Under the Skin

by Vicki Lane

  “Are you all right, Glory? How did—”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Lizzy. Joss, you can put me down now.”

  Gathering the thermal blanket about herself like a bulky sarong, my sister managed to look somehow dignified and radiant at the same time. I wanted to hug her—but I was also tempted to shake her till that beatific smile faded.

  “What the bloody hell happened to you? Why weren’t you hollering for help? Or—”

  “Lizzy, could we postpone all this till I can get a shower? I’m unharmed and I’d just like to get into my clothes and out of here. Joss can stay with me while you go tell the manager we’re canceling the massages. And for goodness’ sake, don’t make a big thing out of this.”

  I was bewildered. “A big thing! What was I supposed to think? I was just about to call the police when Joss showed up and said he knew where you were. Of course it’s a big thing. I’m going to call them now so maybe we can find out who—”

  “Elizabeth Grace Grey, do not call the police. We can talk this over with Phil—later. I think it might be a good idea to cut our stay short and go back to the farm.”

  For a single stunned moment I stared at her. Then I threw up my hands in surrender. “That suits me fine but what about the rest of the sessions with Giles? I thought you wanted to—”

  Again with the beatific smile. “Not now, I don’t.” She reached up to touch Joss’s face. “I have what I came for.”

  So I pulled the door shut, relocked the padlock, and shoved the supply cart back in place while Joss, sporting a matching beatific smile, accompanied Gloria back to the treatment room to get her clothing. I, meanwhile, went to let the manager know that we’d found my sister.

  The reception area was full of people waiting to check in, all trying to talk to the manager. The poor harassed woman was so happy to hear we didn’t want to stay for our massages (there was a honeymoon couple waiting for the double treatment room) that she didn’t ask any hard questions.

  “Tell your sister I’ll adjust the bill and only charge her for the hot tub—we’ll just strike off the Head to Toe.” She tapped away at her computer and then lowered her voice to ask me, “Is there going to be a problem?”

  Is there going to be a problem?

  I was asking myself that very question as the three of us walked back through the grounds of the spa to the inn. Gloria, seemingly totally unfazed by her experience, and Joss were walking side by side, saying little, but apparently trying to memorize each other’s features. I trailed a little behind, unwilling to intrude on this reunion of mother and son—if that’s what it really is—and on the lookout for—for what? A black Hummer? A linens delivery van?

  I was alone in my concern. Gloria was far more interested in the color of Joss’s eyes and the set of his ears than investigating what had just happened. Joss’s miraculous rescue of her had evidently tipped the balance in his favor and I wondered how my sister was ever going to tear herself away from this young man whom she had clearly decided was the long-lost Dana.

  The answer was quick in coming. As we walked up the driveway to the inn, Gloria stopped and wheeled round. “Joss has to come back to the farm with us, Lizzy. You can understand that, I’m sure. That upstairs guest room—he could stay there? Just for a few days while I make some plans.”

  “I don’t want to put you out.” Joss gave me an apologetic look. “But if I could … There’s so much to learn about my … my mother … and my real family.”

  His dark eyes were pleading; Gloria’s were steely. I bowed to the inevitable and said that of course Joss could come home with us. And truly, the two of them were so transformed, so blissfully, gloriously happy in this newfound relationship that it would have taken a heart of ice to refuse.

  Like a general deploying her troops, Gloria took charge. Joss was sent to go pack his belongings and meet us at the car in an hour.

  “You and I both need showers, Lizzy, and … would you mind speaking with Giles? Look, he’s over there on that bench beneath the magnolia. The next session doesn’t start for”—she glanced at her watch—“a little while. Just run over and let him know we’re ducking out early—you can explain why, if you like. I want to get a shower and start packing. It always takes me so long to do it right.”

  Whereas you just throw things in any old way—packing will probably take you all of three minutes was the unspoken part of her request. But her eyes were shining, so once again, I said that would be fine; I’d go speak to Giles.

  “Thank you—Sissy.” She gave me a hug. “You don’t know how much this means.”

  Disengaging herself she added, “And let the innkeeper know we’re leaving early, would you?”

  I watched her trot up the steps to the porch with an airy wave in Giles’s direction. He lifted his hand to her in a gesture comprised of equal parts of benediction and farewell then turned his gaze on me as I plodded toward him.

  “So she and Joss believe their searches are at an end.” Giles patted the bench beside him, inviting me to sit. I did, aware that I smelled powerfully of whatever fragrant oil had been on those wrappings while I was hydrating.

  I nodded. “Yes, they do. Gloria has decided to cut short our stay here. She and Joss and I will be going back to my farm this afternoon.”

  Giles’s brow furrowed but he didn’t speak.

  “I’m sorry—I hope this doesn’t mess up the sessions. But my sister’s made up her mind—she said to thank you …”

  The medium looked away from me, rubbing his chin in that meditative way of a man troubled by something but unwilling to speak.

  “The sessions were very interesting.” I was doing that southern lady thing again—making nice, not letting a silence fall. I hurried on. “And, if it weren’t for the coincidence of Joss—”

  “Coincidence,” Giles repeated. He appeared to roll the word around in his mind before speaking. “There are those who believe there are no coincidences. And I must say, I find this one a little troubling. But, Elizabeth, I’m afraid I must burden you with something you’d perhaps rather not hear. I’d hoped you’d discover it for yourself in one of our next sessions”—the look he gave me was shrewd—“if, indeed, you haven’t already received a communication.”

  The memory of my strange experience in the morning session came back in a rush—the beating of wings, the talons, and Sam’s voice, sounding a warning in my head. I closed my eyes to escape Giles’s penetrating gaze.

  “Someone you were very close to—not a blood relation, I think, but a husband or a lover—is trying to communicate with you. The energy was so strong this morning that though the message was clearly directed to you, some of it came through to me.

  “It’s a bit like … like picking up a telephone and inadvertently overhearing part of a conversation. You clearly didn’t wish to share your communication with the group and I’d have left it at that but for the fact that I’ve continued to feel …” He rubbed his chin again. “I feel that this spirit is trying to make sure you heed the warning he gave you.”

  Giles gave me an apologetic look. “It was a warning, was it not?”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

  “I thought so—something about a large bird falling from the sky and danger—that was all I got. Is that similar to your message?”

  “Yes, very similar.” My eyes were still closed but I could see again the scenes that had assailed me during the morning session. I had seen a small airplane attacked by a giant bird and spiraling out of control to an inevitable crash in the green mountains beneath—just as Sam’s plane had gone down.

  We sat silent on the bench in the sleepy afternoon sun. Somewhere in the distance a lawn mower was purring; nearer I could hear the small rustlings of birds in the big tree behind us and the sharp warning cry of a blue jay across the lawn. Bees buzzed; from within the inn I heard the deep twanging chime of an old grandfather clock. The heat of the sun, the fragrance of new-mown grass, as well as the floral scents arising from my
own body, were all combining to lull me into a drowsy state from which—

  “There’s another thing, Elizabeth.”

  I started, snapped out of the mesmerized, floating state I’d been in. “What? What other thing? Isn’t a warning enough?”

  Giles was staring across the lawn at the old stone steps that led down to the road. He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “There’s danger in the message—for you or someone near you. I felt I had to tell you that. But the other thing is this. Your sister asked to speak to her lost child, the child she’d been told had died at birth. And there was a response—”

  “Well, yes—Joss jumped up and said Mama. We all heard him.”

  Giles continued to study the sunken stone steps. “No,” he said at last, his voice soft, “I meant the first response. That came from the other side.”

  Chapter 25

  Who? And Why?

  Saturday, May 26

  You see, Phil, Lizzy was sound asleep on the other massage table, snoring—yes, you were, Lizzy, snoring so loud that I was about to reach over and wake you up and then I heard the door open and I assumed it was the massage therapists coming back and the next thing I knew someone was pulling a wet bag of some sort over my head. Well, at first I thought it was part of the treatment but then I was being picked up and carried somewhere and this voice—”

  Phillip watched as Gloria shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself before continuing. “This weird voice whispered that if I made a sound, he’d make sure it was my last. I could feel us going down some steps and then he dumped me in this weird box and shut the lid.”

  At his side, Elizabeth spoke up. “Okay, Glory, so you were afraid to make any noise at first. I can understand that. But when Joss found you …”

  Joss. Phillip studied the intense, rather too pretty young man sitting beside Gloria, his dark eyes fixed on her. There was something about him, Phillip thought, something a little—was manic the right word? Maybe that wasn’t fair. If this whole story was true, if Gloria and Joss had only recently found that he was her lost child, then that could explain the look of wild excitement. And then there was the bandage, sitting slightly askew on the young man’s head—that added to the impression of a person a few bricks shy of a load.

  For a moment, Phillip tuned out of the discussion and tried to organize his thoughts. First there had been the phone call a few hours ago; fortunately he’d been off duty and was at the dining table with paperwork spread out all around him when his cell beeped. Lizabeth hadn’t said much, just that they would be home in about an hour, that she would bring stuff for dinner, and that a young man would be coming with them. That was it—she’d explain it all later, she’d promised. At least the part that could be explained, she’d added, before hanging up.

  He’d rushed around, tidying up his clutter, making the bed, and doing the dishes that had been accumulating. He’d even thought about hauling out the vacuum cleaner but decided instead just to sweep the kitchen floor and let it go at that.

  Lizabeth had taken him aside as soon as the three had arrived and swiftly filled him in on the story of Gloria’s lost child and the “miraculous” events that had just taken place. And now here they were, all sitting around the living room like one big happy family. Family— Phillip wondered how Ben was going to feel about a newfound older half brother. The answer to that question would have to wait till Monday, as Ben and Amanda had taken off for a weekend music festival somewhere. And while it was great to see Gloria looking so happy, still, the cop side of Phillip’s nature was deeply suspicious of the whole setup. Too neat, too—

  He became aware that the story Gloria was telling had moved on. I’ve lost the thread here. Where were we? Gloria was in some kind of box in a basement and Lizabeth wanted to know why she hadn’t been hollering for help.

  “… the same woman?” Elizabeth was asking.

  “Yes, the woman in white I met at the old bathhouse this morning. She came to me …”

  Gloria stopped. Her brow furrowed. “But that doesn’t make any sense—I was in that box, wasn’t I? I swear though, I saw her and she told me that I was going to be fine, that someone was coming to get me out.

  She …”

  Gloria was shaking her head now. “I know this sounds crazy …”

  You got that right, thought Phillip. He glanced at Elizabeth. But her face was expressionless.

  “No, go on,” urged Joss, “this is amazing—just one more amazing thing in this amazing day.” He picked up Gloria’s hand and put a gentle kiss on her palm, then wrapped her fingers around it. Phillip realized that he found the intimacy of the gesture somewhat unsettling. What age was this Joss, anyway? Early thirties, by what Lizabeth had said, but he looked much younger. Whatever, this cozy, lovey-dovey stuff between Joss and his supposed mother was creeping him out.

  Not Gloria. She favored Joss with a radiant smile and went on.

  “Well, anyway, the woman in white was there, somehow, and she told me I was going to be all right. She spoke to me—I heard her voice—just like your Miss Birdie, Lizzy—and she said, Honey, only she said ‘hawney,’ now you lay quiet fer a spell. Take a little nap. And I curled up and fell asleep, just like that!”

  Gloria patted Joss’s hand. “The next thing I remember, I was being carried upstairs and out into the light. And then I saw it was Joss and I knew that all of this had somehow been meant to bind us together.”

  “Excuse me, I think I’m missing something here.” Phillip could hold back no longer. “You’re saying some unknown person or persons—”

  “Person,” Gloria corrected him. “I’m sure there was only one.”

  “Okay, an unknown person carried you off, dumped you in a box of some sort—”

  “I’ve been thinking about that box …” Now Lizabeth was doing it. “It must have been a sort of early steam cabinet. There was a hose fitting—”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Phillip leapt to his feet and moved out of the cozy circle of family, feeling that if he didn’t get up and walk around, he’d explode.

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” The look of surprise on Elizabeth’s face made him lower his voice and he reached down to give her shoulder an apologetic squeeze. “But for the love of god, don’t you folks understand that a crime’s been committed here? Did anyone bother to call the Hot Springs police? I know the sheriff’s office wasn’t called.”

  They were staring at him now with expressions ranging from guilty embarrassment (Lizabeth) to indignation (Gloria) and what looked suspiciously like barely concealed amusement (Joss).

  “I told Lizzy not to, Phil. Since I was the one involved, surely it was my decision.” And there’s an end to it, Gloria’s tone said.

  “When I first realized Glory was missing, I did start to call you. But then Joss showed up saying he knew where she was and …” Elizabeth lifted her hands in one of those whaddayagonnado gestures and concluded, “And then everything happened so fast and Glory—”

  “I absolutely forbade calling any local yokel cops.” Now Gloria was on her feet, hands planted on her hips and elbows waggling in that old familiar bitch-wings pose his ex-wife had majored in. Bitch wings seemed to work best, Phillip thought, with short, strong-willed women—the ones like little feisty dogs. They could waggle those elbows and stare a big man down in no time flat.

  At least, Lizabeth looked like she understood why he was so ticked. Maybe it would be best just to back down for the moment and see where this was going.

  The cellphone clipped to his belt began to vibrate and he reached for it.

  “Excuse me, folks.” Happy for the interruption, he headed for the office. “I gotta take this.”

  When he returned from his phone call, Elizabeth was on her way to the front porch. “I need to go check on a heifer—she’s not due for a while but the cows are down from the mountain and handy over there in the pasture. I might as well take a look …”

  We need to talk, her eyes said.

  He
nodded. “I’ll come with you—do me good to stretch my legs. I’ve been swamped in that blasted paperwork for most of the day.”

  Leaving Joss and Gloria deep in conversation, he followed Elizabeth to the porch and waited while she pulled on boots. The dogs, well aware of her intentions, danced about while James made little darting attempts to lick her face as she leaned over to tie her laces.

  When they reached the driveway, after glancing back to make sure that they were out of earshot of the house, Phillip began. “Lizabeth, there’s something about this whole setup that—”

  “Setup! That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking from the beginning.” Lizabeth’s blue eyes were shining. “But you see how Glory is. She wants to believe that she and her lost child have been miraculously reunited.”

  They continued on through the gate to the tractor road that ran along the top of the pasture, Ursa and Molly leading the way. Up ahead, just at the edge of the woods, a dozen red cows were grazing.

  “Is it one of those up there?” he asked, wondering how she could tell one cow from another anyway.

  Elizabeth waved dismissively. “That heifer won’t come in for another month; I just thought we needed to get out of the house.” She reached for his hand. “You looked like you were about to explode right before that phone call took you away.”

  He looked back at the house. “Yeah, Gloria can be a little …”

  “Yes, she can. So let’s go on and have a walk and I’ll try to fill you in on what’s been happening.”

  As they walked along the path in late afternoon sun, Elizabeth recapped Gloria’s story of the hushed-up pregnancy, the banishment to New Bern and Aunt Dodie, the arranged adoption, and the birth.

  “They told Gloria the baby was born dead. She’d been under anesthesia for the birth and by the time she regained consciousness, dead or alive the child had been whisked away. Of course, since Gloria hadn’t really wanted to consent to the adoption, it’s possible my mother decided to tell her the baby died so she wouldn’t make a fuss.”