“You keep referring to your blessings as plural, meaning you blessed the property more than once?” I ask, to clarify.
“I did.”
“So, your blessings don’t work?”
She frowns at the insult.
“The spirit world isn’t quite so simple as that. You can’t send a spirit on their way merely by asking them to, especially if they don’t want to leave in the first place. Think of it as pest control. You can spray your house to control the vermin, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be a spider on the ceiling or a fly in the windowpane. You can’t just eradicate evil, dearie, but you can protect yourself.”
I stare at her because I don’t know what else to say.
“I’m the bright red house on Miller Street,” she says matter-of-factly and disappears back into the vet’s office.
I stare at the place where the woman used to be. And I swear the only thing I can think is: of course she lives in a bright red house.
12
Annie
When Mom said I had to work off Salem’s vet bill, she wasn’t joking. Here I am in the brisk autumn air, whitewashing the side of the house. The sun is bright and beautiful, but perfectly useless in regards to heat. It’s that time of year when it’s cold in the morning and sweltering by midday. Hopefully, I can put in a few good hours, and Mom will let me off the hook by lunchtime.
I hear him before I see him. I turn towards the noise and see Copper cresting the hill on the back of a beat up four-wheeler. I can’t say for sure, but it looks like it’s been taken apart and put back together again using the parts of at least four different ATVs. It’s a Franken-four wheeler. At first glance, the Yamaha appears to be silver (at least the parts of it that are genuinely Yamaha), but as he draws nearer, I see that it’s actually dark green. The silver catching the morning light is the duct tape keeping his fenders together. He’s riding hard and fast in this direction. His messy blonde hair blows around his head and I wonder how he’s not freezing with his bare arms exposed like that. I’m shivering in my hoodie, and I’m gulping down coffee merely to stay warm.
“Morning, neighbor!” he calls while cutting off the engine.
“Hey, Copper.”
The sun slips away from the morning clouds, highlighting his hair in a dazzling fashion. The gold reflecting in his messy curls puts the glow of the surrounding broom sage to shame.
He’s so beautiful, I could just die.
“You’re up early,” I say, running my fingers through my hair.
He checks his watch. “It’s eight o’clock. I’m a farm boy, I’ve been up for three hours already.”
He winks at me.
Oh, stop it, you. I’m already having a hard time.
“I figured you haven’t had a chance to scope out the property yet, and fifty acres is a lot of ground to cover, which is why I brought Duke,” he pats the Yamaha.
“You named it Duke?”
“Sure, why not? Don’t you have something that you love that you’ve nicknamed?”
I think of my laptop affectionately dubbed Daphne, but decide to keep it to myself.
“Well, I do have a new kitten named Salem. I call him Goblin on occasion because he’s a little monster that gets into trouble, sometimes.”
“Not quite the same thing, but I’ll take it,” he grins.
Copper flips the lid on a basket attached to the back of the ATV. “I thought you might not have had breakfast yet, so I brought cinnamon buns. Super good, straight out of the oven.” He pulls out a bun and waves it in enticing circles. “Brought some for your mom, too.”
I hear the window beside me slide open.
“Speaking of the devil,” I say.
“Oh, hey!” Mom exclaims. “It’s the pizza boy! Sorry, I don’t remember your name…”
Ugh. Please, please don’t embarrass me.
“Copper,” he grins sweetly.
“Copper, that’s it. I knew it was some sort of mineral. I didn’t think Jasper was quite right.”
I roll my eyes and throw Copper an apologetic look.
He shrugs one shoulder and grins even wider.
“I brought breakfast, if you’re interested?” He taps the basket and tilts his head questioningly at my mother.
It’s probably been ages since a man of any sort has brought her breakfast, so she practically squeals with delight.
“Well, of course I’m interested!” She squeezes the flab around her belly. “I didn’t get a spare tire by turning down free food. Come on in!”
God, take me now.
I lead Copper up the rickety front steps and into the foyer. I’m hoping his fresh nose doesn’t pick up on any lingering cat stench. I steal sideways glances. No twitch of the nose, no narrowing of the eyes. If he smells anything, he doesn’t show it. Good. We might be in the clear.
“Remind me to tip this boy better!” Mom sings from the kitchen. “Not only does he deliver dinner; he delivers breakfast too!”
“It’s my pleasure.” Copper smiles, showing the adorable dimple in his left cheek.
I set the table.
“Coffee? Milk?” Mom asks him.
“Milk would be great, thanks.”
“You had to have brought cinnamon buns,” Mom says, returning with milk. “I can smell them from here. They smell divine, by the way. Did you make them yourself?”
“No-o-o…” Copper shakes his head and laughs. “You don’t want me anywhere near a stove, trust me. I picked them up from Bella’s Buns. My friend’s mom owns the place. Best pastries in a hundred-mile radius.”
True to form, the buns are enormous, and to die for.
“These are great, Copper. Thank you,” Mom says between chews.
“My pleasure.”
“Other than keeping us fed, what else do you do with yourself?”
He shrugs. “Not much, unfortunately. Small towns are boring and you have to entertain yourself. I ride my four-wheeler and help my uncle with the farm. I deliver pizza part time for extra pocket change, but of course, you already know that. I work too much for anything else. And speaking of four-wheelers, I thought Annie might be interested in seeing the cemetery and the old McAllister house. It’s mostly fallen down now, but Ruby let me play up there as a kid. It’s pretty cool. Have you seen it?”
“I know the old home place is at the back of the property, but I haven’t been much further than this house,” Mom says. “I actually haven’t been in Vein River since I was a child. I wasn’t very close with Aunt Ruby; she was sort of a recluse.”
Copper grins. “She did love her cats.”
“Can I go?” I ask, imploring her with my eyes.
“I don’t know; you’ve got a kitten to pay for.” Her mouth is pulled up to a grin, but her eyes aren’t kidding. I swear parents have such a power trip.
“Is that why she was painting the house?” Copper asks innocently.
“Yep,” I reply.
“I can help,” he pipes up. “I’m a pretty quick painter.”
I can tell Mom likes him already.
Copper, dear boy, you’ve won my mother over with cinnamon buns and free help.
“You can go,” she relents. “But don’t think you’re off the hook.
“Yes!” I grab him by the arm and practically drag him out of the house.
“Bring her back in one piece!” she calls after us.
“Most definitely!” Copper yells.
I still have him by the hand once we’re out of the house. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“We gotta get out of here before she changes her mind!” I whisper.
“I’m on it.” He throws a leg over the four-wheeler and has it revving in a single motion. As soon as he feels my arms around his waist, he takes off.
The wind hitting my face feels like a thousand tiny icicles, but I don’t mind. I have my cheek on the back of his neck and I’m soaking up the warmth of him. He smells like cinnamon and rain on leaves. I’d bottle him up if I could.
I hav
e never crested the hill at the back of our house. I’m beginning to wonder if Mom knows the extent of what has been given to us. You’d never guess there’s beautiful pastureland hidden behind our dismal little abode. Not all of it belongs to us though, I’m sure, especially the far fields dotted with cows—but the patch that I’m assuming is ours is breathtaking. The moody sun decides to show his face again, illuminating the rolling clover. Little drops of purple creep up from the ground, as if there was a thunderstorm of violets. The only blemish on this picturesque setting is a clump of barren trees to the east.
“I bet there’s a lot of bunnies up here,” I say over Copper’s shoulder.
He nods his head. “A lot of good rabbit hunting.”
I feel his body tense ever so slightly, I bet he’s wondering if he should have kept that to himself. Most girls wouldn’t like to know the demise of innocent little Thumper, but if you eat meat, you have no right to criticize.
“Rabbit stew is the best!” he calls over the roar of the engine. “Have you ever had it?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll make some for you.”
“Sounds great!”
I can’t help but smile into the folds of his shirt.
He bears left, towards the ugliest thing in sight: the naked trees. I grimace. I’d really rather not go there. Why can’t we stay where it’s nice and pretty? I grit my teeth and suck it up since this is where Copper wanted to take me. It dawns on me that I’d go anywhere with him.
The trees stand like giant sticks, huddled together as if they’re cold. This little patch of woods feels like a dead zone. Even though the trees are barren, it’s a few degrees darker, a few degrees colder.
Slowly, he eases the four-wheeler between the dense cluster of trees. I duck behind his shoulders as he navigates through the brush.
“The old homestead is in here?” I ask.
“Yep!”
“It’s creepy! It doesn’t even look like it belongs to the rest of the property.”
“Wait until you see the rest of it.”
We go deeper into the woods. We pass an old, gnarled oak with a twisted trunk, shying away from the rays of the sun. We cross over a creek and I have to put my legs on his hips to keep from getting wet. A little further still, a fog sets in, creeping across vines and stones. It’s a heavy sort of cold that hangs in the air; a frost you feel in your bones.
The structure was probably warm in its time; a humble little farmhouse filled with apple pie and laughter. I can see a whisper of what used to be in the crooked little flower boxes along the porch. There was hospitality in the rocking chairs, the way they’re turned to face each other. There was cheerfulness in the hanging baskets, the chipping paint a friendly shade of blue. There was love here. This was a home. But something happened, something changed. There’s something about the forsakenness of it, the way that it’s been forgotten. It’s unsettling how the fog seems to choke the very life from it.
Copper turns off the engine.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Creepy.”
“Besides that.”
“Haunted…lonely.”
Copper nods. “It does have that vibe, doesn’t it?”
I stare at the dark windows and wonder if there’s something staring back at me.
“You want to go inside?”
Hell no.
“Sure.”
We get off the four-wheeler and he leads me to the front porch.
“The wood’s rotten in places, so be careful,” he says, taking me by the hand.
I smirk at the rotting porch. These steps aren’t any more treacherous than the ones at home, but I happily allow myself to be the damsel in distress. He can hold my hand as long as he wants to.
He turns the handle and the door creaks open. It’s unlocked. But then, why wouldn’t it be?
Stepping into the foyer, you see nothing but furniture covered in sheets. It’s like entering a hall of ghosts.
“How are you liking Vein River?” he asks, while pulling a sheet from an antique couch.
“Well, I’ve met a strange old man, a strange old woman, got into a horseshit fight with a girl named Aria, and then there’s you.”
Copper throws back his head and laughs. “I’m not so sure this is a compliment!”
I grin. “Well, you’re definitely the best part.”
He smiles from ear to ear, but refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he busies himself with brushing the dust from the cushions. “So, who are the strange old people?”
“Widow Jenkins and Charles Oates.”
Copper nods. “They’re quite strange, but perfectly harmless. Charles is my uncle’s first cousin, which makes him my cousin by some degree. Widow Jenkins wants to date Silas, but my uncle is bashful and slow to warm up to her. They’ll get it together eventually.”
I bite my lower lip. “Sorry I just insulted your cousin.”
Copper shrugs. “It’s not an insult if it’s the truth. What did they say to you?”
“Well, they just keep warning me about Angelina.”
He sighs deeply. “You have to keep in mind that Angelina is Vein River’s boogeyman, especially for the seniors. Try not to let it bother you.”
“Well, they’re not really bothering me, it’s just, I don’t know, weird.”
He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion beside him. I take a seat.
“Has anything weird happened to you? Other than the old farts, that is.”
Does high pitched whistling and phantom shocks of hair count?
I shrug. “Not really.”
His eyes narrow ever so slightly. I don’t think he believes me.
“You know…Mrs. McAllister saw things all the time. She didn’t like talking about it, but if someone she trusted point blank asked her about it, she’d tell them. Even if they thought she was crazy. I always felt like she was telling the truth, and I respected her for that. I’ve never experienced anything personally, but between her and my uncle, I have no choice but to believe, and they’ve been pretty diligent in keeping me safe from it.”
He leans in closer to me, close enough to feel his body heat. My heart hammers in my chest. His eyes flit over my lips, then up to my jaw.
“If you ever feel like you need to talk to somebody, I’m here. I’ll never judge you.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper.
I want to kiss him, but as soon as the thought enters my mind, he stands abruptly and walks to the fireplace.
“Your mother hasn’t told you much about Vein River, has she?”
I shrug. “What is there to tell? She wasn’t very close to this side of the family.”
“You know how I told you this property has been in your family for several generations?”
“Yeah?”
There’s something hanging over the fireplace, covered in a dusty sheet. Copper walks over and gives the sheet a tug, revealing a beautiful painting with gold trim.
The painting is of a young woman standing in a parlor. Her body is turned towards the window, as if she’s looking down at the street below. Her face is angled towards the painter as if someone spoke her name and caught her off guard. Her skin is nearly as white as the gown she’s wearing, the light spilling from the window in an almost worshipping fashion. Her eyes are as blue as a hot summer’s sky, her hair as black as the devil’s heart. She’s startling to look at, and yet I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
I don’t swing that way, but there’s no mistaking how delicious this woman is.
I rise from the couch to stand beside Copper.
“She’s breathtaking,” I say, feeling like I’m wasting my breath on the obvious.
Copper nods. “That she is. Hard to believe such a petite beauty could instill such fear. She’s lucky to weigh a hundred pounds, soaking wet.”
I turn to Copper. “What are you saying?”
Copper grins wryly. “Annie, meet Angelina…your great, great aunt.”
13
&n
bsp; Aria
If it had been built anywhere else, Annie’s house would be a shack. The chipping paint, the broken shutters, the way it slumps like a sad little dog. But there it sits, high on the mountain, overlooking the town and everyone in it. I never knew the McAllister’s, but judging from the presumptuous placement of their house, I don’t believe I missed much. Maybe one day the right person will come along and tear the place to the ground. Come to think of it, Annie’s house matches Annie perfectly. They both need to be torn down.
And I’m just the girl to do it.
I will most definitely take care of Annie, and if I’m lucky, maybe even the house.
A few feet away, a little boy argues with his mother over a sandbox. He doesn’t want to leave, but his mom needs to make dinner before dad gets home. But that’s how it is with four-year-old little boys. Who needs lasagna when you can have a mud pie? She reasons with him for a few more minutes, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Just pick up the fucking brat and go already,” I mutter under my breath.
She glances in my direction and I avoid looking at her. I’m in my Honda, so I know she didn’t hear me. But I’m sure she felt me shooting daggers at her.
I’m sitting in the shade and the car is angled towards the bay. The park is a picturesque setting, and to passersby, I merely look as if I’m enjoying the view.
The woman heeds my suggestion and scoops the demonic bundle into her arms and loads him into a minivan. Once she finally drives away, I bring the binoculars to my eyes.
The perk of a bay window is that I can see most of Annie’s bedroom. Due to its isolation, I suppose Annie figures she doesn’t need curtains. I’ve watched her sing and dance and undress with the devotion of a horny teenage boy. My eyes have roamed her naked body, desperate to find a flaw: a scar, a birthmark, anything she might be ashamed of. Unfortunately, the girl is quite pretty, which both surprises and disappoints me.
Today, she’s hanging a poster on her wall, her mouth moving to the tune of a song that I could only guess at. I watch as she pushes stick pins into the wall, and I nearly scream from the frustration. This girl has absolutely no life. The only thing that I can tell that she loves is that retarded band called The Psychedelic Starfish. This little piece of information is useless. Traveling to Boston to ruin her favorite band is ambitious, even for me. The only other thing I’ve seen her take an interest in is Copper. I suppose I could try to seduce him, although I doubt I’d get very far. We have the sexual chemistry of a potato. I could get Bentley to beat him up, and Bentley would be more than happy to do so, but that’s more of a punishment for Copper than for Annie. I want her on her knees. But what do you take when there’s nothing to lose?
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