Happily Never After

by Missy Fleming

  It wasn’t my idea for him to walk me home. I argued and even tried to lose him on the dark streets but he was crafty. He didn’t let me out of his sight. The guy just didn’t get the hint.

  “I still can’t believe what happened. I mean, I’ve always been kind of a skeptic but that was crazy.”

  “No matter how long or how many times you experience something paranormal, it’s hard to get used to.”

  “Sounds as if you’ve experienced it a lot.”

  I wasn’t sure what made me open up, maybe the hope that if I told him he’d go away. “When I was little mama used to tell me stories about Savannah and about the people who lived here before us, even those who were still here in a sense. She said it was a city built on the dead and populated by them as well. As a girl, I thought they were only stories. Some might think she had no right telling spooky stories to a young child but you know how it is here. You said you sensed it yourself, Savannah is different.”

  He nodded. “It’s very different. Something about it feels so old and there’s so much more here than what you see with your eyes. I thought it was my imagination but some of the crew from the movie mentioned the same thing. Now, after Moon River, I know.”

  “People chalk it up to the architecture, the trees, the many cemeteries right in the middle of town. Every single war fought on American soil had a battle here. In the Revolutionary War, tens of thousands of soldiers died and many were buried where they fell. It creates a mood and messes with your head. It makes you believe the stories. Anyway, as I got older, I started seeing things.”

  I paused and when he didn’t say anything, I continued. “It started off as a flicker out of the corner of my eye, something there I couldn’t quite focus on, or explain. As I got older, I sensed more information. I knew the man who went up and down the stairs at my place was a soldier and he gave me the feeling he still protected the house. Things like that. It’s weird because the older I get, the more these skills, if that’s what you call them, get stronger. I think I might even be able to hear them now, which is new.”

  Jason didn’t say anything, which convinced me I had said too much. Maybe he was used to being the most interesting person in the room, or the street. Or maybe he was trying to come up with something witty to say and as usual, had a hard time with it. His silence made me nervous. Why didn’t he say something?

  “You asked. I’m a freak,” I mumbled with deepening embarrassment.

  Finally, he shot me the dimpled grin. “Honestly, I think it’s kind of cool. You’ve gotten a glimpse into a world beyond ours. A lot of people would kill to have your ability. You shouldn’t think it makes you a freak.”

  “Too bad that’s not what people think when they look at me.” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

  “Why? Because you dress that way? That’s stereotyping. You and Abby did the same thing to me, thinking I’m a shallow Hollywood stud.”

  “I still think that, by the way.”

  “It’s okay, I’m used to it. I’ll surprise you when you least expect it. Besides, you want my professional opinion?” He paused, but not long enough for me to answer. “I think you dress like you do to avoid unwanted attention.”

  That bothered me. “I’m not trying to avoid anything and I don’t exactly fade into the background. Besides, you’re not a professional. And maybe I like wearing black. What do you know anyway?” I was babbling.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with how you dress. The whole ‘goth’ thing works for you. Your hair and your coloring, it makes you stand out even more. Not all guys are into the cookie-cutter Barbie type.”

  “Yeah right, you don’t have to flatter me. I can tell you right now I’m not the squealing and worshipping kind of girl.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he mumbled before changing the subject. “So, have you ever seen your parents or sensed them, whatever it is you do?”

  “No, and I’ve tried so hard. Both my parents loved this city and they loved our house. Things haven’t been the greatest since they left. I've always assumed there’d be some kind of contact with them, but I've had nothing.”

  He stepped a little closer as we walked. “Do you think it would help if you could see them?”

  Just then, I remembered his brother. Thinking I could help Jason contact him was the only reason I stayed in Jason's company. At least that’s what I told myself.

  I had to rethink my answer with his loss in mind.

  “I honestly don’t know. We’re not supposed to understand death. Whether the people who stay behind do it because they want to or because it’s not their decision, we might never know. I won’t deny I’d love to have the opportunity to ask Daddy what he saw in my stepmother and why he thought I’d be safe with her. Maybe there are some things we’re not meant to find answers to.”

  “It would be nice to understand why some people die and some live.”

  He sounded so sad and I wished there was more I could say to him. I couldn’t imagine having been in an accident and watching a sibling die. It struck me then how similar we were. I wouldn’t say it made me happy but I felt we understood each other in a way others couldn’t.

  Jason was talking again. “So why did you invite me with you, to the lawyer's office? I mean, apparently I annoy you but you let me tag along.”

  That was harder to answer. I still wasn’t entirely sure why I'd let him come. It was like my subconscious battled my conscious and convinced me he wasn’t as bad as I wanted to believe. My seesaw attitude confused not only him but me as well.

  “Good question. I’m just hoping I don’t regret it one day.” I gave him a flippant answer wanting to stick to the unimpressed side of my head. Luckily, we reached our destination. “This is my block.”

  York Street intersected Lincoln right near Columbia Square. Our house sat on a trust lot, one of the smaller lots surrounding the old squares scattered throughout Savannah and part of the city’s original design. All the historic homes in the area were made of ‘Savannah grays,’ the brick common to the area. With the exception of the house built behind mine, the others dated back to before the War.

  Jason gazed down the street. “Wow, nice neighborhood. Which one is yours?”

  I pointed. “Halfway down on the other side of the street. I don’t want to get any closer. I’d rather not have to explain you to Marietta.”

  “Okay, but someday you’re going to have to tell me about this family of yours. Um, what are you doing tomorrow?”

  For the first time, I didn’t doubt he actually wanted to see me again. I watched as he fidgeted, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. Gone was the cocky actor I forced myself to see. Replacing it was a guy who acted very nervous about my answer.

  I didn’t trust him yet but he intrigued me enough to want to see him again. Plus I wanted to see if my initial instincts were right in sharing some personal stuff with him.

  “It all depends on how much trouble I’m in for the incident earlier with Marietta.” I handed him my phone. “Put in your number and email address. Don’t put it under Jason, put it under Dr. Sherman or something.”

  “Dr. Sherman?” He grinned and handed me his phone to do the same thing, “Where did that come from?”

  “Well, doctor because it’s not suspicious and Sherman because any true Southerner in their right mind will shy away from the name Sherman.”

  It took him a minute to get it. “Oh, right, the burning of the South after the Civil War.”

  “Actually, it’s the War of Northern Aggression,” I said in my heaviest drawl.

  He laughed and handed me back my phone. “Fine, I’ll remember that. I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning to see if you’re on lockdown or not. I love your accent by the way.”

  “Alright, bye.” I waved, embarrassed by his compliment, and ambled up the walk. As I opened the front door I fought the urge to look back at Jason and to run from the house. Marietta would probably be waiting up for me.

&nbs
p; Chapter Twelve

  The minute I walked into the house, I felt it. The air was wrong, malevolent somehow. Once I fought past the fear, I recognized it as Marietta, or more correctly, the darkness taking her over.

  I swallowed hard and forced myself to walk into the front living room, where it was strongest. The lights were out but I could still see the shadows pulsing and shifting, almost as if they were alive. Not even the streetlights made a dent in the air slithering near me.

  My breathing sped up and I tried to search for the other spirits in the house, George and the soldier, even the strange one that appeared around me at times. I felt nothing.

  “Welcome home, Quinn.”

  I squealed and jumped. From what I could tell in the dark, the voice came from the couch. What worried me the most was it sounded like Marietta, but underneath her voice something sinister echoed and my body shivered in response. I feared for my life but couldn’t make myself move.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I once again became overwhelmed with the putrid smell of the river. It made me gag.

  “I – I’m sorry, I lost track of time. I’m sorry about my behavior earlier, too. I shouldn’t have disrespected you that way.”

  She barked out a cold laugh. “You’re a Roberts through and through. It’s sad to see what we’ve become.”

  “I don’t understand.” She didn’t make any sense but I tried to concentrate and take advantage of the opportunity to learn something.

  “Of course you don’t. You have no idea what our family is capable of.”

  “What do you mean ‘our family’? Who are you?”

  “A Roberts daughter, like you, left to fend for herself. They valued their name and their precious house above everything, including me.”

  Before I could ask anything else, it all changed. Marietta shook her head and looked around, unsure how she’d gotten to the couch. There were black circles under her eyes, giving her a hollowed out appearance. It was a far cry from the high maintenance woman I was used to.

  “Quinn? When did you get home?” Her voice sounded tired but normal. The room warmed with the glow of the streetlights and the shadow retreated into the background.

  I couldn’t stop shaking. My knees threatened to dissolve into nothing at any moment.

  “A few seconds ago, Marietta. I’m sorry I took longer than I should have. And I was way out of line earlier.”

  Marietta pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, as though she had a headache. “Don’t speak to me that way ever again. Go to bed. The girls and I will be going to Atlanta in the morning. I’ll leave a list of things for you to do on the kitchen counter.”

  I hurried out of the room and up the stairs before she changed her mind. I was terrified and left all the lights on in the attic, as I’d been doing every night lately. I felt George in the corner, hiding, and knew I should offer him some encouraging words, but I didn’t have any in me. Who would comfort me?

  It affected me more than I thought to see Marietta so vulnerable. I knew the shadow entity had to be feeding off her and I wondered how long it’d been going on. Kicking off my shoes, I lay on the bed and thought back to when I first met her.

  When Daddy first brought her home, she’d been uptight and snotty but not in an evil way. She'd acted exactly how I envisioned a rich Atlanta housewife to act, nothing more. In the year before Daddy died, we’d even come to an uneasy friendship and it made me hope one day it would be more.

  It wasn’t until after Daddy died that she started to change. Four months after the funeral, I saw the shadow entity for the first time and experienced the mean nature of its influence. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that when Marietta’s entity showed up, so did the one who fought back for me.

  Ever since the night I’d almost been strangled things had stayed disturbingly quiet, until tonight. Even if all it did was speak, I felt the power throbbing off Marietta. Whatever that thing was, it seemed to be waiting. It almost killed me the last time and what might happen next terrified me. I thought about what she said and why she had such a hatred for my family.

  Catherine. It had to be Catherine.

  No matter how much I wanted to get away from Marietta and the twins, I couldn’t leave them now. This thing hurt me and it could just as easily hurt them. I needed to figure out what she wanted and how to stop her. I had to be strong.

  Sleep was a long time coming. I literally had the urge to sleep with one eye open but eventually I drifted off. Right as I went completely under, I felt the protective spirit beside the bed.

  The last thing I remember was the feel of a hand brushing the hair from my cheek.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Surprisingly, I woke up the next morning feeling great. Marietta and the twins would be gone the entire day and I’d be able to do anything I wanted. I got up once they were gone and sped through the list of chores left for me.

  It had been such a long time since I had something to look forward to that I didn’t even mind cleaning the disgusting bathroom I shared with the twins. I knew they were filthy on purpose and no matter how much I tried to keep it clean, it didn’t work. Normally, the globs of hair and spilled lotion and used tampons would send me into fits of rage where I imagined delivering all kinds of bodily harm to them.

  Not today. Today I tried to ignore it, along with the crippling doubt that Jason would even be in touch.

  Stepping out of the shower, I heard my phone chime with a new text message. The message was from Dr. Sherman and read, “U free or locked in the basement?”

  I smirked and typed, “It’s usually the attic but I’m free. Step monsters gone all day. Come over.” Before I changed my mind, I hit ‘send’.

  He mentioned wanting to see the house. Logic told me that since Marietta wasn’t home, it would be safe. The last thing I wanted was for something here to cause him harm. He had found a way to work himself into my life, something I still wasn’t sure I wanted. I did enjoy talking to him, once I got past the jangled nerves. No, that wasn’t even true anymore. I liked him, which annoyed the heck out of me, but I figured I might as well let it play out. He’d be bored soon enough and on to more challenging pursuits.

  “On my way,” he replied.

  I dried my hair and dressed in khaki shorts and a black tank top. I ran around straightening up an already pristine house and realized I really was nervous. Not even Abby had been in the house recently and now, Jason Preston would be here. What was I thinking? He couldn’t come here.

  Before I could text him back to change where we met, the doorbell rang.

  “Here we go,” I muttered.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. He stood there grinning at me. I saw a car pull away from the house and a large man across the street, near the square, trying to blend in. He must have been one of Jason’s bodyguards.

  “Morning, Quinn.”

  “Hi.” I stood there with the door open for what felt like forever. “Oh, come in. I’ll give you a tour then we can leave. I need to go to the library.”

  “Okay.” He entered the house and scanned the room. “I wasn’t sure if we’d be going anywhere so I brought my disguise.”

  Jason pulled a baseball cap out of his back shorts pocket and pulled it on. Then he slipped on a pair of wire rimmed glasses. I laughed. It didn’t do much to take away from the fact that he was incredibly attractive but someone glancing at him might not be able to tell it was Jason Preston.

  “What’re you laughing at? It’s a good disguise and it works, most of the time.”

  “Okay, if you say so. I see you also brought your muscle, Mr. Important.” I jerked my chin in the direction of the street.

  He grinned again and pulled off the glasses. “It’s hard to sneak away from them. The studio thinks it’s necessary for some reason. Most of the time, I don’t even notice them. This place is much bigger than I thought last night. How old is it?”

  I felt self conscious as he entered the large foyer with the enorm
ous sweeping staircase. The focal point was the giant antique brass chandelier hanging from the two-story entry. Portraits of my ancestors graced the walls although not as many as there used to be. Marietta claimed they frightened her. Following Jason, I ran my hand lovingly over the banister.

  When I was a little girl I loved playing dress up and walking as elegantly as I could down the stairs, pretending to be Scarlett O’Hara. Or I’d dream of descending them to meet a boy who stood nervously in the foyer with Daddy. They reminded me of another girl; a girl who still had her place among the oldest families in town, a girl on the verge of becoming a woman whose dreams come true, a girl who would raise her own children in this house. Maybe now those dreams could come true after learning the truth about the will.

  It was a dangerous road to go down so instead I told Jason about the house.

  “Old. It was built in 1831 and has survived the years pretty much intact. At one point, it was supposedly the finest house in all of Savannah. The grounds took up the entire block. There are sixteen rooms, not including the attic. No one’s really done any major remodeling apart from updating the kitchen and bathrooms and the electricity. Air conditioning was added, of course. Every generation did its part in keeping the house in pristine condition.”

  I led him into the front parlor, ignoring the couch Marietta sat on last night. It still gave me the creeps thinking about the foreign voice coming from her mouth.

  “This is the front parlor, or I guess it’s more of a living room now. All the floors are the original hardwood. Marietta hates the upkeep on this place. She’s always complaining but I look at it as a labor of love. That door leads into the formal dining room. This way,” I led him back through another door, “is the kitchen.”

  “Wow, awesome kitchen.”

  I smiled. Marietta updated it not long after moving in and I agreed it was a great room. The large windows let in plenty of light and the dark cabinets and granite countertops gleamed. It was the kind of room that shouldn’t work in an old house, but it did. There was also another large fireplace original to the home.