by Sable Hunter
After dusting each one, she placed them back down. When she was finished, Glory realized they weren’t exactly the way she’d found them. “Oh, dratz.” She wondered if T would notice. Trying to remember their former position, she moved a couple, then laughed. There was no way she would get the figures back in their designated places. “I might be in trouble.”
Rising to her feet, she put her hands on her hips, considering her dilemma. Things like this were important to T-Rex, he’d told her that over and over. Glory didn’t know a great deal about OCD, but T had told her how everything being in order made him feel more in control. She couldn’t imagine how chaotic and painful his childhood and young adult life must have been to bring him to this point. Glory thought T was the Rock of Gibraltar. Someone on whom she could always depend. Whoever or whatever had given him the idea that he was less than perfect – was wrong. Flat wrong.
Taking one last look at the baker’s dozen of tiny statues, she moved to T’s bookshelf, intrigued by the many books T owned. Running her finger over the titles, she saw Moby Dick, The Shining, The Count of Monte Cristo, Tom Sawyer, and many others. And like T had told her, they were in alphabetical order, by author name. Once she’d given them all a few swipes, clearing off nonexistent dust, an idea formulated in her mind. What would T do if she rearranged them? Would he notice? And if he did, would it anger him? She wouldn’t be surprised if it peeved him off, especially since he’d asked her not to do it. But would it make him truly angry? To the point of punishing her in some way? A memory of the erotic spanking he’d given her made her squirm – but that wasn’t what he’d been talking about. T really thought he could get angry enough to hurt her. “I don’t think that’s true, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You might fuss a little, wave your hands around, but you’d never hurt me. I just don’t believe you would.”
As she mused, Glory began to think. What if she showed him that he wasn’t the monster he thought himself to be? What if she did things to provoke him, with the express purpose of proving to him that his getting teed off at someone didn’t mean he would turn into Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde – whichever was the bad one, that story always confused her. “Yes, I think I’ll see what I can do to show you that neither of us has anything to fear.” With that conclusion, Glory began her quest. She moved Herman Melville behind Mark Twain and Stephen King moved behind Alexandre Dumas – and so forth and so on until T’s library of books was completely jumbled.
Next she moved to his movies, dusting the jackets, but disassembling them from their logical order to what T would consider a nonsensical lineup. Comedies were mixed up with horror flicks and action movies were scattered among rom-coms and documentaries. After she’d done her worst with the films, she looked around for what else she could manipulate – not overtly, not destructively – just subtle changes that would send an OCD sufferer into a tailspin.
Her next stop was the kitchen, where she played havoc with the silverware. When she was finished, spoons were lying with forks and knives were upside down. “Yea, this is going to drive him nuts.”
Nuts, yes. Violent, no.
To add insult to injury, Glory returned to T’s bedroom and attacked his shoes. The tall boots were interspersed with sneakers and his dress shoes found their way behind his slippers. Tall between short – casual rested against formal. No rhyme, no reason to the footwear remained. She even placed a pair of her heels next to his work boots – oh, the horror!
But as bad as the shoes were askew, the socks were worse. Glory winced as she unpaired and repaired them. Turning the neat little bundles sideways, gray with black, dress with athletic. If anything set him off, this would be it. T was serious about his sock drawer.
When she was through, a twinge of guilt made Glory question her decision. Was this mean? Or was it what she intended? A testimony of her belief that Rex Allen Beaumont, Jr was noble, trustworthy, and honourable.
She stood back and surveyed the damage to his sock drawer, crossing her arms and biting her lip, almost tempted to undo the pandemonium she’d created in his carefully crafted world. With hesitancy, she reached out her hand – and then a sound caused her to jump.
A phone was ringing.
Was it her phone? She ran to the living room, thinking she was receiving her first phone call on her new cell. But when she arrived at the bar, it was to see that T had left his phone and his was the one sounding an alarm. She started to answer it, but thought better. That would be an evasion of privacy. But what if it was important? Before she could decide, the ringing stopped – then promptly began again. This time, Glory caved, picking it up and saying “hello?”
“Hello? Is T-Rex there? Isn’t this his phone?”
It was a woman. Glory bristled a bit. “Yes, it is, but he’s not here. May I take a message?” She knew this was old-fashioned. People left text messages now.
“This is Lauren Middleton. Is this Glory?”
“Yes.” Glory let out a relieved breath. “This is Glory.” Hearing the panic in Lauren’s voice, she couldn’t help but enquire. “Is something wrong?”
“Please tell T-Rex that I need for him to come to the shelter. A husband of one of the women seeking help here just drove his truck through the side of the building. The cops came and investigated, but they didn’t catch him. I have two dozen women and children here with nowhere else to go. There’s funds to fix the gaping hole, but this is Saturday, I can’t find someone to do the work. My husband and brother are both away on business and my charges are scared. Some of them know and trust T, they’ve seen him before. Could you ask him to come help?”
“Absolutely.” Glory assured her. “I’m so sorry this happened. I’m sure that when I tell him, he’ll immediately be on his way. I don’t know what good I’ll do, but I’ll come too. To pitch in.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Lauren seemed on the verge of crying. “This man was so angry, I’m afraid he’ll come back and hurt his wife or someone else.”
“Don’t worry, T will fix everything.” Glory had no doubt. After she hung up, she tried to get back into T’s phone to see if there was a contact for Revel or Harper, but his phone was password protected. She turned in a circle, trying to figure out what to do. “Heck,” she mumbled, “it’s not that far, I can run over there faster than I can find a number.”
Only taking time to lock the door, Glory took off at a brisk run. She knew her limits and the signs. Grasping her heart, Glory hoped she could make it without getting too winded. If she cut across the way, taking the trail through the woods that T had shown her, she should get there fairly quickly.
…At Wildwood, T-Rex was having tea with Harper. “You know when you said we’d have tea, I pictured dainty cups filled with hot liquid served with crumbly little biscuits covered with jam.”
Harper laughed and rocked in her chair. Her glass of iced sweet tea sat on a small table between them. “You did not, T-Rex Beaumont, you’re as Southern as I am.”
T laughed. “Maybe so. We didn’t drink much tea at our house when I was growing up. I’m not sure why, maybe because we didn’t sit down to very many family dinners.” He took a sip of the cold, sugary concoction. “I’m sorry I lost my temper at the festival, Harper. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“No problem, I knew exactly what was happening, T-Rex. We all have our ghosts to contend with.” Harper exhaled slowly. “If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t have known too much about family life either. T, you realize you don’t hold the monopoly on a dysfunctional childhood, don’t you? You aren’t the only one who gets angry either. My father abused me, maybe not the same way your father abused your sister, but it still left lifelong scars. And as if my scars on the inside weren’t enough for me, I took my anger out on my own body. I cut myself, T. I punished myself everyway I knew how. If it weren’t for Revel, I would have never come to terms with my pain.”
“We’ve all got scars, don’t we?” T sat forward, staring past Harper into the edge of the swamp. “I can’t imagin
e how you survived, Harper. My sister died, but you…”
“Yes, I survived and your sister died, T. But you did your best to try and save her, Alice’s death wasn’t your fault. Your father murdered your sister and you pushed him back when he tried to do the same to you. I know they ruled your father’s death as justified, and it was, T. But you didn’t set out to kill him, did you? All you did was push him away when he attacked you. Right?”
T bowed his shoulders, his arms on his knees, holding the glass down between his legs. “Yes, but I lost control. I wanted to hurt him. He’d just squeezed the life from my sister’s body.” Shaking his head, he spoke softly. “I can still see my mother’s face, Harper. How she looked at me. She was afraid…of me. I can still hear her words. She told me I was just like him. She told me that I was a monster, just like my father.”
“That’s not true!” Glory exclaimed, from the bottom step of the porch. “You’re a good man!” She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but as she’d come across the yard, their voices had rung out – clear as a bell.
“Glory!” T stood up, staring at Glory with despair and annoyance. He paid less heed to her words than he did the shock at her presence and the realization of what she’d just learned. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me again?”
Glory stopped in her tracks, his tone bruising her almost as much as the spill she’d just taken as she’d run headlong through the swamp – jumping logs and racing through the underbrush. Holding her injured arm, she lifted her chin. “No, I didn’t follow you. You left your phone at home. There’s been an incident at the shelter. Lauren needs you to go to her.”
The next few moments were filled with confusion.
“Are you hurt, Glory?” Harper asked.
“No, I’m fine,” she assured her friend. “This is nothing. A sprain at the most.”
“What happened?” T asked as he set down the glass, preparing to leave.
Glory told him what she knew. “Someone drove a truck through the front wall.”
“No, to you.” He came to her and knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his. “You hurt yourself.”
Relieved at his concern, Glory assured him she was fine. “I just fell down, slipped on some straw and landed wrong. You need to get to the shelter. Lauren can’t find anyone to fix the damage and the women are afraid.”
There was more, but T didn’t take time to listen. “All right, let’s go. Harper, thank you for the tea and for accepting my apology. Tell Revel I’m sorry I missed him.” He headed toward his truck, a guiding hand on Glory’s back. “Buford, in!”
“Here’s your phone, you can call Lauren and assure her that you’re on your way.” Glory said as they climbed in, handing him his cell. Buford settled at her feet on the floorboard.
T took it and made the call, his concern for Lauren and the shelter evident. “What the hell happened, Lauren?” He listened. “Yes, we’re on our way.” Another pause. “Have the police found the nut-job?” After a few minutes, and a little more conversation, he hung up. “I can’t believe this.”
“Can you repair the shelter?” Glory asked, sure that he could. T could do anything.
“Yea, she’s going to have some lumber and other materials waiting for me. It won’t be a final fix, but I can make it safe and weather proof until someone can get there to finish the job. The police put out an APB on the husband, they think he’s been sighted in the next county.”
Glory nodded. “Good. I hope they catch him.” Taking a deep breath, she just blurted out what she couldn’t hold back. “I’m sorry I interrupted you and Harper.”
“No worries,” T said, “you did the right thing.”
“How are things with her?”
Knowing what Glory was asking, he gave her an answer. “She accepted my apology. Harper and I have a lot in common, Glory. Like she said today, we all have our ghosts. Mine just don’t walk the halls of my home like Harper’s do.”
“Thank goodness.” Glory inserted in a heartfelt tone.
T chuckled. “I don’t know how she and Revel live there, I truly don’t. Buford doesn’t even like to sit on their porch.”
“I know you’re a great storyteller, but do you really believe those things? Ghosts? The Rougaroux?” Glory was indeed interested, but she was also using the topic to ease into a more serious conversation.
T-Rex considered what to say. “I’m not sure there’s a simple answer, Glory. As far as I’m concerned, the ghosts of Wildwood are real. You saw one yourself, didn’t you?”
Glory shuddered. “I thought I did. Maybe I imagined it.” Even as she made the comment, she knew how foolish it was. “No, I saw the woman, I can’t deny it. Do you think it was a ghost? She looked as real as you or I do.”
T-Rex shrugged, slowing down to turn onto the main highway. “From what I’ve learned of the paranormal, ghosts can take many forms. Orbs. See-through apparitions. Noises. And spirits who look like the woman you saw, indistinguishable from a normal human being.”
Glory didn’t like what she was hearing. “Why do you say the ghosts of Wildwood are real?”
T didn’t know how much to tell Glory. “If I tell you this tale, you’ll be cuddling closer to me tonight.”
Glory laughed. “I can’t see how that’s a bad thing.”
T couldn’t argue with her reasoning. “All right. When Harper first came back, she became aware of a disturbance in the house.”
“I remember her saying so, something about a baby.”
“Yes, she could hear a baby crying. Even more unsettling, she could sometimes hear a woman screaming and once she saw furniture move and another time she witnessed an apparition of a woman hanging from the balcony.”
Glory laid a hand on his knee and squeezed hard. “That’s awful. I remember her saying they brought in Patrick’s wife to investigate. Did you ever see anything yourself?” She didn’t know why she was torturing herself like this.
“Just the lights.”
“What lights?” Her hand on his knee shook a bit…until he covered it with his warm palm.
“Ghost lights. Will o’ the wisp. Swamp gas. Whatever you want to call it.” He gave her a wink. “I saw them floating across the swamp right outside Wildwood. Part of me will tell you that it’s the feu-follet, the soul of the small baby. But my scientific side will say it’s a phenomenon produced by organic decay that causes photon emissions. The decay of swamp plant life releases phosphine and diphosphate, these two chemicals can spontaneously ignite on contact with the oxygen in the air. This ignition could then ignite the much more abundant methane to create ephemeral fires.”
Glory laughed. “You lost me. At least your scientific talk got rid of my case of the willies.”
“Shoot, there goes the snuggling.”
“Not hardly,” she assured him. They let a few moments of companionable silence go by, then Glory said what she’d been wanting to say for weeks. “We need to talk, T.”
She didn’t have to say about what, T-Rex just knew. “Later, let’s deal with one mess at a time.”
“I heard what you and Harper were saying. Let me help you, T.” Glory pleaded. “You’ll never find a more sympathetic ear than mine.”
“Help me with what, Glory?” T snapped at her. He wasn’t angry at her. He was angry at the situation. “Damn!” He hit the wheel. “I didn’t want you to know the whole ugly truth. Don’t you see? I killed my father because he was abusing my sister. Hell, he abused me and my mother too. But the same cancer that made him a monster was passed down to me. Even my mother recognized that sad fact.”
Glory growled, so angry that she could punch something. “You listen to me, Rex Allen Beaumont.” When he cut her a chiding look at the name she called him, she growled again. “No matter what name you bear, no matter who fathered you, you are one of a kind. A wonderful man.” Her voice rose, her chest heaving. “You are my hero! So, don’t ever let me hear one more self-deprecating, judgmental word about my hero come out of your mouth. Do you
hear me!?”
T bit back a grin. “Much like you told me once before, I’m sure the people in the next county heard you.” He exhaled a long breath, keeping his eyes on the road. “As much as I appreciate your confidence, that doesn’t change the truth. I just can’t afford to let my guard down.” He paused, so aware of her at his side. “The cost is just too high.”
“We’ll see.” She crossed her legs, unaware how her skirt rode up on her thighs. “I’ll prove it to you, T. Just you wait.”
They rode for a few minutes in silence. Finally, she whispered. “Tell me about your sister.”
T-Rex didn’t want to. He didn’t intend to. But before he knew it, he was speaking. “She was so pretty. Dark hair, big blue eyes. Soft spoken, musically inclined.” His mouth tightened. “Alice wanted to be a nurse, she was almost through school. I can remember her leaving me little notes, especially when our old man would give me a hard time. We were afraid to talk openly, many times her encouraging words helped me go on. She didn’t deserve…” He swallowed, his voice breaking. “She deserved a long, happy life.”
“I bet you were a good brother.” Now, she knew why he’d left her the little note. He’d learned it from his sister. That fact made the note even more special to her.
