by Taki Drake
Chapter 10 – The Turning of The Wheel
“Will you marry me, Darlin?” Daniel, a long-distance hauler, had asked.
“What did I tell you the last three times you asked? Jo?” Wynn had answered, pointing to Josie who turned and smiled in response to her name.
“Aw, you know it’s really you I want, Wynn,” Daniel’s round face and gray beard showed the twenty-year age difference between him and the waitress.
“Daniel Levi Hunt, I met your wife just last month. I bet she would be more than happy to skin you alive for saying as much, not to mention Jo here will get mighty jealous if you continue.”
Daniel had put his hands up in surrender, “You got me,” tipping his glass of scotch back to finish off the last of it. “I better get me some shut eye before I get myself into a heap of trouble with you girls.”
I had smiled. Daniel was harmless, even more so with a few drinks in him. He loved everybody. It was funny how many of the regulars had patterns. They would flirt, yell at the TV sports, drink, eat, shower, but really, they all came here for a taste of family. When they were done, they would shuffle back to their semi-tractor and sleep it off. Usually all business in the morning, I was glad I didn’t have to deal with the pre-coffee Daniel. The stories that were told about him painted a far different picture than the affable, mildly-flirting man that we saw in the evening.
For the most part, the night had been slow.
When I had pulled up to Gram’s house early the next morning, it struck me as almost funny that in all the years I’ve lived there that it had never really been my home. It had only been a place to live, one filled with secrets and things left best not discussed.
Gram had her secrets, that was certain. For example, I had never been allowed in the attic. From the way Gram reacted, it held something dangerous. Something that needed to be cloaked in mystery.
Other secrets were more understandable. Gram and I never spoke of my parents. Whether it was because the pain was too intense or if there was some other mystery about their deaths, I didn’t know. Cloaked in secrecy this place had been a place to reside, a house. But never a home.
Gram had, however, liked to talk to me about magic. History of magic seemed to be something she had studied at length. I tried to be interested in what she was saying, but never quite understood the point. Why talk about stuff that wasn’t real or possible?
I remember walking around the old Buick to the trunk and pulled out the groceries. The two of us needed very little, thankfully, and a week of groceries fit inside two reusable bags.
As I had neared the front door, I wondered why it didn’t feel like home. It seemed odd that I didn’t care what happened to it when Gram passed. I studied the small two-bedroom and one bath building with about as much attachment as I would have felt for a used band-aid. An odd comparison, but in many ways accurate. This house had been my spot for healing, a refuge.
As I entered the living room, I realized I would be taking off this band-aid very soon. It was Grandma Rosa who kept me here. I put away the groceries with nothing more than the back-porch light as illumination. I knew the house as well as my own skin.
I had crept across the creaking wood floors, down the narrow hall, and into my room. It was still dark but for the light of my alarm clock. Not wanting to wake my sleeping grandmother, I felt no need to turn on more lights. With the ease of frequent repetitions, I had emptied my pockets of a wad of quarters and one-dollar bills into a pile on the center of my bed.
Staring at it for a moment, I had gathered my spoils into my hand and dumped the money into the gallon-sized pickle jar beside my bed. The container had been three-quarters full. The mass of cash had been saved for the better part of four years. It was mostly one-dollar bills, but it would hopefully take me where I was going. Whatever that place might be.
An imagined place. I had dreamed over and over about someplace where I belonged, someplace that I would feel accepted. Someplace that I could call home. Gram would likely have told me all about the magic of possibility. Maybe there was a time in my life I would have believed Grandma Rosa. Perhaps even embraced the idea.
“Is that you, Rosalie?” Gram’s voice had been barely a whisper.
I had made my way through the dark to Gram’s room. “Did you need something, Gram?” It stunned me every time I had come to her bedroom. The shocking gray hair, paste-colored skin, and the bed she never left. For four weeks of endless time, Gram had been medicated so she would sleep through the night.
That night, she had been alert. It was a refreshing change from her usual lethargy.
“I heard noises.”
“Yes, Gram, it was me,” I had come near the bed and taken her cold hand in mine, “How was your day?” I had rubbed her hand between my own, wanting to lend her part of my warmth.
“As good as can be expected when you are dying.”
“Gran, what have we decided?”
“Being positive about death only makes me sound like a fool, Rosalie. It’s the facts. That’s all.”
I had taken a deep breath and nodded, knowing that there was no point in arguing with her. “Your new nurse treats you well? Her name is Marcie, right?”
Gran’s lips had flattened at the mention of Marcie’s name. “She has a funny look in her eyes.”
I had nodded, knowing that this is what always happened, “I can’t be here all the time Gran, I have to work.”
Gram had reached her trembling hand over the top of the bed to enclose both of mine, “I understand. I have something for you that I can’t hide any longer.”
I remember lifting an eyebrow, expressing skepticism I couldn’t help but show.
“Before you tell me there isn’t magic, I want to tell you again there is. You are able to do things, Rosalie. You can do things that other people can’t do.”
“It’s late, Gram.” I had felt the same discomfort I often felt when Gram got to talking about magic. I knew that strange things had happened, but had convinced myself that they were probably just coincidence.
It was easier to pretend they hadn’t happened because it made them easier to ignore.
“Yes, yes you have much to do. I know. It will just take a minute. It is in the bedside drawer.”
I had settled Gram’s warmed hands on the blanket and moved to the drawer. “You really shouldn’t be giving me anything,” I had mumbled. Opening the drawer, I had seen a wooden box. It could have been a cigar box, but older than anything I had seen in the store.
“Did Grandpa smoke cigars?”
Gram had laughed quietly before coughing. Smooth and with the feeling of age in its texture and heft, the box had fit comfortably in my hands. Intriguing to the eye, it seemed to have a presence and to issue an unspoken demand to be held chest height and studied.
“What is this?” I had asked, knowing that I had never seen it before, although somehow still felt familiar. Perhaps it hadn’t been the box as much as the feeling that came with it. It was familiar in its strangeness, something I had only felt one other time.
“It is yours. I knew it the moment I found it on the front porch. You were in school.”
“How do you know this wasn’t some sort of prank?”
“I tell you, I know. I will tell you another thing,” Gram’s coughing had worsened to the point where she could not make herself understood. It had taken us some time to get her settled back down and her oxygen mask in place.
“You can tell me in the morning.”
“No.” Gram had taken a large breath of air. “You have to wait to open it until after I’m gone. If you open it before…” Gram had coughed longer and with more pain in her face.
There were never straight answers with Gram. I had numbed my curiosity with watching the monitors beside her bed while she rested. The numbers I’d come to understand were telling me the future. My future alone. A staggering thought that reinforced the idea that each moment was precious. Supportively and with the selfish desire to store up as man
y moments as I could, I had stayed with her until she slept.
Quietly, I had picked up the cigar box and made my way to my bedroom in the dark. Setting the container on top of the dresser, I had felt the pressure of its presence. Its dark outline had rested there, accusingly. Without thinking, I had stuffed it in the second drawer below a red sweater. When the drawer snicked shut, I had finally relaxed.
It had been perplexing, that box. All night I had dreamed of it. All night I had wondered about the unusual gift as it haunted my dreams and troubled my rest.
Chapter 11 – Dreams and Dreamers
The morning had come early as alarms sounded in Gram’s room. I had moved quickly, silencing the alarm and checking Gram’s pulse with my fingers. To my relief, it was a false alarm.
“Did you dream of the box?” Gram had whispered.
“Dreams, Gram.”
“It called to you. I knew it would. Remember, wait until I go.”
“Grandma Rosa,” I had closed my eyes to contain the burn and check the tears that wanted to fall. “I will wait. Tell me what this box is for a while as I get you ready for the day.”
Gram had talked in a whisper, but it was loud enough to speak of a place not part of this world. I had listened as I tended to Gram’s needs, only half hearing the words. My thoughts were centered on dreams of another place.
“The people in this realm are not all like you and I. They are different. They have abilities greater than your own.”
“That’s not surprising, Gram.”
“You calm those around you. This is a gift. You change things. You warmed my hands, in a few movements,” Gram’s coughing had started again.
It took me another twenty minutes to get her settled. “You are all set.”
Gram had given me look that said, “This conversation isn’t over.”
<<<>>>
“Did she ever finish explaining?” Madrik had asked.
“Not really, Gram was gone in a few days,” I had added with a glance around the room. “I wish I could tell Gram so many things now.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She is in a better place, I believe. At least I like to think the family is together, looking out for me. You know, like this place is…” Wynn remembered rubbing her hand over the tablecloth and smiling.
“So, how did you get here? Everyone has their story.”
<<<>>>
Gram had been gone for a few weeks when I came home from work, and the front door was partially open.
I had felt the house was empty but still crept inside on high alert. I had wedged my keys between my fingers, so they stuck out like claws. The hardwood floors were covered with broken plates, overturned furniture, and batting stuck out at odd angles from the brown plaid sofa.
I had realized as I picked up the broken broom handle in my other hand that these people were looking for something.
The box came to mind immediately.
Straining my hearing for signs of someone lurking in the house, I had heard nothing. I still cautiously moved through the debris field that had been Gram’s home for 35 years. Strangely enough, the attic door was untouched. I had reached out to it, only to have it disappear. It was as if it were a hologram.
Gram’s voice had echoed in my head, “You have abilities, Rosalie. You use magic.”
I could remember the racing of my heart, and thinking, Was it possible? I had extended my hand out toward the door again, and my fingers had passed through.
The memory of that moment still sent shivers up and down my spine. Without conscious thought, I had backed as far away from that portal as the confined space allowed. If this indeed was a door, I had no experience or understanding to know how safe or dangerous it was. I had nothing to draw on.
The box had popped into my mind. I had gathered my courage to make my way to my own room. The puzzle of the attic door was nothing compared to the disaster that I had seen in the space that had been my room.
If the box was here, I had no idea where to begin searching for it. I flipped my light switch to see better, and the bulb had exploded. My heart racing, as I had strained to hear sounds, to see in the dark, to understand the situation I stood in.
The worried voice of Gram had popped into my memory, a seemingly innocuous comment. “I think she waits until I’m asleep to snoop around the house.”
I had closed my eyes caught in regret and fear. Why had I not listened?
Knowing that I needed to find the box and to get out of the house, I turned on the flashlight app on my cell phone. A dim part of my memory realized that this was the most use that the phone had in weeks.
Stunned by the magnitude of disarray, the only thing that I had been able to do was to start straightening the room. It was a horrendous job.
I had to move my mattress back onto the bed. My clothes were all over the floor as if my closet had vomited. Sliding my feet over scattered clothing, I had made my precarious way to the dresser. The second drawer was the only one that had remained in place although it was open. The concealing sweater was sitting there in pristine order, the only thing in the drawer that looked untouched.
I remember reaching into the drawer and feeling the firm edges of the box that was concealed just beneath the garment when the sound of a voice startled me so badly that I had turned around, slamming the drawer hard enough to push it closed
A woman’s voice had called out, “I found her.”
“Where have you been hiding?” A man had asked.
I couldn’t make out their faces, but I had recognized the voice of the woman. It was Marcie, the nurse Gram had not trusted.
“I was at work,” I had said lamely. It wasn’t my best moment. Truthfully, I was completely surprised anyone would care about anything in this old house. The magic that seemed to be hidden here stunned me more. “What is going on?”
“Listen, we don’t want to hurt you, but we will.”
I stifled a scream… “What do you want from me?”
“I can’t tell if she doesn’t know, or if she’s hiding it really well,” Marcie had said.
I couldn’t help it; my eyes had grown large, a window into my fear. “I have a money jar, it’s a few years of tips.”
The two of them had laughed.
“I could have had your money without tearing your house apart,” Marcie added.
“I’m confused.”
“Obviously,” the man had said, “Just give us the box. You clearly haven’t the first clue what to do with it.”
“The box?” I remember whispering. My mind has been bouncing around between fear and panic until that moment when suddenly a plan started forming. I had not known what they wanted until then, and perhaps that could work for me. I played dumb, “A shoe box? I think Gram had one of those in her closet.”
“Will you do something with this clueless idiot?” The man had asked the woman, turning his back to me and the room.
“Shawn, it’s here. We just have to think. It’s nowhere we have looked so far.”
“I could help,” I had offered, smiling. I was so relieved that they bought my story that my fear had eased slightly. Trying not to oversell the idea, I continued. “If it will get you both out of my house, I will tell you what I know.” I figured knowing nothing meant this would be a short conversation.
“What are you up to? Your Gram blabbed all the time about magic and the box. You had to know.” Marcie had come closer to me and into the room, shining her flashlight into my face.
“I thought she was crazy, didn’t you?” I had felt bad saying it, but it was true. I really had thought that she was crazy for most of my life.
“No, Marcie. Keep in mind that if it were just the grandmother, the arch wouldn’t show magic over the house. She has to be lying, at least about something,” Shawn had said. The light shining in my eyes made it hard to make out what he was doing.
Marcie had moved the light from my eyes just enough that I could watch her scrutinizing my face. “Unless
there is something large, magic, and hidden. That would explain the indications. So, tell me, is there anything unusual in this house?”
“Other than it’s a mess right now? The door in the hallway or the dresser drawer not laying on the floor?” I had figured truth and sarcasm could only help me. I still had no idea what to do, or if I could do it, or even if I could come up with something to do. My primary emotion was confusion, and I was just flying by the seat of my pants.
“Listen, Gram rambled on for years. I had no idea what she was talking about. I thought she was confused. I wish I paid better attention. Especially now, but I didn’t.”
“Maybe we should take her to Him,” Shawn had whispered, “She could know stuff she doesn’t know that she knows.”
“Right,” Marcie had said with derision. She directed the flashlight around the room. “We tore this place apart.”
“Let’s go, the old lady probably hid it someplace else,” Shawn had muttered.
I couldn’t believe my luck at that moment, thrilled that they were actually leaving. Standing frozen in place, I had heard the front door close before I started cleaning up the room. I remember the shaking in my hands as I tried to straighten things. I had waited about ten minutes after I heard them leave before I did anything but trivial actions.
Part of me had known that they would come back.
A few minutes of effort and the floor had been cleared, but my bed was still full of junk. “Where was all this?” I had mumbled, amazed I had so much in my room. Trying to keep myself distracted, I decided that this was a good excuse to purge unnecessary items.
I will need trash bags, I had thought, and stubbed my toe. I looked down to find a box of trash bags about the size of grocery bags. “What on earth?”
I had known it wasn’t there previously but remember thinking in amazement that of course, it hadn’t flown into the room. Or had it? I had shaken my head.
Thinking to myself that I needed to focus, in a few short moments I had bagged up four garbage bags of clothes to discard. It had felt good to free myself from all that clutter. I tossed the bags into the hallway and thought briefly that in a way it was very liberating.
