by Susan Conley
“It has wrought iron legs, and a wooden seat. It was starting to splinter, Del said she was going to replace it. But it was still here the last time I was … I mean, before she missed canasta night.” Hildie looked around, like the bench might be somewhere close by. “I’m sure it was here when I found … Well, the last time I was here. I remember resting on it while I waited for the police. Have you looked around, seen if someone moved it?”
Chelsea and Brad glanced at each other. They’d seen an old bench the day they found the albums.
“Come on, back this way.” Brad led them back through the trees and flowerbeds to the screened-in porch and patio. There, sitting under the overhang on the patio in an almost hidden corner of darkness, was an old bench, worn with age, weathered by the elements, the ivy already starting to creep up its wrought iron legs. Brad pulled it partially out of the corner, throwing the light over the worn wood.
“Is this the bench?” He turned to Hildie. He felt guilty — if he had visited his aunt more often, he would have known she’d placed a bench out by the pond, he would have known it was missing.
“Yes, that’s it. The wood is broken around the edges.” She picked at the tiny pieces of wood. “It would pinch if you sat on it just right. Del had an old quilt covering it.”
Brad stuck his hand back inside the flowers and pulled out the hidden key. He stepped into the house, and a few moments later came back out holding an old quilt. “Is this the quilt?”
“I think so, turn it out, so I can see the underneath side.” Hildie slid her glasses onto her nose.
“See, there’s where the splinters snagged the material.” She leaned down, bringing her face close to the wooden part of the bench. “There’s a bit of fabric stuck in the wood.” She pulled out a short strand of thread. It could have matched the quilt. Maybe.
Brad placed the quilt on the wooden seat; it fit perfectly, falling into place like it had been its home for many years. He looked closer at the bench, down the legs. Dirt covered the feet. When he went around the back, a red rust stain flowed down the back of the bench.
He felt sick to his stomach. Maybe the stain wasn’t rust, maybe it was something else completely.
He caught Chelsea glance, and she stepped around to have a closer look. “Was there anything on the back that could have rusted all over it? Or maybe it sat under something?” she asked Hildie.
“Not that I ever saw. It was always by the pond, and there isn’t anything out there except the pond, old oaks, and the weeping willow. I don’t know how it got here. Someone must have moved it.” Hildie looked around their little ensemble as if trying to piece together the truth.
“Maybe something else happened.” Brad’s face was grave with their latest find. This could be the place where his aunt had been bludgeoned before being dumped in the pond to drown. “I’ll make a few calls tomorrow, I’ll have a friend come out to test this stain, make sure it’s just rust.”
They started back around the front of the house, only to be met by the one person neither Chelsea or Brad wanted to see.
Sam was casually strolling around the house, whistling a tuneless song, hands hidden in his pockets. He stopped short as he came around the corner and saw the four of them. “What are you doing here?”
Brad gazed at his brother. His tailored suit fell in a neat fit. He appeared to not have a care in the world. Could he really be a sociopath?
“Chelsea has every right to be here. As soon as the will is probated, this is her property.” He watched his brother’s stance become uneasy. “What are you doing here, Sam?”
“I left something last time I was here. I just came to look for it.” Sam’s gaze fell over the small group and landed upon Chelsea with a sneer. “I’ll just take a quick look, and I’ll be on my way.”
“When were you here? I didn’t think you were fond of Deloris’s little farm.”
“Oh, it’s been a while, just thought maybe I’d come by, see for myself.” Sam grinned that oily smile of his. He was lying, Brad knew it.
He stepped in front of Sam. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re looking for. Five sets of eyes are better than only one.”
“That’s okay, maybe I’ll check again at home.” Sam turned to leave.
“Sam?” Brad called after him as he moved back around the house.
“Yeah?” Sam turned to look back over his shoulder.
“This is Chelsea’s house now. If you're going to be here, you need to let her or her lawyer know.” He smiled at his brother. “If you don’t, it’s called trespassing.”
Sam grinned. “Only you would try to pull something like this. The will is going to be challenged, you know it, I know it, even your little girlfriend knows it.”
“Now why would someone want to do something like that?”
“Bye, Bradley. Oh, Dad was looking for you.” Sam smirked like he’d delivered a punishment. He climbed back into his car, and gravel flew as he spun away from the house.
Brad peered at Chelsea. “Something tells me someone needs to stay here tonight. Are you up for it?” He smiled. “I don’t trust Sam as far as I can throw him.”
She picked up Brad’s hand. “Sure, why not. It’ll give me a chance to get to know your Aunt Deloris. Grams, can you stay with Hildie tonight?”
Grams and Hildie looked at each other, and she smiled. “It’ll be a movie and pizza night. I wanna watch Twilight.” They were like two little kids turned loose from Mom and Dad’s ever watchful eyes.
Brad tossed the keys to his Jeep to Grams. “You take my Jeep, we won’t be needing it. Call us in the morning, we’ll all have breakfast together.” He hugged her tiny frame. “Thanks for being the detective we needed.”
Grams pinked and smiled back at him.
Hildie turned to Brad. “I’m sorry about your Aunt Deloris, she was a good person.”
He smiled at her. “I know she was. Thank you for checking on her and for being her friend.”
Chapter Forty
Brad found fresh linens, and Chelsea called the local pizza guy for delivery. The electricity and cable still worked — Brad’s family hadn’t wanted to leave the house with the unlived-in look that invited problems. So, with a little work, the house stood ready, waiting for visitors.
“Tell me something about Aunt Deloris?” Chelsea lay on the floor in the living room, propped up on her elbows.
Brad smiled. “Well, she had such a big heart.” He laughed. “One time this big mountain sheep dog wandered up to the house. He was run down, more dead than alive.” His brow wrinkled while he remembered. “He was dirty and smelly, soap and water wouldn’t have hurt him. He showed up while I was visiting during summer break. Aunt D said he just needed a good home and she needed someone to talk to. They were going to adopt each other.” Brad’s eyes looked into the past. “This dog was massive, his tail could clear off the table in a single swish, and she’s talking to the dog, and he’s listening. And they both looked like they were smiling. She called him Mac.
“She wouldn’t think of calling the pound, said Mac just needed someone to love him, and D did, she loved him. He slept next to her bed, wouldn’t have let anyone hurt D, that’s for sure. It broke her heart when he died. He lived with her for ten years. I think Aunt D could bring anything to life — or at least help it survive.”
Chelsea watched him tell his story, watched his eyes light up when he talked about Deloris. “She sounds like such a good person, I really wish I’d had an opportunity to get to know her.”
“You would have liked her. She was a little crazy, but all the best ones are.” He smiled.
• • •
Night fell, and as the stars glistened overhead, they sat outside on the screened porch. The sounds of crickets and the buzz of June bugs hitting the screens replaced the distant sound of cars that moved along Route
29. An owl hooted from one of the old oaks, hoping for dinner.
Brad lifted Chelsea’s hand to his lips. “Bedtime.” He led her inside and up the stairs to the small bedroom — every few steps, he leaned in and kissed the fullness of her lips. Slowly, he undressed her, making it a sensual act as his fingers moved over her body, each touch a caress. Soon, her clothes draped the room as he danced her from one side to the other. He stood gazing at the feast her body provided. “How did I live so long without you?” he questioned, a storm brewing in his hazel eyes, one of passion.
Chelsea stepped in closer, tugging his black t-shirt over his head, her fingers on his zipper when he captured her body, pulling her snug against him. The soft brush of his hair hardened her already sensitive rosettes. He groaned as his mouth found them, and they formed sweetly to his tongue and lips. “I can’t get enough, it’s never enough.” He sighed as his lips moved from one soft mound to the other, then back again. His fingers found her soft center and encircled the tiny bud at her core.
“Brad, as much as I want to … ” Chelsea’s body softened to his touch and her voice hitched as she bit her lower lip. “I didn’t bring any condoms.” She brushed her fingers over his chest, eliciting another groan. Her lips found his and she claimed a lingering kiss.
He stepped back and grinned with mischief, reaching into his back pocket to remove three of her dayglo condoms. “Did I ever mention I was a Boy Scout?”
She released a throaty laugh. “My, you do come prepared — and ambitious.” Her fingers tugged his zipper, and his jeans followed her clothing.
“Come here, let me love you.” He smiled at Chelsea. “You do know I plan to keep you, right? You’re mine. I love you.” He captured her lips once more, his tongue plundering her mouth, tasting her sweetness.
She took a step back, and he gazed upon her nakedness. His hardened maleness became a throbbing pulse throughout his body.
Eyes downcast, she grinned back at him. “I love you too, and guess what, Mr. Rearden? I plan on keeping you too.” She giggled and wrapped her hands around him, moving them back and forth. She dropped to her knees, her blue eyes bored into his hazel depths as her lips replaced her hands. She kissed his tip, licked down his length, then took him between her lips.
“Chelsea, you’ll bring me too soon.” He brought her back to her feet and took her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. His hands shook as he tore open the condom.
She held out her hand and he dropped the condom into her waiting palm, bright blue this time, and she rolled it over his length, pushing him back toward the bed. “Lie down.” She straddled his body, her core touching the tip of his shaft. Then she slid over him, taking him deeply, only to rise a few seconds later to perform the act all over again.
“You are going to kill me.” He sighed, resigned to his fate.
“But remember, it’ll be a sweet little death.” She grinned down at him, taking his length again.
“Enough!” He laughed and pulled her beneath him. He stroked her with gentleness until she begged him for more. Then his thrusts became longer and deeper as the need to have all of her drove him. Each stroke brought them closer, each wave crested higher, until release tore from Chelsea’s lips and her body shook around him. He stroked her twice more before letting himself go, letting out a cry of his own. “Sweet Gee-sus, what you do to my body,” he said with wonder.
“So surprised?” She laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder as he came down beside her.
“I shouldn’t be. Every time with you is better than the last, leaving me to crave more.” He grinned as his lips stole one last kiss.
• • •
Chelsea tried to sleep. She rested close to Brad, absorbed his warmth and strength, but sleep wouldn’t come. She crept from the bed to a little sitting room which had probably been a small bedroom at one time. When Chelsea couldn’t sleep, reading often helped, and so she searched for a book to occupy her, so her mind could slow down and match her body’s pace.
She stepped inside the small room and found a modest desk — inside she found a thin book. She propped her bare feet up on the secretariat, and leaned back in the floral chair that sat before it. She thumbed through the pages, catching little phrases of words. It was Deloris Rearden’s diary.
“March 10, 2009 … I’ve been thinking I could use a vacation … California? Florida? Alaska!” Chelsea continued to read, slipping silently through the pages of time, catching little glimpses of Deloris Rearden’s life.
Chelsea rested the book against her chest, and listened to the sounds of the house. It was then she heard the whisperings … the telltale sound of someone waiting for her to see them. In that moment, Chelsea’s life settled into a new lucidity. This was her life, and if she could, she’d help anyone who needed her. Acceptance.
“Who’s here? Let me see you.” The shadows shifted, and the onetime owner of the home stepped forward.
“Why are you here?” her voice called.
Chelsea’s face grew warm. Here she sat, in the woman’s house, and the visage of the woman stood before her. “Hi, Mrs. Rearden.”
“Yes?” She vaguely smiled in Chelsea’s direction. “You look familiar, do I know you?” Deloris’s eyes no longer focused, she was lost, maybe she’d stayed Earthbound too long? “You’re helping him. So good of you. It’s going to be so hard on him.” She looked in the direction of the bedroom and her feet followed her gaze.
“Mrs. Rearden? Do you mean Brad?” Chelsea took a step toward Deloris.
Her gaze drifted back to Chelsea. “Bradley was always such a good boy. Nothing like his brother Sam.” Her eyes grew wary. “Those two were so sweet together, I can’t figure out what happened to him … ”
It was the second warning Deloris had given Chelsea. “Can you tell me what’s going on? What’s going to be hard on Brad?” She drew Deloris’s attention back to herself.
“When the truth comes out … ” Deloris’s vague look began to wander. “I don’t think I can come here again, I’ve stayed too long. I’m so tired. The light grows brighter. It calls me.”
“Then follow it, Mrs. Rearden. Let it lead you to whatever comes next.”
“But I have to make sure Bradley’s okay.” Deloris twisted the edge of her faded blouse, growing more anxious.
“I’ll take care of him, I promise. You have my word.”
Deloris wavered. “Yes, I think my time is finished here. The light wants me. I have to let it take me.” She melted away before Chelsea’s eyes. “Help him. He’s all I have left.” The words echoed through her.
Chapter Forty-One
Chelsea looked across the room to find Brad watching her. “Who are you talking to?”
She held his gaze, bit her lip. “Your Aunt Deloris, but I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”
“What did she tell you?” Brad came across the short space.
“She was more vague this time. I think she was losing her focus, she was unclear, distracted. She said I was to help you. The future is going to be hard on you, and you’ll need my strength. Basically what she’s been asking me to do from the start.” Chelsea reached out for his hand that hung limp at his side. “It’s a promise that I intend to keep.”
“Did she say what happened to her?” He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw.
“No. She was confused, but she told me to not trust Sam. He isn’t like you.” She sighed. “I think she was afraid of Sam.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. That’s if I had a choice in believing any of this.” He remained standing with his eyes closed.
“You don’t believe me?” Chelsea wondered out loud. “Then why are you here, why are you bothering?”
Brad opened his eyes. “Never think I don’t believe you, that I don’t believe in you, because I do. I’ve seen too much for it not to be. But it all sounds so unr
eal, no one else is going to believe it.” He leaned back, against the wall. “It’s just all so fantastical.”
“It is, but I’m starting to realize my Great-Granny was right. It’s all going to be okay. I’m only changing into someone that can help where others can’t. This is going to be my life, somehow, my destiny.” She lifted his hand to her lips. “As I hope you’re going to be.”
“I want to be, that and more.” Brad’s fingers brushed the line of her jaw. “I know it’s all true — if I ever had any doubts, they’re gone.”
“Why? Why do you say that?” Chelsea watched the emotions flit over his features.
“I just had a dream about Aunt D. In my dream, she looked like she did when I was a kid. She seemed happy. She said you were a good person, you were going to help me, and Sam had done something bad.” Brad dropped his hands and turned away to pace the small room. “I think Sam killed Aunt D.”
Chelsea drew in a harsh breath. “Did she tell you that?”
He looked back into her eyes. “No, she didn’t have to. I think he confronted Aunt D with the geological survey, and she must have done something to make him see red. Maybe she laughed at him — Sam hates to be laughed at, has for his entire life, even when he was a little kid.”
“But that doesn’t mean he killed her.”
“Yeah, but if she was sitting out by the pond, and if he was so mad that he was able to drag that boulder up and smash it into her head, the rust on the back of the bench would be … ”
“It would be blood,” Chelsea finished for him.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” His eyes were downcast. “Then he threw the boulder into the pond, destroying any evidence left on it.” His lips trembled with the emotion glowing in the depths of his eyes. “Then I think he dragged her body to the water — or maybe she really did just fall. But he’d have to make sure.” As he spoke, his face became paler. He clenched his hands. “It wouldn’t have been hard. She was a lightweight, but strong. She had to be unconscious for him … it’s too unimaginable, he couldn’t have.” He whispered to himself, lifting his trembling hand to his forehead, and shook his head. “She’d have been weakened, but the water might’ve shocked her awake. I don’t know, I can’t even think it … Did he look into her eyes while he held her down?” He squeezed his eyes tight. But it was too late — for Chelsea and him, the mental image had been given birth, and blazed across their consciousness.
