by S. E. Akers
Pandemonium swept through the dining room like a runaway train. Charlotte started crying uncontrollably, Mr. Barlow rushed to her side (and almost crashed into the china cabinet doing so), Chloe was cussing up a storm, bitching about all the things she couldn’t buy now, and Mr. Holdbrooke began punching keys on his cell phone in a panic.
I just stood there, calmly taking in the scene. Within seconds, Mr. Holdbrooke was standing beside me.
“Mr. Xcavare would like to speak to you, Ms. Wallace,” Mr. Holdbrooke announced nervously.
I stared at the flashy cell phone for a moment. Instantly, my body felt cold as a chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t spoken to Lazarus since the other day in the office. I was about to speak my first words to the man who was responsible for me hearing my father’s last.
Mr. Holdbrooke spoke, “Here she is, Sir,” as he handed me the phone. I lowered myself into the chair as I placed it up to my ear and simply listened. I couldn’t even say a word.
“Ms. Wallace? Shiloh, isn’t it? We met at the mine the other day, my dear. Do you remember?” Lazarus Xcavare asked.
How in the Hell can I forget?
“Oh, I remember,” I replied, holding my tongue. “You tend to leave a lasting impression.” You sure do with your poisonous blue hands, you Son-of-a-Bitch!
Lazarus continued, “Well, I try. Tell me, Shiloh. What’s all this silly nonsense I’m hearing about you not wanting to sell me the land on Shiloh Ridge because your father wouldn’t have wanted it. That sounds preposterous if you ask me. What father wouldn’t want his daughter’s future to be secure by starting out in life as a millionaire, twenty-five times over?”
“Mine,” I replied directly.
Lazarus cleared his throat and carried on. “You know, you’re right. I think I know what you mean. I think a father would be much more comfortable with let’s say, oh I don’t know…maybe…thirty-five million. That would help you out…Let you sleep well at night?” he stressed in a slightly restrained grumble.
That hit a nerve. “I don’t know about that, Mr. Xcavare. It’s been really hard lately, what with him being taken from me…the way that he was. You just never know when or where the cold hands of death will land.”
“No… No, we don’t.” Lazarus had a curious and slightly stunned tone to his voice. “Well anyway, let me just tell you why I think it would be a wise decision. May I?”
As I sat there half-listening to Lazarus Xcavare trying his best to persuade me to sell Shiloh Ridge, I couldn’t help but become fixated on the exchange occurring between Charlotte and Ace Barlow. The way he was consoling her struck me as odd. Within a few seconds, I realized why. It was his touch, the way he was holding her hand as he sat there, hugged up beside her. As soon as his fingers brushed over the top of her hand, I knew. This was no mere attorney-client relationship — not in the least.
I snapped out of my daze and turned my attention back to the party on the other end of Mr. Holdbrooke’s cell phone. I caught the tail-end of Lazarus saying, “So, my dear, Ms. Wallace…Thirty-five million. What do you think?”
I looked dead at Charlotte as I rose from the table. I thought about what Lazarus had said to Beatrix in the office the other day.
“See, Mr. Xcavare, you were wrong. Some people don’t have a price,” I answered brazenly.
Before he could reply, I hit the end button on the fancy cell phone and tossed it back to Mr. Holdbrooke (not looking) with my eyes still locked on Charlotte.
Energetically, I threw my chair under the table and announced, “This has been fun, but…I’m off!”
“You can’t do this to ME! To US! To OUR FAMILY!” Charlotte pleaded as I headed towards the doorway. “We NEED that money, Shiloh! Honey, please! How else are you going to pay for college?”
Her shockingly shameless assessment stopped me dead in my tracks. I whirled around on the spot. How dare she mention “college” to me, especially after her attempts to sabotage my plans! I could have set the dining room on fire with heat building from my glare.
I unclenched my jaw so I could speak. “I’m going now…MOTHER,” I announced and then turned to leave.
“WAIT!” Charlotte screamed. “If you don’t care about yourself, then think of your sister and me. What are we supposed to do without your father here to help us?” Dramatically, she cried, “Who’s going to help ME?”
All the men who had “helped” my mother ran through my head. I looked over at Mr. Barlow and then back at her. My brow began to rise. It was too priceless of a moment, and the smart ass in me just couldn’t resist.
“Frankly, Charlotte…I don’t give a damn!” I announced with a grin as I turned around theatrically, then bounced off into the foyer, and headed out the door. I could hear her wails all the way to my Charger.
I gave my engine a lengthy and triumphant crank. I had to wonder, Did Rhett Butler feel this damn good?
I grinned. Probably not…
Chapter 18 — Where’s a Real Charmer ?
I pulled into the parking lot of the Heritage Inn, just as the sun was starting to set. The explosion of vibrant colors swirling harmoniously in the sky paralleled my mood. I was bursting with joy! Lazarus’ quest to acquire Shiloh Ridge had been put on hiatus and so had Charlotte’s attempt to discard me like yesterday’s trash while she and Chloe ran off to start their new life without me in it. I felt more secure. My identity was safe, at least for now. And as a bonus, I still had a home to go to…that is, if Charlotte had gotten over her humiliation and my unwillingness to line her purse.
The Heritage Inn was Welch’s only motel. Yep, if you were in town visiting, it was your sole option. The motel featured a “heritage of coalminers” theme. A lot of folks who liked to tour West Virginia in the fall inevitably ended up here. After all, this part of the state was all about coalmining. It was perfect if you were an out-of-towner who wanted to experience it first-hand. The Heritage Inn ran scheduled tours to our local mine five days a week (on a repurposed old school bus, of course) and boasted a quaint museum adjacent to their front lobby. The modest, two-story motel had 24 rooms, and by the looks of the parking lot, they were all booked.
I practically bounced all the way to Tanner’s room. I paused to check my watch as soon as I’d reached the green metal door adorned with the shiny brass “3”.
Five-Thirty on the dot. I knocked out a little ditty on it and waited there thinking, I wonder where we’re going? I didn’t have the slightest clue or why a dress code had been imposed.
My eyes flared as the door flew open. A heart-stopping vision of Tanner Grey pulling on a tailored black shirt that framed his rock-hard, six-pack abs greeted my eyes.
Tanner’s brow arched as he announced, “You’re late.”
I held up my watch (mostly to take the focus of my flushed face). “No, I’m not,” I rebutted confidently.
Tanner opened the door wider as he pointed over to the bedside clock.
5:35 P.M. Ugh! I wasn’t going to let any of his jeers put a damper on my mood tonight. “You aren’t even ready,” I scoffed, secretly thankful for more reasons than I could count.
“I’ll just be a second.” Tanner smiled and waved me in. “The sun is about to set…What’s with the sunglasses, slick?” he inquired as I walked past him.
I pulled off my shades and postured myself. “Look at them,” I demanded.
Tanner gazed into my eyes for a moment. His brow furrowed as he drew closer and his stare deepened. “I see what you mean,” he replied, merely inches from me. “They’re really…blue.”
Oh, he was in true form tonight.
“No, besides that,” I huffed. “The streaks of white glistening in them, almost like lightning…like how yours light up when you take off your tiger’s-eye. They started shining about an hour ago, so I put on my sunglasses to hide them. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing them.”
“I know what you meant, Shiloh. Get used to it. They’re going to do that, though it does pose a problem with Lazarus snooping arou
nd. I wouldn’t worry about humans seeing them. The only way that can happen is if you reveal them on purpose or accidentally. That’s always a possibility when your emotions shift drastically. Especially when you get upset or angry. You’ll learn to control it…eventually.”
“I need a tiger’s-eye,” I sighed.
“Get over it. I told you — It’s impossible right now. A tiger’s-eye protects your psyche from other supernaturals by clouding theirs. It blocks their senses, so they can’t feel your power. That doesn’t mean they can’t see it if you slip up and accidentally reveal it to them. Stones have a mind of their own, you know. Sometimes they want their presence to be known. You have to learn to control how your stone radiates through your eyes. After all, they are the window to your soul,” Tanner announced passionately as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Even a skilled Talisman can have a slip up…now and then.”
Great. One more thing I have to worry about, I grumbled as I tucked my sunglasses inside my purse. My thoughts turned to Charlotte when my fingers grazed my wallet.
“You knew…Beatrix did too, didn’t she?” I posed.
“About what? Your land?” Tanner replied as he flicked the collar of his shirt.
I shook my head and grinned like a played fool. I didn’t even bother with asking why he or Beatrix never bothered to fill me in. I’d already resigned myself to the fact that those two operated like a covert division of the CIA — Need-to-Know.
Notably aroused, I tried to act as casual as possible while he finished getting dressed. After all, this was the first time I’d been in a motel room with a handsome guy…alone. Tanner was incredibly attractive — no doubt about it — but I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else about the elusive and dashing Professor Grey that made these deep seeded desires emerge when I was in his presence.
Maybe that’s an ability of his?
Even though I was now eighteen and officially no longer “jail-bait”, Ty was always in the back of my mind. I’d had a crush on him for years. If he did break up with Kara, I wanted to see how things played out with him. I owed myself that much. Anyway, I hadn’t remained a virgin this long just to blow it on an uncontrollable whim — no matter how stirred up my libido seemed to be. I’d always wanted my “first time” to be with someone I truly loved, unconditionally, and that I knew shared my feelings. I certainly wasn’t about to plummet off that cliff because of any “peer pressure”. I’d seen enough broken hearts around my school and heard too many vulgar rumors about my fellow female classmates to know that I wasn’t about to venture a jump without a “beyond a shadow of a doubt” guaranteed parachute. Though my beliefs about my hallowed “first time” were old-fashioned and sentimental, I remained practical — love was a requirement, marriage wasn’t. However, as I watched Tanner run a comb through his luminous brown tresses, lusty images lingered in my mind. I had to constantly scold myself to “snap out of it”.
“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late,” Tanner insisted as he slipped on his leather jacket.
As I followed him out the door, I inquired, “Why no play clothes this evening?” I thought I’d take a stab at the secrecy regarding our outing.
“I figured you needed a break tonight…and no more water. I promise,” Tanner grinned.
Tanner led the way through the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction of where I’d parked. We came to a stop in front of a sleek, chromed-out vintage black & silver Harley Davidson. He hopped on the motorcycle and patted the vacant spot behind him.
I stared at the patch of black leather for a moment, feeling more than hesitant. Not necessarily because this was my first time on an actual motorcycle, but considering the thoughts that had been running around my head just minutes earlier, my reluctance rested solely with the idea of wrapping my arms around the sultry Talisman as we barreled down the road for a thrilling bike ride. That would most certainly put a few of my “boundaries” to the test.
Tanner tilted his head and sighed, “Oh, please tell me that you’re not scar—”
I quickly cut him off. “No,” I replied as I threw my leg over the seat and sat down, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Where’s a helmet?” I asked innocently as I scanned all around.
Tanner let out an exaggerated laugh. “Do you really think you need one?”
Seeing how my bones were now unbreakable, and unless we ran into a tree made of diamonds, I would inevitably walk away from any accident unscathed. I laughed off my safety concerns that now seemed ridiculous.
“I suppose I don’t.”
While the motorcycle engine rumbled as we waited to pull off, I leaned closer to Tanner and yelled in his ear, “So where are we going on this Wednesday night that I needed to get dressed up?”
Tanner called back in a boisterous voice, “Church, of course.”
As we headed west on Highway 52, I had a gut feeling about which “church” we would be attending. My suspicions were confirmed when we turned onto Route 80 after passing through Iaeger. I caught a glimpse of a mileage sign as we whizzed by it.
Jolo — 12 miles
I knew it. A horrible sinking feeling came over me, but as I buried my head down against Tanner’s back, the dread subsided. At least the feeling did. My thoughts were still clear. I knew whom we were in search of and why.
We arrived at the Church of Divine Faith in Jolo in no time. Both sides of the curvy narrow road were littered with vehicles that led all the way to the church’s crowded parking lot.
Tanner squeezed his Harley in-between two pick-ups and cut the engine. “Look at that. You managed to get here…in one-piece,” he teased.
We were the only ones standing outside the church, and by the muffled sounds of music and sporadic wails that seemed to be coming from inside, it appeared the service had already begun. But I wasn’t in any hurry to enter.
Tanner rushed me up the stairs and scoffed, “We’re late.”
I shook my head and shuddered as thoughts of what lay behind the weathered, black double-doors whirled nervously in my mind.
An older woman clutching a stack of programs was greeting parishioners as we entered. She was dressed as any other female church patron would, conservatively, wearing a practically-to-the-floor length floral dress trimmed in lace. Her equally-as-long hair had been styled in a spiraling up-do, secured in place by numerous bobby pins and gobs of hairspray. The attentive woman quickly put on her horn-rimmed glasses that hung by a chain around her neck and hurried towards us.
“Welcome! Welcome!” the woman joyfully exclaimed and handed me a program. “I’m Flossie Mae Shrewsbury, the pastor’s wife, and you are?”
“Mr. and Mrs. McCoy,” Tanner replied without skipping a beat. I smiled at Mrs. Shrewsbury as Tanner gave me a tight squeeze. His affectionate gesture prompted a bashful smile from the pastor’s wife — and me.
“We love to see new faces around here. Please go on in. The service is about to start,” Mrs. Shrewsbury insisted with a smile.
We both thanked her, and then Tanner proceeded to lead the way into the worship hall. I was dragging behind, full of reservations. I spotted a cross hanging on the wall and said a quick prayer.
Please don’t let there be too many snakes!
The congregation appeared to be a lively group. They were all dancing in the pews and singing while a small band played a blue-grassy style of hymn. The “band” consisted of two men, one on a keyboard and the other strumming a banjo, standing to the left of the pulpit. We found an empty space located at the rear of the church. Anxiously, I looked all around the pew. Tanner pulled me down beside him.
“Shiloh, there are no snakes in the pews,” he whispered. I felt somewhat at ease until he winked and added, “At least, not yet.” I quivered and impulsively scooted closer to him. Tanner grinned at my adjusted proximity and whispered, “Do you need to sit on my lap, little girl?”
I swiftly replied with a muffled grunt as I jabbed my elbow straight into his arm.
The church had a somewhat contemporary look to it. There were no regal colors that accented the room, only various shades of beige. There weren’t a lot of traditional touches to its interior either. Aside from the standard wooden pews that you would find in most any house of worship, the room looked more like a meeting hall with a clear acrylic pulpit sitting front and center, and there was only one stained glass window located on the wall in front of us. It was a depiction of Adam, along with Eve, who was being tempted by the infamous serpent.
Fitting, I thought confidently.
Once the music had stopped, the pastor sauntered over to the pulpit and began to address the crowd of parishioners. I could only make out a small portion of Pastor Shrewsbury’s sermon, what with all the “hallelujahs” and “amens” that rang out repeatedly. I caught the gist of his lesson on “faith”, but my mind was too preoccupied with our real reason for being here — to find Mr. Estell. We both scanned the crowd relentlessly. Tanner was far more inconspicuous than I was when it came to surveillance. He squeezed my hand several times and whispered, “Not so obvious.” While my eyes continued to travel around the room, I noticed a little girl with blonde hair woven into pigtails staring at me. I was a bit startled, though the look on her face was nothing like the evil-eye gaze Mr. Estell had thrown my way the other day. She eventually smiled, which put my mind at ease. I resumed my visual search, but to no avail. Mr. Estell was nowhere to be found.
Soon the message had concluded, and the pastor closed with a prayer. I felt relieved there hadn’t been any “ceremonial additions” to the service that the church was notorious for.
Maybe that’s something they only do on special occasions…like communion?
However, when the rear doors flew open and various members of the congregation began to speak in tongues, my feeling of relief shifted into one of apprehension. With a wary eye, I watched a man walk up the aisle carrying a rather large wicker hamper. I let out a gasp and prayed, PLEASE let there be a butt-load of bread in that basket!
