds later, a wisp of a woman dressed in casual pants and a sage-green t-shirt appeared in the small entryway. She pushed a lock of black hair from her face, smiling as she unhooked the screen.
“You must be Jordan,” she pushed the door open wide, inviting her inside. Jordan struggled with the large pizza boxes as she maneuvered her way in, trying to hold them and stay on the rug just inside the door so she wouldn’t drip water on the handsome hardwood floor.
“I’m Ophelia, Wendy’s mother.” She reached for the boxes. “Let me get those for you, hon.”
“Thank you,” Jordan replied. She handed over the boxes, the smell of tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella making her stomach growl. She stripped off her soaked sweatshirt, thankful for the dry t-shirt underneath. Ophelia gestured for Jordan to follow her as she walked deeper into the house.
“Wendy, Jordan’s here!” she called out as she led her to a den. Immediately, Jordan was completely at ease. The room, though miniscule, was absolutely inviting. Two armchairs upholstered in light-blue denim were arranged in front of a brick fireplace. Built-in book shelves painted white contrasted beautifully with fawn-colored walls. They were filled with books, pictures in frames, and other mementos – a feather here, a tiny vase of dried flowers there. Ophelia had managed to make the small space look bigger by keeping two picture windows uncovered, giving the impression that the room was just an extension of a lovely flower garden outside, which was ablaze with solar-powered lights tucked in among the foliage. An antique grandmother clock stood in one corner. Its soothing tick-tock sound meshed well with the patter of rain on the tin roof -- a metronome keeping time for nature’s symphony outside. Jordan felt she could stay in this room and never leave. It was a happy place, one she was sure held many good memories and peaceful moments.
“Your den is beautiful, Mrs. Jones,” Jordan said as she admired an intricately carved wolf sitting on one of the bookcases. The detail was amazing.
Ophelia joined her. She picked up the wolf figurine. “It’s Ms., not Mrs., and please call me Fee; everyone does.” She turned the statue over, showing Jordan a hand-written price tag that read $3. “Most everything in this room was bought second-hand,” she admitted. “I took this piece to an art dealer in a neighboring town and had it appraised. It’s worth about $500. Some people just don’t know what they’re getting rid of.” She and Jordan were still laughing when Wendy blew into the room with a smile of her own.
“Yeah; it’s amazing what you can do with a run-down house with some paint, a little imagination, and garage sales,” she blushed. “Hi, Jordan, I’m glad you came.”
Jordan reached over and gave the girl a hug. “Sorry I’m so late. Your house looks like something out of a fairytale. I love it!”
Wendy gave her a hesitant pat on the back. Obviously, she wasn’t used to being hugged by her peers, but she seemed pleased.
“Would you like to see my room?”
There was no way Jordan could resist her twinkling eyes or the sheer excitement on Wendy’s face. “I’d love to.”
“You girls go ahead. I’ll bring you some pizza and drinks in a few minutes.” Ophelia looked at Jordan, misty-eyed. “Thank you,” she said.
“It wasn’t anything. I was planning on getting pizza for dinner anyway.”
“I wasn’t talking about the pizza, hon.” With that, Wendy’s mother scooped the boxes up and left the room, leaving Jordan embarrassed and tongue-tied. Thankfully, Wendy put a hand on her elbow and guided her to a set of stairs in the entryway, acting as if her mother hadn’t spoken.
“Come on up. Our bedrooms are up here, along with the only bathroom.”
Jordan followed Wendy to the top of the stairs. There were three closed doors; one directly in front of her and two on either side of the stairs. Wendy led her to
the one on the right.
She wasn’t sure what to expect when Wendy opened the door to her bedroom, but what she saw took her breath away. The first thing her eyes were drawn to was the bed. It was built on a platform with steps that led up. Underneath a quilt of Van Gogh’s Starry Night (which was beautiful in itself) was a hobbit door that hid a small reading nook next to the window. Jordan felt like Frodo Baggins as she crawled inside to find a book case full of fantasy paperbacks, an over-stuffed bean-bag chair, and a small table which held an MP3 player, a stained-glass lamp, and a journal. Jordan, who loved to read herself, could imagine many hours ensconced in this special hideaway.
When she finally crawled back out (Wendy was sitting in a chair in front of an adorable antique desk, letting Jordan take her time to explore), she noticed the ceiling. It was painted like the night sky and included the Aurora Borealis, brilliant stars, and a bloated full moon, which, Jordan realized, was also a light fixture. The purples, blues, and greens against the almost-black background were striking with the haziness of the white moon.
“Mrs. Janus painted it for me before she got sick. I love the night time, especially looking at the sky. It’s…I think it’s magical,” she finished quickly, looking away.
Jordan continued to stare, mesmerized. “You’re right, Wendy. It is.”
She cleared her throat. “I have some pictures I took if you’d like to see them.” Wendy pointed to a wall covered in framed photos. Jordan walked over to take a closer look. They were some of the most perfect pictures she had ever seen. What Buck’s wife was able to capture with a paint brush and oils, Wendy was able to capture with a camera. Some of the prints were straight photography with no touch-ups at all; others had been manipulated with digital programs. They were all exquisite.
A black horse that could have been Archer stood in a field of wild flowers, a fence made of tree branches in the background. The horse had been manipulated to give it a hazy, dream-like quality. Jordan pointed to it.
“Is this your horse? This picture is…oh, I can’t even find the words to describe it!”
Wendy laughed. “Thank you, and no, she isn’t mine. Mom and I took a trip to Pigeon Forge last year and I saw the horse in a field on the way there. I begged Mom to stop at the house beside it and I asked the owner if I could photograph her. He told me I could. Her name is Peg – short for Pegasus.”
There were so many pictures, each one more splendid than the last. Jordan noticed a majority of them were of nature scenes and owls. She had no idea how Wendy got close enough to get some of the action shots of the magnificent birds, but she caught several of them in flight, soaring like prehistoric creatures from a time long past.
“Wendy, your talent is amazing. I hope you plan to pursue this after you graduate.”
She nodded. “Oh, yes! I’m saving every penny I can and I hope to get a grant or scholarship to an art school next year.” She sighed. “It hasn’t been easy for me and Mom, but I won’t give up. I want to have my own studio one day.”
Jordan wondered what happened to Wendy’s father, but didn’t feel she could ask. It was obvious they didn’t have much money, but everything they bought second-hand was unique and chosen for its beauty. Someone in the family had an eye for decorating, that was for sure.
A knock sounded at the door and Ophelia came in with a tray bearing pizza and soda. She set it down on Wendy’s desk.
“Thanks, Mom, but I could’ve come down and fixed this. I know you’re tired.”
Ophelia smoothed her hair and then patted Wendy’s cheek. “It’s no problem. I’m taking the day off tomorrow and I plan to sleep late and be deliciously lazy all day.” She smiled, but Jordan noticed small bags underneath the woman’s slightly bloodshot eyes. She looked worn out.
Taking a plate with some pizza, Jordan asked Wendy, “Where did you get the quilt on your bed? I love Van Gogh’s Starry Night.”
Wendy swallowed a bite of pizza and nodded at her mother. “Mom made it.”
Jordan’s eyes grew wide and she whistled. “Wow! That’s some talent you have, Fee.”
Wendy’s mother smiled. “It’s the hardest bit of quilting I’ve ever done. It took about six months to complete, but I enjoy a challenge.”
Jordan took a closer look at the pattern on the quilt. The stitching was intricate and detailed – a work of art. “I guess you do,” she remarked. “I’ve certainly never seen anything this stunning in the JC Penney catalog.”
Ophelia laughed. “I have some for sale in my shop. You can come by and take a look tomorrow evening, if you’d like. I plan to hang some of Wendy’s photos in the store to see if we can sell them.”
“Oh!” Wendy interjected. “She made one with different-colored fall leaves on it. It’s really amazing – they look so real! You’d like it, Jordan.”
“It sounds lovely,” Jordan replied. “I’d love to come by.”
“Good!” Wendy practically bounced in her seat. “I’m off tomorrow. Maybe we can go out for lunch or something.”
Jordan, who had just taken a huge bite of pizza, nodded and held up a finger. She chewed quickly and swallowed. “It’s a deal. I’ll check with my uncle and give you a call in the morning, if that’s okay.”
Ophelia took a plate of pizza and a can of soda for herself. She turned to Jordan. “Thank you so much for bringing the pizza and coming by for a visit. You are welcome anytime.” She tried to stifle a yawn. “Oh my, excuse me! I think, if you girls don’t need anything else, I am going to eat and hit the hay. I’m ready for some good sleep and sweet dreams of Brad Paisley.”
Jordan raised her eyebrows. Wendy said, “Mom has a thing for Brad Paisley. I don’t know why, he’s so thin you could slip him under a door.”
Ophelia winked. “He can check me for ticks anytime.”
Both girls laughed as she called good night and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Jordan sat on the floor with her pizza and soda. “Your mom’s great,” she told Wendy before starting on her second slice. She wasn’t sure if two pieces were going to be enough. The town may be small, but it sure had some great restaurants. The pizza was fabulous and she patted herself on the back for buying two more for Uncle Case and the boys. She sure hoped they were okay, but they promised to call her if anything came up.
“Yeah, she’s the best.” Wendy had finished both slices of her pizza and was staring forlornly at her empty plate. She was probably too embarrassed to admit she was still hungry. Good thing Jordan wasn’t.
“Hey,” she said, waving her slice of pizza at Wendy. “I don’t know about you, but my appetite calls for at least three pieces – sometimes more.”
Wendy laughed. “Let’s go down stairs and eat in the den. That way, we’ll be sure not to wake Mom when she goes to bed. We can turn the T.V. on, too.”
Before they left the room, Wendy took the picture Jordan admired of the horse off the wall and handed it to her. “I want you to have this.” Jordan shook her head and started to protest, but Wendy cut her off. “Please, take it. I haven’t had many people show interest in my pictures. Besides, I have the negative. I can always print out another copy…” She looked at the floor. Jordan thought she looked sad. “I know you’re leaving in a few days. It will make me happy to know that we have the same picture on our bedroom walls.”
Jordan understood. Wendy was the first girl her own age that she’d been able to relate to on a personal level. When all was said and done, she would go back to Wyoming just as lonely as she was when she arrived in Tennessee. Sure, the rough waters she’d been sailing with Quinn might calm enough to not make her seasick, but not even Nathan could take the place of a best friend she could just be a girl with. All the insecurities she kept secret that had nothing to do with slaying creatures or having visions -- to be able to share those with someone who could sympathize or give helpful advice would be a wonderful gift. Jordan and Wendy were both missing an important parent in their lives. She wondered if Wendy had the same hole in he
r heart that she had, one that never seemed to heal no matter how much time passed. Even though she hadn’t known this girl very long, it had been enough time to show her what she’s been missing all these years by not being able to have close friends in her life. She didn’t want to let it go.
I will not cry. I will not cry! A single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek to betray her. Dammit. She reached over and gave Wendy a hug that was accepted without hesitation this time.
“I’ll accept the picture if you’ll sign it for me. After all, I want to be able to say I knew you before you were a famous artist.”
Through tears of her own, Wendy nodded. “It’s a deal.”
They finished every slice of pizza, drank almost an entire two liter of Dr. Pepper, and laughed at back-to-back episodes of The Big Bang Theory. It was getting late and, as much as Jordan hated to take an enjoyable evening and turn it sour, she had to get some information from Wendy (if her friend had any to give) and get to Corbett’s house to have a look around his shed of horror. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Wendy, you’ve lived here all your life, right?”
She stacked their dirty plates on top of the empty pizza box and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Yep. Why do you ask?”
Jordan gathered up the napkins and cups to buy some time before answering. She had to be discreet. If she gave up too much information, Michael would have her still-beating heart on a silver platter before sunrise. However, that wasn’t the reason she chose to keep a tight lip. Some people didn’t need to know about the paranormal -- about the abominations that shared their towns and cities. They deserved to keep their normal lives. Wendy should be able to sleep at night, ignorant of what could be lurking in dark corners.
“I was wondering if you know of any caves around these parts?”
Blind Sight Page 12
