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

  “OK,” I say, then ask, “So you remember you need to take the tram to the escalators to get upstairs to your gate?” I’m all too familiar with the layout of the airport after multiple trips to Sweden.

  “Yeah. I am almost there,” he answers.

  “OK. Just let me know when you have boarded and I will see you soon,” I say, a little giddy with covering my surprise. We say “I love you” and hang up.

  I can hardly breathe I’m so full of excitement. I turn around to face the top of the escalator that will bring him up to where I am. I watch intently. What should I say, what should I do, where should I stand? Every time I see the top of someone’s head, my stomach fills with butterflies. It feels like he is taking forever!

  Finally I see him. His back is to me and I’m able to observe him without him knowing as he rides up the escalator. He is wearing his burnt orange track jacket that I have borrowed many times when I was cold.

  He steps off the escalator. He is not paying attention to his surroundings, as he is focused on finding his gate. I slowly walk towards him from his left side. He must see me out of the corner of his eye because he turns and his eyes meet mine. I smile, he is surprised, we speed up our pace and embrace tightly. I can feel his skin, his bones, his warmth. He is real, he is mine.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Happy Anniversary,” Joe says, as he carries a large vase of red roses into the bedroom, where I’m getting dressed.

  Out of habit I instantly smile and say, “Thank you,” though I have no idea what is going on. “Happy Anniversary,” I automatically say back.

  He gives me a lingering kiss on the lips, but I keep mine pressed tight. “That’s so sweet of you,” I say as I touch the petals.

  I feel a sudden rush of anxiety. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. I totally forgot that our anniversary was at the end of August. Now I have to play along with this and do what any good wife would do.

  Joe and I have been getting along nicely over the past month. He is much more easy-going, helpful and friendly than the man I used to know. Something must have changed along the way. Maybe we finally became friends again.

  Out of my new found respect for him, I can’t let him down. I have to do something nice for him. But the thought of having to be romantic is making me nervous and a little nauseous.

  “Well, I have to head out, Babe. I will see you tonight after I drop Olivia at your dad’s. Then it’s dinner and a movie for us,” he says, chipper as he walks out of the room.

  I immediately feel guilty, but am relieved that I managed to cover up the fact that I forgot what day it was.

  After the usual Olivia drop off and morning work routine of grabbing coffee, checking email and having a quick chat with Stacy, I sit down at my desk to concentrate. What am I going to do for Joe for our anniversary....and what year are we celebrating? After counting the years and determining that it would be five years, I start jotting down on a notepad the things I know he might like.

  He drinks coffee a lot. He still likes tools and hiking stuff. What would I get Michael? Typically techy gadgets or clothes. Hmmm, maybe Joe would like some clothes. “What do I get a man for our anniversary when I’m not really married to him anymore,” I think. This thought makes me laugh out loud, and I marvel a little that I can find humor in this situation. It’s helping me keep my sanity.

  Realizing that I only have a short amount of time to get something for Joe before our date tonight, I rush to the large home improvement store on my lunch break. The store isn’t arranged much differently from the way it will be later, so I’m able to head straight to the tool section without a problem.

  As my eyes roam through the rows of drills, hand saws, hammers and whatever else a man might like, I realize that I have no idea what I’m looking for. I give up on my search for that type of item and head over to the barbecue and patio section.

  We have an outdoor grill, but it looks a little old and rusted. I decide this is the opportunity to do something nice for Joe, because even though he doesn’t know it, he has made what started out as a nightmare much more tolerable.

  After finding a nice, red, shiny grill, new grilling tools and a cover, I convince the store manager to sell me the demo model so that I can buy it assembled. Telling him it was a gift for our anniversary seemed to do the trick, as he remarked that I knew the way to a man’s heart.

  I tell him I will be able to reassemble the base myself once I get home, so that it will fit in my car. Then I call work and tell Ruth I am having car trouble and I may not be able to come back in today. After putting down the back seats, moving Olivia’s booster seat to the front and cursing the grill as I wrestle it into the car, I’m finally on my way.

  I decide to stop at the supermarket and grab a couple of nice steaks, a bottle of wine, a six pack of beer, French bread, baked potatoes and salad. This is what I would do for Michael, so I hope that Joe will appreciate it as well.

  When I get home I’m sticky with sweat from the afternoon heat. I hustle to get the grill into the backyard and set up near the patio table. I’m grateful that the August evenings are starting to cool down a bit, allowing for a lovely outdoor dining experience.

  Joe...well, I guess “we”...have done a nice job of landscaping the backyard. Mature shrubs create a lush appearance along parts of the tall wooden fence and there is a large brick patio directly outside of the dining room next to a spacious patch of soft green grass for Olivia to play on. There are even tiki lanterns and hanging outdoor lights around parts of the yard. I find the yard very peaceful amidst the chaos of this confusing new/old life.

  After setting up the grill and festooning it with a red bow I find in a box in the garage labeled “Christmas”, I head to the kitchen to marinate the steak and prepare the potatoes. If I time it just right, I will have an hour left to shower and freshen up before Joe gets home.

  When I’m done with my preparations, I call work one more time and am grateful that Ruth’s voicemail picks up so I don’t have to lie to her directly. I continue with my story about the car and how I’m taking it into the shop, but won’t be back until Monday. I seem to have mastered playing hookie without guilt.

  I savor a nice hot shower and take my time to wash my hair and have a good scrub. Even if I’m not celebrating this occasion with Michael, I will still do my best to make it special for Joe. He works hard and I’m sure not having to get dressed up to take me to dinner and a movie will be appreciated. However, I only hope he doesn’t expect anything later. I will have to come up with an excuse to get out of that as well.

  After I shower and dress, I check the potatoes in the oven. They are ready to prepare with my signature twice-baked potato filling. Michael loves this recipe, which makes me feel a little sad as I start the process. I turn on the radio, open the bottle of wine and pour myself a glass to relax. I don’t have to rush anymore, so I might as well take my time and enjoy cooking.

  I’m not used to having the house to myself. I appreciate the feel of the cool tiled floor under my bare feet. I’m comfortable in the black sleeveless summer dress I’ve put on, but I also feel pretty. I close my eyes and imagine Michael coming up behind me and hugging me like he often does when I am cooking. I miss him. I miss his affection. My heart starts to ache.

  CHAPTER 23

  After I finish in the kitchen I sit quietly in the living room, sipping my wine and enjoying the country music that takes me back to my high school days. The potatoes are in the oven, the salad is made, so all I have to do is wait. I hear the sound of a diesel engine approaching and my ears almost perk up like a dog’s. Joe is home.

  I run to the dining room and open the French door to the patio so it will be obvious that I’m outside when he walks in the house. Then I quickly grab a beer out of the fridge, pop off the top, pick up my glass of wine from the coffee table and scurry out to stand near the grill.

  I down a gulp of wine to calm my nerves and instantly feel it kick in. I wait several minutes,
as Joe tends to take his time. I hear the door close inside the house, then he calls for me.

  “I’m out here,” I call back. A minute later Joe’s head appears in the doorway and he glances around the yard before spotting me.

  His eyes immediately go to the grill and light up. A big smile spreads across his face. “What is this?” he says, grinning ear to ear. I can’t help but smile back genuinely.

  I hand him his beer and raise my glass to his. “Happy Anniversary,” I say.

  After Joe inspects his new grill, he leaves to take a shower, then returns and begins cooking our steaks to perfection.

  “Well done, right?” he asks, as the steaks sizzle on the grill.

  “No, medium rare,” I reply.

  “Really?” he asks, his eyes wide open in surprise. My taste for steak has changed over the years.

  I shrug and nod, then he turns back to his task.

  When the steaks are done we sit down and begin eating at the table outside.

  “These potatoes are awesome. Where did you learn to make them?” he asks before taking another big bite.

  I smile. “Just something I came across,” I respond, while cutting my succulent and perfectly cooked steak. I have to say, the man can certainly grill a steak.

  When we are finished we sit back and enjoy the evening light, with another beer for Joe and a glass of wine for me. Joe isn’t much for constant conversation, so instead we sit in silence -- gazing out towards the budding sunset. Music floats into the yard from inside the house. The night is still and calm. I close my eyes and let the setting sun graze my face.

  “Do you remember that time we went to California after graduation and blew a tire,” Joe asks, chuckling. I laugh out loud. I had forgotten about that, but it was pretty funny. I remember how we struggled to change the flat tire on the side of the road. Two young, clueless kids.

  The wine and beer continue to flow as we reminisce about camping trips we took when we were younger and other happier times that I could actually remember. I had forgotten all of these moments over the years. Maybe I had buried them because they weren’t important to me anymore. After all, our story was over. Wasn’t it?

  We are still sitting on the patio when night falls. It’s pleasant enough to be outdoors without a sweater. The moon is hanging high, and stars shine bright above us. Crickets are chirping in the nearby field, while the rest of the neighborhood is peaceful.

  Another old country favorite begins playing on the stereo. Joe looks at me, raises his eyebrows, sets his beer down and stands up. He comes around to my side of the table and holds out his hand. I gulp the rest of my wine before I place the glass on the table and slowly rise as I take his hand.

  Without speaking we embrace into a slow dance. It feels natural. Probably because in the past I danced with him more times than I could count. We move slowly, not talking. When the song ends Joe pulls back to face me and looks into my eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him fully.

  CHAPTER 24

  I have never felt as much guilt and regret as I do right now, laying here in the dark. My head is still swirling from the wine, my mouth is dry, my stomach is in knots and I’m on the verge of throwing up. I hate myself. I hate myself for feeling guilty for doing something that is only natural between a husband and wife. But I hate my body more for feeling like I don’t belong to him, and for not knowing where it belongs. My emotional confusion adds to my physical distress.

  I pretend to be asleep when Joe comes back to bed. I wait to hear him breathing heavily, then I ease out of bed, grab a robe from the back of the bedroom door and tiptoe out of the room, heading straight for the patio. I need air.

  The moon lights up the backyard and the stars are still glowing bright in the sky. Damn this evening! It set the mood for everything. I collapse into the first chair I find and sob as quietly I can. My knees are pulled up to my chest. My arms are wrapped around them -- hugging them tightly. What have I done? Why did I do it? Why does it hurt so much that I did?

  I take a breath and try to quiet my sobs. I look up hopefully to the night sky. I imagine Michael sleeping peacefully somewhere. I long for his arms, his body heat, to hear his heartbeat when I fold into him.

  “Where are you?” I whisper out loud.

  CHAPTER 25

  On Monday morning I head back into my usual routine with great relief. I have been more somber and sad over the past two days than I have been since I arrived in this life. I feel homesick and disappointed in myself. The worst part is that I can’t tell Michael. I can’t apologize or beg for forgiveness. I’m not even sure there is or ever was a Michael.

  At around 10:00 a.m. I hear my cell phone buzzing in my purse. I don’t recognize the number.

  I answer it quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else in the office. “Hello?” I say, in a hushed voice.

  “Jennifer? It’s Astrid,” Astrid’s soothing voice replies. I’m elated to hear from her.

  “Hi, Astrid. Sorry, I didn’t realize I had given you my number,” I reply, attempting to explain my confused sounding greeting.

  “You didn’t. I’m psychic, remember?” she says, and then lets out a chuckle. “Just kidding. I have caller ID and I wrote it down when you made your appointment.”

  I can’t help but laugh too, and louder than I intend.

  “So, my dear, I have some good news,” she says. I perk up. Good news is exactly what I need. “A friend of mine came into town over the weekend. We have been doing some....research, so to speak...on your situation. He would like to meet you. He specializes in hypnosis.”

  I’m silent for a minute. I have only seen hypnosis performed in magic shows or television talk shows. Just the idea of letting someone else take over my mind without me knowing what’s going on makes me feel vulnerable and out of control.

  “Jennifer, are you there?” she inquires.

  “Sorry, yes, I just needed to process that for a minute,” I respond.

  She lets out a sweet empathetic laugh. “I know it sounds...well...like a circus trick. But I promise he is one of the best hypnotists I have ever come across. I even let him hypnotize me,” she says reassuringly.

  I don’t know why I trust her opinion, but I do. What do I have to lose? I have already lost my life.

  We set up an appointment for early that evening. I spend the next few hours vacillating between curiosity and nerves. I decide to do research on the internet about hypnosis. I watch some short video recordings that only make me more nervous.

  I call Joe to tell him I forgot I had a counseling appointment that I need to go to. He is more than understanding and willingly agrees to care for Olivia. He is still euphoric from the weekend and will do almost anything I ask with a smile. The thought of what it took to achieve his good mood makes me feel guilty and nauseous again.

  For the rest of the day I distract myself with small tasks, many of which require me to head to the Marketing department. This leads to several brief conversations and joke sessions with Stacy and Steve, which help ease my tension. I want to stay in this cocoon of familiarity. They don’t even know they are the only ones in my life who really haven’t changed.

  CHAPTER 26

  It’s a little after 5:00 p.m. when I pull into Astrid’s driveway. There is an old Volkswagen minibus with Washington state license plates parked by her house. I assume it must belong to “Mr. Hypnotist”. I guess he would arrive in a car like a normal person and not some black limo or hearse.

  I head towards the front door as quickly as possible. Since I have been so public lately, I’m actually legitimately worried about someone seeing me this time and wondering why I am here.

  After I knock, the doorknob turns slowly. A tall, skinny, older gentleman with salt and pepper hair opens the door. His nose is unusually large and I try not to stare. His blue-grey eyes meet mine and he extends a long, large hand.

  “Hello, Jennifer. I’m John,” he says softly.

  His greeting is as war
m as Astrid’s was. I can see why they are friends.

  I feel instantly relaxed when I walk into Astrid’s house. It is cool and quiet. It’s almost as if you enter another dimension when you set foot in her home. Maybe you do.

  Astrid emerges out of what I presume is the kitchen with two cups of hot tea and hands one to John.

  “Hi, Jennifer,” she says, with a big smile. “I see you’ve met John.”

  I nod and smile back.

  She leans in towards me for a hug after handing John his mug of tea. I take the embrace fully. She must sense that I need it because she lingers. She steps back and looks me in the eyes.

  “Oh, I see,” she says sympathetically.

  I cock my head a little, confused.