Destiny Calling

by Maureen L. Bonatch

  “Really?” Tessa glared at Ruthie. “All you cared about when I died was my baked beans?”

  “Sis, you know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Enough. We need to focus here.” I wasn’t sure what exactly we had to focus on, but if something brought Tessa back from the dead to talk to us, I’m sure it was about something more important than her recipe for baked beans.

  “Where do the men go if the women go to the Kitchen?” Ruthie asked.

  It wasn’t what I’d consider an important question, but couldn’t help being curious.

  “I don’t know.” Tessa rubbed her head. “The den?” She shrugged. “I never thought to ask.”

  I studied the woman I’d considered my surrogate mother. “Why are you here? I didn’t call for you. I didn’t know I could and wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to do it.” If I had, perhaps I would’ve called her long ago. Looking at Tessa made me painfully aware of how much I’d missed her.

  “Tessa, are you still around because you were…well, umm.” I wasn’t sure if she wanted to discuss her manner of death, or her death at all. What kind of etiquette was required for a topic such as the details of your own death? It wasn’t something you talk about every day…or ever.

  “Murdered. You can say it.” Tessa’s curls bobbed as she nodded. “I’ve had time to come to grips with my death and besides, the mystery of what lies beyond is solved for me.” She stretched her arms out.

  Ruthie perked up and edged closer, peering at each side as if she could see further into the mirror. “What’s it like?”

  Tessa made a gesture of turning a key by the corner of her mouth. “Can’t tell you, even if I wanted to.” She raised her chin and pursed her lips.

  “Oh, come on,” Ruthie said with an exaggerated pout.

  “No, seriously, I’m unable to tell you. I couldn’t tell you if I tried. No one can. Here, watch. After you die—”

  Ruthie and I drew closer, but despite Tessa’s mouth moving, no sound came out. Her lips rippled like a wave in the water.

  Tessa held up her palms in mock surrender. “See, that’s why life after death has remained a secret for all time.” She acted as if she’d come up with the idea herself. “Pretty cool, huh?” She smirked at Ruthie. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me and I’d have to show you. You never believed anything I told you, unless you saw for yourself. You’d think you’d be happy enough to be able to see me and learn about the Kitchen, but it’s never enough. No, not for Ruthie who knows everything, can’t stand it if I know something you don’t.”

  “Tessa.” I waited until I had her attention. “You’re saying you’ve come to help solve your murder?” Tears pooled in my eyes, thinking of that night. I’d returned a few hours after we’d argued, prepared to convince Tessa all the reasons we should move on to the next town. I was ready, I always was. Instead, I found Tessa’s body lying twisted and lifeless at the foot of the stairs with the black fog like entity swirling around her, trying to solidify into a human shape and failing. I watched the monster leave. Doing nothing to save Tessa or stop her murderer.

  I’d not cried since that night. Not at the funeral. Not when I left home. Fueling myself on hate and anger. But seeing Tessa here, looking so alive made me yearn for her and the life we’d had together. The life she should still be living. Back then, I’d thought life was difficult, but now I realized how easy it was. I’d give anything to return to my ordinary world. I blinked but couldn’t stop the tears from overflowing.

  Tessa’s face was full of sympathy. “No, that’s only a piece of the puzzle, and not the most important one. Besides, it’s not like anything could bring me back.” Tessa waved her hand, dismissing her life like water under the bridge. “Ruthie could you give us a few minutes, please?”

  “Oh, sure.” Ruthie went into the living room.

  “Sweetie.” Tessa placed her hand against the mirror. The outline of her fingers and palm was visible through the thick glass. Placing mine against the mirror, I closed my eyes. Imagining I could feel her touch and not the cool pane. I rested my head against the glass.

  “I miss you so much, Tessa. I’m all alone now.” I pretended I was thirteen again, curled against Tessa’s chest. Feeling what I had when she’d held me tight and told me I was special, not a freak, and those kids were just jealous of me.

  Unlike adults, kids aren’t afraid to touch someone…except for me. I couldn’t play like other kids. Couldn’t push anyone on the swing. So no one would push me, except Tessa. Her touch didn’t affect me. Without any control of my ability, or even knowing what was happening, fainting became an everyday event. I learned not to touch anyone.

  My vision blurred with tears. Tessa looked alive, even though she was dead. Willing this image to fix in my mind and remove the last one I’d been unable to erase of her broken body.

  Tessa lowered her hand. “No, sweetie, you’re not alone. That’s why I sent you here.” She exhaled noisily. “I wish I’d have told you earlier.” She shrugged. “I thought I had more time. I guess everyone does. I know you’re disappointed after finding out about your mother. I hadn’t meant to mislead you.” She looked away, then back. “I never was good at words.”

  Sadness filled Tessa’s eyes, and I wanted to take it away. “No. I mean, I was…” This was the woman who’d raised me. Who’d been everything. Mother, father, friend, sister…she’d been there all along. “But you, you’ve always been my real mother to me.”

  Tessa’s smile crinkled the corners of her eyes and she leaned as close as the glass would permit. “I guess it’s okay to tell you, then.” A pink flush crept up her cheeks. “I used to tell people you were my daughter.”

  “I’m glad you did.” I thought of the sacrifices she’d made by taking me out of the orphanage to raise me. Things I hadn’t known before. Such as her having to leave her family to raise me. It used to always be us against the world. Now it was just me. “It’s hard without you.” I sniffed, embarrassed, I was sure Ruthie listened around the corner. “I don’t think I can do what’s expected of me. You know I can’t control my ability.”

  “You’re not alone,” Tessa said. “These people care about you. They’re your family.” Tessa sighed. “You’ve always given everyone else the hope they needed, but not yourself.” She paused, as if mulling over her next words then went on in a rush. “Anger’s been eating at you for too long. Let it go. Then you can accept who you are and use your gift. Stop pushing people away. Let someone love you. What you’ve been looking for, running from all of your life…is you.” She paused and her cheeks flushed at her outburst. “You can’t run from yourself, Hope.” She smiled. “It’s nice to use your real name. It feels right, even though you’ll always be my Jane.”

  I snapped my gaping mouth shut, shocked at the speech she’d delivered. It was the most Tessa had ever said in one breath. As she tried out my name, I mulled over the word, family. I’d always defined family as Tessa and me, never thinking about how much more encompassing it could be. “But I don’t want siblings. The ones here are crazy.”

  Ruthie’s roar of laughter preceded her into the room, confirming her eavesdropping. “What siblings aren’t?”

  Tessa’s laughter merged with Ruthie’s. I envied the comfort they had with each other. Maybe a sister wouldn’t be so bad.

  “I have missed you, Sis.” Tessa peered over the edge of her glasses past Ruthie. “Hope, what in the world have you done with your hair?”

  I warmed, smoothing down my hair. “Well, I…”

  “Can’t rightly blame her. I’m pretty sure that hairdo was Chance’s doing,” Ruthie said.

  I turned to her. “Chance? What would he have to do with my hair?”

  “It would be my guess he made you take a chance on changing the color. So you didn’t look as much like Destiny. In case any of the Oppressors knew what she looked like.” She nodded. “What I’d do, if I were him.”

  I snorted. “That’s ridiculous. I did this on my own.” I self
-consciously ran my hand over my unruly hair. It disturbed me to think Chance, or anyone, could have subliminal influence over me.

  Ruthie patted my hair, and I pulled away, offended.

  “Well, most of this was on your own. Although I’m not sure why you want to take credit for that color.” She chuckled. “That’s why you ended up kind of two-toned ’cause he can’t persuade you too much since you’re kin.”

  Tessa waved me off. “Oh, never mind, what’s done is done, and we have more important things to work on.”

  I stepped away from Ruthie and her inspection of my hair. I pulled my shoulders back, preparing for her instructions. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

  Tessa’s laugh tinkled through the room. “Oh, it’s not that easy. We start with…” She looked over her shoulder into the mist of the mirror clouding behind her reflection. “I’m running out of time right now. Seems someone else needs to use the Kitchen.” Her image faded and wavered, and the view of our kitchen flickered in and out of the glass in place of Tessa. “Just go see your brother and sister. Make amends. It has to start there.”

  “Wait. You haven’t told me anything.” I bumped into Ruthie as I lunged toward the mirror. “How do I call you? What do I do about Griffith?”

  “I’ll know when you need me.” Then she was gone.

  “She’ll know. Humph.” Ruthie lowered herself into the chair. “I know darn well she threw that out to taunt me. Knowing is my gift. Just trying to imply she’s all high and mighty now that she’d dead and all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A rusty sign indicated I’d found Main Street. Slowing the car, I took in how different the shops appeared since I didn’t have to peer through the barred windows of the orphanage. It was as if I’d stepped back in time. I expected to see the nuns leading a line of children down the street to the park for the weekly outing. Once in a while, they’d let me out of the infirmary to go, even though I spent most of the time alone, wondering if they were hoping I’d run off or someone would take me.

  When I left with Tessa, there hadn’t been an outing in years. The nuns said it wasn’t safe to go out with the children anymore. If the nuns were afraid, I was. Because the nuns weren’t afraid of anything, brandishing their crosses and sharp tongues as swords. Once I’d left the orphanage behind, I’d vowed never to come back to this city. Yet here I was.

  After dropping my car off to get a new tire, I crossed the road and stepped onto the curb in front of Granger’s Groceries, snagging a cart on my way in. If I decided to follow Tessa’s advice and return to the house of horrors of my siblings, the few items I’d picked up from the corner convenience store weren’t gonna cut it. Ruthie didn’t believe in artificial colors, sweeteners or anything I considered the base of my food pyramid. But what Ruthie didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her. I scowled. She probably would know. I’ll just eat it all before she comes up to lecture me.

  The store wasn’t busy. I easily picked out Griffith, sensing him before I saw him. He towered over the mini grocery cart as he studied the cereal boxes. Pushing a stray lock of wavy black hair out of his face, he hadn’t noticed me, yet. After debating about turning down another aisle, I rationalized my need to determine if the cinnamon scent still clung to him.

  As I approached, I glimpsed the contents of his grocery cart. Figures. He had the cart filled with all kinds of healthy stuff and not one guilty pleasure. I reached into my cart and tossed the plastic container of salad on top of the moose tracks ice cream. After a month without a freezer, I planned to indulge.

  He froze with his gaze locked on the cereal boxes. Every muscle tensed in his sculpted body and his nostrils flared, as if catching a scent, then he turned toward me. The intensity of his magnetic stare and the unusual iridescent haze, that hadn’t been there a second ago, caught me off guard. I startled, taking a step back and colliding with a cereal display. I reached out to still a teetering box of bran flakes, grateful I hadn’t knocked the entire pyramid over.

  “You.” Griffith scrutinized me as if I were a frog awaiting dissection. “I wondered when I’d get to see you again.”

  The haze building around him disappeared as fast as it began. I stared at the area where the haze had been, wondering how and why it dissipated.

  “Yes, me. Hello, again.” Uncomfortable and uncertain with how to proceed, I walked by with my cart, acting as if my intent had been to examine the oatmeal, not him. I always made every effort to blend in, unaccustomed to his attention and my desire to obtain more of it.

  “Wait,” Griffith said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled fleetingly, transforming his ominous presence to one of beauty. “It’s just, well, you surprise me. I’m not used to being surprised.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” I could relate. I used to like surprises, until my period started in the seventh grade in the cafeteria and I was wearing white pants. Ruthie’s gift of knowing would’ve come in handy that day. That and the recent surprises like how I represented the hope for mankind to destroy creepy fog-like creatures. It made me rethink wanting surprises in my life. Ever.

  “You picking up a few groceries?” I cringed at my lame, obvious comment as he glanced to his cart.

  “Yes. Are you here for groceries, or just to tempt me?”

  “Well, no, I mean yes, I’m here for a new tire for my car. Not here, the grocery store, I mean. My car is across the street…wait, tempt you?”

  He pointed to my poorly hidden ice cream and raised a brow.

  “Oh.”

  “Relax.” Griffith touched my arm, and knots in my tongue unraveled.

  His eyes claimed mine and didn’t release. He knew what he was doing to me. I stepped back and shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I appreciate you repairing it, the tire, that is. But I needed to get a new one, regardless.”

  Griffith looked surprised, and then impressed at how I’d freed myself of the hold he had on me. I ignored him, needing to focus on anything other than him. “That stuff won’t hold it forever and if I need to go—”

  “Go?”

  Forcing a cough, I pretended not to hear his question. I couldn’t explain my restless nature. “Rather than wait at the garage I thought I’d pick up a few things. So I guess I am getting groceries, then, too.”

  He nodded, his attention never wavering. The conversation felt awkward despite the magnetism building between us. I kept thinking of the dreams and heat rose, creeping up my neck. I broke away to prevent from drowning in his eyes. Searching to find any package in his cart to divert my interest, but the only one luring my eyes was encased in his jeans.

  “—the aisle.”

  “Huh? What?” I flushed, startled out of my ogling.

  “I said, I think we’re blocking the aisle.”

  An angry-looking granny waited impatiently for me to move my cart. “Oh, sorry.” I pushed my cart in front of Griffith’s and almost ran into Bob on his way to the checkout.

  “Hey,” Bob said, and turned toward me bleary eyed. Seemed his night in jail hadn’t taught him any lessons. “How are ya?” A slight lifting of the corner of his lip was his attempt at a half-hearted smile, which the folds on his face fought against. He shifted the stack of frozen dinners, a wet spot on his shirt indicated they were thawing from the heat against his thick body.

  “I’m well.” I tensed, shifting my position in front of Griffith, waiting for the moment when they noticed each other, sure there was going to be a fight. Although, I wasn’t certain there was anything I could do to stop it.

  “Hey, Bob.” Griffith’s warm breath caressed my shoulder. I closed my eyes a minute, enjoying his proximity.

  “Griff.” Bob ambled on to the checkout.

  I scanned Griffith’s expression, but didn’t find the anger I’d anticipated. “It’s good between you two, now?”

  Griffith looked confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason.” If it had been women, dirty looks, gossiping to determine sides taken,
and mean texts would ensue before considering making amends…if ever. Memories of the fight would resurface with one too many margaritas, starting the rivalry all over again.

  “When you play the game, do you choose Truth or Dare?” Griffith said.

  “What?” He sounded like Ruthie, talking in riddles.

  He shrugged. “Just wondering what my odds are.”

  “I don’t play games.” Unsure what odds he referred to.

  “That’ll put you at a disadvantage.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you later at the bar?” He made me feel safe amongst all the uncertain evil frequenting there. “Not that I’m implying you’re there all the time or anything,” I hastened to add. “Thanks for your help the other night.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll probably be there. It’s all in a day’s work.” Griffith followed me to the checkout line. “Are you sure that’s the kind of work you want to do? There are all kinds of jobs you could do.”

  “I’ve had all kinds of jobs. Work is work.” I scanned the magazine rack for something, in case I had to wait for my car. Picking up a few to flip through, I chose one with nicer pictures.

  Focusing on the checker, a young pimply-faced girl who looked fresh out of high school, I tried to ignore Griffith’s proximity to my body. Not an easy task. The checker’s nametag hung precariously from the material swimming on her thin frame.

  I suspected Griffith was going to touch me before he rested his hand on my shoulder. The heat from his palm warmed my skin through my jacket. Damn, I should stay away from him. I tensed as he swirled his thumb against the material. The sensation flowing from his hand through my body was unexpected. Even more startling was the response his touch elicited from me.

  “Please be careful there. That bar in particular is a rough place. I can’t always be around to protect you.” He smelled of woods, musk and forbidden temptation.

  My breath caught in my throat as I struggled to throw out a flippant response. The checker waited impatiently for me to pay, repeating the amount. As I reached for my purse in the cart, Griffith’s hold on me broke. As soon as he removed his hand, the world regained focus.