“If there’s anything you need or anything we can do, let us know.”’
“Sure,” Hudson said.
It was now close to two a.m. as we walked up our front steps and stood on the stoop, watching the police drive away. Ten minutes passed before Hudson grabbed the doorknob. He turned the handle and the door swung open. Together we stepped inside. It seemed as though nothing had changed. The same furniture was in place. The same pictures hung on the walls and knickknacks we’d collected were still here. But gloom hung everywhere. What was once a place of energy, love, and comfort was empty and silent.
“Jacey,” Hudson commanded. “You stay here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to check out the house.”
“I’m coming with you.” I knew I sounded like a two-year-old. I had this creepy feeling we weren’t alone.
“All right, but stay behind me, okay?”
“All right.”
We went through the house room by room, turning on every light and checking every closet. We were about to go into Mom and Dad’s room when the doorbell rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin and grabbed Hudson’s arm.
“Who the hell could that be?” Hudson mumbled, on edge.
I followed him downstairs to the front door. There was no porch light. The person standing there was backlit from the street lamp. Hudson slowly opened the door. A gust of emotion swept over me. Before a word was spoken, Hudson and I were enveloped by a bear hug of an embrace. Aunt Grace had shown up.
I looked into her face and burst into tears. She and Mom looked so much alike. Mom had dark curly brown hair and big blue eyes while Aunt Grace has light brown hair and big brown eyes. They shared the same beautiful smile and homey ambiance, however. There was no doubt they were sisters.
No one said a word as we moved into the living room. Aunt Grace wouldn’t let either of us out of her embrace. We made it to the couch and crumpled onto it. I peered into her eyes between sobs.
“Aunt Grace, how did you know?”
“The hospital called. Your mom had a card in her wallet listing me as next of kin,” Aunt Grace said, choking up.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” Hudson whispered.
We sat, quietly surrounded by the memories of my parents for what seemed like hours.
“I could use a cup of tea, how about you two? Hot chocolate?” Aunt Grace offered, breaking the silence.
Neither one of us had eaten since breakfast. The thought of food made my stomach turn, but when she said hot chocolate, I nodded. Every time Aunt Grace came to visit, she and Mom made hot chocolate. We’d sit around talking and drinking. Mom always laughed at Hudson and me. We never said no to another cup.
“Yes, please,” we both replied.
She went to the kitchen. I turned to Hudson, “Hudson?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you mean it? You think we’re going to be okay?”
“I think so, Jace, yeah,” Hudson said, going into the kitchen.
I sat transfixed, staring off into nothing. All the “what ifs” kept going through my mind: What if I’d told my parents about my dream this morning? What if they hadn’t gone out this morning? Could I have stopped them from being killed? What if…? I wasn’t only thinking everything today was my fault—deep down, I knew it was. If I’d only told Mom and Dad my entire dream, would they be here now?
I didn’t hear Aunt Grace and Hudson return. It was the comforting smell of hot chocolate that made me return to reality. I embraced the cup, holding it to my chest. I felt tormented at the bit of comfort the cup had brought me. My mother wasn’t here to share it.
“Jacey,” Aunt Grace said, “I made arrangements at home and I’m going to be staying with you guys for the next couple of days to help out with things.”
“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot. We need you here…” I said with more emotion than I intended.
“We can talk about what else needs to be done tomorrow; right now it’s time for us to get some rest,” Aunt Grace said.
I dreaded going up to my room, knowing that when I fell asleep, the dreams would come again, more vivid than they were the night before. I was afraid I would see my parents and they would blame me for what happened.
“Jacey, if you like, I can stay with you until you fall asleep,” Aunt Grace offered.
I didn’t want to be alone tonight, another first. “Aunt Grace, I’d appreciate it. Hudson, are you going up, too?”
“Yeah, I’m going to make sure everything is locked up and turned off first. Aunt Grace, do you have luggage?” “
Two bags in my car.”
“No problem,” Hudson said, leaning down to hug us both. He went outside to get her bags.
We climbed upstairs slowly, holding onto each other. When we came to my bedroom door, I paused. Inside, there were so many memories of Mom and me. Aunt Grace put her hand on my shoulder and together we went in. You’d think my room would be the one space I’d want to go and find refuge from the world right now. Surprisingly, it wasn’t.
My eyes were drawn to the ceiling. I remembered Mom and I painting it, and it brought a smile to my face. She was so exact, describing each one of the designs to me. We drew, then painted them one night with glow in the dark paint. There were six constellations in all completely covering the ceiling. Mom named each one; the first two in the center of the ceiling were Ria and Hearte. Their colors and lines were intertwined and reached all four corners of my room.
The others began from the four corners of the ceiling. Their designs stretched to the middle, connecting each one to Ria and Hearte. Mom had named the first Rife, which she pronounced to me as Ry-f. The second was Taerw, which she made me say as Tay-er. The third was Nidw, which she pronounced Ne-du, and the fourth corner was Kawaneing, pronounced ka-wa-ning. The way they connected made it look like they were 3–D.
Mom insisted they were all real, but I think she made up every one of them so we’d have something we created together. The mural on my ceiling calmed me when I woke from my dreams, I mean nightmares. I remembered how many days it took us to outline all of the constellations. Our necks were killing us by the time we were ready to paint.
We opened ten cans. Mom was ecstatic. She proudly announced that each one was drawn to perfection, but they wouldn’t be complete until they were shaded the way we thought they should be. We covered my ceiling, painting for hours. It became a kaleidoscope of constellations and colors, bright and beautiful.
We were wound up by the time Dad came home. He found us lying on our backs, staring up at our work and laughing. We couldn’t help ourselves, even though there wasn’t anything funny to laugh at. That night, Dad educated us on how to properly ventilate a room when painting, so the fumes don’t get you giddy.
Aunt Grace and I sat on my bed. She pointed to the ceiling. “I see you and your Mom were pretty busy in here.”
“We did it together,” I told her. Without warning, I was crying again. Aunt Grace hugged me and started to hum a tune. I recognized it slightly, but before I could ask her about it, I fell asleep, crying in her arms.
Of course, the colors came first. I waited for the nightmare to begin. Instead of the spine-tingling terror I expected to keep my eyes frozen shut with fear, I pushed through it and slowly opened my eyes. I sat up with a start on my bed, still anxious from my dream.
There, sitting with me, was Mom. Instantly, I was filled with comfort. I didn’t say a word. I reached out to hug her and she hugged me back. She felt totally real.
I started to cry and tried to explain. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I should have told you and Dad everything…” She cut me off by putting her hand to my face, gently pinching my lips together before I could babble on.
“Jacey, it’s not your dream that caused your father and me to…die. We were warned about this when we fled the protection of our home world. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done to change that.” She stopped and gave me her most motherly look.
Mom began to sing the lullaby she used to when I was small. They were the words to the tune Aunt Grace had lulled me to sleep with tonight. I hugged Mom as she started to recede into the constellations on my ceiling. I held onto the words as she sang them over and over —
“Little one, little one, I love you,
Little one, little one, you know it’s true.
You have my heart wrapped around your tiny little—”
(This was my part and I sang back)—“finger.”
We wrapped our pinky fingers together:
“And you know it.”
I closed my eyes and listened. Even though all I wanted was to stay in my Mom’s embrace and forget about the real world and the real problems I was to face, I knew I couldn’t leave Hudson on his own. He and I were on our own, together.
I knew others were counting on me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Unknown—
How do you know who to trust?
Where do you belong?
When do you trust it?
How do you let go?
I woke early, feeling someone beside me. Thinking it was Mom; I rolled over and came face to face with Aunt Grace. A new wave of grief hit me as reality set in and I stared up at our ceiling. I moved to sneak out of bed but woke Aunt Grace.
“Hey there,” she whispered.
“I hope my snoring didn’t keep you awake,” I said timidly.
“Well, actually…” She reached up to her ears and pulled out ear plugs.
“I came prepared,” she said. “Your Mom always told me how beautiful you were to watch sleeping. She also warned me about your snoring.”
We both paused in silent memory of Mom, and without a word between us, we both got out of bed. I went to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, put my back to the door, and slid down to the floor. I sat there with my head between my knees for a couple of minutes. I eventually got up and went over to the mirror. I expected to see a totally different person. What does an orphan look like? I wondered, staring at myself. To my surprise, I looked the same as always. I had my answer—an orphan looks like anyone else.
My eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and my hair looked like I’d stuck my finger in a socket. I definitely needed a shower. I eased my way under the scalding water and stood under its pulsing heat until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Getting out, I dried off and felt a little more prepared for the day and whatever it was going to bring. I went back to my room to get dressed. I pulled a baggy sweatshirt over my head and while slipping into my favorite jeans, the smell of freshly baked muffins and hazelnut coffee wafted upstairs. Aunt Grace was making breakfast.
As I went downstairs two steps at a time, I overheard Hudson talking to Aunt Grace.
“I spoke to Heathe at the hospital this morning. He said they’re going to bring Mom and Dad to the funeral home today. I looked over their papers last night and found their wills in Dad’s desk drawer.”
Hudson stopped and sucked in his breath, the way he used to do when we were small and he didn’t want anyone to know he was upset.
“Hudson, you don’t have to take all of this on by yourself…” Aunt Grace said, trying to soothe him.
“I know, Aunt Grace. I’m better when I’m busy. I can’t sit around doing nothing and thinking about what I might have been able to do to help them… every time I think about it, I feel like—”
I came into the kitchen before he could finish. He got up, grabbed his plate, and turned his back to me. I saw him wipe his sleeve against his eyes.
“Morning,” I said, sitting down at the kitchenette beside Aunt Grace.
“Jace,” Hudson said, “we’ve got a couple of things we have to deal with today.”
I wasn’t going to let Hudson take everything on by himself like he always did.
“I’m going to do whatever I need to help out,” I offered.
“The phone hasn’t stopped ringing all morning. Mom and Dad made a lot of friends over the last year,” Hudson said.
“I’m sure they all want to help out in some way, but I think we should do what Mom and Dad would have wanted. What do you think, Aunt Grace?” I mumbled though a mouthful of muffin.
“I agree. Ria and your Dad made arrangements. Hudson found their wills last night and he’s already started with some of the preparations.”
“What can I help with?” I asked.
“I haven’t gone through their room yet to see if there’s anything in there we might need,” Hudson said, staring out the window.
“I can do that,” I offered, getting up to give Hudson a hug.
“Thanks, Jace,” Hudson barely whispered, hugging me back. He put down his coffee cup, squeezed my arm gently, and went downstairs.
Aunt Grace and I sat in silence and finished our muffins.
“Aunt Grace?”
“Yeah, Jacey.”
“Could you help me look?”
“Of course.”
We went to Mom and Dad’s room. Their scents hovered in every corner. The smell of Dad’s earthy cologne and Mom’s fresh citrusy perfume brought tears to my eyes. I held onto their clothes and breathed deep, feeling an ache in my chest. The comfort once garnered from the familiarity of Mom and Dad’s fragrances had been replaced with a hole of grief nestled deep in my heart. I picked through Mom’s drawer and found some pictures.
I sat down on the bed and looked at them.
“What have you found there?” Aunt Grace asked.
“Pictures of me and Hudson as babies. I’ve never seen them before. Have you?” I shuffled through them with her. There was a couple of Hudson. He looked about two or three years old.
This was a moment for me. I’d never seen any of my baby pictures. I’d asked Mom and Dad for some for a social studies project a couple of years ago. They said we didn’t have any. They’d all been destroyed in a housefire when I was five.
But these pictures were of me when I was a baby. There was a mixture of them, some black and white and some in color.
“I guess Mom and Dad couldn’t decide what color they liked best.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’re a bunch of pictures of me but I’m in the same outfit in a lot of them. Weird, each outfit’s in a different color.”
Aunt Grace laughed. “Wait until you have kids, Jacey. Every cute outfit is made in every color you could imagine. Put that combo together with people buying gifts for birthdays and other special occasions, you end up with the same adorable outfit in a bunch of different colors. Your mom and I used to love dressing you guys up and taking pictures,” Aunt Grace said with a smile.
“Have you found anything?” Hudson asked, standing in the doorway.
“No, only these pictures,” I answered.
A knock at the front door interrupted our discussion. We all headed downstairs. I opened the door and instantly Jen had me in a tight, tear-filled embrace.
“Jacey, when you didn’t show up yesterday, I didn’t know what to think. My mom told me about the accident. I—I’m so sorry, Jacey.” Oddly, I found myself comforting her.
“Jen, let’s get inside.” We walked to the kitchen. Aunt Grace and Hudson were sitting at the kitchenette.
“Aunt Grace, this is my friend, Jennifer.”
“Hello, Jen, nice to meet you,” Aunt Grac
e said, putting her hand out.
When they shook hands there was something in the way they looked at one another, as if they already knew one another. Impossible, considering neither had met before today.
Jen and I took the remaining seats at the kitchenette after she gave Hudson a hug. “Hudson, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Jen.”
Their hug looked slightly uncomfortable but again, there was something to it I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Aunt Grace, can you help me out in the living room?” Hudson asked. He got up and left the room without another word.
Aunt Grace followed. Jen—being Jen, of course—asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, having you show up here is what I really needed right now.” We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“The funeral’s tomorrow. I haven’t got a clue what we’re going to do after that. Everything’s so screwed up right now.”
“Jacey, you have Hudson, your aunt, and me. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.” She grabbed my hand.
We sat silently a while longer in the kitchen and then went into the living room. We sat for hours talking about life and how everything was going to change. It was early evening by the time I realized I hadn’t heard or seen Aunt Grace or Hudson for the better part of the day.
“I wonder where everyone took off to,” I mentioned.
“I’m sure they’re in the house somewhere. Jacey, I got to get home. If you guys need anything tonight, call me. No matter what time. I’ll come by around eight, eight-thirty tomorrow to help out with whatever I can.”
“I’d like that,” I answered, hugging her at the front door.
“Try to get some sleep tonight, Jacey. I’ll call before I come over tomorrow.” Jen left and I went back into the house. It was the first time I’d been alone since yesterday, and for the second time in as many days, I found I didn’t like being alone.
“Hudson? Aunt Grace?” I called out.
“We’re downstairs,” Hudson called up.
They were in basement sitting at Mom’s computer. There were piles of papers on the desk.
Awakenings (Elemental Series - Book 1) Page 3
