The Temple

by Heather Marie Adkins

  “I love you, too,” I said softly, and the line went dead in my ear. “Mommy,” I whimpered to the phone, a sob breaking through the barrier in my throat. Hunter scooted even closer, trying to meld his body to mine, so I buried my head in his ears and cried.

  It took me about forty minutes to pull myself together. There was only one voice, outside of my mother’s, that I wanted to hear, and I’d gotten a call earlier letting me know he was back. I picked up the phone from where it had fallen on my bedspread, and dialed the number.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he answered, his sleepy voice as disheveled as the rest of him, I’m sure. Briefly, I wondered if he slept naked, then hated myself for the thought.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  "There’s this great invention they call ‘caller ID’,” he teased. I tried to laugh but it got caught in my throat and I sniffled instead. I heard the change in him as he noticed. “Vale? What’s going on?”

  At the concern in his voice, I burst into tears. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said quickly, and hung up.

  I stood at my open door in my pajamas, cradling my bad arm, watching him jog across the street in his gray sweatpants and white T-shirt. As he got closer, I could make out the black letters on his shirt—don’t piss me off, I have way more gods than you. He took the stairs at a hop and wrapped me in his strong arms. I got a comforting whiff of Brett and patchouli. “What happened?” he asked quietly, rocking me. My face was pressed into his neck, my silent tears soaking his skin. “Is it your wrist? Can I get you some more pills? I’ll go right now.”

  Composing myself, I pulled back and gestured with my head for him to come in. “What time is it?” I asked him.

  “About seven.” He closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt. I padded into the kitchen and pulled out the makings for coffee, putting a pot on to brew. I leaned my hip against the counter and finally turned to him, standing with his hands at his sides behind me, his eyes worried.

  “My mom has a lump in her breast,” I murmured, a lot steadier than I thought I would. His black, black eyes went sad and he opened his arms once more, cradling me to his chest. I didn’t cry this time. He stroked my head, tangling his fingers through my hair, whispering nonsensical comfort words into my ear.

  “It’ll turn out all right, Vale,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “The medical world can do wonderful things now. I’m sure it’s just a lump, nothing to worry yourself over. They’ll go in and take it out and she’ll go on, just like normal.”

  Heavens, but he smelled good. I tilted my head and the rough texture of his cheek scraped across mine, sending heat waves through my body. Trying to be discreet about it, I ran my cheek over his like a cat, not putting my scent on him, but transferring his scent to me. I could smell the soap on his skin. I wanted to lick it off. It surprised the hell out of me, and made me feel like shit. My mom had a lump inside her and I was turned on by a man’s smell as he attempted to comfort me.

  Brett placed another small kiss at the base of my neck, where it dipped into my shoulder. My breath hitched, and he kissed higher, pressing his lips to my neck. His lips opened and I felt teeth. I sagged against him, pressing my hips as close to his as they’d go. Turning my head, I captured his mouth. Warmth flooded my body and like a magnet drew me to him.

  We didn’t even make it upstairs, and I gained a certain appreciation for my couch.

  Chapter 17

  “I’ll stay here with Hunter and Addie,” he told me comfortingly, folding a pair of my jeans and placing them in my black duffel bag. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll pick up some overtime to cover your shifts if Melissa and Nikolas can’t do it.”

  “Melissa,” I gasped, clutching a sweatshirt I’d been folding to my chest.

  “I’ll call her and tell her what’s happening.” He folded my favorite T-shirt, a hand me down from Theresa that said “I BURN BRAS” in black on a pink background. It was so worn both Bs were fading into obscurity. “You don’t need to worry about anything except getting home and being with your mother.”

  I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to say anything. His kindness was astounding. We stood companionably, packing my bag. My flight, booked on Brett’s high tech mini laptop from my kitchen counter, was to leave at midnight. That gave me three hours to get to York and check in.

  “Let me drive you,” he tried again, having failed in the argument twice already. Before I could protest, he rushed on, “You’re in no position to drive. I want to see you off. I need to see you off.”

  At the pleading look in his dark eyes, I sighed and withered. “Ok.” He drew me towards him, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

  The hour ride to York was silent, but he held my hand the whole way.

  *********

  “Dad,” my voice was trembling into the pay phone. “I’m at the airport. Can you come get me?”

  His voice was stern when it finally answered me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? There was no reason for you to be here. I don’t even want to know how much your plane ticket cost.”

  I’d just flown fifteen hours and spent nine hundred dollars to be with my family, and my patience was gone. “Dane, just get someone over to pick me up,” I snapped.

  “I’ll send Macy.”

  Good. I damn well didn’t want to see him. I hung up on him and took a seat on the public transportation bench outside the main concourse. It was a balmy morning, humid and probably in the low seventies. Late fall in Mississippi was a long shot from late fall back home.

  I started as I realized I’d just considered Quicksilver my home. Looking around at all the green still left in Jackson, and the sun shining on the asphalt, I realized that while Mississippi would always be home, the friends I’d made and the life I’d forged in England had wormed its way into my soul. I ached for my Addie and Hunter. I missed Melissa’s smile and quick wit, and Brett’s sincere understanding.

  A half hour of thought later, Macy pulled up to the curb in her yellow Volkswagen beetle. I tossed my bag into her trunk and pulled open the passenger door, waiting until she’d cleared the seat of all debris before sitting down.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” she told me, putting the car back in drive. “I’ve missed you. What the hell happened to your wrist?”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s nice to be home.” The traffic whizzed by us on the expressway, my sister’s small hand in mine. “I had an accident, not a big one. It’s broken, no big deal, you know I heal fast. What’s the story?”

  “I told you so,” she stated, flicking a look over at me. I frowned at her. “The ice cream? Remember? Ben and Jerry’s? That was the day she found out.”

  One puzzle piece of my life suddenly making sense. “I mean, when is the surgery?”

  “At noon. It was the earliest the surgeon could fit her in. There was some kind of boating accident early this morning and the hospital was packed. I think some people died.” We were both silent, maybe for the people who lost their lives, or maybe for the fact our mother’s was in danger.

  The parking lot of University hospital was packed. We circled four times before finally coming up on a black Crown Vic vacating his spot. Macy whipped in

  I followed her numbly through the automatic doors, watching her three-layered pastel green dress swish around her ankles. The choker around her neck was a single dark green ribbon that complimented her hippie style. While we waited for an elevator to come, I ran my fingers through her wavy blonde hair. “Feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks,” she answered, tugging me by the tank top into the elevator. “Don’t be mushy just because mom needs surgery. She’s going to be fine.”

  I didn’t answer. Dane was waiting in the hallway when the elevator doors opened. He wrapped me in a hug, his silver and brown Disney villain goatee tickling my cheek. “I’m sorry, punkin.”

  “Me, too,” I answered, my voice muffled in his red plaid
shirt. He smelled like wood smoke. He probably lit up the outside fireplace and threw in some herbs for good luck before bringing Theresa to the hospital.

  He pulled away, studying me with his big, kind eyes. His hair was pulled into its usual ponytail, brushing his lower back with unruly strands tucked behind his ears. In usual Dane fashion, he noted the white cast on my wrist but didn’t say a word about it. “They’re about to take her to prep for surgery. Come see her.”

  The walk down the hall felt like it took ages. Nurses passed in scrubs of cartoon characters, dancing cactuses, and kittens playing with balls of yarn, their feet silent in their black Crocs. I saw enough women with zombie circles under their eyes to assure I’ll never take to a life of medical work.

  Theresa’s door was closed when we got there, and Dane knocked softly before pushing it open. Bless her heart, the woman wasn’t even lying in bed. She was curled into the turquoise leather armchair, feet tucked beneath her fuzzy pink robe, reading a book. Looking up as we entered, her face went alight. She placed her book, from the look of the cover another smut novel, over the arm of the chair and stood, pulling me close.

  “Baby, I didn’t want you to leave work,” she whispered in my ear, rocking me slowly. I know it was illogical, but I’d expected her to look sick, emaciated, anything but this rosy cheeked, twinkle eyed normal version of my Mom. I interlaced my fingers behind her back, not wanting to let go. It was taking everything I had to keep my tears at bay.

  “I wanted to be with you,” I said, my voice childlike and fearful. She squeezed me tighter. I knew she was exchanging worried looks with Dane over my shoulder. Macy’s small hand rubbed my back.

  When I finally let her go, she sat back down in her seat, turning down the corner of her book and placing it on the table next to the hospital phone. “You’re right on time to wait. They’re about to come for me. What happened to your wrist?”

  Sighing, I took the chair across from Mom. Macy sat across my knees, draping an arm over my shoulders, and put her forehead to my temple. Putting my arms around her waist, I inhaled the comforting, citrusy scent of my little sister. “I got into an accident. It’s okay, just a fracture, it’ll heal. I’m just glad to be here.”

  *********

  We bypassed long farewells and good lucks. The doctor gave us all the quick run down, mainly that Mom needed to prepare herself for the idea that she may come out of surgery without her breast if it came to that. I held her hand tightly while his monotone voice droned on about what else to expect.

  I was flipping through a People magazine when a strikingly beautiful girl with mahogany colored hair came flip flopping up to us. She wore loose, creamy linen pants and a bell sleeved brown shirt belted at the waist in bright red. She wore no makeup, and her short hair stuck up in two pigtails at the crown of her head. When Macy stood and pecked her lightly on the lips, I knew it was Amy. Taking her hand, my sister led her new girlfriend to me.

  “Amy, this is my big sis, Vale.” I got to my feet, disentangling myself from the magazine and my purse. Amy gave me a straight, white smile and hugged me. Where my sister was curves, Amy was hard and thin.

  “I feel like I already know you,” she chuckled, stepping back to size me up. “Every other story Macy tells me is about you. I know the circumstances aren’t good,” she sobered, squeezing my hand, “but I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I answered.

  “Sorry I’m late, baby,” Amy murmured to Macy as the three of us took our seats. “Jane was late because her sitter called in. Her husband came home as early as he could, but it was still after her shift started.”

  “Amy manages a vintage clothing store down near Widdershins,” Macy told me, tucking errant strands of blonde behind her ear. Widdershins was the occult store at which my sister worked. I nodded.

  “Have we heard anything?” Amy asked, tucking an arm across Macy’s shoulders.

  I shook my head. “No. It’s only been about thirty minutes since she went in. It’s a waiting game as of now.”

  “Are you guys hungry?” Dane asked, leaning across me to include Macy and Amy in the question. The general consensus was we were too worried to be hungry, but probably we should eat. In true Dane form, my father grabbed his shoulder bag (an ancient canvas tote we’d dubbed “man purse” long ago) and headed out to pick us up some Sub sandwiches, handwritten notes in tow.

  I’d finished my sandwich and was tossing my papers in the trash when the surgeon came walking into the waiting room. My heart skipped a couple beats. Macy took my hand, and we all stared.

  “Everything went according to plan,” he assured us, his mask still hanging about his neck. “We’re pretty positive that we were able to get everything out that needed to come out, and she is just fine. I’m going to send off a sample for testing, but I’m confident it’s going to be good news.”

  “And her breast?” Macy asked boldly the question none of us could put to words.

  The doctor grinned and chuckled. “It’s right where it’s supposed to be.” He lifted a sleeve of his white lab coat and checked his watch. “Give us another twenty minutes or so and we’ll have her cleaned up and in recovery. Once we know what room, we’ll let you know.”

  *********

  For the first time, I was reading a book to my Mom, finally paying back the many years she read to me. Of course, the steamy, embarrassing romance scenes I had to stumble through were a far cry from Green Eggs and Ham. Sam I Am didn’t know anything about throbbing shafts and quivering mounds of blushing breasts.

  Theresa’s eyes were closed and I wasn’t sure whether she was sleeping or not. I trailed off and marked the page, setting the book beside her on the table. It was cold in the room. Considering there were three human bodies in such a small space, that was quite a feat. I closed my eyes and located the thermostat, turning the air down telekinetically.

  “Tell me about this boy.”

  Startled, I squeaked. “What boy?”

  One of my mother's bright green eyes opened and looked at me, a smirk on her face. “The boy that’s put red in your cheeks.”

  I shifted in the uncomfortable hospital seat and glanced over at Dane, asleep in the armchair behind me. “He’s just a friend.”

  “Um-hmm,” Theresa opened her other eye to give me what I call her mom-knows-you’re-lying look. “Spill it, Miss Priss. You can’t keep it from me.”

  I picked at the lint on my blue jeans. “Brett. He works with me.”

  “Is he special like you?” Theresa’s code word for my powers.

  “Yeah. Not as special,” I gave her a grin to show her I was joking.

  She reached out a hand and I met her on the bedspread. Her bright, clear eyes filled with love as she squeezed my hand. “Nobody is as special as you, Vale.”

  *********

  Theresa was released the next day with instructions for lots of rest, and a prescription for painkillers. “Pah,” she said when the doctor gave it to her. “I don’t want those nasty chemicals in my body.”

  “I understand completely, Mrs. Avari. How about you keep the prescription just in case, hmm?” Doctor Wilson was being ridiculously placating with her. Three times already that morning I’d pictured wringing my mother’s neck. Here I thought the homicidal feelings didn’t start until your parents were older.

  Dane was waiting in his Element outside the hospital doors when I rolled Mom out, sitting prissily in her wheelchair. Macy had to open the store that morning and had left the hospital with the promise of helping me cook dinner that evening.

  Theresa was unusually chatty in the car. She pointed out the library—“The city got a grant to add a new wing. Margaret Olsen told me she was planning on investing in larger genre amounts. Mystery, Romance, Sci-Fi…she wants something for everyone.” Passing the courthouse, she said, “Did I tell you about the Jackson sniper? He shot three people on the University’s campus! They caught him a couple days later. Remember Joe Gracin? You went to high school wit
h him? It was him!” I digested that a boy I grew up with had murdered people for fun, and it made me shiver. When we passed the funeral home, she gasped. “I forgot to tell you Edna Parker passed on! Just the day before yesterday, when I spoke to you on the phone. They said she went in her sleep. Spent her whole last day with her girls, isn’t that sweet? They were in from New Orleans…” and on it went. I exchanged a couple looks with Dane in the rearview mirror.

  I think my mom was nervous.

  The sight of our renovated farmhouse was like water to a burning man. Three stories of gray shingles and white shutters, the kind of extra tall windows you only find in buildings dating before the nineteen hundreds, and the wrap-around covered porch on which I’d spent my entire life. Theresa looked over her shoulder from the passenger seat and caught me with tears in my eyes, a fond look on my face. With a knowing smile, she turned back as Dane put the car in park.

  I hopped out to open her door, using both hands to ease her carefully from the seat. Painkillers be damned, she was achy. She leaned heavily on my forearm and let me lead her to the front door.

  Molly the beagle met us at the door, tubby body shaking with excitement, her tail whacking dents into the wall. “Back, girl,” Dane said sharply, and she obeyed, giving me room to lead Theresa to the kitchen.

  “Help me up the stairs, love, I want to change into something comfortable,” she told me, pretty face scrunched with discomfort. My heart felt like it was breaking with every step. I had to stand behind her and coax her up the narrow staircase leading up from beside the back door in the kitchen. After helping her into an oversize pair of sweatpants and a button up flannel shirt as green as her eyes, I led her down the stairs, her manicured fingers gripping my shoulders.

  “Turn on the soaps, will you punkin?”

  I cringed. “Mom, someone needs to get you hooked on some decent shows.”