Today her mother wore the Armani suits, attended all the right parties, allowing her to hang out with the other Botox queens who were on every miracle supplement, energy herb, stress formula, prescription drug, and vitamin known to man. Her mother played racquetball once a week. For this, she insisted on a trainer. She also had a full-time motivational counselor and a psychologist on call to help her make critical decisions. The woman could think her way through a day or two of shopping at the expensive boutiques, provided she’d taken her L-tryptophan. But Avy noticed that she would often come back with the wrong items, or fashionable clothes that were two sizes too small. On more than one occasion, she had gotten lost on her way to the hair or nail salon, but it was because she had given the limousine driver the wrong directions.
If she wasn’t on the run, her mother spent her days staked out by the pool, plastered with tanning oil, trying to catch some color in her face. The result of the tanning sessions required more Botox injections to erase the crow’s feet.
Avy didn’t blame her mother for her behavior. Lizzy harbored more than just general anxiety attacks. There were bouts of confusion and deep depression. Drake took extended business trips out of state sometimes, failing to return for weeks. He’d fired numerous secretaries for various reasons. All the excuses were bogus. Avy knew he’d been screwing the help. Lizzy carried more than the burden of trying to keep up appearances or hide her loneliness. Elizabeth Labrador knew that her husband had been unfaithful. The woman suffered from a broken heart.
“Mom,” said Avy in a soft voice. “I can do that later. Why don’t you relax?”
Trying to get out of earshot, Drake had left the kitchen.
“It’s no trouble at all,” her mom said, pushing the sweeper with awkward strokes across the floor, looking a decade older than her forty-six years. “Greta will be here tomorrow to get anything I miss.” Then, trying to change the subject, she added, “You did so well in school, honey. I bet you’ll have your choice of any university you have your heart set on. And they’ll be darn lucky to get you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about enrolling right away. I haven’t decided on a major anyway. I loved my drama classes.” Avy looked up, wistful thoughts running through her head. “There’s nothing cooler than stepping on a stage in front of a live audience or acting in the round.”
Lizzy leaned on the sweeper handle. “An actress! Now there is something you have the bones for. It shows in your profile.”
“Great looks isn’t all of it,” said Avy. “There has to be talent, too.”
“You could make Sharon Stone look like a third-grader in a school play,” her mom declared. She started pushing the sweeper again, shoving a smaller pile into another.
Drake stepped back into the room, snapping his cellphone shut. He looked pissed off, but calmed when he glanced at Avy. Then a smile widened across his face, showing expensive capped teeth. He reached into his suit jacket, retrieving an envelope.
“I saved this for last,” said Drake, handing the envelope to Avy. “There’s a little something in there from me, but what’s most important is the letter that your birth mother asked me to give you on your eighteenth birthday.”
Avy opened the envelope and pulled out a thousand dollar check. Simple, but impersonal. She’d expected such a gift from him. Drake was lacking in the sensitivity department.
“You shouldn’t have.” Avy’s hand strayed to the heavy gold chain around her wrist that her mother had just given her. The older woman wore a duplicate on her wrist. At least the bracelet had been purchased with Avy in mind; it had even been inscribed. A check was easy to write. An inscribed bracelet showed class and intimacy.
The letter inside the envelope intrigued her. It began with the words My Darling Daughter. The letter was over eighteen years old. Her hand shook while she gazed at it. She had the urge to continue reading. But not in front of her parents. It could wait until later.
“This is special occasion,” Drake said, smoothing a gray lock of hair into place. “You’ve reached that magical age. It reminds me of how young I was when I went out on my own. Of course, that was a long time ago. Take the corporate ladder, for example. I remember when I was on the first rung, eager for the climb. I knew there was one direction to go—up! Those first steps were uncertain, sometimes the height became frightening. But wouldn’t you know it, it got easier because I became more sure-footed. In the end, I grew to meet the task.”
This was going somewhere, thought Avy, but the trip was a long way around the mountain. She wished he would just spill his guts.
Her mother stopped pushing the sweeper and cocked her head.
“The point being,” Drake went on, “that it’s never too early to set your goals so you can forge ahead. I’m convinced you have the talent. Who am I to stand in your way? It’s your venture.”
“I understand,” said Avy. “I appreciate your concern. But I haven’t decided on college yet. I thought I would take a little time off to think about my portfolio.”
“Nonsense,” he said, checking his watch. “There’s no time like the present to get your feet wet, which will give you a glimpse of what the world has in store for you. You’ve got to take charge out there.”
Her mother tried, “But I thought she could—”
“Absurd,” he said. “She’s much better off taking advantage of the job opportunities while she’s fresh out of school. We’re talking about the proper work ethic. Having a vocation is a major character builder. Avy’s got enough savvy to choose whatever starter career she has her heart set on. There’s no better time than now to move out and start the process.”
Avy rose off the chair. “You mean now? This minute?”
Her mother fumbled, dropping the sweeper. “But, Drake, I don’t think it’s such a—”
He whirled on his wife. “You don’t need to think about this, Elizabeth. This is her decision, her future.” Then to Avy, “Sure, why not? There’s nothing stopping you. You have my blessing. Your little Suzuki Kamikaze car, or whatever it is, is in perfect running order. You already have a thousand dollars, which will help to get you into a place. The Raleigh News and Observer is full of listings for prime candidate jobs. I even think we have some spare luggage we can add to your birthday hit list. That’s the least we can do. Look, Avy, I don’t want to force this on you, but I thought this is what you wanted all along.”
It was what he wanted all along, she thought. The candles were not even cool on her cake. Here she sat, not at her birthday party, but at her bon voyage party. All that seemed to be missing was the swift kick in the ass and the slam of the door. He had finally gotten rid of her.
Avy rose to her feet. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll get my things.”
Drake gave her peck on the head. “That’s my girl. Everything will work out just fine. You’ll see. Mother, help our daughter gather her things, then see her off, would you? I have to get to the plant. We’ve got a late shipment. Heads are starting to roll. Now you take care, you hear, girl?”
Avy did not watch him leave the room. She heard the front door slam a moment later. Lizzy gave out a groan when she picked up the sweeper. Avy didn’t care if she ever saw him again. All the years of his hatred had boiled over to end in this moment. Avy knew why, too. She looked too much like her mother. Avalon Labrador had been Drake’s demon for almost two decades for reasons that Avy never understood.
It didn’t take long. She packed in twenty minutes, using one large wheeled carrier. She found herself driving south on the main highway toward Raleigh. Leaving the city proper, she gave Durham a mock salute while she watched it disappear in the rearview mirror. She had no way to describe how she felt. It reminded her of that fantasy tale where Bilbo Baggins left the Shire on his way to his first adventure. He’d been reluctant at first, even afraid, but he’d left with his blood boiling for the glorious quest. But this...she felt cast out of her house like a piece of trash, not the eager adventurer. Part of her lusted for new faces and places wh
ile another part of her cried foul. This was abandonment.
She hit the speed dial for Lindsey on her cellphone. Then she stopped the call. How could she tell her best friend that she’d just got the boot from Drake? On her birthday. How could she explain something like that?
Thanks a lot, you merciless scumbag.
She decided that something on Raleigh’s West side might be a safer neighborhood, considering that she was a single female with no friends or contacts in the area. At least one of the local police officers had told her that.
After forty minutes of driving, she pulled into a small motel called the Flat On Your Back, on Blue Ridge Road. It consisted of two-dozen units fashioned in a half-moon shape around a courtyard, equipped with a kidney-shaped swimming pool. Giant oaks, their branches gaunt from age, sat about the property. Tree roots had come up through the pavement in small pretzel shapes. The units looked ancient, save the fresh coat of white paint with lavender trim. It had a cozy ambiance, almost storybook in appearance. But that’s not what attracted her to it. The deciding factor was the fourteen ninety-five per night sign. She had a thousand dollar check and at least twice as much in her savings account. It would give her a little financial mileage to stay here. At least she would have enough time to scope out the job market in Raleigh.
She paid for a week, taking possession of key number twenty-three, a room on the outside wing. She checked the room before unloading her luggage, making sure it was at least livable. It had a queen-size bed, dresser drawers, walnut table with two spindle-back chairs. It even had a mini-kitchen, a small hot plate, and half-sized refrigerator. It would do. Resigned to the fact that this would be her new home, she parked her car in front of her door.
She wrestled with the heavy suitcase, trying to lift it out of the small trunk. The strap tore loose, which sent her stumbling.
“Here, let me help you with that,” a mellow voice offered from behind her.
Without looking she said, “That’s okay” but she turned out of curiosity, to see a man standing behind her. She sucked in a sharp breath. His face looked like something Michelangelo had carved out. Even in the glare of the sun, it shone clean with a flawless complexion. His hair tumbled over his shoulders, blond with golden highlights. It was almost as long as hers. His eyes were so gray they almost looked white. Yet it was the high-necked collar that caught her off guard. She wondered what a Catholic priest was doing at a small motel on the West side.
She waggled the strap at him. “I guess I yanked when I should have pulled.”
“Happens all the time.” He hefted the bag out to place it on the ground. His hand remained on the pull bar.
She gawked, standing there like a dithering fool. “Oh, how stupid of me! I’m right here in twenty-three. I don’t mean to put you to any trouble.” Although, she had to confess that she wouldn’t mind bothering him just a little.
“No problem at all,” he said. He pulled the bag through the open door and placed it at the foot of the bed. She followed him in, taking delicate steps.
“It’s a nice little motel,” she tried, making conversation. “You can’t beat the rates. I just love this little kitchen, too. Is there anything I can get you?” Now that was raw. Did she think she was hosting a cocktail party at the Governor’s mansion? Sure, offer the honey-roasted duck, cream sauce and a bucket of champagne. Coming right up. But he saved her.
“A glass of water would be fine.”
Once in the kitchenette, she wrestled a plastic cup from its packaging. She presented the cup to him a moment later.
“They are quaint little arrangements,” he said. He took a quick sip of water while he looked around the room. “Are you staying for long or just visiting the area? Forgive me, I’ve skipped the preliminaries. I’m Father Geminus, first name Janus. Janus is fine.”
Janus was not only fine, he was supernova explosive, she decided.
“Avy Labrador.” She extended her hand. “Well, you might say that I’m on my first adventure, striking out on my own. I’m from Durham. I’ve always been curious about our capital city, so I thought it was about time I got to know the area.”
“Ah, Raleigh.” He chuckled. “Known as the City of Oaks, named in honor of Sir Walter Raleigh, sponsor of the Colony of Roanoke, otherwise remembered as the lost colony. Chartered in seventeen ninety-two. Home of Rufus Harley, Andrew Johnson, and Kaye Gibbons. That’s just scratching the surface. There is a lot of history here. You could have done worse.”
“Were you born and raised here?”
“Not a native. I just make it a point to know a little bit about where I’ve been or where I’m going. It’s a confusing process. My natural curiosity is the culprit.”
“Are you staying at the hotel?” She didn’t want to sound too forward, but the words were out before she could stop them.
“Just making an inquiry. We have a convention in town. I’m on the hunt for a small lodging. Are you employed in the area?”
“Not exactly.” Her smile slipped. If she couldn’t confess the truth to this man, then she had more problems than she was aware of. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t even checked the want ads for a job yet.”
He leaned toward her. “Are you looking for anything specific, or does it matter at this point?”
“I’m interested in the dramatic arts, but I doubt there are any openings in that area. I might try a waitress job or bartending. There’s always factory work. IBM, Cisco, Carquest, and Nortel are down the road.” She thought of Cyberflow for an instant. Drake hadn’t even mentioned a position for her there. Bastard.
He flexed his hands, showing a perfect manicure. “Perhaps I could be of some help. It just so happens that one of my dearest friends, a past member of my parish, is in need of an assistant. His name is Sebastian Norman, also called the Amazing Sebastian, which is a celebrity moniker. Now, I don’t believe he has a stage the size that you’re used to performing on, but it’s quite adequate. He fills the house Friday through Sunday over at the old converted Stadium Theater on Hillsborough. Two acts a night, three nights running, would get you a nice little paycheck. You would have time to enroll in school full time during the weekdays while handling the job.”
“Sounds neat. What kind of business is it?”
“It’s drama, if you could call a magic act such. I’ve heard a rumor that his assistant is leaving due to pregnancy. He’ll need someone this weekend. I wouldn’t recommend him if I hadn’t seen the act, which I’ve taken in twice. You might catch him working on some stage props this evening. I’m afraid the single drawback is the costume. I’d liken it to one part bathing suit, one part sequins, another part ostrich feathers.” He handed her a business card that had the magician’s contact information embossed on it.
“I’m not worried about the costume,” she said, staring at the card. She looked at him again, unable to believe her luck. “I appreciate the contact. I’ll be sure to check it out. Well, thank you very much.” She stood up to shake his hand. She liked his hand. He had an easy smile that gave him a relaxed, uninhibited manner.
“I’m glad I could be of help. It’s been a pleasant chat. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to be off. A higher authority calls.”
“Oh, of course. Goodbye, thanks again.” Her gaze followed him until he disappeared through the door. She could hear the taps of his wingtips retreating. She resisted the urge to run to the doorframe to peek around it. Instead, she knelt at her bag to remove a large gold diary, and wrote:
Met Father Geminus today. I can’t describe how I feel about the visit. What can I say? He was charming. A real hottie. He gave me a lead on a job. I think I’ll look it up.
Avy made sure to include his name in the diary, which she didn’t want to forget. It was a peculiar name, Geminus. But what a slice of heaven to have made the connection with him. She recorded the date in the diary, noting that it was her birthday. She also wrote:
Kicked out of the house. It was Uncle Drake’s idea. Am I surprised? Not. I moved
into a motel in Raleigh. How do you like that? From a colonial in Durham to a motel room on the West side. Who’d have thunk it? To be continued.
She unfolded the letter addressed to her from her mother, took a deep breath, and began to read.
My Darling Daughter,
Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you right now. By now many years have passed, but I’ll bet that you are a bright, beautiful young woman, everything that I hoped and knew you would be.
I’m sure you’ve got questions about me. You’ve probably heard your fair share about me in the way of gossip or rumor. Maybe you’ve read about me. I’m very sorry about all that. I hope you’ve had a joyful and rewarding life despite everything. If you have, it was because of your own doing, something I could never take credit for. But don’t think for one minute that I wouldn’t have enjoyed that time with you. That I wouldn’t have loved holding you in my arms.
I guess I owe you an explanation. I was convicted of murdering my husband, Tom. They said the evidence that convicted me was overwhelming. I can’t tell you what happened that night. I have no memory of the dinner party or anything afterward. It’s all a terrible blank. I won’t bother you with the gruesome details. Believe me when I say that I don’t remember doing any of the things they said I did. I want you to understand when I tell you that I would have never committed such a horrible act against the man I loved so much. Before God, I’m proclaiming my innocence.
I don’t know who your father is, which is a tragedy. This has probably torn you apart. Something mysterious happened to me that I had no control over. I don’t really know how to explain it. I’m convinced some spirit came over me, something that came from another world, a miracle. They said I was crazy for making such claims about angels and visitors. I now think that it was somehow linked to my pregnancy. I know that’s hard to believe. Maybe it came from the one who promised me a new beginning. He talked about such things. I didn’t believe him at first, but he said the reasons would become clear one day. He said that this wasn’t an end to my story. He promised that my pages would be filled again. I know, I know, Mom’s got delusions—she’s cracked. But maybe it will make sense one day. Or maybe the meaning of it will be hidden away forever.
The War Gate Page 4
