Chapter Three – Dianna
Dreams are a funny thing. They can be alive with color and gorgeous imagery or dark and empty, void of… anything at all. I think it depends on what you’re going through in life, the actions, the emotions, it all carries through into your sleep. The loss of Henry was a pain that had been thrust upon me and weighed my body down like a concrete slab. I wanted to feel nothing, to push the pain away and let the force of the slab crush me alive.
The very thought of living a life of secrets and lies was unbearable. I’d lost very little when I first traveled back in time. Just a boring, blank page in my life’s story. But back there, back with Henry and Finn and the crew… my story began to write itself and the pages were alive with vibrancy. Now, I had to rip those entries out and pretend they’d never happened, to fill in the blanks for everyone around me and live a lie. I had to raise a child who’d never know their father, or that they were conceived 300 years ago.
I laid on a cold floor, darkness all around me as the weight of the concrete slab slowly squeezed the life from my body. I wondered if that was how my mother felt all those years? To be stuck in the future, so far away from her home and life. Did she really love my father? Did she love me? I shook the impossibility from my brain. Of course, she loved me. I knew it like I knew blood flowed in my veins. But she’d spent the better part of my life searching for a way home. That house, my house, a museum of archived things; trinkets, books, scrolls, enchanted items… if there were a way back she would have surely found it, wouldn’t she?
Suddenly, a bright yellow light sparked to life on the edge of my vision. I craned my neck to see it. As the light grew and spread, an image of a room appeared. My mother’s office. The light filled the dark space of my empty dream and the concrete slab slowly melted away. I stood and walked toward the center of the glow and stepped into the room. Surrounded by boxes and chests, a realization dawned on me.
A way back.
If there were a way to get back to Henry, the answer would be there, amongst my mother’s things. Maybe Mom just never got the chance to search through it all before she died. It’s there, it has to be there. I felt a hand gently caress mine as it took my fingers and twisted them in theirs. I looked to find my mother, standing by my side.
“You can find it, baby,” her music-box voice told me. “Find a way back.”
An odd sense of hope-filled my chest and the room became too bright for my eyes. My mother and everything around me imploded with the never-ending glow and I was dragged to the surface of reality. But I didn’t mind, I carried with me the hope of getting back to everything, to my life.
Back to Henry.
***
I awoke with a strange burst of energy, my mission bright and clear in my mind. Get out, go back to Rocky Harbour, find a way home. I repeated that over and over all morning while the kind nurse helped me bathe and get dressed. Waiting for Aunt Mary to show up was killing me. There was nothing keeping me there, I had to go.
I sat upright in bed, freshly dressed and ready to go, my insides bouncing with excitement because I knew Mary would have completed the seven-hour drive any moment. It was sometime after lunch when I heard footsteps approaching outside my open door, the distinct sound of Mary’s voice speaking to someone, and tore the blanket off my legs to hop out of bed. But my joy was crushed when I saw who she brought with her.
“John?” I squeaked, my blood running cold as I slowly slipped from the hospital bed.
He entered the room behind a guilty-looking Mary and lunged forward to embrace me. His big arms held me, and I was frozen, stunned, totally confused at what was happening.
“Jesus, Dianna, where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.” Finally, he pulled away to look at my face and, I swear, seemed as if he were about to kiss me.
Dodging the gesture, I wiggled from his grip and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
“He came with me,” Mary spoke up. “After you went missing, I called John from your cell phone to see if you’d maybe skipped off back to Alberta or something. After a couple of days, when you never turned up, John flew down to help with the search.”
I failed to hide the confusion and disgust on my face. “Search?”
Mary put a hand on my good shoulder. “Yes, dear. Dianna, you’ve been gone nearly a month, no trace of where. No note. Nothing. My God, where have you been?”
I backed away and shook my head. It was too much. “I-I don’t–”
“Dianna has experienced some trauma,” the doctor piped in. “Her memory of what happened could be foggy, at best. I’d advise you to take her home, let her rest, recover. She’s been through a great deal, and she’ll put all the pieces together on her own terms. In time.”
I couldn’t look any of them in the face. The doctor was right, I’d been through a lot. But I remembered it all, the memories as sharp as the blade that had cut through me.
After the doctor signed my release papers, the nurse gathered my things in a large plastic hospital bag and handed them to Mary. My aunt opened the bag and peered in, and I knew the sight of my dirty pirate’s coat and old trinkets would arouse questions. She reached in and began to pull out a gold chain, the one that held a large ruby stone and I snatched the bag from her hands.
I hugged the plastic satchel tightly to my chest with my good arm, the salt of the sea and the stench of The Devil’s Heart wafting up to my nose. The sensation brought tears to my eyes. All that remained of the life I left behind was held within it. John tried to be chivalrous and take the large, heavy bag for me, but I held on like a crazed junkie.
The whole way home was like that; John trying to be nice, doing things for me. Racing ahead to open doors, helping me into Mary’s car, putting on my seatbelt. I refused to speak to him, the sting of our breakup never healed, I never got closure, and now he was picking at the scab I never realize had formed. I sat in the backseat, the precious bag still clutched tightly to my chest, while Mary drove with John in the passenger seat. They chit-chatted back and forth like old friends, and my mind fought to process the scene. It felt unnatural.
This was going to be a long seven hours back to Rocky Harbour.
***
I’d fallen asleep along the way, a fact for which I was grateful. I couldn’t stand listening to John’s voice and feeling the tension emanating from Mary. She was dying to bombard me with questions, that much I could tell. I’d have to think of something to tell her, eventually. Something to placate her, to stop the endless questions I knew awaited me.
I was jostled awake when the car began traveling down a bumpy road and I knew we were almost home. The sun had begun to set, and the outline of my house could be seen through the front windshield. My breath caught at the sight of it. Sheets of plywood covered the side facing the ocean, the side of the house that was destroyed during the tidal wave that stole me away.
“A few of your cousins got together and put up the plywood, but there’s a lot of work to be done,” Mary told me and caught my eye in the rear-view mirror, taunting me to give her answers. “What a strange thing, a massive wave like that only reaching as far as here. None of the neighbors even felt it.”
The car came to a stop and John scrambled out to open my door. He offered his hand, but I ignored it and tried to hide the struggle of getting out of the back seat myself. “Yeah, it must have happened after I… left.”
Mary stared at me from the other side of the car, her eyes barely clearing the top of it, but they bore into me, drilling for answers. “So, you weren’t here when this happened? Where did you go when you left?” I could hear the disbelief in her tone.
“Maybe we should let her rest,” John cut in, “Remember what the doc said.”
Mary grumbled something under her breath and we entered the house. I expected a mess, but the sight of the main floor shook me. Once soaked items and boxes stacked off to the side, now dry and warped from the water that had found its way in. The musty scent of water damage hung
heavy in the air. All the furniture had been pushed into the kitchen, leaving nowhere to sit downstairs. God, it felt like another lifetime since I’d been there.
“What’s the state of mom’s office?” I asked desperately. “Did anything get wrecked?”
“No, seems to be fine,” Mary replied and handed me a new key. “Aside from a few boxes that got wet.” She paused thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip. “But I ‘magine you’ll be going through most of it anyway, won’t you?”
My eyes widened. There was an underlining tone to her words as if she somehow knew my plans to find a way back. Her eyes searched deep into mine, looking for confirmation of what she thought she knew.
“I can help with that,” John cheerfully offered.
I cringed. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going back to Alberta?” I asked. “I’m here, you found me. Mission complete.”
John was nothing if not determined in his ways. Always was. He continued to plaster on the big, friendly smile as he helped me out of the hospital-issued sweater. “Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
I opened my mouth to protest but Mary beat me to it. “Get some rest, first. Worry about putting the house back together later.” She turned to leave but stopped at the door. “Oh, and your little cousin Samantha is reopening the bakery tomorrow if you want to venture over and talk to her. Now that you’re home, I don’t know what you want to do with it.”
My brain flipped through memories of my distant family. “Samantha? The one who went to the same culinary school I did?”
“Yeah, she’s a fancy pastry baker now,” Mary confirmed and shot me a grin, “She could do wonderful things with that bakery, Dianna. Don’t make her shut it down.”
“I wouldn’t–”
Mary waved her hand. “We’ll talk tomorrow, get some rest.” She shut the door behind her, leaving me alone with John who was waiting like a puppy in the kitchen.
I walked over to him, my beloved plastic bag still clutched to my chest. I was dying to scuttle off into a dark corner and go through its contents.
“John, seriously. What are you doing here? You’re not my boyfriend.”
“I know, I know,” he admitted as a hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “But I was. I completely fucked this up. I can’t believe what a jerk I’d been, not appreciating what I had, what we had.” He stepped closer and tried to take my bag again, a kind gesture, I knew, but I still flinched and refused to let him have it. “Okay, I get it. You’ve been through hell and back. I can’t even begin to understand what must have happened to you. But, please, let me be here. Let me help. I don’t want anything from you.”
My head shook, and tears welled in my eyes. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t have stayed here. I wouldn’t have drunk too much rum and went through my mother’s things where I found the ship-in-a-bottle. But, then, how could I possibly hate him for sending me down a path that brought me to Henry?
“What can you possibly do, John? What about your job?”
“I haven’t taken a vacation in four years,” he told me. “They owe me this time off. I explained the situation, my boss understands.” I watched as he began pulling the old leather sofa from its upturned position in the kitchen and dragged it into the living room with ease. “I’ll sleep here.”
I moaned and rolled my eyes before turning toward the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”
“Fine,” he cheerfully called out to me. “I’ll be right here if you need me! I’m not going anywhere,” and then added, after I failed to respond, “G’night!”
I hauled my legs up each stair, taking my sweet time for that was all my body allowed. My energy was spent, and my wounded shoulder began to throb as the recent dose of pain meds faded away. I entered my old room, boxes and junk still stacked everywhere, and cleared a spot on the bed where I let my body sink.
I rolled onto my back, my good arm still wrapped around the plastic bag, and stared at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars from my childhood still littered the stucco surface and I recalled the day Mom helped me put them up. She held me on her shoulders as I reached up and stuck each one in place. That night, she slept in my bed alongside me as we laid there and admired the faint neon glow that hung overhead.
I wiped a tear that escaped my eye and moaned as I sat up to reach for the pill bottle in my pocket. I popped some more pain meds and dumped the contents of the plastic bag out on the bed in front of me. The strong stench of seawater and my own sweat wafted up to my face and my heart tinged with pain. I smoothed the dirty, bloodstained jacket out and my fingertips ran over the fresh tear that ripped across the left shoulder. Images of my last moment with Henry flashed through my mind like a movie brought to life on a screen before me.
Poor Charlie, my sweet boy. The life draining from his body as Maria let it fall to the forest floor by her feet. The sick and twisted look on her face as I choked on a scream. The light of the fire catching her sword as it swung toward me. And then… Henry’s face. The pain I witnessed sear across it as the threads of time claimed my body and dragged me away from him.
I cried then, finally. It all came out, crashing to the surface like a dam giving way to the years of pressure. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. Ugly, heavy sobs erupted from my insides as I continued to pick through the items on the bed. Trembling fingers brushed against the brown, blood-covered leather boots.
And then the clothing that Nathaniel had given me at The Thirsty Trout, where Henry and I first made love. I carefully smoothed them out and laid the garments over the jacket, only to find my necklace buried underneath. Smiling, I grabbed the gold chain, pulling it toward me, and held the large ruby tight to my chest. Henry’s raspy voice rang clear in my ears.
I love you, Dianna, he’d told me down in that cave, the very first time he’d professed it.
I looped the necklace around my head, letting it fall and rest on my chest as I leaned over and snuggled up to the pile of clothing next to me. My hand gently rubbed my stomach, the sudden recollection that a little person was growing inside. Henry’s little person. I wanted to cry again but couldn’t find the strength to do it. The effects of the pain meds were kicking in and my eyes threatened to close, so I wrapped my fingers around the pendant and gave in to the heaviness of a deep sleep that washed down over me.
***
For the first time in forever, I’d dreamed of nothing. Not even darkness. Just… emptiness. An absence of everything, as if nothing ever existed. When the warmth of the morning sun soaked into my face, I awoke with the hope that the strange void was the end of a nightmare, that I could roll over and find Henry sleeping soundly next to me. My eyes had yet to open, scared of what I’d find, but I felt the rustle of a body on the bed.
“Good morning,” Aunt Mary’s voice spoke, causing my heart to sink further into the chasm of my chest. “Or should I say good afternoon?”
I rolled over and pried open one eye to find her sitting next to me, my bedroom bright with a misplaced glow; the afternoon sun. A moan escaped my dry lips. “What time is it?”
“Twelve-thirty, dear,” she replied and stood. I cracked open both my lids and glanced down where she had sat, where I’d laid out my clothing the night before. It was missing.
I bolted upright and pulled at the blankets around me. “Where is it?” I cried desperately. “Where is everything?”
Mary leaned over and gently grabbed my hands, holding them tightly within her own, forcing me to calm and look at her face.
“Shh, Dianna, settle yourself,” she said. “Your things are fine. I came in this morning and found you curled up with them.” I watched as she let me go and grabbed a neatly folded pile of items from the bedside table. “I washed everything the best I could and fixed the rip in the jacket’s shoulder.” She cleared her throat as she stole a glance at the outrageously large ruby pendant hanging from my neck. “And I cleaned the boots up, too.”
Stunned, I accepted th
e fresh pile of clothes from her and hugged them tightly. “I’m sorry,” I told her, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I think I do,” she replied, and my eyes widened. How could she possibly know? “You’ve clearly been through something life-changing. Whether it was good or bad, that’s something I may never learn. But the shock is going to sit with you for a while, dear.”
I didn’t know how to respond so I just nodded.
“Can you tell me anything?” she asked. “Did someone take you?”
I shook my head and fixated my gaze on the bed.
“Okay, did you go meet someone? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Another slight shake.
“Dianna, you gotta give me something,” Mary insisted, “I’m going crazy wondering what could have possibly happened to you for over three weeks. Should I be worried? Should I get you some help?”
“No,” I managed. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time.” Time in Mom’s office, I thought to myself.
“Very well.” Mary stood from the bed and straightened out her knitted cardigan. “I’m going to head over to the bakery in a bit, see how Samantha’s doing. You should get yourself cleaned up and head over if you can. Say hi, see if she needs anything. I think she’d like to talk to you.”
“About what?”
Mary tipped her head and shot me a look.
I inhaled deeply. “Ah, she wants to buy it from me.”
“You should consider it,” my aunt suggested. “You were thinking of selling it, anyway. This way, it’d stay in the family.”
The memory of me telling Henry all about my parent’s bakery flashed across the back of my mind, and the hopeful look on his face when I wanted him to come back and run it with me. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Mary replied, “I’ll see you later, then. When you’re done at the bakery, come by the house for supper.”
The Pirate Queen Page 2
