by Aline Riva
She looked down at the cord that sectioned off the area, then remembered that she was the only person alive in here, so she lifted the cord and stepped under it, then took a few more cautious steps closer. With every step the sight of him grew nearer, and as she stood close to the glass all her apprehension vanished in an instant as she took in every detail of his face:
Death had not changed him, at least not to give him a look that stopped him being the man she remembered. He still had the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, he still looked alive. She half expected him to blink and turn his head and his eyes to sparkle with their usual warmth as he laughed and then told her it was all a joke...
But it wasn't, and she knew he would never speak or move again. She swallowed down a lump in her throat as she fought off the urge to allow her emotions to cave in all over again. She had thought about it, of course she had – but not deeply and not for long, not in the kind of way that would have been too much to think about when she had first learned news of his death. Looking at him now, she knew. In truth, she had known since the day they met that it had been love at first sight, but now she could no longer push away that fact as she looked into his eyes and they reflected the same shade of turning leaves but no longer shone with life.
“Drake,” she said softly as she placed her hand against the glass, “I don't know if you thought about me like I did about you - but if you did, I want you to know I loved you at first glance. I could have taken on your love for this place, too. I would have wanted to be a part of your dream and make this museum thrive forever. I'm so sorry we didn't have the chance to find out if we could have worked out. But I think it would have worked. I think you were the one for me. Maybe you always will be. I'm so glad we met...I wish you could hear me.”
But he sat there frozen, his gaze fixed to the wall on the other side of the room. Silence was her only reply.
“You don't look dead,” she added, then she fell silent, her gaze wandering over the sight of him sat there looking immaculate in his suit. She was sure he was wearing the same polished shoes she had seen him wearing when they had met – the light caught on them, just like it caught on the silver strands that blended into his dark hair. Suddenly she caught her breath, stepping back as her eyes widened and she stared at the body behind the glass:
For just a moment, she had thought she saw him breathe.
“Did you just...” her whispered words trailed off as she stood there, watching him intently, then as she waited and studied his still form, she realised it had been a trick of the light – or her imagination playing tricks on her. She was used to seeing people breathe all the time because she had spent a life time around the living, it was what her eyes expected to see even if her heart and mind knew otherwise:
Of course he was not breathing.
“That was wishful thinking,” she said softly as she stepped closer and once again put her hand flat against the cold glass, then she leaned closer still, her nose touching the glass as breath from her parted lips misted up a circle on the polished exterior. She was looking at his eyes, looking intently watching for a flicker of his lashes, perhaps the hint of a blink... it seemed crazy, but to see him there looking so alive seemed to contradict what she knew to be fact. He was dead, there was no denying it – even though he was sitting on that chair, relaxed and looking off into space as if deep in thought. Even his skin seemed to have a life like shade about it – there was nothing about Drake's appearance that suggested death. The realisation that he would always look like this, handsome and well groomed and frozen in time, never ageing, never changing, was a thought that brought some comfort.
“You look amazing,” she said, “I would have told you that anyway if things had been different, that was my first thought on the day I met you – but you still look amazing and you always will.”
Then she took her hand off the glass and stepped back, lifted the cord and left the sectioned off area. As she reached the archway she looked back as fondness reflected in her eyes.
“I'll be around all winter, Drake,”she told him, looking to his still form as he sat there, gaze fixed on the opposite wall. Then she left the dimly lit room, went back to the entrance hall, picked up her bag and headed for the corridor that led to the stairway, now she had seen Drake and found his presence strangely comforting, she felt ready to unpack and make herself at home.
Cherry carried her bags up the stairway, then pause to turn on the light because the snow laden sky had cast the hallway in shadow as no sun was visible past the heavy clouds. The doors were all open along the upper hall and she left her bag in the bedroom then went through to the kitchen, wondering if she ought to take a shopping trip to stock the cupboards before the snow worsened. It was then she saw the note on the kitchen table, it was folded and addressed to her and she went over to the table and picked it up. As she opened up the folded paper and started to read, she blinked away tears:
'Dear Cherry, after our chat this afternoon I thought I'd help you out. I wanted to make you feel welcome when you started work so I went to the supermarket and brought a few things back. It's not much, I just didn't want you to have to pay out for food and other essentials while you waited to get paid. By the way, I arranged to advance you some money from your first months wage – it should be in your account by the 21st. I hope this helps and I hope this is a nice surprise – Drake.'
She went over to the cupboards and opened up first one, then the next, then another, eventually finding the one that contained the shopping. A whole shelf was filled with tinned food and another contained tea and coffee and hot chocolate.
She turned away from the cupboard and went over to the fridge. Recalling it would have been a few days before she had been scheduled to start work, she was not surprised to find the fridge clean but empty. Then she opened the door to the freezer section and smiled.
“Thanks Drake,” she said fondly, seeing it was stocked with frozen milk and microwave dinners and many other convenience foods a single guy would think was perfect for dinner every night.
She was still smiling as she went back over to the table, then she lifted the note to her lips and kissed it, her kiss covering his name signed in biro. It was just a note, he had never intended it to be more than a nice surprise – but to Cherry, it was something personal left behind by him and she would cherish it forever.
She placed Drake's note under her pillow in the bedroom and then she went back to the kitchen and made some tea and sat there at the table looking out the window as she watched the snow clouds clustering heavy and dark and more snow came down, falling thick and slowing traffic and making the covering of white deeper everywhere it settled. Drake was still on her mind as she drank the tea that he had bought her, tea with milk she had defrosted from the freezer, it was all from him, he was still around her, making life easier, nicer, all with one of his kind ideas. He had done that shopping on the day he had collapsed, while he was still well, before his health had failed him...
After she finished the tea she returned to the bedroom to unpack. She put most of her clothing in an empty chest of drawers, but then she remembered her coat was still downstairs and as she laid eyes on the tall wardrobe on the other side of the room, she wondered if it was locked because there was a keyhole set in the varnished wood below a door handle. But on pulling the handle the door swung open, then she stood there looking in, feeling emotion wash over her yet again:
It was full of his clothing. She guessed in his shocked state following Drake's death, his business partner had not had time to clear out the belongings he had kept here. Drake had said, he stayed here a lot in the summer. Hanging in the wardrobe were suits and shirts and ties and as her gaze fell on a black suit with velvet lapels, she reached out, closing her hand about the fabric, drawing it to her face as she inhaled a masculine scent that still clung to it.
She suddenly felt as if she was living with his ghost. In every hidden corner she seemed to find a reminder of him, but in a strange sort
of way it gave her comfort. Life had snatched away a chance with a man who had stolen her heart at first glance, yet here she was, in the place he used to stay, surrounded by his possessions...
Cherry looked down at the bottom of the wardrobe and saw two pairs of shoes, a pair of trainers and a carrier bag. She looked in the bag and found a comb, some hair gel and a deodorant. Instinct made her take the cap off the spray can and smell the scent. It was light and fresh with a hint of wooded scents and spice, it wasn't hugely expensive either, just a regular brand off a supermarket shelf, but at least she knew his scent now, something that seemed like a wonderful discovery. It was as if he had left her this legacy, a trace of him left behind.
She closed the wardrobe again and turned away from it, resisting the urge to take the jacket from its hanger and hug it tightly, giving him the embrace he never received in life because death had denied them both the chance. Then she went downstairs and headed for the office, where she hung up the keys and then familiarised herself with the phone system. She checked for calls but found none, then her gaze fell on the laptop on the desk. Suddenly she had a thought that required an answer, and it was something she needed to know right now and it just couldn't wait...
Cherry sat at Drake's desk as she powered up the lap top and then searched online for the museum. A smile came to her face as several links came up – including one to a channel dedicated to the museum. She decided that would be one to watch later because it had several videos on it, then she did an image search, as she typed in his name she wondered why she had not thought of this before – she guessed it was probably because the shock of his death had wiped out thoughts of doing much at all.
As the pictures came up she felt that warm glow come up in her heart once more, seeing him standing outside the museum on the day it opened, then finding pictures of him from interviews he had given to the local paper. Her gaze switched back to the largest image, the one of Drake standing outside the building, he was wearing a dark suit and looked elegant as he posed for the picture, standing proudly beside the doors of the newly opened museum with a spark of mystery in his eyes as he smiled.
She sat there looking at the picture as she wished again that they had been allowed more time, then as sadness threatened to pain her deeply she closed the window and turned off the laptop. Later, she planned to watch the films, she would do that in the evening after she finished work. For now, thoughts of Drake would have to wait, because she had a museum to keep clean and the cabinets that had been moved definitely needed polishing.
As she left the office and headed back towards the entrance hall, she realised she was smiling again. It was the thought of those videos she would watch later – it was almost as if she still had a chance to get to know him, to discover more about him, even though Drake was gone, his presence was very much alive in so many ways...
Chapter 4
As the day went on, outside the museum the wind howled and as snow was driven against the windows, she looked out to watch the swirl as it fell dizzily in a white, dream-like haze. The coldness of it took away its beauty as she thought of Drake, just as cold, dead winter, dead body... no warmth left in the world and none left in the man who had been full of warmth and all the things the word life was associated with.
She polished the cases, went from room to room, the lights were all on without the special effects in the voodoo area and the witches cottage and even the satanic sacrifice looked reassuringly very waxwork under the glow of an ordinary bulb overhead.
When she reached the room where the sign above the door was etched into a ouija board style and read Contact with the Dead she paused, feeling rather shocked that the first thought that had hit her was the chance of contact with Drake – if such a thing existed... She had always been sceptical about magic and the occult and life after death – she had never deeply thought about it either, because she had been too busy with getting on with the process of living – until she had met Drake, who had instantly stolen her heart – and taken it with him to the place where ever the dead ended up, if such a place existed.
Cherry stood there in the doorway, looked about the room filled with spells and potions and books on contacting the dead, even raising the dead... It was thought provoking, now she was alone here and her heart was aching for Drake. If ever there was a time to experiment with contacting the beyond surely it was now, in a museum dedicated to paranormal powers and the unexplained and all things strange and odd?
The urge was tugging at her, along with the notion that no one would ever know. She was here alone – trusted, but alone. The cameras were off, only the security guard who worked here had active monitors that went around the outside of the place when the museum was closed – it was as if come winter, this place shut its doors and slept until spring...
“It's got to be grief,” she said as she went over to a case that contained a ouija board. She looked at the fancy lettering painted black and etched into old varnished wood. The pointer was beside it and her gaze shifted to the words yes and no as she shook her head.
“It's making me crazy, Drake,” she said quietly, “I'm missing you and now I'm playing with one of your exhibits. I'm sorry. I won't damage it.”
Then she ran a fingertip along the edge of the case, pressed it and a long, five second press caused the door to pop open. She carefully reached in and took out the board and its wooden pointer, then she turned away and headed for the door, looking back at the open case feeling slightly guilty only once, then she was gone from the room and heading back through the museum. Just because she wanted to try out the board, it didn't mean she wanted to do it down here amongst all the witchcraft collections and creepy displays – she had decided she would experiment with it upstairs in the flat, with the light on to banish the shadows of the gloomy afternoon as early darkness beckoned. She would sit down in the front room, put the board on the coffee table and give it a go. And if it got scary, she would never try it again. But even as she made her way up the stairs she felt no flicker of fear – she didn't believe in any of this stuff, there was nothing to be afraid of, she was sure of it...
Cherry set the board on the table in the front room, then she went to the kitchen and made some tea, thinking of Drake while she waited for the kettle to boil. Once the tea was made, she sipped it whilst watching from the window as shoppers hurried through the icy streets and more snow fell and the traffic was at a crawling pace – the light was fading now, darkness was falling making the snow seem to glow as colourful lights came on burning out into the gloom in multicolour, lighting up the shadowed landscape of the amusement park and the darkened sea beyond it as the view was distorted by the dusting that blew in and downward shaded white and delicate, yet deathly cold.
The flat was warm and the lights were on to give off a soft and homely glow – here touches of the Christmas season had not been added, there were no decorations, no lights, not a tree, nor a single Christmas card but she didn't blame Owen for not bothering to do anything up here after losing Drake so suddenly.
She finished her tea and then set the cup down and left the kitchen. She went though to the front room where the gas fire was glowing warmly and the heat felt like an invisible hug against the cold outside. She sat down on the sofa and looked at the board.
“You're just a piece of wood,” she said aloud, guessing she needed that reminder before she tried this crazy experiment.
Moments later, the fingertips of both hands were on the pointer which she had placed at the lower half of the board, between the yes and no. She was ready to begin and expected nothing to happen, nothing at all...
Cherry had made a very wrong assumption.
At first, nothing happened. She had placed her fingertips on the pointer and felt slightly stupid addressing the empty room and asking if anyone was there and would they like to speak to her?
Then she felt a tug, as if the pointer had been guided by an unseen force and it moved swiftly and firmly, spelling out a reply that made her
eyes grow wide:
YES.
“Really?” she said aloud, feeling half caught between doubt and a sudden need to believe because she wanted to know there was something after death, somewhere for Drake to go to...
“Are you Drake Ambrose?” she said in a hushed voice.
NO BUT HE IS DEAD, came the reply.
“Well yeah, I know that or I wouldn't be playing around with this board!” said Cherry and suddenly it seemed acceptable to be talking to the mysterious force that guided her hands as the pointer spelled replies.
“Who are you, please?”
PENELOPE NELL.
“Nell Pepper the witch?”
It moved to yes.
Cherry felt a flicker of apprehension as she spoke again.
