I chopped the onions and then cut and crushed the garlic and put them aside as I mixed the spices for the seafood concoction I was going to put over pasta. I sautéed the vegetables and peeled the shrimp. I made a salad and decided to attempt to make a cheese cake. I knew Dylan liked cheese cake.
When I finished preparing everything, I set them in the fridge. I would make the pasta and cook the seafood later so it would be fresh and add it to my clam sauce at the last minute. I glazed bread with butter and dusted it with garlic, covering it with tin foil. Then I reached for the dishes and glasses, pulling out a few of the candles that I hadn’t melted in my sculpting projects. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to let them know how much they meant to me.
The smell of freshly sautéed garlic and onions filled the kitchen. This was fun. I put a pot of water on the stove, so it would be ready to boil when it was time to cook the pasta. And set the cheesecake in the oven.
I hobbled to the living room and turned on the stereo. I cranked the music and decided to do my pushups, sit ups and other exercises.
As I struggled through one of my push – ups, the doorbell rang, a welcome interruption- – I hated push-ups. No one ever stopped by. It rang again. They said not to answer the door but what if it was important? The repeated chime beckoned me to struggle to my feet and make my way to the door. The ringing became a knock as I squinted out of the peep hole. It was a woman. Opening the door, I glanced at the cop still parked out front and realized I was safe.
“Excuse me, I hate to bother you, but can I please borrow some sugar?”
“Sure, come in, let me get you some.”
She followed me into the house carrying a vase full of beautiful yellow carnations. “I don’t know if you may be interested in these. My ex sent them to me. I don’t want them; I don’t want anything that reminds me of him.”
I noticed her eye, she had a black eye. I took the flowers and set it on the coffee table. “Are you okay? Did he do that to you?”
She nodded.
“What can I do to help? You poor thing.” She opened her arms. I gave her a hug to console her. As I held her, she sniffed my hair. I pulled myself away. It gave me the creeps.
“Can I use your phone?” She placed her purse on the coffee table and picked up the phone.
“Yes of course you can. There is an officer out front. You should talk to him. I will get your sugar.” I wanted her to get out of the house quickly.
As I walked into the kitchen, she closed the front door. A weird feeling entered my stomach. Why would she do that when she was about to leave? “My sister didn’t answer the phone,” she called out.
I reached to pull down the sugar. It fell, and spilled as it hit the counter top. I turned around and jumped. She stood right behind me in the kitchen. She took a handful of my hair in her hand and smelled it, closing her eyes. “So pretty.”
I had to get her out of here. What had I done? I poured the sugar in a cup and I handed it to her. Her hands, her hands were much bigger than mine. Her frame--much huskier than most women. And her eyes, there was something eerie about her eyes. Her stare gave me an uneasy feeling. I stood silent.
The police. I have to get to the police. The woman watched me for a moment and peered around to see if anyone else was home. I backed up so I could reach for a pot of water, in case I needed something to smack her with. I worried she wasn’t a woman after all.
“Bradley,” I shouted. I didn’t want her to think I was alone. “Bradley, can you tell them we will be there in ten minutes?” I hoped if she thought someone was expecting us she wouldn’t harm me.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I tried to remain calm, but my hand was clasped onto the pot of water just in case.
“No, this will be fine.”
“We should go talk to the police outside. He may be able to help you.”
She surveyed a little more, picking up a few things, examining them and putting them back down. I have to remain calm. I strolled as best I could with my limp to the front door and opened it.
“Thank you for the flowers.” I stood outside the door, in case I needed to scream to the officer.
“Thank you for the sugar.” She finally came outside.
“Talk to the officer, he will help you.” I returned inside quickly and locked the door. I watched out the peep hole as she walked away from the house.
“Oh my god,” I gasped and grabbed the phone to call Dylan. “What time are you coming home?’
“Is everything okay?”
“I.. I’m fine, I’m just…” I looked out the peep hole again. She was gone. I was safe. “I’m just not used to being home alone.”
“We’ll be home in a few hours, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, everything’s fine.” I peeked out the tiny hole again. The police car parked in the front gave me security. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Her hands were so big though. But no one would do anything with an officer sitting out front.
I hung up the phone, and used the walls to help me make it back down the hall to my room. Trying to forget about the strange woman, I decided to wear something other than sweats today. I liked the feeling of dressing in something pretty.
I stepped toward the closet, opening the door and pushed through the clothes to try and find something that was nice. That is when I saw it. It was tucked neatly in the corner of the closet and next to it, sat a little bag. I pulled them out and put them on the bed, then climbed on the covers, crossing my legs.
I lifted the white canvas and ran my fingers across it. It had an indescribable texture I found enticing. It stared back at me. I then opened the bag and lifted the paints out. I played with the containers, gently squishing the paint as I moved it back and forth in the tubes. Then I took the brushes out of the bag and tickled the palm of my hand with the bristles, I closed my eyes and ran the bristles over my cheek. It tickled.
No one was here to see me if I failed miserably. Not that either one of them would tell me I was horrible but… I wobbled back into the kitchen and put the canvas on the table, then made my way back for the bag. My legs were beginning to get fatigued but I would be sitting soon enough.
I grabbed a paper plate from the pantry and a glass of water and pulled an ice pick out of a drawer. It was as if a muse was speaking to me. I used the ice pick to break open the seal on the paints and dabbed assorted colors on the dish that had become my pallet. I dipped a few of the different sized brushes in the water and ran my hand over the canvas again.
I searched the bag and found a colored pencil and sketched a portrait on the white. I mixed colors together on the pallet until I came up with a porcelain color and covered the face with it. Then I wisped the brush through the hair giving it softness. By mixing colors together, I got the prettiest shade of dark brown. I brushed some strokes with the reds and whites and then, with the mixture I created, to give the hair a richness and a texture.
With a tiny paint brush I formed the nose, and painted the mouth a supple pink. Then I got to the eyes. I could see her eyes in my head. They were beautiful. They looked up at me, longing--a brilliant shade of blue. I stroked the eyelashes and used the Cobalt blue for the irises, painting the pupils black, and finished off with a dab of white for the light source. I studied her. As the acrylic dried, I ran my hand over the painting. I tilted my head to the side. “Jessica?” My fingers outlined her features, “Jessica?” Tears came to my eyes. Could this be her? Did I remember? A warm feeling entered my heart. It was as if something that had been missing was replaced. “My Jess.” I had no memories, only this vision, only this warmth. I sat for a moment and savored the feeling of something more important than myself. I had a child somewhere out there. A daughter. My daughter, my Jess. One day we will be together, I promised myself. Somehow…my angel, one day.
Looking up, I realized the time and moved the canvas and paints to the counter so I could set the table. I picked up the vase from the coffee table and brought it over to use as a centerpiece. I had just finished setting everything out, when I heard the keys rustle at the door.
“Oh my god, it smells great in here! Brad hurry up.” Dylan called back to Brad, who was getting out of his car. Dylan walked in the house. I hobbled to the living room and turned the stereo down a little. I peeked down at what I was wearing. I had never changed out of the sweats I had worn to bed.
“I don’t know if it will be any good. I think it is something I remember making. I just put a little of this in and a little of that.”
“Well, it smells delici…” Dylan stopped in his tracks looking at the dining room table. I had dressed it with the carnations, and candles and china I’d found in Bradley’s buffet.
His voice quickly changed. “Where did you get those?”
“I found everything in the pantry and the buffet. I hope it is okay.”
“No, those. Where did you get those?” Dylan’s voice was stern. His face turned pink and the veins in his neck began to show.
What did I do wrong?
“Nicole, where did you get those flowers?” He demanded an answer. Should I tell him? He seemed really mad. I didn’t want him to be upset at me again. Last night, dancing with him was so nice.
I looked down, “It was a lady. A lady came to the door to borrow sugar. I thought it was okay because it was a woman.” My voice weak, ashamed I’d let her in. “But when she was inside I got a little worried. I’m sorry. I realized after I let her in that it was stupid of me. Her hands, her hands didn’t look like a woman’s hands. When she left I locked everything up.”
“Dammit, Nicole. Dammit!” Dylan grabbed the vase off the table and ran to the door smashing it on the sidewalk in front of the house. “Why the hell don’t you listen!” He bent over picking something off of the ground. “A bug, a fuckin’ bug! Dammit. Where the hell was the cop?” He stormed down the walkway, opening the door to the police car. He grabbed the cop out of the car. Brad and I watched as he threw the red haired officer against the police car, screaming at him.
“Oh my god, the cop, the red haired cop.” Bradley’s eyes grew huge as he rushed outside to calm Dylan down. I stood by the door feeling hopeless, worried that they would get arrested because of me. The police car pulled away and Dylan, still enraged, searched outside as Bradley entered the house.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Nicole, I don’t think you realize how dangerous it is. You let the man that attacked you inside this house.”
“I thought it was a woman. I thought he was a woman until I saw her up close.”
“He wears disguises Nikki. He’s really dangerous. You’re lucky nothing happened to you. A friend of ours was murdered in her apartment with no sign of forced entry. You’re really lucky to be alive right now.”
“Dylan hates me again, doesn’t he?”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just upset you let someone in the house. We can’t handle losing you again. You can’t answer the door.”
“I thought he was a woman, he looked like a woman.”
“We’re only going to be here for a few more days, then we’ll head out to Seattle. When we come back, we’ll stay someplace else until he’s caught. We thought you would be safe with the police out front, but that cop, I think he is dirty. He used to come to the club with Steve. Steve knows where we are; we have to be really careful, okay?”
“Okay, I promise.” I went into the kitchen and took the pasta off the burner and strained it before it got soggy and grabbed the cheese cake from the oven. So much for my thank you dinner being perfect. I left the noodles in the strainer and went to my room to lie on my bed. Why did I answer the door? A few minutes later, there was a knock at my bedroom.
“Come in,” I yelled. My legs were done for the day. And I was too. I can’t do anything right.
“Nicole.” Dylan poked his head inside. “I’ll get you some more flowers, okay?” he smiled coming in and sitting on my bed. “I’m sorry for getting mad. I’m sure you thought it wasn’t a big deal--but it is. I need you to stay safe, okay? That means no opening the door for strangers. If someone gives you a carnation- – it’s a warning sign.”
“They’re so cheerful.”
“Nicole, he uses them to taunt us. Usually he gives one single flower. This time he gave you a bouquet. You really have to be careful. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as possible. We shouldn’t have left you alone today. We thought that the stupid cop would have done something to protect you. It was our fault. I thought with the police car sitting out front and it being daytime you would be fine.” Dylan kissed me on the forehead. “We will keep you safe.” He stood up.
“So Nicole, dinner smells amazing. Are you going to just tempt us with it or are you going to share?”
“Do you want some?”
“Are you kidding, it smells incredible!”
I reached out my hand so he could pull me off the bed. Brad was in the kitchen when I came back in.
“Let me help you.” Bradley said, bringing some of the food to the dining room. Dylan grabbed the wine and the garlic bread.
As we sat around the table I lifted my glass. “I wanted to tell the two of you that I really appreciate everything you have done for me. I don’t know what I would do without you. Not just because you are my guardian angels, but you’re so much more. You have changed your lives for me. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”
“There is…Don’t answer the damn door anymore.” Dylan smirked.
“I promise.”
“This is perfect! Where did you find the recipe?” Bradley asked.
“I don’t know, I guess it is something I used to make because I just threw it together.”
“Well it is remarkable.”
“And for dessert, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…” I winked at him. “I made cheesecake.”
Brad looked at me as if I was crazy.
I turned to him to explain. “I admit, I had no idea what your names were when I woke up from the coma. Dylan wouldn’t let me have cheesecake unless I said his name, like a hundred times so I would remember it. He even told me I was going to have a pop quiz. I cheated with your name. He told it to me right before you walked in the door.”
After dinner they offered to do the dishes and put everything away. “You sit down, you have done enough today. This was really wonderful, Nikki. Thank you.” Bradley poured me another glass of wine and they cleared the table. Dylan walked back in the dining room, holding the painting I made of Jessica.
“Nicole, this looks just like her. This is Jessica. When did you do this?”
“Today, her face just came into my head. I found the canvas and paints in my closet. I hope it is okay that I used them.”
“This is beautiful. It really does look just like her with her beautiful blue expressive eyes and long dark hair. Nicole, this is unbelievable. Did you find a picture of her?”
“No, it was like my hands knew what to do.”
“I bought you the paints in Seattle when you were coming to my sister’s wedding. I passed a store and something told me to get them for you. I had no idea you were so good.”
“You are so sweet.” I looked at the painting and ran my fingers across the surface. “So this is what my Jessica looks like?”
Both of them agreed, “Exactly.”
I traced her features. I began to wonder, “Do you think I’ll ever see her again?”
“Yes Nicole. Right after we leave for Seattle, we are going to search for your family! We will find them, Nicole! We will find them.”
Chapter 47
The old man nodded to his neighbor as he hobbled d
own the hallway of the apartment complex, his cane leading the way. The light flickered overhead. The smell of trash permeated the hallways from the apartments that had been vacated and left uncleaned. He rustled with his keys and opened the door, making his way inside.
As he entered the dingy residence, he tossed his keys on the mantle by the door, looking at himself in the mirror--his bushy gray hair, his wrinkled face and his missing teeth.
“Good evening Mr. Edwards,” he nodded to himself taking off the wig from his head, tossing it aside, and pulling off the side burns. He rolled up his sleeves exposing the tattoo of a single yellow carnation. At the foot of the stem, lay a red apple with a bite in it.
His fingers fished for the edges of the putty and he pealed the wrinkles off his face, picking at the residue left behind. Taking off his flannel shirt he unfastened the prosthetic belly he’d acquired off the mannequin in the maternity shop. Steve plucked out the dentures; placing them in a container in the tiny drawer under the frame of the table. As he pulled out one of the colored contact lenses, he heard a knock at the door.
He turned quickly in the direction of the sound.
“Mr. Edwards.”
He peeked through the hole in the door to see a small child.
“Mr. Edwards, would you like to buy some pizza dough.”
Steve remained quiet. The child knocked again.
“Maybe he went to sleep, honey. Old folks go to bed early. Let’s ask Mrs. Glenda.” He recognized the voice of the resident manager and saw her grab her son’s hand and go toward the stairwell.
Steve walked back to the mirror and poked his finger in his eye to remove the other faint blue contact lens. He blinked and put drops in his eyes. Grabbing the costume parts, he entered the spare bedroom and placed them neatly in a box among the others. As he exited the room, he flipped on the five o’oclock news and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.
Obsession and Sacrifice (Alaska #2) Page 18
