I sighed as I walked into the bedroom and looked around. As I did, I realized I hated it. It was a nice enough room, the furniture was all quality dark woods and it all matched. But it was boring. The walls were beige, just like the rest of the house. Neutral. Whenever I suggested something to give any of the rooms a pop of color or a bit of life, Steven shot the idea down without even considering it. I learned early on that he was either intimidated by color or just plain didn’t like it. He would never allow it to be open for discussion, either. His stupid reasoning ‘it would be better for resale’ was just that. Stupid. This house had supposedly been our dream so why would we sell?
That thought stopped me midstep. It would be sold now. Unless Steven bought me out of my half. I had put nearly all of my savings, which had been substantial, into this house. Steven made good money, but his first divorce had really set him back financially. And, of course, there were the child support payments that took nearly a quarter of his pay until Michelle finally turned eighteen. Then there was college tuition and expenses—she’d refused to get a job through either high school or college, of course. I wasn’t so sure he would be able to afford to keep the house. There was no way I wanted to keep it, even if I could afford it. I had what was left of the moderate inheritance from my parents tucked away in savings but that was it. Plus, I had no real job anymore. The odds and ends stuff I did for Sam’s firm now was fun money, at best.
How did my life become so messed up?
I quickly grabbed what I needed out of my dresser, including the spare set of keys I had tucked away, and threw it into a small duffel. I just wanted to grab my mom’s jewelry, a few pairs of my own jeans, some sweats and t-shirts—I had lost weight but Sam’s were still more than a bit snug on me—and get out of here. I went into the walk-in closet and stopped dead in my tracks. The door to the safe in the corner was slightly ajar. Stooping down, I opened it and looked inside. We kept some cash, the gun Steven insisted we have for personal protection, the jewelry my mother had left me plus some of my own that was somewhat valuable, and copies of most of our legal documents in here. Except for some of the papers, it was pretty much emptied. I sat down hard, stunned. Had Steven taken everything? Or had Michelle snuck back in without being noticed, somehow? And then, the pendant! Crap!
I reached in for the papers and my hand felt something sandwiched between some of them. As I pulled them out a ring fell to the floor. I held it up, not recognizing it as one that I had ever purchased. It must have fallen out of the envelope containing the jewelry from my mother. I slipped it on the finger of my left hand, gathered up the rest of the loose papers, and looked inside one more time to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. It was completely empty.
I quickly closed the safe door, not bothering to lock it—what was the use? Grabbing the clothes I needed, I left the house as fast as I could manage, barely remembering to reprogram the security system on my way out. Steven could get whatever he needed, himself. Under supervision. He would hate every minute of that. Serves him right! Instead of walking back the way I had come, I decided to drive my Jeep back to Sam’s.
***
I walked in, looking around for Elmer and Jake. I called out for them softly. Nothing. Not really feeling up to another lesson today anyway, I went up to my room. My mind kept cycling back to the safe, trying to remember exactly what had been in there. The loose papers I had brought with me turned out to be miscellaneous receipts and the warranties for appliances we had purchased. Grabbing a pen and one of my notepads, I sat down and closed my eyes, thinking.
The gun. Of course that would be at the forefront. I shuddered, not wanting to imagine how things would have turned out if Steven had grabbed that gun before confronting—no, assaulting—me by the pool. Maybe I would be safe here, hanging out with Elmer and Jake, just ghosting it up. I snorted at that. Focus. Hmm. There were copies of our marriage license, birth certificates, social security cards, titles to our vehicles—all the usual documents. The originals were in a safety deposit box at our credit union. My parent’s death certificates were in there. I think there was around seven hundred in cash, but it had been months since either of us had taken any money out or put it back in, so I was just guessing. It was emergency money, more than anything. The small box of jewelry with a few nicer pieces that Steven had bought me early on in our marriage and some that I had before we were married. The rest of the jewelry was my mother’s. Being an only child, I inherited everything when they passed three years ago. Their wedding rings had been in a little envelope, along with several more valuable looking rings, chains, and such—all of which had been tucked into a larger padded envelope. And I was positive the pendant I remembered had been in with all of it. I had planned to have the whole lot appraised someday but had simply never gotten around to it. I regretted that now. The ring on my hand was all I had left. Glancing at it, I decided to take it off, tucking it away into the little wooden box with Elmer’s jewelry for now.
Turning my attention back to the list I had made, I sighed. I was probably wasting my time doing this. I would ask Sam about my chances of getting any of it back when she came home.
For the next two hours I busied myself with putting the things I’d brought back with me away, laundering the clothes Sam had loaned me, and puttering around the kitchen and trying to decide what to make for dinner.
Mostly, I was trying not to think about the missing contents of the safe.
Chapter 11
At a loss for what else to do until Sam came home that evening, I grabbed a broom and started for the attic stairs. I only hesitated for a moment before heading up, broom in front of me to brush away the cobwebs. I was proud to realize I wasn’t even slightly out of breath by the time I got to the top of the steep staircase.
Looking over at all of the totes and boxes stacked at the end of the room, I remembered how sad Elmer had looked, knowing his children didn’t want any of this stuff. When my parents had passed, it had been incredibly difficult for me to get rid of anything at all. In the end I kept everything that had any sentimental value and made sure that anything I couldn’t keep was donated and would help somebody else. Clothing, furniture, and household items went to the Salvation Army and several area women’s shelters. My dad’s older model car had been in excellent condition—that went to a Habitat for Humanity charity auction. Steven had nearly lost it when he found out how much I had donated instead of selling everything for the money. Served him right for leaving me to take care of all of it on my own. He hadn’t wanted to be bothered dealing with any of it, so he didn’t have any say in it. I knew I had done the right thing. My parents would have been happy with how I handled it all, I was positive.
I walked over to the first stack of totes. Several were labeled glassware. The top box on the next stack was just labeled ‘dining room’. I looked over the next few totes and they just had general labels, such as ‘kitchen’, ‘china’, or ‘books’. I paused at one of the several that was labeled ‘books’. Sam’s house had a small parlor with built-in bookshelves. We had joked that maybe it had been a library for the previous owners. She ended up filling one entire shelf, top to bottom, with the law books she collected. The rest of the shelves she used more for display cases for little things. She had joked about filling them up with books someday. Hmmm.
I moved back to the boxes of glassware. I tested the weight of the top box, just to make sure I would be able to lift it without dropping it. It was manageable, but only barely. I set it down carefully and took the lid off. Everything inside was protectively wrapped in newspaper. Kneeling down, I unwrapped one of the items on the top and gasped. Elmer had been right. I held up the dainty pink glass teacup to the light. The patterns in the glass were gorgeous. I rewrapped the cup and checked a few of the others. They were all the same. Pink Depression Glass teacups. As heavy as this box had been, there must be a complete set in it.
Closing the box back up, I gently pushed it aside and stood. The boxes were only stacked two or thre
e high along the wall. This stack was one that had three boxes. The next box I left in place so I wouldn’t have to kneel down to open it and listen to my knees complain. I undid the top and took out the first thing on top, again unwrapping it carefully. It was a small mixing bowl. Looking back in the box, I saw it had been inside what was probably the next size larger bowl. It was bright yellow and looked practically new. I checked the bottom. Pyrex. I can’t believe that none of his children wanted any of this. These are beautiful. And probably valuable! I rewrapped the little bowl and nested it back in the other bowl. Blowing my hair out of my face, I looked back down the stack of totes. Maybe Sam and I should go through all of this together. I knew she wouldn’t be upset that I was up here snooping, especially since she didn’t even know what was up here, but technically this was all hers now.
I closed the box up and put the first box back in place. Maybe I should ask Elmer about this stuff one more time before I brought it up to Sam. There had to be a reason his children had left it behind—it just seemed unlikely it was just forgotten.
I headed back down the stairs to my room, where I grabbed my laptop and ran a search for Eleanor Jenkins. Several dozen popped up in this area. The first eight were death records. What if his youngest daughter was dead? That thought gave me pause—wouldn't he know if she had died, somehow? I had no idea how all of that worked. Realizing this brought something else to the forefront of my mind.
Growing up, my family had gone to church, though not always regularly. We still found ways to worship even when we didn’t attend. The three of us volunteered at soup kitchens, homeless shelters, retirement homes, and other charitable causes on a regular basis. My parents donated to those places as well, instead of tithing to the church. My mother believed that the ‘Powers That Be’, as she called them, would rather we put our money where our mouth was and be out doing good things in the world, not sitting in a church singing songs and listening to sermons about what was wrong with the world.
Steven didn’t attend church at all. We were married in a church that had been converted over to a wedding chapel, but I hadn’t really thought much of it at the time. Friends and family were all there with us, so that was what mattered most to me. Since then, I still made it a point to volunteer regularly, and donated regularly to various charities, but I had only attended church a handful of times. Steven insisted people only went to church to network their business, to show off what they had, or to gossip about others in the guise of being religious. It became easier to not go at all instead of listening to his version of a sermon every time I did.
Now, with everything I had experienced in the last few days, I wasn’t even sure what to believe anymore. I actually felt a little—lost. Was the place that Elmer referred to and that Rosemary could be pulled back from—Heaven? Was it something else? Would Rosemary know if Eleanor was still alive or not?
I almost grabbed the Rose Quartz ring and called for her. As I started to open the drawer, I thought better of it, slowly pushing it closed again. I had already brought her over twice in the past two days. I don’t know if she would appreciate seeing me again so soon. Heck, I wasn’t sure what I would even ask her. Hey Rosemary? How’s Heaven? What’s it like over there? Do you ever get to hang with The Big Guy? Did I even want to know those answers?
As I started to close my laptop, an idea occurred to me. I wondered what the internet would have about magick, ghosts, magickal rings, witches, vampires, and the Sight. I opened it back up and started digging.
Within half an hour, I realized it was useless. I had tried different wordings with Google on each topic and had come up with all sorts of books, movies, and games. I had even searched ‘ghost dog’. Apparently, that was a really popular nineties movie. Oh, and I learned that Weimaraners were also known as ghost dogs. Now I had ads that kept popping up for movies, dogs, psychics, anointing oils, jewelry, as well as various historical references for witches and vampires—many conflicting. None of it was even remotely close to what I had learned from Elmer or Rosemary. This is impossible!
I gave up and flopped back on the bed, groaning as I noted the time on the clock. Sam wasn’t due home for another two hours. Realizing I hadn’t eaten lunch, I decided to find something to snack on before dinner. With the weight I had lost from my jaw injury—and was still continuing to lose from what Sam called the ‘divorce diet’—my waistline could afford snacks these days. I’m not sure if the price was worth it, though.
Downstairs, I quickly threw together a plate of cheese cubes, grapes and crackers, then headed back up to my room.
As I ate, the journal with depictions of the jewelry in the box came to mind. I pulled the book bag out from under the bed. I opened the drawer in the bedside table and lifted out the small wooden box and it’s matching little picture journal, setting them beside me on the bed as I arranged my pillows behind me to sit up to read.
The little silver ring looked way too small for any of my fingers as I picked it up, turning it every which way as I examined it. I don’t know why, but I tried it on the tip of my pinkie finger. There was no way it was going to fit—but it slid on perfectly. Almost as if it had sized itself. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or what, but I thought I saw it shimmer once as it slid into place. When I blinked and looked again, it seemed somewhat more stylish than it had been in my hands. Huh!
Picking up the smaller book with the drawings, I opened the cover and my breath caught. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The picture that had originally looked hand-drawn now looked so real I had to do a double-take to make sure I had the right journal in my hands. I did. The semi-washed out, amateurish charcoal illustrations were gone. These looked more like 3-D computer renderings that you could reach out and pluck from the page. And the text—it was now very neatly arranged. There were perfectly legible descriptions of each piece, with details such as what it was made of, who made it, when it was made, as well as who charmed it and when. There were even examples of what it’s main use was, as well as minor uses or benefits—and most importantly, how to make it work. For every piece. I was stunned.
As a test—I took the ring off while staring at a picture. It immediately reverted back to the almost indecipherable mess it had been before. I put it back on—and it cleared right up. I stared at the little ring in amazement and blew out a shaky breath. It was like a decoder ring. This had been my first real taste of magic, or magick as Rosemary called it, and I think my mind was officially blown! Wasn’t that what all the cool kids said these days? Ha! Maybe I didn’t need reading glasses after all.
I continued flipping through the pages, not really paying attention to all of the individual details. There were only perhaps a dozen illustrations, I noted, while the rest of the pages were completely blank. I flipped backwards slowly through the little book until I reached the last page with a drawing on it—and nearly dropped the book.
I scrambled for the jewelry box, nearly knocking it off the bed in my haste. Setting it on top of the journal to hold the page, I rooted through for the ring I had dropped in there just this morning. Spotting it, I held it up to the light from the window. The center oval gem, clear stone, crystal, or whatever it was sparkled almost as brightly as a diamond. I doubted it was an actual diamond, though I wasn’t sure what made me believe that. There were six smaller faceted gems or crystals set evenly around the main stone, in varying colors. The silver band didn’t have any etchings like Elmer’s jewelry did, it was very plain. Overall, it was a rather pretty ring, but not something I would have purchased for myself. I placed the ring on the page next to the illustration. They looked identical!
I read the description under the picture. Ring of Power. The Clear Quartz Crystal focal point amplifies energy and intentions. Used for healing and protection on many different levels as long as the support stones are intact. The support stones power the focal crystal and will not draw energy from the wearer unless severely damaged. The Ring of Power will enhance other Items of Power when worn to
gether and can be used to charge or power them, as well. The ring must be cleansed and recharged for a new wearer. To use: focus, intent, and strength of will are key. Maker: unknown. History: unknown.
Stunned, I didn’t know what to think. Picking the ring up and examining it again I wondered how on earth a ring from my safe could be in a journal that belonged to Elmer’s family? And how the heck did you recharge a ring? I think I had a jewelry cleaning kit at home but I wasn’t going back there by myself anytime soon. I always used to clean my wedding ring at the kitchen sink with either Dawn dish soap or baking soda and an old toothbrush, so maybe that would work on this ring, too.
I looked over at my laptop again. Google hadn’t been all that helpful so far but I was willing to give it another chance. As I turned it back on, I noted the time. Sam should be home soon. Where had the afternoon gone?
I searched Quartz Crystal cleaning and recharging. Over a dozen sites and links popped up. I scrolled down looking for whichever one seemed the most promising, hoping for one without clickbait. I clicked on one partway down the page when I saw ‘cleansing and recharging your crystals’ in the lead description. After agreeing that yes, I knew the site used cookies, etc. and closing three pop-ups that wanted my email address so that I could be signed up for their newsletter or offering me discounts on my purchase today, I finally got to the article. Frowning as I read through it, I exited the site and went to another one, repeating the same process I had on the first. Did people really believe this stuff? I looked at the ring again. What the heck, it’s not like I had anything to lose. Going through the steps each site described wasn’t any crazier than talking to ghosts or reading magickal journals about magickal jewelry, right?
SEEING DEAD THINGS: A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel (Roxie’s Midlife Adventures Book 1) Page 8
