“What are you doing?”
“We’re making last minute arrangements for tomorrow. You tired?” Aunt Grace asked.
“Yeah, I am.”
“It’s getting late. Do you want to have something to eat before bed?”
“Thanks, but no thanks. The thought of food right now makes my stomach all queasy.” I said, swallowing down a lump which had formed in my throat.
“Okay then, how about you, Hudson?”
“No thanks.”
“Well, I think it’s time to take a break. Tomorrow’s going to be very trying. How about we go upstairs and get ready for bed?” Aunt Grace suggested, putting her arm around my shoulders.
I realized then how utterly empty and tired I felt. We left the basement and headed towards the main floor. Hudson went to the front door and made sure it was locked.
“I’ll lock up the back door. I’ll be up in a bit,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Do you want me to stay with you or stay in the spare room?” Aunt Grace asked.
“I’d like it if you would stay with me until I fall asleep.” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. I was sixteen—it wasn’t like I was ten anymore.
“Of course I’ll stay with you.” She smiled. When she did, I realized why I wanted her to stay with me. I saw my Mom in her. For a split second, everything felt like home again. We went into my room and got ready for bed.
“Aunt Grace…”
“Yes, Jacey?”
“Thanks.”
“What for?”
“Being here and caring. For showing up when you did and not leaving when you could.”
“There’s no other place in the world I would be.” She began to hum the same song as last night. I crawled into bed and was asleep in seconds.
As usual, the colors came first, but brighter this time. I wasn’t scared and ran into my dream, mind open—I wanted to see Mom again.
I found myself in a room decorated like a baby girl’s nursery. I’d never been there before, but there was something familiar and comforting about it. I walked around and touched everything. There was a pink changing table with yellow and purple flowers on it and a dark brown crib with pink, frilly bedding. The comforter was covered with flowers encircling a rainbow.
There were murals on the walls of children playing and beautifully colored symbols. I turned and walked across the room to a pink dresser with hand-painted yellow and purple flowers. It had a huge mirror framed in dark oak affixed to it.
As I looked into the mirror, Mom’s voice filled the emptiness of the room—she was singing my lullaby. I turned from my reflection and looked around the room but she was nowhere to be seen. No one else was there. I turned back to the mirror. In its reflection I saw myself, and in the background, my mother was bent over the crib with one hand inside, stroking something. This dream was nothing like the one from last night. This one, even with Mom in it, had a heavy atmosphere.
“Little one, little one, I love you…” she sang.
I turned from the mirror towards the crib, expecting to see her there, but again, there was no one in the room. I turned back to my reflection. Again in the background my mother was singing. I brought my hand up and touched her image in the mirror. At first, the glass felt hard, but suddenly it moved slightly. It reminded me of the way water forms rings when you throw a stone into it. The mirror rippled out toward the edges. When I touched it, Mom looked up and saw me staring at her through the mirror. She stood up straight and left the crib, humming my lullaby. She came up behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders, I could feel their weight.
I turned away from our reflection and looked directly into my mother’s beautiful, smiling face. She moved and I followed. As we walked towards the crib, I turned once more to look back at the mirror. There, walking away from the dresser, were Mom and I—yet at the same time, I saw me staring at the two of us walking away. Unable to figure it out, I turned and followed Mom to the crib.
Mom stopped humming and turned me so we were face to face.
“Jacey, you’re the reason I was born to be. You are what your father, I, and our kind have been waiting for. We knew with little Faith, all could believe.” We both looked over the edge of the crib. Inside were two babies laying side by side, sound asleep. My Mom turned into Aunt Grace and she tried to reach in to touch both of me in the crib. Her face contorted into a mask of sheer misery—my breath caught as though someone had just punched me in the gut. I stood there speechless and confused as to why she looked so distraught. I looked down into the crib and one of me had disappeared. The atmosphere in the room changed to chaos.
Her screaming pierced through the dream. Initially, it was Aunt Grace screaming, and then Mom appeared and she started screaming. Finally, it was me. Well, I think it was me—it was the baby my mother grabbed out of the crib. The room started to spin and I looked over at the mirror to try and pick a focal point to stop myself from puking from the roller coaster effect the room had taken on.
There, inside the mirror staring back at me, was my reflection. It stood there, stone-faced, unemotional, looking on—at nothing. Drawn to the mirror, I walked toward my reflection, arm outstretched. My reflection took on a sinister look. I paused for a second. Out of the corner of my eye, from the other side of the room’s nothingness—blue and brilliant, piercing and beautiful, the form which rescued me from my nightmares came for me. I reached out and felt only air. I then began to truly scream. I awoke to Aunt Grace sweeping my bangs from my face, rocking me in her embrace.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she kept saying.
I lay there, afraid to fall back to sleep, confused by what I had dreamed. I didn’t say a word. It was late into the night when sleep found me once again. Thankfully, it was dreamless.
When I woke, I was alone, tired, and scared of what today would hold.
Aunt Grace left during the night to sleep in the guest room. I couldn’t blame her. Between my snoring and screaming, I wouldn’t want to sleep with me, either. I was on my way to the bathroom when Aunt Grace’s bedroom door opened. She came out, looking like I felt.
“Sorry,” I said.
“No need to be sorry. How was the rest of your night?”
I didn’t say anything right away. “Um, sorry I woke you last night. I scared the crap out of myself with my screaming. I can only imagine what it did to you.” I looked at my feet. When I glanced up, Aunt Grace had the strangest expression on her face—it seemed reverent. Like the way people look when they’ve witnessed something they can’t explain.
“When you need to talk, I’m here,” she said giving my arm a gentle squeeze. She went back into her room.
Confused and uneasy, I continued to the bathroom. After closing the door behind me, I took a deep breath and glanced at the mirror. I was having a hard time looking into it—I was afraid of what or who might be looking back at me. When I mustered enough courage to look right into it—there was only one thing there—me. I got ready. Within half an hour of getting up I went down to the kitchen. Hudson and Aunt Grace were already having breakfast when I got there.
“Morning,” I said. I grabbed some orange juice from the fridge.
“Aunt Grace mentioned you had a tough night.”
“More weird dreams.”
“Want to share?” Hudson pressed.
“Maybe later. We’ve got a lot more important things to deal with today. When do we have to be at the funeral home?”
“By eleven, it’s only seven-thirty. We’ve got time to get things ready around here,” Hudson said, turning back to his bowl of cereal.
The phone rang. “Hi, Jen. We’ve got to leave by ten-thirty. See you soon.” I hung up and looked over at Aunt Grace and Hudson.
“I hope you guys don’t mind … Jen’s coming over.”
“No, I think it’s a good idea. Do you want to talk about your dream now?” Aunt Grace asked, looking over the rim of her tea cup. I was sure Mom had told her all about my dreams a
nd how they affected all of us.
“This one started out the same as all the others, but I figured it was going to be different because I’d dreamed about Mom the night before. I thought I was going to get to see her for sure in this one, so for the first time ever, I opened my mind up to it. I didn’t resist or try to block anything.”
They looked at one another and then at me. I avoided direct eye contact with both of them and focused on telling them every aspect of the dream. I told them all of it—the room, the murals, the mirror, Mom’s presence, Aunt Grace showing up, the lullaby, and the two babies, who I believe were somehow both me, and even the blue eyes.
“It’s probably because you were thinking about Mom a lot and the pictures you saw in her room. Maybe that’s what brought on your dream,” Hudson said solemnly.
“I honestly don’t know what any of it means. Do you?” I watched as they tried not to look at one another. From the way they were both acting, I knew they were keeping something from me. I wasn’t used to my family not sharing things—especially Hudson.
“Is there something the two of you aren’t telling me?” I asked.
“No, Jace, there—” Hudson started to reply when the doorbell rang, interrupting him.
“I’ll get it,” Aunt Grace said, a little too quickly. She left and I turned to Hudson.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something? You and Aunt Grace know something I don’t. I’ve never been this paranoid before or this confused when it comes to my family.”
“Jace, you’re not paranoid,” Hudson said, grabbing onto my shoulders. “Right now you need to be patient. With Mom and Dad gone, a lot of changes are coming our way and we need to deal them one at a time.” He let go of my shoulders and held me with his gaze. “Jace, you’re my priority. I’ll never keep anything from you that you need to know.”
“That I need to know…What’s that?” I replied.
“Right now, trust me all right?” he shot back.
“It feels like—” Before I could finish, Aunt Grace and Jen came into the kitchen.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Jen said.
“Nope,” Hudson said, turning around and leaving the kitchen.
“I’ll leave you two. I have to get some last minute things done before we go,” Aunt Grace said, exiting right behind him.
“I know how to clear a room, eh?” Jen joked.
“It’s not you. I was trying to figure some things out with Hudson.”
We left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room. We both sat back on my bed, staring silently up at my mural.
“They’re so real. They’re even in the right places,” Jen commented after a few comfortable moments.
“What do you mean, real? Mom made up their names and designs.” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows so I could look at her.
“They’re real, all right. I always thought it was cool your parents’ names were Ria and Hearte. I guessed they were named after the two main constellations.” She pointed to the center of my ceiling where Ria and Hearte were painted.
“The other ones—Rife, Taerw, Nidw, and Kawaneing are also in the right places.”
“How do you know?”
“When I first moved here, I bought some second-hand astrology books. There was one with these—” she pointed to the ceiling, “—in the book.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, it’s somewhere at home. You can borrow it if you want.”
A knock on the door shut down our conversation.
“Come in, it’s open,” I said.
Aunt Grace opened the door and poked her head in. “It’s time to leave—you ready?”
“I’m good. I’ll be ready in a minute,” I said, getting up and going over to my dresser.
Aunt Grace left, closing the door behind her.
“How am I supposed to handle today?” I said to Jen and my reflection in the mirror. It stared back at me, wordless.
Jen approached me from behind and placed her hand on my shoulders. I looked up at her reflection, and for a split second, I saw a glow coming from behind her which lit us both up. I rubbed my eyes and looked back into the mirror—the glow was gone.
“You all right?”
“No, and I’m not sure I ever will be.”
CHAPTER SIX
Good-bye—
How do you say it?
Why do you have to?
Can you really move on?
Half an hour later, Jen, Hudson, Aunt Grace, and I were on our way to the funeral home. What was going to happen to Hudson and me? Where were we going to live? How were we going to support ourselves? Who was going to say everything was going to be all right when I woke in the middle of night from yet another nightmare? My thoughts and fears were put on the back burner when Aunt Grace parked the car.
I’d never been to a funeral home before. I had pictured a sinister looking building made of dark black stone with black ominous clouds forever hanging over the top. Instead, the outside of the building was white-glazed stone with two white marble pillars covered in ivy framing the double door entrance. We stepped into a large reception area. The beige and cream colors of the decor were muted. Old-style lanterns radiated a warm yellow light into the room. Behind a table in the center of the room sat a small-framed, librarian-looking woman dressed in black from head to toe.
“Hello, Mr. Silverman is expecting you,” the receptionist said quietly. “One moment, please.” She picked up the phone on her desk.
“Mr. Silverman is in the office down the hall and to the right.” The woman pointed towards a dimly lit hallway. We made our way to a door labeled “Director.”
It opened before we had a chance to knock. The man in the doorway extended his hand. “I’m Mr. Silverman. Jacey, Hudson, and Grace, I am sorry for your loss.” Mr. Silverman ushered us into his office.
We took four seats positioned by a huge bay window looking out into a beautiful field. Framed within the window was a small pond surrounded by bushes of flowers in every color imaginable and tall maple and oak trees.
Mr. Silverman took a seat at an old antique desk situated in the far back corner of the room. If you didn’t know this was a funeral home, the atmosphere felt like something my parents would have designed for themselves. Mom would have fallen in love with the view outside the window and Dad would have felt right at home in the earth tones and tranquil feel of the room.
“These are meant for of you,” Mr. Silverman said. He took two envelopes out of his desk. He handed the first to Hudson and the second to Aunt Grace. Hudson opened his envelope. Inside were two letters—one for him and one for me. Each of us read our letters in silence. Mine was in my mother’s handwriting.
Jacey:
If you’re reading this, your father and I are no longer with you. The arrangements Mr. Silverman is proceeding with are the ones your father and I have selected.
While we are no longer physically with you, we will always watch over you. There will be dramatic changes in your life. They will transform you into the beautiful, special young person your father and I have always known you to be. The changes will come and you will feel lost, confused, and awed. All your father and I have done has enabled you to thrive.
You’re the one we’ve all placed our hopes and dreams on. In time, you’ll understand why.
If anything happened to us, we have always been prepared to leave you in the care of your brother and your Aunt. Trust your Aunt; she has always been there for us.
From this moment on, Grace will show you and Hudson what you need to survive and thrive in this world and in other realms. We wanted to experience those places with you, however our choice was taken away long ago…Both you and Hudson will learn in time why we chose to live the way we have over the last fourteen years.
Your father and I will always be that voice in the back of your mind which tells you to go for it or to be wary. Grace will ask you to live with her. She is home, Jacey. We entrust you both to her.
Jacey— close your eyes and think of me—I will come. I will be there for every good, great, and bad moment you have in your life. You, daughter, are what I was missing before I met your father. I love you, I miss you, and most of all, I am proud of the girl you are and the woman I know you will become.
We do not wish for any funeral service. Our physical bodies will be turned over to you and Hudson in the form we came to be. “Ashes to ashes…” We love you always and forever, little one… Our love eternally,
Mom and Dad
I looked up from the letter, which smelled of my mom’s perfume, and placed it in my lap. I looked first at my brother and then at Aunt Grace. The anguish I felt was mirrored in both their expressions.
In my aunt’s, I saw the love and commitment I’d seen every day in my parents’ faces. Grace was our way to say good-bye to my parents and our way of holding onto them. She was our future, but what would it, could it be? When we didn’t have a choice, we had to move on. But how?
We sat in a communal silence. I knew Hudson was holding back. I could tell by the pulse in his jaw he was having a hard time holding it together. With the reality of not seeing our parents’ bodies, I knew deep down he wasn’t going to be able to accept they were gone. For him there would be no closure. I could feel the pain, which was completely evident in his eyes and body language.
I, on the other hand, was feeling quite guilty. I’d been dreading the thought of seeing my parents lying in a coffin. My mind and gut were in a battle. My mind was stuck on being the reason they were gone and my gut was relieved when I read the last couple lines of my parents’ note.
Mr. Silverman stood up and went to a panel on his wall. He’d been so quiet while we read through our letters that I’d almost forgotten he’d been there at all. He raised his hand and touched it. Instantly, the wall slid to the right, revealing an inner room. It was very James Bond-ish.
He entered the room briefly. He came toward us, holding the most exquisite metal urn I’d ever seen. It was bronze and covered in deeply carved symbols and inscriptions.
Awakenings (Elemental Series - Book 1) Page 4
