Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price)

by EJ Valson

  The Nostalgia Effect

  EJ Valson

  Copyright 2013 by EJ VALSON

  Published at Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author.

  The following story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. No compensation was provided to the Author for any mention of an actual event, person, place or thing.

  Acknowledgments:

  I have been waiting all my life to write something that meant something to me, and will hopefully mean something to those who read it. I was truly inspired by love and the many blessings in my life when I wrote this book. I want to thank my parents, my “soul mate” and other friends and family for supporting, encouraging, inspiring and guiding me through this process. I couldn't have done it without you.

  -Love E

  The

  Nostalgia

  Effect

  PROLOGUE

  “I’ll get her,” I mumble sleepily, as I’m abruptly awakened by the faint sound of a toddler’s cry. The dark gray of dawn is coaxing my eyes to open, but they stay stubbornly shut. Her cry fades into the quiet morning and I assume that she was just dreaming and has fallen back to sleep. I’m so tired, but I have a lot to do today. I wrestle with the bed sheets, my eyes still closed, attempting to get a few more minutes of sleep.

  Then surrendering to the inevitability of morning and with eyelids still shut, I slowly sit up and kick away the blankets, preparing my feet to meet the cool hardwood floor. To my surprise, I instead feel something soft under my toes. I quickly pull my feet back up because I think I’m stepping on the cat. I open my puffy eyes the tiniest bit while trying to focus….no cat, no hardwood floor, but carpet instead.

  My eyes fly open and dart around the unfamiliar room. Where the hell am I? My startled gaze drifts to the other side of the bed. And who the hell is that?

  CHAPTER 1

  Panic wells up in me and my heart starts to race. I am in the wrong place, the wrong house. Though the room feels familiar, I know I’ve never been here before. Dim early-morning light illuminates the space around me. Maybe I’m not seeing correctly. Maybe my eyesight is failing me.

  There is a man sleeping with his back to me. His hair is dark, darker than my husband Michael’s. This man is too tan and thin to be Michael, and his hair is cut differently. But he looks slightly familiar. I think I know him. But that doesn’t answer any questions. Did I get drunk and pass out somewhere? Was I drugged? Have I been kidnapped? I don’t feel hungover, I don’t feel hurt and I don’t feel sick. What the hell is happening?!

  The familiar stranger starts to stir. Oh, God, Jenni, Run! Still asleep, the man rolls over now facing his body in my direction. I stare in shock while my heart thumps in my chest. My hand instinctively covers my mouth to quiet a scream. I draw in a breath so deep it almost suffocates me. It’s my ex-husband Joe.

  My body begins to tremble. Joe’s remains asleep, oblivious to the fact that he’s inches away from a panicking woman whose world has just turned upside down. Why am I here? Why is he here? This has to be a mistake!

  I force my shaky breath to be quiet when I inhale and exhale. I cannot wake him. I wouldn’t know what to say. My mind races, struggling to make sense of my circumstances. What happened last night? How did we meet up? I don’t remember any of it. I haven’t seen Joe in several years. He doesn’t even live in the same state as I do! So how did I get into what I assume is his house?

  Where are Michael…and Olivia and Stella? Have they tried calling me? Are they worried? My cell phone...it has to be here somewhere! I have to find my things and get out of here as soon as possible.

  I slowly lift the sheet from across my lap and step onto the plush carpet. There’s a familiar scent in the room. Lemongrass -- my favorite. My eyes have now adjusted to the low light. The room decor is simple, but has a feminine touch.

  His wife. Where is his wife? My heart starts to pound again. What if she comes home and finds me? I think, as guilt and fear wash over me. I begin my escape, quietly slipping out through the slightly open bedroom door and step into a long hallway lined by four more doors.

  I tiptoe slowly down the hallway, in fear of stepping too loudly or hitting a creak in the floor of what appears to be an older ranch-style home. To the left is a small bathroom, with only a shower, toilet and pedestal sink. It looks recently remodeled. I continue on passed a linen closet and gingerly approach another door that is half open. It seems to be a guest bedroom, despite the fact it is light green and soft pink. I’m almost completely passed it when I hear heavy breathing coming from inside the room. Curious, I step back and poke my head through the doorway. There’s a small body tucked into the full-size bed. Their back is facing me and the blankets are pulled up high, shielding their face.

  My eyes dart around the room before noticing a small pair of pink tennis shoes near the bed. Oh God, oh God, it’s a little girl! How could I be in this house with him and some kid? What kind of man brings a woman home while there’s a child here? And who is she? Joe doesn’t have any daughters with his new wife!

  I shake it off and try to pick up my pace. I move away from the door frame, but my eye is immediately pulled back to something else in the room. I step backwards and peer in again. On top of the dresser is an item I’ve seen in my oldest daughter’s room every day for the last eleven years of her life.

  How can that be? I slowly make my way into the room. I’m careful not to wake the child, who has most of her head under the covers, as I creep towards the small silver figurine of two embracing cherubs. When she was a year old, I bought my daughter Olivia the same one while on a trip to the coast at a specialty shop where all the items were handmade and unique.

  My fingertips lightly touch the cold silver wings. I gently pick up the figurine for inspection. My understanding when I purchased the piece was that it was one of a kind. I carefully place it in my left hand. Light from the sun is now peeking through the window. I can see the figurine very clearly. It’s identical to the one I bought my daughter. It even holds the same correction mark where one wing was not molded properly and the artist tried to improvise.

  “Mommy?”

  I turn around quickly, when startled by a gentle voice in the room. Blood rushes from my head and my knees weaken. It’s my daughter Olivia, but she’s young again. Suddenly the room goes dark and I feel the slam of the floor as it meets my body.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Jenni, Jenni!” I awaken to the sound of Joe’s voice. I feel his arm around the back of my neck, sitting me up. Olivia is crying.

  “It’s OK, Livi, Mommy is OK,” Joe comforts her, with worry in his voice.

  My body feels heavy in his arms. I don’t want to get up. I’m afraid that if I do, I will still be here and this reality doesn’t make sense to me. Panic quickly returns. My head is swirling and I can feel my pulse in my eyes. I can’t comprehend where I am or why I’m here. Why is Olivia younger and why is she not scared of this situation? Why are they acting like this is normal?

  “Jenni, do you want me to call 911?” Joe asks.

  ”Yes!” I say, instantly alert. “Call 911!” I grab at his arm and plead with him. “Please, I need help!”

  Joe pulls away at my sudden and forceful outburst. Little Olivia is still crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Mommy is scaring me,” she chokes through the tears. Joe pulls her close to him.

  “It’s OK, Livi. Mommy just fainted. She’ll be OK.” Joe then turns to me, confused and slightly agitated. “Jenni, what is wrong with you?”

  I look at my ex-husband, then at mysteriously young Olivia. She i
s clinging to Joe as he strokes the top of her head. Why are we all in this room together and why do we appear to be a family? And why does she look like she is four years old again? When I saw her yesterday she was twelve! There are so many “why’s” running through my mind, all at once.

  As I stare at them, and they back at me, a sudden calm washes over me. I quickly realize that I must pull myself together or I will be hauled off to the looney bin. I fear that if Joe calls 911, they are likely to think I’m schizophrenic, take me away, drug me up and isolate me. Play along, I tell myself.

  “I’m OK, Baby. I’m OK,” I say to Olivia softly.

  I sit up and hold out my arms for her to embrace me. She slowly slides off Joe’s lap and gently folds herself into me. Her scent and the weight of her body are so familiar to me. Her small feet brush my leg as she climbs into my lap. This is my baby, through and through. She is my Olivia, somehow both who she was before and who she is as I know her now, at age twelve. She is still my baby.

  Joe watches me, concerned and unsure, as if I might snap again. “Are you sure you’re OK?” Joe asks warily.

  I nod, but I’m thinking to myself, No I AM not OK! I have no idea where I am, but they seem to. They are acting like this is normal, but I don’t know why. My heart feels as if it has broken in two. Why am I here with them? Where is my real life? Where is Michael and our daughter Stella?

  CHAPTER 3

  I am sitting on the floor in front of them. I feel like an alien or a character from one of those movies where people switch places. When I’m confident Joe and Olivia are reassured and settled, I get up to go to the bathroom -- mostly to confirm who I am. Looking in the mirror, clearly I am me, but slightly younger. I lift up the unfamiliar nightgown I’m wearing, one I would never have chosen, and look at my stomach. The stretch marks from my pregnancy with Stella are non-existent. My stomach is flatter, my breasts rounder and more firm. I don’t have the markings of having borne another child as I had yesterday.

  I turn around to check between my shoulder blades. “My tattoo,” I whisper sadly.

  It’s gone. There is no longer a soft pink lily gracing my bare skin. It begins to dawn on me that I’m not me anymore. I appear to be a form of my past self. For a brief moment I feel a slight ping of pleasure, enjoying my younger self’s body, but then a deep pinch in my gut resists the good feelings and reminds me that I am lost.

  I can hear the sound of cartoons coming from the living room and cereal being poured into a bowl. The smell of Rogers coffee, Joe’s favorite, is brewing. It is a smell I’m no longer accustomed to, as my husband...well…I guess my future husband, Michael only drinks a Swedish brand native to his hometown. Instantly I’m stabbed with a longing ache for him. Where is he? I feel panic starting again, but I will it away to avoid another scene.

  I feel like a visitor in a place that is apparently my home, judging by the small touches of my obvious decor taste and family photos placed upon a brick mantel and the surrounding walls. I try not to appear out of sorts, but I cannot help but gaze at images of captured moments that I have no memory of. Has this always been my life? Do Michael and Stella really exist or did I have a vivid lifelike dream that has me completely confused and disoriented? Am I losing my mind?

  Joe doesn’t say anything to me, as I pretend to straighten pictures on the wall while I secretly inspect them for any sign of photo editing. He instead focuses on concealing the mess he is creating with pancake batter and bacon in the kitchen.

  I gaze upon pictures of our wedding day that I actually do remember, and photos of Olivia’s birthdays, Christmases and family camping trips with friends who haven’t talked to me in years in my other life. But they look recent. Are we still friends?

  Suddenly there is a knock at the door and it swings open. I jump, startled by the interruption.

  “Hey, Kids! Morning!” My dad shouts out as he comes through the door. Without hesitation I run to him and hug him tight.

  “Dad!” I exclaim with relief. He freezes, surprised by my overzealous welcome.

  “Nice to see you too!” he chuckles. I hesitantly let go of him. I want my dad to see the fear in my eyes, to tell me this isn’t real, and save me from whatever this is. Instead his expression only tells me that he is confused. It is the same expression Joe wore earlier.

  “Grandpa!” Olivia calls, as she runs and jumps into his embrace. In my mind I quietly thank her for distracting them from my odd behavior.

  “Hey, Jim. You hungry?” Joe asks my dad.

  “Nah,” he replies. “I just stopped by to drop off the weed whacker for you. It’s on the porch. Mary is in the car waiting for me to take her to breakfast.”

  Mary? I think. Who the hell is Mary? Where is Nancy, my stepmother?

  “OK, no problem. Thanks for bringing that by,” Joe says, as he refocuses on his task of making breakfast.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay, Dad?” I say, almost pleading. He hugs me again, and holds me tight at his side.

  “You OK?” he asks, concern on his face. I’m almost on the verge of tears, but I pull it together, as it is obvious he is living in the same reality as Joe and Olivia.

  “Yeah, I’m just tired and I feel like I haven’t seen you much lately,” I respond, covering my distress. Joe and my dad look at me puzzled.

  My dad chuckles and looks at me quizzically. “We just got back from spending a week together at the coast yesterday,” he says.

  I realize I’m really blowing it. “I know,” I answer lightly, trying to cover myself. “It was just sort of chaotic. It would be nice to wind down and chat.” I hope this reassures him.

  He nods in agreement. “Well, we will have dinner at our place soon,” he says, and with that he gives a wave to Joe, a kiss to Olivia and to me a pat on the shoulder as he walks out the door. I surreptitiously peek out of the window to try to get a glance of this “Mary” lady. The sun’s reflection on his old Cadillac’s window makes it impossible to see her face. I only catch a glimpse of white-blonde hair as he quickly drives away.

  I instantly miss my dad. I feel desperately alone again, trapped in a place I’m supposed to know as my home, with my first daughter at the peak of her toddlerhood, a husband I shouldn’t be married to anymore and memories of a life that either doesn’t exist or has been going on without me.

  CHAPTER 4

  I’m grateful when Joe announces he is heading out to his parents’ to help his dad work on his yard. In the old days, that meant he would be gone for hours. For a short while I’ll be able to let my guard down and try to discover where I really am and why. Younger Olivia seems oblivious to her mother’s odd behavior and continues about her day, playing with baby dolls and watching her favorite movie at that age. It is a miniscule gesture of familiarity, and it comforts me.

  Later, when I realize Olivia still takes naps, I put her down to sleep. As she climbs willingly into her bed, I remember how easy she was at that age. My other daughter Stella is spunky and spirited and doesn’t fear consequences as much as Olivia did. I brush the hair out of her big blue eyes. Little did I know when she was that age, that when she got older her eyes would be more green-colored, like Joe’s. At this moment in time her cheeks are still round and her complexion is clear and unscathed by makeup or blemishes. Her chubby hands hold my cheeks as I give her a kiss on the nose while tucking her in. I miss her at this age, and yet here she is.

  After I tuck her in for a nap, I rush to get to work on sorting out my new circumstances. What day is it? What month is it? It could be summer, based on the outside temperature and ample sunshine. If the flowers are blooming, it probably is. But if it really is 2005, I’m not sure we have a computer or the internet for me to do research and orient myself. When Joe and I were married, we weren’t very tech savvy, especially him, so I don’t know what to expect.

  As I explore the house, I see we appear to have a big screen TV, VCR/DVD combo and what looks like a gaming console, but I’m not even sure if Joe has a cell phone. There i
s a cordless phone connected to a landline in the living room, but who would I call? I can’t remember anyone’s phone number by heart but Michael’s. In my “real” life, everyone I normally call is programmed into my cell phone along with their names. While walking around the house contemplating, a light bulb goes off in my head. PURSE!!! I have to have a purse!

  I quickly begin searching for some sign of my personal belongings. At my real home they are usually at my bedside. Do I put them there now? I hurry back to the bedroom. No sign of a purse there. I make a 180 degree turn back to the living room, and check on the floor in areas where one might drop shoes and keys. By the door, by the phone…nothing. I gaze around the kitchen, but the counters are clear.

  Then I notice a black strap hanging over a dining room chair. YES! That is what I used to do! I feel as if I struck gold in the ugly black bag hanging at the dining room table. “Why do I have this?” I ask myself out loud. “It is so....boring!” Not my style anymore at all.