Among the Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles)

by Amanda DeWees

  “So William’s okay?”

  “I didn’t realize you knew him. Yes, he and Maddie Rosenbaum are both doing well. We’re more concerned that we haven’t found Sheila Hardesty. We’ve had to cancel the rest of the festival, and I have a lot of administrative things to take care of now, so I can only give you a few minutes. What can I do for you?”

  Evidently Mo no longer remembered that Tanner had been at the concert—and had gotten an update from Mo about the fire just yesterday by phone. The sinking feeling grew worse. How had his history been erased from the minds of so many people?

  “Something’s gone really wrong,” he said. “Do you remember Joy Sumner?”

  “Steven Sumner’s daughter? Of course. She’s a student here. Has something happened to her?”

  “In a way. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but it’s true, and it’s something the council may be able to help with.”

  “Council?” Mo’s tone was mild, but Tan thought his eyes had sharpened. “What council would that be?”

  He held on to his patience; after all, he needed to establish his bona fides. “The one that monitors all the supernatural stuff that happens here. Dr. Aysgarth runs it. The Brodys are on it, and you asked Joy and me to come tell you about Samhain night. When Joy defeated Melisande—the succubus—and saved my life.”

  “I don’t know what you’re smoking,” said Mo, after a moment’s silence, “but I hope you’ll share. That’s the wildest story I’ve heard in a while.”

  “I’m not making it up, I swear. Things have gone all wrong. I was supposed to be playing at the concert Friday night, and Joy and I are supposed to be married.” He grabbed Mo’s threadbare corduroy sleeve as the teacher turned away. “Please, Mo. I swear to god I’m not high and I’m not crazy. You don’t have to admit I’m right about the council—I know it’s supposed to be secret. Just please, I’m begging you, please let them know that something’s messed up. It’s like the past has been changed, but I still remember it the way it was. The way it was supposed to be.” Again the thought of Rose in his arms swam into his mind, followed by the image of Joy in her yellow wedding dress, reaching up to tuck a white rose into his lapel buttonhole. For a second panic and grief took his breath away.

  “If this is true,” said Mo guardedly, “why haven’t you spoken to Joy or her father?”

  “I did. I mean, I tried to. But I think I need to try again,” said Tan. He hesitated, not knowing how to part from a friend who seemed to have forgotten their friendship. “Thanks, Mo,” he said awkwardly. “For your time. And please, no matter how ridiculous you think I’m being, please tell the council about this.”

  He left before Mo could repeat the party line about there being no council. Unless—the thought made his heart jar against his ribs. Unless in this new reality there was no council. Maybe he really was on his own in getting to the root of this thing.

  It was Christmas Eve, and a colorless, overcast day. He drove past the Sumner house to confirm that Steven’s car was there, but he didn’t dare stop this time, now that he knew the cops were on the alert for him. He muttered a curse. If only school were in session, he’d have no problem finding Joy. But the holidays meant that her normal schedule would be completely altered.

  He needed to see her. No matter how scared he was, being with her always made him feel like he could handle things. It was partly her faith in him, and partly just her—her optimism and determination. He remembered how it felt to hold her close to him, to kiss her, and swore again. How long was he going to have to endure being without her?

  It looked like it would be another night, at least. Driving around all day got him nowhere. He looked up phone numbers for Maddie and William and got voicemail from both. Every time he passed the house on the hill, Steven’s ancient VW was parked there, and he knew better than to try that route again. Maybe on Christmas day they’d leave the house, but it looked like nothing was happening that night. Including sleep—at least for him.

  It wasn’t that his room at Bobby and Donna’s wasn’t comfortable. But it was strange to put together this life he didn’t remember living from all of the belongings there: the posters of musicians and motorcycles, the rubble of concert t-shirts, bike repair manuals, stolen traffic signs, and videogames. The curtains and bedspread were crisp cotton in a pattern of pinup girls riding motorcycles—Donna must have sewn them for him—and there was a relatively new laptop computer whose hard drive yielded downloaded music, bike repair video tutorials, and hundreds of photos of lingerie models. The models made him grimace; they struck him as painfully skinny, all angles and implants, and he felt a dash of contempt for the other him that liked brittle creatures like these. Of course, the other him had never had to try to make conversation with one at a photo shoot.

  Of more interest was the sheet music, lots of it, all for guitar. He found the guitar itself shoved into the back of the closet and took it out of its case to pick at while he waited for sleep. It wasn’t a Gibson like the one Joy and William had picked out for him for his eighteenth birthday, but it still gave him a feeling of connection to Joy.

  He lit a cigarette and opened the window to let the smoke out. He could already tell it was going to be a bitch to kick the habit, but he’d have to. He wasn’t going to have his baby daughter exposed to cigarette smoke. And Joy probably wouldn’t enjoy kissing a smoker. If only he was lucky enough to be in a position to kiss her ever again.

  There was a knock on the door, and Bobby stuck his head in. “Mind if I come in?”

  Tan waved smoke out the window and stubbed out his cigarette. “Sure.” He had a feeling there was a house rule against smoking; the cigarettes and ash tray had been shoved well back in a desk drawer.

  “Donna and I are worried,” said Bobby. Duke had trotted in with him and now leaped up onto the bed to curl up beside Tanner, settling onto the bedspread with a sigh. Tan’s hand automatically went to his head to rub his ears. “We can’t help noticing you’re pretty restless. Are you still thinking about college? Because we can work it out if that’s what you feel you need to do.”

  “It’s not that. Are you sure I never introduced you to Joy?”

  “Son, you don’t generally bring your dates to meet us. I’d remember.”

  Tan had finally found a picture of her online. It was a cast photo from an Ash Grove production of Guys and Dolls, and Joy, who must have been judged not tall or thin enough to be cast as one of the showgirls, had her hair tucked up under a newsboy’s cap to play a paper boy. Even with her figure disguised under baggy boy’s clothes, her freckled face and irrepressible smile made her unmistakable and brought an ache of longing to him. He held out the phone to show Bobby. “This is her.”

  “She’s cute,” Bobby allowed. “How’d you meet her?”

  Good question. “I knew her when I was at Ash Grove,” he said. “Bobby, she’s the one. I’m supposed to marry her. She and I are meant to be together.”

  “I’ve never heard you talk like this before,” said Bobby, his eyes thoughtful as he absently rubbed Duke’s belly. “Does she feel the same way about you?”

  “I don’t know.” He hated having to say it. “She used to. But her father won’t let me see her now, so I don’t know if she’s changed. I feel—I feel so powerless.”

  “I can see how you would.” There was a silence. Tan felt a flicker of gratitude that Bobby wasn’t trying to talk him out of his feelings or suggest that they would pass. “What does he have against you, do you know?” Bobby asked. “Does he know you’ve had some scrapes with the law? Or does he just want Joy to keep her mind on college instead of getting involved with a local?”

  “Both, probably.” Involved with a crazy-talking delusional local, certainly.

  “Maybe I can talk to him if it comes down to it, let him know you’ve straightened out since juvie.” Bobby got to his feet and snapped his fingers at Duke to get off the bed. “Or maybe the Christmas spirit will give him a change of heart. Why don’t you go see him
tomorrow with a peace offering and see if he’ll unbend a little? Say, a tin of Donna’s lemon bars and a bottle of Jack. But first you and I get to give Donna her present.”

  Tan searched his mind and found that he and Bobby had secretly bought a newer, fancier sewing machine for Donna. Imagining the look on her face when she saw it filled him with a Christmassy glow. Maybe Bobby was right, and Steven would be in a more giving frame of mind due to the holiday. “I might at that,” he said.

  In the end he decided to give Steven another day to cool off. It was the day after Christmas when Tanner next took the drive to the Sumners’, filled with a spirit of optimism. He only slowed down when he approached an older Toyota approaching him from the other direction, and he saw at once that Tasha was at the wheel, with Joy in the passenger seat.

  The rush of relief left him almost dizzy. She was safe.

  He braked, did a U-turn, and followed. He thought of waving them to pull over, but he knew that in his helmet he might not be recognizable and might frighten them, so he just followed as they took Highway 64. Their destination turned out to be the movie theater in Blairsville, and when they pulled into a parking space and got out of the car, laughing and chatting together, he idled the bike behind the car and pulled off his helmet.

  In his relief to see her he was more abrupt than he’d meant to be.

  “Joy!”

  She looked around, startled, and took him in without any sign of recognition.“Yes?” she said cautiously.

  Was her memory gone too? And she looked different somehow. She wasn’t carrying the pregnancy weight in her face or middle, and there was something less concrete that brought a whisper of doubt into his mind. In most other ways, though, she was the Joy he loved, in everything from the funny little flattened nose to the Wonder Woman sneakers, and that made him desperate to believe.

  “Thank god you’re all right,” he said, more quietly. “Your dad wouldn’t let me see you, and I was scared.”

  She exchanged a doubtful look with Tasha. That was the difference: uncertainty. The Joy he knew—the Joy who had saved his life, married him, and borne his daughter—was stronger and more confident than the girl looking at him now.

  The grief that crashed in on him then told him it was useless, even before she spoke again.

  “Should I know you?” she asked.

  “It’s me,” he almost pleaded. “Tanner.”

  She shook her head apologetically.

  “Your husband.”

  From the look she gave him then, he knew she thought he was crazy. “You must have me confused with someone else. I’m seventeen! I’m not married to anyone.”

  “Just try to remember, Joy. We met in a graveyard, back in April. You were there to get a rose—”

  Tasha spoke up. “I remember you, and I think you need to leave Joy alone.” To Joy she added, “Tanner Lindsey, you remember? He got kicked out of Ash Grove last year.”

  Alarm came into Joy’s eyes. He reached for her hand, but she stepped out of his reach. “Please,” he said. “Try, Joy. It’s so important.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and sounded like she meant it. And as Tasha took her arm and drew her away, toward the theater, she said over her shoulder, “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”

  He stared after them as they walked away, Tasha setting a smart pace across the parking lot, putting distance between him and them as fast as they could without running. Then a car horn blared behind him, bringing him to himself with a jolt, and he drove on. As soon as he found a place to park the Ninja he bought a movie ticket and charged into the theater lobby. They were nowhere to be seen.

  What now? He couldn’t very well go from theater to theater looking for Joy. Even if he could find her in the darkness he couldn’t remove her forcibly. In the end he found a video game to play in the lobby where he could keep an eye on all the theater doors. She’d have to pass him to leave the building.

  It seemed like days before she and Tasha finally emerged, laughing and chatting together. All the laughter left her face when she saw him waiting.

  “Joy, listen,” he said before she or Tasha could order him away. “All I’m asking is to talk. Just ten minutes. It can be as public as you want. But it would be nice if Tasha wasn’t in earshot.”

  “Naturally,” said Tasha. “You could play your mind games on her much better without me to call you on it.”

  Joy, too, looked wary. “What do you want with me that you can’t say in front of Tasha?”

  This kept getting worse. “It’s not that I can’t. I just want us to have some privacy.”

  “Why?”

  “I love you,” he blurted.

  That didn’t impress her. “Is this some kind of joke? Did someone put you up to this?”

  “No, it’s true. I love you.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

  “I do, though! I know that…” He grasped for proof. “I know that you like to sit by the riverside to brood. I know that your favorite book when you were little was The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. You miss having a cat, and your first crush was Jude Law. And you have a strawberry mark on your right shoulder.” She liked it when he kissed her there, too, but this probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up.

  But her eyes were already wide with alarm. “You’ve been spying on me,” she gasped.

  Too late he realized how creepy he must have sounded. “No, I swear!”

  “Get away from us,” Tasha commanded, and he saw to his consternation that she was aiming a vial of pepper spray at him. Raising her voice, she almost yelled, “Security!”

  A rent-a-cop by the concession stand heard her and started toward them. Shit. He couldn’t afford a run-in with anything resembling the law. “I’ll get out of your way,” he said, backing away from the girls. “But Joy, please think about it. Come to the Hartwell motorcycle shop on Highway 64 if you decide you want to talk.”

  But the look on her face told him it was useless. She thought he was insane, probably dangerously so. All he’d managed to accomplish was to make the love of his life think he was a stalker with a screw loose.

  Standing well to the side, he let them pass out of the theater lobby. It was all he could do, with the security guard ready to tackle him on the slightest excuse. With a feeling of desperation he watched Joy recede into the distance.

  How could he make her remember? He couldn’t send her pictures of their time together, because they’d all disappeared. Her wedding ring must have vanished when his did, because she hadn’t been wearing it. What else might bring back memories of him?

  Struck with inspiration, he set out for the parking place where he’d left his bike. He knew his next stop now: the old cemetery.

  The half-overgrown plots and crumbling marble stones, the huge old oak trees and clumps of poison oak brought back memories of being there with Joy. Of the night they’d met, when he tried to order her away. She’d been defensive, defiant… adorable. When he’d attempted to scare her off with an uninvited kiss, she’d returned it boldly, calling his bluff. He could still see her, smiling up at him in the moonlight, her head cocked impudently, holding the white rose she’d come for. The rose that had brought them together.

  The bush on Josiah Cavanaugh’s grave still held a few blossoms; the southern December, even at this elevation, seemed to be too mild to discourage them. He chose the flower that looked the best and snapped it off its stem.

  At a grocery store he bought a gift box—there were plenty of Christmas wrapping supplies on clearance—and notebook paper. He went through several drafts before he settled on wording for the note:

  Dear Joy, I don’t want to scare you, so I’m not going to stalk you. But I know we belong together. Please try to remember how happy we were and what you mean to me. Call me any time and I’ll come running. I love you. Tan.

  He added his cell number and email address and for good measure dropped one of Bobby’s business cards in before he put the lid
on. The next challenge: how to make sure she got the package, that Steven didn’t intercept it?

  He ended up breaking into the house.

  It was broad daylight, a time when both cars were gone from the driveway. He hoped the police weren’t so diligent that they’d be watching the house twenty-four seven. At the back of the house, hidden from view, he tried the window of her room and lucked out: it wasn’t latched. He hoisted himself through and into Joy’s room.

  He didn’t allow himself to linger to investigate how the room might be changed from when he’d last seen it. As much as he wanted to gather every clue he could, she or her father could show up at any moment, and he knew what that would mean: cops. He left the box in the center of her desk, on top of her computer keyboard, and hoped she’d be the one to find it—and that she wouldn’t be so freaked out by the intrusion that she dismissed what it meant.

  The next few days were miserable. Bobby’s motorcycle parts and repair shop had reopened after Christmas, but with so many people out of town til New Year’s there wasn’t enough business to keep them busy, so all he could think about was Joy. He thought of trying to contact her again and rejected the idea at once. If he couldn’t make her remember in person, what good would emailing or calling do? As he wrestled with the question of how to fix things, he wondered over and over: what could have happened to rewrite the past this way?

  It wasn’t until two nights later that he thought of an answer. Donna was on the phone with her and Bobby’s daughter, Ginny, who lived in California. Tan remembered that she had married a computer software designer; she had already moved with him to Monterey Bay by the time Tan started hanging around Bobby’s shop a few years ago. “What’s Ginny’s husband like?” he asked Bobby, who was working on a jigsaw puzzle set up on a TV tray. Bobby always had to have his hands busy; if he didn’t have something to repair or a gun to clean, he’d get out a puzzle.

  “Chuck’s a nice enough guy. A good husband and father, which is all that really matters.” He shook his head with a wry grin. “Definitely better than some of the fixer-uppers Ginny used to bring home.”