Nocturne

by Heather McKenzie

  Mr. Carlson let out a heavy sigh and lowered the shotgun. He rubbed his chin before speaking. His voice was too low and calm for my liking. “Did he, uh… hurt you, missy?” he carefully asked.

  I knew what he meant. “No.”

  “Do you wanna press charges against him?”

  I shook my head. There was no way I could get the police involved.

  “Well, I’m sorry, Kate. Ben don’t mean to do what he does; it’s the booze-devil in his veins. He needs help. Let’s just keep this between us, all right?”

  Thomas was shaking harder than I was. “There’s only so long you can keep making excuses for him, Jeb. Kate could have been… She was almost…” Thomas didn’t finish.

  Jeb Carlson put his hands up and nodded sadly. He shook his head at Ben, and turmoil creased his weathered face. “I’ll get him fixed up,” he said to Thomas. “I promise. In the meantime, you can have the job and stay here as long as ya like. We’ll work out the terms later.” He cleared his throat. “You get on now and look after the girl. I’ll look after the idiot.”

  Thomas seethed. “I should beat the fuck outta the idiot.”

  “I think I’ll leave that to his sister.”

  Ben’s shoulders crumpled at the mention of his sister. A feeble no came from him, cowering as the floor shook with Mr. Carlson marching over and pulling him into a head lock.

  “You’ll get what’s coming to ya,” he said, and dragged Ben from the room.

  Thomas’s chest rose up and down in an attempt to take in even breaths. “Get dressed,” he said, turning his back to me.

  I picked the sundress off the floor and wrestled it on, arms shaking so hard I could barely manage.

  “Did he—?” Thomas asked, his back still to me.

  I fumbled for words. “He…tried to. I said no. I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t listen. How could he do that? What if you hadn’t stopped him?” My stomach flipped with the ‘what-ifs’. “I’m gonna puke.”

  Thomas lunged for the trash can by the door, getting it to my lurching body just as my stomach brought up everything in it. He paced the floor until my retching ceased.

  “I’m so sorry. I was only gone for a few minutes helping Marlene in the barn. I didn’t think he was that drunk. I didn’t—”

  My throat burned. “I should be able to look after myself, Thomas,” I said. “Anyway, it’s over and it’s not your fault.”

  Thomas was visibly fighting to remain calm, just as I was. There were beads of sweat on his fresh-shaven cheeks, and he rubbed the split knuckles on his hands. As the room started to spin around me, I held his gaze, which seemed to be the only stable thing in my life.

  “You’re safe now, Kaya. I promise,” he said.

  And suddenly, as if things weren’t bad enough, the room froze into a panicked focus. “Uh…why did you just call me Kaya?”

  Thomas crossed the room to pick up my discarded towel to hang it over the edge of the bed. He took his time answering. “Because that’s your real name. You told me.”

  Bits and pieces of conversation we had on the beach suddenly drifted back in. “I told you?”

  He reached for a soft blue-knit sweater, one he’d picked out for me at the Wal-Mart, and pulled it down over my stunned head. “You told me everything—family hunting you down, ex-fiancé bodyguard, crazy revenge-seeking mother, and that kidnapper dude… You literally told me your whole life story. That’s why I asked Jeb Carlson to hire us, so we can stay here on his ranch where no one can find you. Well, that, and now my suspicions are confirmed that you can’t be around Ben… ever.”

  I ran for the bathroom, my stomach now intent on bringing up all my internal organs. Yet again, I involved someone in my messed-up life. I had told Thomas everything. What was wrong with me?

  I got to the sink first and held onto it for dear life. Dry heaving, I shook off Thomas when his hand attempted to rub my back. Ben’s touch had rubbed my nerves raw… his hands had been all over me, down between my legs, and…

  I heaved again, stomach trying to purge the trauma.

  “Kaya, look at me,” Thomas said.

  I took in a deep breath. Steadying myself against the sink, knees shaking like a leaf, I lifted my head to see him in the mirror standing stoically behind me.

  “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  If my stomach would settle, I could make a run for it. Get the hell out of here and…

  “Kaya,” Thomas murmured.

  My real name spoken out loud was good to hear, but it also felt like acid pouring into an open wound. I couldn’t hold back the tears. “I have everything to worry about.”

  “Ben will leave. You will never have to see him again. And regarding everyone after you, I know if they can’t find you, you’ll be perfectly fine. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to breathe a word of what I know about you to anyone. Trust me. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Now, if you go running off again—which I can tell is what you want to do—then you’ll be found for sure and that won’t end well for any of us. Know what I mean?”

  I sure did.

  “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not. So stand straight, put on your fiercest face, and let’s get through this. Take comfort in knowing I have a plan,” he said.

  I forced myself upright and couldn’t ignore my pathetic appearance in the mirror.

  He was right. I had to man up. I needed to take care of things myself. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want people to have to look after me. I didn’t want to miss Oliver every time I felt unsafe. I wanted to be strong.

  And I knew how to start doing that.

  Because I, too, had a plan. And the first part was to get away from here, get the necklace to John Marchessa, and end all this.

  As Thomas watched, a smile of pride tugged at his mouth when I smoothed the hair away from my cheeks and took in a deep breath. I straightened my shoulders, mustered up what inner power I had left, and forced it to show on my face.

  I had a plan, too…. My insurance would get me out of this mess, get Luke back, and save everyone whose lives had become tangled up with mine.

  I patted the preserved drop of Lenore’s blood nestled in the silver pendant resting against my chest—

  It was gone.

  I searched like my life depended on it. Because it did.

  The barn, the bunkhouse, the showers, the pig Taj Mahal, the kitchen, and the garden… the pendant wasn’t anywhere. At the lake, I scoured the beach, the poor man’s sauna, and the bushes where I’d gathered pussy willows. I searched through every patch of grass lining the sand and shoreline. After digging through the cold fire, only ash in my hands, I gave up.

  The necklace was gone. And it was the only necklace that was gone—the tooth and maple leaf still hung side by side on the chain fully intact around my neck. It didn’t make sense; how could only one go missing?

  Thomas took finding the silver pendant as seriously as I did, although he didn’t know why—I guess I’d missed out telling him that part of my ‘life story’.

  Standing at the water’s edge of Lake Diefenbaker, the air warning of an impending storm, he shivered as he pondered the gleaming expanse of water. “Guess I’ll go in.” He began taking off his jacket.

  “No, Thomas. It’s gone,” I said dismally.

  He paused, one arm removed from the sleeve of his jean jacket, and stared at me. His eyes were brimming over with compassion for my plight. This beautiful man who barely knew me was ready to dive in to a frigid lake to find my necklace without even knowing why it was so important.

  “I’ll go in if you want me to.” His breath made little white clouds in the air.

  I shook my head. “It’s okay.”

  The wind picked up. A slap of cold at the back of my neck and bare legs made the shiver in my bones so deep my teeth hurt. It increased the familiar sting starting in the back of my eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Kaya—or, should I keep calling you Kate? Anywa
y, it might still turn up.”

  Don’t cry, Kaya… Don’t cry, Kaya…

  Don’t. Cry. Kaya.

  Weak!

  My shivers stopped. Something dark came over me. It crawled over my skin and slipped beneath it, expanding my anger, sadness, and misery, pushing against my insides as if I might explode from the pressure. My heart thudded, threatening to slam me to the ground, then gave me a jolt.

  I didn’t want to be weak.

  Never would any man use me.

  Never would any man take advantage of me ever again…

  Never.

  The dark thing spread, picking up pieces of me and building them into a tower… climbing higher and higher, the pain of absolutely everything reaching upward to dizzying heights… until… I just stepped off. Took the dive. Plummeted off the peak into a dull void of… nothing.

  Snap.

  I didn’t need the necklace. Or Oliver. Or anyone. I had myself.

  I blinked away tears—out of habit because there were none. Thomas stood watching me intently, waiting for me to say something, so I said the only thing that came to mind. “Thomas, I’m glad I chose you as a friend.”

  The base of his throat lifted with a gulp. “Well, I’m honored to be chosen,” he said sweetly.

  Waves started rolling onto the beach, almost touching our toes where we stood. “Can I ask you for a favor?” I had to yell to be heard over the wind and the horse that was neighing anxiously behind us, wanting to head back home.

  Thomas considered me with curiosity, putting his freezing hands in his pockets. “Yes, anything.”

  The wind let out a frightening howl, and I waited—waited for the anxiety to surge in because of the impending storm and steal my breath and turn me into a quivering bowl of jelly. But nothing happened. My head stayed clear. My heart just pulsed in a nice even beat. I could hear it in my ears, feel it steady in my chest. I had become emptied of the relentless assault of my emotions. I`d turned them off.

  “I want you to teach me, Thomas. I want you to teach me how to… how to not be weak.”

  Thomas grinned. It was a smile that would have melted my heart if it hadn’t just turned to stone. “I think you’re figuring that out for yourself,” he said.

  Yes. Yes, I was.

  Now it was my turn to smile. I took a step into the waves, letting the frigid water soak my shoes as I put my arms out to my sides. The wind rippled through my hair, lifting it and dropping it madly, but instead of fearing it, I spun with it, moving with its biting sting, twirling as it nipped at my bare skin. I beheld the sky, shifting and foreboding, and challenged it. I felt a sense of power like nothing I ever had before, and it increased with the howl of the storm. I realized I had everything I needed to get my life back—me.

  Oliver was delirious. I put a cold cloth on his forehead, hoping to cool him off. He was burning up. Red hot. Frighteningly hot. Hours ago, I’d sat on his chest, pinning his arms to his sides with my knees and forcing orange juice and dramamine down his throat—which was like trying to hold down a raging bear. Occasionally, there were moments of lucidity when his eyes were clear and focused, and he apologized for trying to bite me or for throwing up on me. That I could deal with. Even his rage was something I’d figured out how to handle. But this phase? It was vastly different. Now he was subdued. Barely conscious. And this seemed much worse.

  He moaned and kept calling for Kaya. Her name spoken in the completely thrashed motel room was like knives hitting my chest. His anguished voice—rising in pitch when he announced vehemently how he would never let her go and would never stop loving her—mirrored my own feelings.

  Days passed.

  I stayed close while Oliver purged whatever Eronel Pharmaceutical had been brewing in him. The damp towels didn’t seem to do much to cool him down. His shoulders radiated heat like a furnace, and even the air around him was hot. I forced him to drink. Bought a bag of ice and placed mounds of it under the pillow case cradling his neck. The fever was making him confused and his face contort in pain. Coughing fits lasting almost fifteen minutes resulted in bloody gobs on the shredded carpet.

  I found myself praying Oliver wouldn’t die.

  And not just because I needed him to find her.

  Oliver was different. There was an intense sense of loyalty about him I couldn’t help but admire. He wasn’t a quitter. He would do anything for his family, anything to protect those he loved—and I knew that feeling all too well. Unfortunately, his family was Kaya. The person I had taken away from him. So, I owed it to him to stay by his side. I had a connection to this man Kaya had loved—and probably still did—and hated to admit that even in his sickly state, occasionally I caught a glimpse of what she saw in him.

  More days passed. I lost count of time.

  I was half asleep in the chair by the window when Oliver shifted uncomfortably on the bed, shirt off and damp stains on the sheets around him from his skin and the wet towels. His cough pulled me out of my favorite daydream, the one with Kaya and me living in some cozy little house somewhere, surrounded by a family we’d created… that was the dream that kept me upright. Kept me hoping what I was doing was the right thing. Kept me breathing.

  “There’s someone here,” Oliver said.

  His voice was croaky. Dry. He was burning up again. I put my hand under his neck, lifted his head off the pillow, and put a glass of water to his lips. “Drink,” I said. “If ya don’t, by the amount your sweating, you’re gonna shrivel up into a raisin.”

  His eyes were closed, but he took a few sips. For the first time, he didn’t try to push my hands away. “Don’t hurt them, please….” he said.

  “Them?”

  The tone of his voice had become infantile. It caught me by alarm. “Please… don’t hurt them,” he repeated.

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

  His eyes flashed open, but they were looking past me. What was he seeing? His forehead was beaded in sweat and his gaze distant. I eyed the phone, but who could I call for help?

  “Mama? Do you know that man?” Oliver said. His pulse raced at his temples. He was pointing behind me. “No…. stop! Please not my mama… Stop….”

  I shook him gently. “Oliver, it’s me. Luke. Your family is fine. You’re just delirious from the fever. Relax.”

  “Maisy… no. Stay where you are! Don’t go to him.” Oliver’s voice became strained and his body shook. He was gripped with terror, and tears streamed down his cheeks. “Stop! You’re killing them! You’re killing all of them. Stop! Not my mama… Maisy… please stop… please!”

  Choking back my desire to run from the room, I replaced the cloth that had fallen from his forehead. I tried not to look at the pain, clear in his eyes, when he’d started sobbing over his parents’ dead bodies. It was heartbreaking. Whatever was going on in his mind was so vivid he then tried to hide from it. He mumbled and thrashed. He had three sisters. He had two brothers. They were murdered, and it was by someone he knew. A man his father owed money to—a man whose name would forever be locked in my head.

  I had to pin him down again. His fevered mind was reliving his childhood, and I was dragged along with it. He recounted everything he’d seen and the horrible guilt he placed on himself for not stopping the death of his entire family. He’d been just a kid, so scared all he could do was hide under the bed. The days afterward were just as bad, roaming the streets alone until Henry and Sindra hauled him into a limousine. What happened after that didn’t seem much better either. He recalled memories too horrific for my exhausted emotions to handle. With the sun full in the sky and the temperature of his skin remaining the same no matter what I did, I finally had to stretch out on the floor and shut my eyes, hoping he would come back to reality. He coughed between words, and a full hour later, he finally stopped talking.

  I tried to sleep, but Oliver’s story was keeping me awake. His whole family was murdered. Murdered. My mom had taken her own life and that was bad enough. What Oliver had gone through was unthinkab
le. He made sense to me now. His insane possessiveness over Kaya was still wrong… but I understood why.

  “Luke?” he said.

  I lay completely numb on the disgusting carpet using an empty pizza box as a pillow. “Yeah?”

  “If you give me more orange juice, I’m gonna rip your heart out.”

  I laughed. The Oliver I now knew and didn’t hate so much anymore had returned. “Go to sleep, asshole,” I said.

  “I think the fever broke. How many days have I lost?”

  I didn’t want to upset him. “Just a few.”

  He sighed. There was so much emotion in that one breath, it caught mine. “Thanks for looking after me,” he said sincerely. “You don’t have to anymore, though. You should go. Find her.”

  I cleared my throat. “Don’t get mushy on me. I don’t like you all that much, but I’m not leaving you. So, shut up and go to sleep. I’m too tired to listen to your whining.”

  His reply was a weak cough accompanied by a painful moan he couldn’t stifle. He turned over in the bed, the springs groaning under his weight, and I thanked the Lord above he was still alive.

  “Honestly though, thanks Luke.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, and was surprised I actually meant it.

  A knock at the door pulled me out of a restless sleep. Every ache and pain my body had collected over the past few weeks had multiplied from lying on the floor. “Don’t need room service,” I yelled.

  Whoever it was, they were persistent. I’d paid the maid well to not come anywhere near the room, but the sharp rap of knuckles hitting the flimsy plywood wouldn’t let up. I sat up to blink back the sun pouring in through the murky window.

  “Please. Open the door,” a female voice said.

  “Who is it?” I asked, looking behind me at Oliver. His eyes were shut and beads of sweat still clung to his forehead, the sheets around him shredded underneath his fingertips—he was useless if this person was a threat.

  “I spoke to you on the phone,” the female said.