Chapter VI
No Looking Back
When the flickers stopped, Jane found herself in the exact dressing room she had envisioned before teleporting out of the car. Thankfully, the little stall was unoccupied (this thought had occurred to her after it had been too late to stop the teleportation from taking place). Once she knew that she had arrived at the department store safely and in one piece, she spared one regretful moment thinking about Cris. I hope I didn’t scare him too badly…then again, he did deserve it. He has no right telling me what to do! He may have figured out a few things about me, but not enough to decide what’s best for me. On cue, the phone in her pocket began to vibrate violently.
“Crap.” She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Then again, if she didn’t answer, he would certainly assume the worst and raise the alarm at home. Jane had no intention of spending hours upon hours sitting on a plane next to Dr. Sylfaen, listening to a lecture about responsibility and accountability, blah, blah, blah….
Uncle Mederick! Jane had given herself an idea so simple that she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her in the first place. With a flourish, she refused Cris’s call, then she scrolled down the call list on her phone until she came to her godfather’s name. As long as I call him first, he won’t have any reason to worry about me. And, when Cris calls home in a panic, Uncle Mederick will tell him I’m fine. And to mind his own damn business, she added to the thought, though it seemed unlikely she’d get that lucky.
“Jane? Is everything alright?” Dr. Sylfaen answered her call after the first ring.
Oh crap, he knows already! She took a deep breath as she prepared her excuses, but she corrected herself. No, he’s just caught off guard because I’ve never actually called him before. Yeah, that makes more sense. “I’m fine, Uncle Mederick. I just needed to check in with you…I’ve had a little change of plans today.”
“I don’t understand, dear.”
“Well, I was out with Cris today, running errands before we leave, and I had a little…attack. Accidentally, of course. I didn’t know that I was saying anything wrong.”
Her godfather’s voice raised several decibels. “Are you okay?”
“Actually, yes…I did that breathing thing that I saw Mr. Everword do last night, and I got through it okay.”
“Excellent, Jane. I don’t want you relying on that technique, of course, but well done, just the same. How is Cris?”
“He’s…um…well, I’m not really sure. I got really angry with him afterwards—he wanted for us to come back to the house, but I still have so much left to do—and I lost my temper. We were in the car, and I just, well, left.”
Dr. Sylfaen’s voice rose again. “While you were driving?”
“No! Oh, no, no, Uncle Mederick, of course not while I was driving! I’m not that stupid. Cris was driving.”
“I don’t approve of Cristobel driving my vehicles without proper licensure.”
Jane recognized her moment of opportunity. “Neither do I, Uncle Mederick. I was perfectly able to drive at that point, completely recovered, but he wouldn’t listen to me. You know how stubborn he can be…he practically bullied me into the car with him.”
“So you teleported from the car?”
“Yes, sir.” Jane’s answer was meek, the response of a customarily compliant child who had been forced into a disobedient act against her will.
“I see. Where are you now, Jane?”
“I’m downtown, finishing up my shopping. I should be ready to come home in an hour or two, need to be home so that I can begin packing before dinner, but Cris has my car.”
“Well, he didn’t precisely abandon you, did he, Jane?” Dr. Sylfaen’s usual, half-amused tinkle had returned to his voice. “I wouldn’t let it spoil the rest of my day. Not that I approve of his behavior, or yours…but Jane, consider how worried he must have been about you. He has no way of understanding the nature of your condition, dear. It makes no sense to him that you can be so drastically affected one moment, then perfectly fine the next.”
Jane sighed. “Yeah, that’s true, I guess. But I can’t tell him anything about it, to make him understand, you know? This is so hard! How am I supposed to be his friend if I can’t communicate with him?”
Both of them were quiet for several moments, and, when Dr. Sylfaen broke the silence, the amusement had vanished once more, this time replaced with detached resignation. “I don’t know, Jane.”
Gregory was sent to pick up Jane at three o’ clock, by which time she had armed herself with an assortment of bags and boxes from the downtown shops—and those she held now didn’t include the items that she and Cris had purchased during the morning. Those were probably still stowed away in the trunk of her own car.
“Busy day, huh?” the chauffeur chuckled as he took them from her, one by one, and packed them into Dr. Sylfaen’s large white car, the one Jane thought of as The Yacht.
She wondered if he had been briefed on exactly how busy her day had been. “Uh, yeah. But I got everything I need for the trip, so now all I have left to do is pack a suitcase.”
“Oh yeah, just pack a suitcase...or maybe a moving van. Are you sure you got everything you need for your trip, Jane?” Gregory’s sarcasm was thick, but not unpleasantly so.
Jane shrugged. “I just wanted to be prepared for anything, I guess.” I have to be prepared for anything, because I haven’t been given the first clue what to expect.
“Well, girlie, it looks like you’ve covered all of your bases.” His face cracked open into a wide, crooked grin. He loped around to the front passenger door of the car and opened it for her. “Assuming, of course, that one of those shoeboxes actually contains a good pocket knife and a first aid kit.”
Jane buckled her seatbelt and contemplated that statement while she waited for Gregory to settle into the driver seat. “You don’t really think I need to pack camping supplies, do you?”
The laugh that returned her question sounded more like the bark of a large dog. “Life ain’t all fancy dress parties, girlie, that’s for sure. But I’m sure your guardian will have taken care of all the details for you. As long as you have everything you think you’ll need, you can rest assured that he’ll take care of everything else.”
“He always does, doesn’t he?” Jane asked quietly. “Take care of all the details, I mean.”
After an affectionate, sidelong glance, the chauffeur answered. “Well, he’s taken care of me for a good many years, that’s for sure, and my own dad before me, believe it or not. And the Marquezes are damn near family to him, too.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t he have a family of his own somewhere?”
Gregory shifted uneasily in his seat. “Well, girlie, he has you now. That old man loves you, probably even more than he loved your parents, and that means more than you know.”
On Jane’s bed, Angelita had laid out a pretty set of three matching suitcases, a hanging garment bag, and a two-handled tote that she could carry onto the plane. The luggage was antiquated, but by no means unstylish, not that Jane would have cared much if it had been. In her own limited travels, she’d never carried anything fancier than her worn-out backpack. These bags were covered in an old-fashioned tapestry material that might have looked gothic if not for the rich color scheme of greens and blues on a field of silvery gray. On each bag, Jane found a silver-plated luggage tag with the initials GES engraved on it. She assumed that the S stood for Sylfaen, but the only G in the house was Gregory, and his last name was Masterson. I wonder who these belonged to, she wondered.
She didn’t wonder for long. Angelita burst into the room less than ten minutes after Jane had arrived home, carrying the bags from Jane’s morning errands. Gregory had already helped Jane bring up the afternoon parcels before putting The Yacht away in the garage.
“Vámanos, Jane. Let’s get going on these bags so I can get back downstairs to finish dinner. I’ve got a special send-off meal baking away for you as we speak.”
“Ah, Angelita, if you�
�re too busy, I’m sure I can manage on my own.”
Angelita’s eyes first surveyed the pile of new purchases in the corner of the room, then the suitcases lying open and ready on the bed. She chose to ignore Jane altogether and commenced by stating, in no uncertain terms, that they’d have to take all of the shoes out of the boxes to make everything fit.
The two spent the next hour working in assembly-line style, Jane seated on the floor, removing each item from the shopping bags and handing it over, and Angelita seated on the edge of the bed, making a comment or two on each blouse or dress or coat before assigning it to the appropriate case and rattling off instructions for the correct way to pack the item so that it traveled without wrinkling. Jane made mental notes for the first ten minutes, but was soon reduced to nodding and saying “uh-huh” when Angelita paused for more than a second or two. When the last suitcase was neatly zipped closed, Angelita stood, brushed her hands on her hips with a self-satisfied flourish, and gave Jane a brisk squeeze before trotting downstairs to take her vegetable casserole—Jane’s favorite dish—out of the oven.
When the information overload passed a few minutes later, Jane followed.
“Do you have your passport, Jane?”
“Yes, sir.” She patted the side of her blue-and-green tapestry tote bag, as if to indicate where the passport was stowed. She’d stacked the rest of her suitcases into a neat pile near the door in the kitchen that led to the garage, next to her godfather’s bags. All two of them.
“We have a few minutes left, Jane, if you want to say good-bye.”
“Thanks, Uncle Mederick. I’ll be right back.” Jane left the kitchen and peeked from room to room until she found Angelita, busy with a broom on the back porch.
Jane laughed at the small woman, who swayed with the broomstick as she sang a song in Spanish that Jane didn’t know. “Jeez, Angelita. I thought you skipped church this morning to see us off, not to squeeze in some extra housework.”
“I like to keep my hands occupied, that’s all. Especially when I’m a little upset.” Her smile displayed each little line around her mouth and eyes, but she looked like she was on the brink of crying.
“Upset? Why?”
“How can you ask me why, you silly girl?” Angelita placed a hand on either side of Jane’s face and looked her in one eye, and then the other. “I will miss you two every second that you’re gone.” She pulled Jane downward into an ardent embrace.
When Jane surfaced, she felt the damp spot where Angelita’s tears had left a watery mark on her blouse. At least she’s not wearing mascara this time, Jane thought as she remembered that the same thing had happened on the day of her parents’ funeral. Even then, she cared. Even then, before she ever really knew me, she loved me.
“Oh, now, none of that,” Angelita bullied herself back into her no-nonsense voice and plastered the maternal grin across her face. “Dr. Sylfaen’s promised to let us know when you’ve arrived, but you feel free to send us a postcard or pick up the phone, as well. And Jane….”
“Yes?”
“Take care of one another, okay, honey? You have only each other for a little while. I know he can be a little pushy from time to time, but he—”
“He’s only trying to do what’s best for me,” Jane interjected. “Yeah, I know, Angelita. It’s okay. I’m really looking forward to this trip—to having some time to,” she chose her words with great caution, “to get to know one another better.”
Angelita nodded. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to before…well, it would have made things so much easier now.”
“Why didn’t we get to know each other sooner? He was already my godfather, after all. Why didn’t my parents bring me with them when they came here?” Jane asked, realizing for the first time that Angelita, having been a friend of her mother’s, might know the answer to that question.
“Oh, that’s a conversation for another day. You have a plane to catch in a little while. Now, hug me again before you go tell Cris good-bye, baby.” Jane did as she was told, but she logged her question away for a later date. A conversation for another day, perhaps, but not for a day in the distant future. No, she intended to resume that dialogue as soon as she returned home.
“I think you’ll find Cristobel sulking around in the cottage,” Angelita said when they let go of one another’s arms. “He’s going to miss you, too, you know.” She laughed, winking tears out of her eyes as she did. “And I have to live with him in the mean time!”
“Cris? Cris, are you in here?” Jane called from around the front door of the cottage, which stood open into the small living room.
“Yeah, I’m in here, Janie.” His voice was accompanied by the sound of footsteps in the small hallway that led to the cottage’s two bedrooms. He entered the living room, sporting a tangled mane of black hair that seemed (if possible) even more unkempt than usual and a pair of bloodshot eyes.
“Um…you look like crap.”
“Gee, thanks,” he retorted humorlessly.
“You know I’m just teasing. Are you okay?”
The black irises of his eyes flashed against his pink, swollen eyelids. “I’m fine. Not that I need to assure you of anything, after your stunt yesterday.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“Excuse me?”
Jane closed her eyes in frustration. This isn’t going well. “Look, I’m sorry I scared you, Cris. I was just so angry at you, and I had to get away. I felt…cornered.”
“You were angry with me because I was worried about you?”
“No. I was angry with you—no, not with you—I was angry because I couldn’t explain it to you. I still can’t, and you know it.”
Cris’s expression softened a bit. “Yeah, I know it. But you can’t do things like that, Janie. I’m on your side, you know? I’m sorry I offended you by calling you Cursed—I guess I can see how that might have pissed you off. It’s really just a name I found in a book.”
“But Cursed or not, I’m not evil. At least we both know that now.”
“Yeah, we do. But we learned it at what cost? You could have passed out—you could have died! Janie, you have to be more careful about what you say, even to me.”
“Especially to you.” She glanced up at him, and for a moment, she saw the open-faced expression of her best friend. “I have to go now, Cris.”
“I know.” He swept her into a hug that made Angelita’s feel like little more than a weak handshake. As they embraced, Cris spoke softly into her ear. “You may have learned one or two things that you’re not, but it’s time for you to go find out what you are, Jane Thomas. Don’t be afraid.”
“Wouldn’t you be? If you didn’t know what was going to happen next?” She whispered into shirt-sleeve.
“I would be terrified. But,” he pulled away from her but left his hands on her shoulders, “you’ll be fine. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” He kissed her in the middle of her forehead.
Jane flushed scarlet and sighed. “I don’t feel like it right now.”
“That’s okay. You can freak out all you want to now, but you’ll work up the nerve when you need it. You always do—even when you probably shouldn’t.” He traced one hand along the side of her cheek. “It’s time, Janie. Do you want me to walk you to the car?”
“No.” She rose onto her toes and brushed a short kiss good-bye onto his lips. I shouldn’t do that, Jane thought, but she wasn’t really reproachful. “I’ll be home as soon as I can be, and you can spend the next hundred years guessing everything I’ve learned.”
Cris smiled. “Sounds like a date.”
Jane took a breath and exited the cottage. As she walked across the lawn toward the garage, she told herself over and over not to look back. I’ve said my good-byes…now I have to move forward. There is no looking back.
…to be continued in Flicker Blue 3: Momentum….
About the Author
In addition to being a reader of voracious appetite, Brea Nicole Bond is the au
thor of the novella series Flicker Blue and the upcoming novel Reaper (Summer 2012). She resides in San Diego with her very supportive husband and two kooky daughters who insist on naming all of their pets after Harry Potter characters.
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Flicker Blue 2: Jigsaw Page 6
