Performance time. I hunched my shoulders and averted my eyes to the ground. “I, uh, hi,” I said with an awkward wave. I stopped walking. I was too “nervous” to proceed any further.
Pretty took the bait. She left the porch and began coming toward me. “Can we help you?” she asked.
“I…” I shook my head at my own stupidity. What was I doing there?
Pretty came right up to me on the sidewalk. She was even prettier than her picture on the website. Thin yet curvy, with bright gray eyes, bee-stung lips, a light smattering of freckles across her pert nose, and chestnut hair now in a side braid. She couldn’t have been much more than twenty or that could be by design. You never knew. She even smelled lovely, like peppermint. “Are you okay, ma’am?” she asked in a soothing voice as she touched my arm.
“I just…kind of feel stupid right now,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I have no idea what I’m doing here or why I stopped, or…” I shook my head. “Th-This is going to sound crazy, but I…I pass by this place on my way home a lot, and I heard you guys were nice, and I don’t know. I had a bad day, and…”
“You felt like you should stop here,” Pretty finished after several seconds, still rubbing my arm.
“Yeah. Yes. I guess. Is that crazy? Is that weird? It is, but—”
“No, it’s not. Not at all. Would you like to come inside? I can make you some tea and we can talk.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose. I—”
“It’s absolutely no trouble. It’s what we’re here for. I’m Megan, by the way.”
“Carol,” I said, giving the first name that came to mind.
“Come on inside, Carol. We don’t bite. I promise.” Megan actually threaded her arm through mine as if we were old friends and led me up the path toward the house. “Deacon, honey, come on. We’re going inside now.”
The little boy climbed out of his toy car to walk with us.
“Is he yours?” I asked.
“No, he’s Nessa’s. She’s at work. Do you have any children?”
“Uh, no. My husband and I—well, my ex-husband—didn’t want any. At least, apparently he didn’t want them with me.”
“That’s a shame,” Megan said. “You have such a great, nurturing energy. You’ll be a fantastic mother, I can tell.”
She was laying it on a little thick, but “Carol” would have gobbled it up. I smiled demurely and hung my head as we entered The Temple.
The Temple.
The first thing that struck me about The Temple was the smell. Someone was making fudge. Of course that was what I noticed first. “Carol” inherited my sweet tooth. The succulent aroma momentarily distracted me from my objective, but only momentarily. The next thing I noticed was how many people were working around the house. Three women I could see were vacuuming and dusting the two large living rooms on my right and left. They all smiled at me. In unison.
I suppressed my shiver.
“Everyone, this is Carol,” Megan said. “We’re gonna have a cup of tea.”
“Hi, Carol,” one of the older women said.
“Welcome,” a twenty-something said.
“Hi,” I whispered before hanging my head again. Carol was shy.
Megan escorted me through the living room on the left. I recognized it from the photo where Morning read to the children in the rocking chair I was staring right at. Of course in the photo you couldn’t see all the carved animal totems, crystals, and paintings of strange symbols hanging on the walls. “Th-Those are pretty,” I said as I pointed to the hanging shiny black crystals in a wind chime formation.
“Black tourmaline. It helps keep negative energy from The Temple.”
“Oh.”
We entered the kitchen—oh, that fudge smelled divine—where a fifty-something, frizzy-haired, overweight woman with horn-rimmed glasses stood at the stove. Like the rest of the house, crystals all colors of the rainbow sat in every corner of the otherwise cozy kitchen. “That smells great, Helen,” Megan said.
“It really does,” I said.
“Thank you,” the woman beamed.
“Helen, this is Carol. Carol, Helen.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Likewise,” Helen said.
“Carol, what kind of tea would you like? You name it, we have it,” Megan said.
“Earl Grey.”
“And I’m having peppermint. Helen?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Thanks.”
The women exchanged bright smiles before returning to their tasks. There seemed to be genuine affection between everyone in the house or they were putting up a hell of a front. At the moment, I leaned toward the former.
I sat at the small kitchen table with many nervous smiles for both women as Megan prepared the tea. Helen studied me, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I actually didn’t have to pretend to be nervous. “Have we met before?” Helen asked.
“I-I don’t think so, but you do look familiar to me too,” I lied. “I live just a few blocks away. We’ve probably seen each other at the grocery store or something. So, how long have you both lived here? I mean, I-I presume you both live here.”
“We’ve been at The Temple a little under a year now,” Helen said.
“We were two of the first to move in,” Megan said with pride.
“And is this a commune or co-op or something?” I asked.
“Or something,” Helen said with a smile. People smiled a lot at The Temple. It creeped me out. Or it had been too long since I’d been to Grafton. Everyone smiled there too.
“And if you join or whatever, do you have to live in The Temple?” I asked.
“No! Of course not!” Megan said. “Can you imagine, Helen? Everyone who attends the seminars coming to live here? The house would burst!”
I wanted to ask about the farm but couldn’t think of a way to incorporate it without breaking my cover. “So, I don’t…” I hung my head. “Are you a religion?”
“Why do labels matter so much to you, Carol?” Megan asked, not in malice but with a lighthearted tone. “Why does something have to fit into one set category? Why can’t something be new or just…be? Are you just a woman? A divorcée? White? Or are you so much more than any of those?”
Yes, we’re all special snowflakes, but we’re special snowflakes that exist in a blizzard, I thought to myself. Labels help us make sense of an overly complicated world. We would all literally be on sensory overload and mad within seven seconds without some form of order.
Not that I said any of that. Instead I stared at her like she’d just blown my mind, all huge eyes and open mouth. “I-I never thought of it like that.”
“And that’s what we do here. Open people’s minds. That’s it. That’s all we’re about,” Megan said. “To help you realize you’re more than what others want or expect you to be. You’re more than what others have done to you.”
“Th-That sounds nice,” I chuckled nervously.
“Someone hurt you, didn’t they, sweetie?” Helen asked.
“It’s that obvious, huh?” I asked in a small voice. Time to weave my pathetic yarn. “I-I-I just…I officially got divorced a few weeks ago. We’d been together since college. I even worked two jobs to help him through business school. I was a good wife. Perfect. I threw amazing parties. Chaired charity committees. Charmed every one of his business associates. But he…left me when he got his mistress pregnant. He…he’d decided years ago there wasn’t room in our lives for children. She just gave birth to his son, and I’m back in my hometown with an empty house and no clue what to do next.” I frowned. “At least I have my settlement money. It should last me a few years.”
I watched their faces as I mentioned money. Helen had no reaction, but Megan’s gray eyes grew slightly in size.
“You poor lamb,” Helen said.
Megan came over with our tea and sat right beside me, so close our knees touched. She even set down her tea and took my hand. I had to fight the urge to yank it away. “I am so sorry that had to be par
t of your journey. That he inflicted so much negative energy on you that it’s almost all I can sense. Your sadness.”
“You can sense it?”
“Oh, yes. I noticed it the moment you stepped out of your car. Your life force is so…dark. You carry so much melancholy. Regret. Anger. Fear. You think it’s your fault, don’t you? What happened with your husband? But it’s not. He wants you to think that. He was a vampire, sucking the life force from you and transferring his own insecurity, his own self-loathing, onto you. Into you. But just as I feel the damage, the burden he forced you to carry, I can also see the bright shining light that is your true self still in there. What happened wasn’t your fault, Carol. You only believe it because you just didn’t know any better.”
“I didn’t?”
“None of us do,” Megan said. “Most of us don’t want to. It’s just easier to go along with what others want us to be. But that’s not who you want to be anymore. That’s why you stopped here today. Your energy, your true bright light, recognized the same in this place. This temple is a place of healing. This house rests on a powerful energy center. You believe in energy, don’t you?”
“Of course. I took physics in high school.”
“We’re all made of energy. Us, the earth, the universe—we’re all made of the same energy. And some places, like some people, have more than others. This house rests on one such place. I guarantee when you leave here, you’ll feel better than you have in ages,” Megan said.
“I-I hope so,” I said, pretending to sip my tea. After that guarantee, I wasn’t sure she hadn’t put something in my drink to make me feel better that had nothing to do with energy.
“You will. Because the only constant about energy is it changes. It just depends on how you want it to manifest. You can change it, Carol. You can find happiness.”
“How?” I asked.
“You took the first step today, sweetie,” Helen said. “You came here.”
“As Mathias says, ‘The first step on any journey is the hardest and most important,’ ” Megan said with pride.
Mathias at least knew to steal from the best. “Mathias? Is he your priest or…”
“No! Universe no! None of us here subscribe to religion. Religion was created to keep us little people down, just as the new religion of popular culture does now. It brainwashes us into becoming unquestioning sheep who spend our dwindling money on what they want us to,” Megan explained.
I knew there was truth to the rhetoric and even agreed with her, but we’d gotten off topic. “And this Mathias taught you that?” I asked, fake-sipping my tea.
“He did. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of his wisdom,” Helen chimed in.
“And not just his wisdom,” Megan said. “Everyone here has something to teach. Something to contribute.” She touched my hand again. “Even you. Especially you, Carol. I can tell. You should come to the gathering tonight. Just great people and great conversations around the fire pit in the backyard. You’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll make sure of it.”
I didn’t doubt she would. “I-I think I’d like that. What time?”
“Nine-ish,” Helen said.
Megan squeezed my hand and smiled like a little girl presented with a pony. “You’re really gonna come? You promise?”
“I-I promise.”
“Don’t let me down, okay?” Megan said as if the thought caused her pain. She was good. The thought of disappointing anyone would kill a person like “Carol.” I wondered if Megan was just naturally manipulative or if she’d been coached. Probably both.
I rose from the table, and Megan did the same. “I-I should be getting home. I have a party to get ready for now,” I chuckled nervously.
“Just come as you are. You are more than enough,” Helen said.
“O-Okay then. See you both later tonight,” I said with an awkward wave.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Megan said.
I kept my head down all the way to my car as Megan continued exalting the group and party that night. After another promise that I’d attend, I got in, waved goodbye, and drove around the corner out of sight. The moment I couldn’t see the “temple,” I let the shiver I’d been holding in rattle my body. Maybe it was because I was a cynical bitch, but that place and those people unnerved me. They seemed so content, serene, and helpful, even the ones I saw only in passing. And those women seemed to genuinely want to help me and be my friend, no strings attached. But everything had strings. Too good to be true usually was. All I knew for sure was if they were serving Kool-Aid at the party, I’d be sticking to bottled water.
Chapter 4
What did a gal wear to a new-age cult party? Everything I had with me was designer for my TV appearances. I decided on capri leggings and a dark blue off-the-shoulder beaded tunic. If it was good enough for shopping on Rodeo Drive with Miranda, it’d be good enough for the “Morningstars,” as I’d begun thinking of them. If they wanted something better, they should have told me their own label.
I was exhausted even before I went to The Temple and tried to take a nap when I returned to my grandparents’ house, to no avail. I ended up watching the History Channel with Grandpa and started knitting a new sweater to thank Carol for taking care of Gus. Even without the exhaustion, I wasn’t looking forward to the gathering. I’d have to be on my guard at all times, both mentally and physically. Not to mention I never liked parties in general. Hayden loved them. I probably never would have attended a single dinner party or barbeque in my life if he hadn’t insisted. But for Billy I would schmooze, engage in small talk, and smile all night long. With any luck he’d be at the party, we could talk, and I could be on the first train to D.C. to salvage the possible date with Luke. If he even still wanted to see me.
Luke had finally replied to a text earlier in the evening. After he failed to return my voicemail from the day before, I’d texted, “In Grey Mills. Grands say hi. Wish I were there instead,” and he just replied, “I understand.” That was it. All he wrote. So of course, as I primped for the party, I had to code-break those two words. It was why I hated texts. At least over the phone you could hear people’s inflections. Did he mean it as a curt, blunt “I understand,” a sweet “Oh! I understand,” or a disappointed “Okay, too bad, but I understand”? I had too many mind games to contend with to engage in another with Luke.
“Iris?” my mother called from the living room.
And speaking of mind games, enter player three…I thought with a mental eye roll when I heard her voice. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shouted back, “Hi, Mom! Coming!” I sighed again and left the safety of my bedroom. “Lord, give me strength.”
Like her mother and God willing me, my mother aged like a fine wine. Her petite ballerina figure kept well into middle age, along with her thick mahogany hair. Her brown eyes hadn’t sprouted a single wrinkle around them either. My stepfather Khairo was a lucky man and knew it. Compared to Mom he was a behemoth, almost a foot taller than her and muscular from hitting the gym and moving patients around all day at his job as an orderly. He reminded me of Forest Whitaker in both appearance and temperament—a gentle giant.
“Iris!” Mom shrieked as she ran toward me. She pulled me into a hard hug. “You’re here. You’re really here.”
“Of course I’m here. I told you I would be.” Mom was a hugger, but I wasn’t. I pulled away and turned to my stepfather, still standing by the front door. “Hi, Khairo. Long time no see. How are Donte and Daveed?” They were the stepbrothers I’d met only once, at our parents’ wedding.
“Donte and his wife, Jamila, just had a baby. A girl. Savannah,” he said with a proud smile.
“Holy shit! No way. Congratulations, that’s wonderful.”
“She is the most adorable thing ever!” Mom said, pulling out her phone. She showed me a picture of the baby girl, who was indeed adorable. “We’re going down to Florida to visit as soon as Billy…” She stopped talking and her hands dropped as if the weight of her phone were to
o much for her.
“Faye, baby?” Khairo asked as he strode toward us.
“Mom…” I touched her arm, and Khairo enveloped her tiny body in his arms.
“It’ll be okay, baby. He’s gonna be fine,” my stepfather said soothingly.
“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she said against his chest. “First everything with Iris; now Billy’s in danger too.”
“Mom, I’m fine, and Billy’s gonna be fine too,” I said, rubbing her arm.
“A madman tried to murder you! Again! Do you have any idea what you put me through? Twice! And now your brother leaves without a trace?”
“Mom, there is a trace. And I called you from the hospital to tell you I was all right before the news even broke. You knew I was fine before you even knew I was ever in danger.”
“Iris, you’re not a mother. You can’t understand. Not really.”
She had me there. When I thought my dog was dead I about lost my goddamn mind, forget if my actual child were in danger. “I’m sorry, okay? I am.”
“You could have died! What the hell were you thinking going back to that job?” she hissed.
“I thought I could stop innocent women from getting killed by a madman,” I said defensively. “And I was right. I did.”
“And we’re damn proud of her for it,” Grandpa called from the kitchenette. He and Grandma remained there, out of the line of the fire. Smart people. Lucky people. “Right, Faye?”
Mom pouted and burrowed into her husband further. “I just wish you’d thought about how it would make me feel. You’re my baby girl. You are a part of me, Iris. They couldn’t pry me from your bedside when you were in a coma for a day after the last time you thought you could stop a serial killer.”
This conversation was a long time coming and one of the reasons I’d barely called her in two years. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mom. I am. But it’s over. I can’t change the past. And right now we need to focus on Billy. Okay?”
I always hated when Mom got overwrought. She turned into a petulant teenager, which was the worst when I was also a petulant teenager. My grandparents had to step in once or twice to separate us before one of us slapped the other. I got better at handling her after my hormones equalized and I realized feeding off each other’s negativity got us nowhere. Like that night. I felt my anger rising and shut it away to focus on the task at hand. It worked. Mom nodded and stepped away from Khairo. “Okay.”
Darkness at the Edge of Town Page 4
