Falling in Deep Collection Box Set

by Pauline Creeden

  I grabbed my keys, locked my house, and headed toward the beach. Juniper Lane wasn’t far.

  * * *

  The rocky shoreline crunched under my feet. There was enough moonlight to see where I was going, and I knew the path well. I’d even skipped my evening walk to get ready for the date. It had stormed bad the night before and rained all morning. There was, no doubt, troves of beach glass treasures to be had. The lake always gave up her most precious baubles after a storm, but I’d missed it because I’d been fawning over a man.

  I headed down the beach until it met with the path through the woods that emptied out on Juniper Lane. It was a lot darker in the woods than I expected. I pulled out my cell phone. Still no call, no text, no anything. I flipped on the flashlight and headed into the woods. The water in Frog Creek was roaring. The rain last night had been hard and steady, thunder and lightning rolling off the lake. The path was muddy. I flashed my light on the ground. The path was littered with mud puddles. I dodged amongst the trees to miss a puddle but had completely overlooked the root jutting out from the ground. I tripped, barely catching myself against a tree, dropping my cellphone in the process.

  “Dammit,” I cursed.

  My legs were muddy, my dress rumpled, my make-up fading in the humid air. I was angrier than ever. When I got to Cooper’s house, I was going to give him a piece of my mind.

  I bent to pick up the cell phone but noticed the root I’d tripped on wasn’t a root after all. It was a backpack, Cooper’s backpack. I scanned the light all around.

  “Cooper?” I called.

  The creek roared, but I was alone in the little stretch of woods.

  I picked up the waterlogged backpack. It must have sat out all night. Maybe I was wrong. The local kids always came here to fish. Maybe the backpack was theirs. Cooper wouldn’t just forget his painting satchel in the woods. It seemed unlike him, though I was beginning to doubt I knew him very well anyway. Holding my light with one hand and balancing the pack on my knee with the other, I opened the pack and looked inside. Therein was paint, brushes, a cloth, a small jar, and a watercolor tablet sealed in a Ziploc bag. It was Cooper’s pack. I pulled the tablet from the pack, gasping when I saw the image. It was a painting…of me. He had painted me walking along the shore. He’d captured my likeness perfectly.

  Okay, now I was really confused.

  I stuffed the painting back inside the wet backpack and headed down the lane. I had to dodge through the high grass when I reached the road. The end of Juniper Lane was torn up with large tire ruts. I saw heavy boot prints in the soft, muddy grass leading to and from the woods. Had there been a fishing event? Why had there been so much traffic at the end of Juniper Lane?

  I headed around the mud and up the street to the small house that sat on the corner. I remembered seeing Alberta Pearl sitting on the front stoop, her grandmother brushing out her long, dark hair. Alberta’s grandmother, Erica, had lived in Chancellor long enough to notice me and how young I always looked. She always eyed me like she knew there was something different about me. There were a lot of women like her in Chancellor, women who had a keen eye for the otherworld. It was no wonder folktales about witches and faerie people abounded in Chancellor.

  The lights were off in the old Pearl residence. I walked up the steps, feeling like I was disrupting the ghosts who lingered there, and knocked on the door.

  “Cooper?” I called. My anger had simmered down now that it had married with worry. Even if he did decide to stand me up, he wouldn’t just leave his paint supplies lying in the woods. Something was wrong.

  I knocked again. “Cooper?”

  The house was dark and silent, but in the back of my mind, I felt like someone or something was urging me to try the door. Against my better judgment, I did. It was unlocked. Carefully, I opened the door.

  “Cooper? It’s Kate. Are you home?”

  The house was dark. I could hear a grandfather clock ticking inside, but otherwise there was no noise. I looked back. There was a Range Rover SUV parked in the driveway. His vehicle was there, so where was he?

  I set the backpack on the floor just inside then turned to go. But still, something nagged at me.

  I cast a glance around, pulled off my muddy shoes, and then entered the house, closing the door behind me.

  “Cooper?” I called.

  There was a small lamp sitting on a table just inside the door. I clicked it on. It illuminated the kitchen wherein I saw row after row of medicine bottles sitting on the window ledge. Had Alberta been so sick? I peered around the corner into the living room.

  “It’s Kate. Cooper, are you here?”

  Nothing. But what I saw next surprised me. In the living room, the walls were completely covered with paintings. Sunsets on Lake Erie were always so vivid, and he’d caught their fire. All around the room were paintings, big and small, of the lakeshore at sunrise and sunset. As I looked over the images, I noticed something. There, again and again, he had painted…me. I appeared in no less than ten of the paintings. All the while I’d been watching him, he’d been watching me, working me into the sunsets. Sometimes he’d painted me as a silhouette. Sometimes he painted me bending to pick up beach glass. He caught me in the red dress I’d worn to a Chamber of Commerce charity fundraiser. I’d walked home from the event along the beach that night, my heels dangling in my fingers. As I studied the paintings, I realized that each was numbered. He’d painted more than forty, others still sitting on the floor to be hung.

  My eyes scanned the walls. He’d catalogued every day. Why?

  My anger subsided and turned to anxiety. Where was he?

  I headed back into the kitchen, stopping to take a notepaper from the refrigerator which was covered in magnets. From animals, to fruit, to commemorative spoons, to framed pictures, there was barely a bare inch on the appliance. I pulled the little pen from the refrigerator notepad and started writing, telling him I’d found his pack, when a photo on the refrigerator caught my attention. It was a faded image of a woman in her twenties. At first I thought it was Alberta, but this woman’s hair was much redder. The image was in a little frame held by two angels. The banner underneath said “In Loving Memory” with the word “Daughter” hand-painted in gold above the image. Alberta’s daughter? Would that make her Cooper’s mother?

  I stared at the woman looking out from the picture. The photo had been taken on Christmas. There was a Christmas tree in the background. Digging under that tree was a smiling child holding a wrapped gift. His mother then. Human lives were so fragile. I pitied Cooper. Losing someone before you were ready was never easy. To lose a mother…well, I’d had that experience myself. Your life is never the same thereafter. It’s like the compass of your life is forever lost.

  Leaving my number at the bottom, I finished the note, stuck the little pen back where I’d found it, and headed back outside.

  My muddy sneakers were wet and cold. I closed the door tight behind me, uncertain if I should lock up the house or not. I didn’t want to lock him out of his own home. Feeling confused and worried, all my anger swept away, I headed home. Wherever Cooper was, I hoped he was okay.

  Chapter 9: Cooper

  The ambulance wailed as it pulled away from Juniper Lane. People I didn’t know leaned into my face and asked my name. I managed to whisper out “Cooper McGuire” and “cancer” before I faded once more.

  The beep, beep, beep sound on a machine woke me sometime later. I didn’t even have to open my eyes to realize I was in the hospital. The smell gave it away. There was nothing worse than the smell of the hospital with its lingering odor of disinfectant, bodies, and fluids. I opened my eyes slowly. It was dark outside. There was a window beside my bed. The stars were twinkling in the night’s sky. Had I only been out for a few hours?

  My skin felt itchy. They’d put in an IV. My face was damp where the oxygen mask pressed against my cheeks. I pulled it off causing a monitor to bong. I coughed heavily then sat up. In the very least, I had the room to myself. A
nd like every hospital, this one was cold. My feet felt like they were sitting in a bucket of ice water.

  “Mister McGuire,” a nurse said then. “Nice to see you awake. Let’s check your blood pressure, shall we?” The nurse pressed a button on the wall, silencing the alarm, then unhooked the oxygen mask and stowed it.

  “Which hospital is this?”

  “Titus Medical,” she replied. “You’re in the ICU. You gave us quite the scare.”

  “Doctor Archer?”

  “He was by to see you this morning. I expect he’ll be back later this evening,” she said as she wrapped my arm with the band and began checking my blood pressure.

  “This morning? How long have I been here?” I asked. I’d missed my date with Kate. She probably thought I stood her up.

  The nurse silenced me, putting one finger to her mouth, as she counted. After a moment, she let the air out of the band and made a note on my chart. “You came in last night,” she said then carefully put her stethoscope down the front of my hospital gown, pressing the cold metal against my chest.

  I stayed still and waited. There wasn’t anything new she could to tell me. I knew what had brought me there. Now I just wanted to go home. There wasn’t anything they could do for me. Why did this have to happen now? I just wanted one night, one last night with a beautiful woman. I wanted just one night to pretend I wasn’t a dead man walking, to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Kate, to touch her skin, maybe even kiss her. I wanted just one night to imagine what it would be like to have a life and children and a wife. I couldn’t even have that.

  “All right, Mister McGuire,” she said, then sat down on the side of my bed and made a note in my chart.

  “What did Doctor Archer say?” I asked. “I want to go home.”

  The nurse nodded then turned and smiled at me. Her expression was soft. I could see in her eyes she knew. “I can’t let you go until Doctor Archer gives us the say so. He wants to double check your medications, see what he can do to make you more comfortable. A hospice worker was by earlier. I think they’re still here if you’d like me—”

  “No. I just want to go home. And my cell phone. Is my cell here?”

  The nurse nodded then opened a drawer on the bed table beside me. Inside was my watch, keys, and cell. She handed it to me.

  I punched the button, but the battery had gone dead.

  “I have that same phone. You want me to bring my charger?” she asked me.

  “No,” I said, closing my eyes. I didn’t even have Kate’s phone number and it was too late to call her at the store. Even if I did, what would I tell her? That I was at the hospital? Then I’d have to explain everything to her. Maybe it was better this way.

  “Okay, then. I’ll let you sleep. Can we call anyone for you, hun? There wasn’t anyone listed in your records.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Without another word, the nurse left. I lay there listening to the monitor beep. Maybe it would be better if it ended soon. The waiting, the false hope, was more than I could take. And now my illness, which caused my absence, had no doubt hurt Kate, just as I knew it would. My first instinct was right. I needed to leave her alone.

  Chapter 10: Kate

  “What do you mean he didn’t show up?” Alice asked as she set my dinner down in front of me with a clunk. I’d managed to dodge her that morning. Her Indiana Jones had brought his archeology campers to the deli for breakfast, much to my great relief, so I got away with simply saying “we’ll talk later.” Now, however, I was in for a drilling.

  “Hey, watch my bagel!” I said jokingly as the top of my bagel slid toward the table.

  “Sorry. He didn’t call or anything?”

  “No, but it was weird…”

  “Weird? What do you mean, weird?”

  “Well,” I began, realizing how bad it made me sound. “I walked over to his house,” I said. Alice raised an eyebrow at me. “I was mad, all right. I didn’t even know what I was going to say, but I was just so confused…and annoyed…but mostly confused. Anyway, I walked along the shore and through the woods to Juniper Lane, and I found his bag in the woods. It was soaking wet, like it sat out all night.

  “Maybe he just forgot it?”

  I shook my head. “He had his paint supplies inside.”

  “Okay, that is weird.”

  “When I got to his house, it was unlocked. His SUV was there. His house was dark. I drove by this morning, and his lights were still off. Maybe I should call the police.”

  “Maybe he went out of town with friends. But why wouldn’t he lock up?”

  I nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know what to do.”

  The door above the bell rang. Tootie Row and her husband Milt came in, her husband promptly taking a seat by the front door while Tootie headed toward the counter where I was sitting.

  “One sec,” Alice said then turned to Tootie. “All ready!” Alice lifted a massive bag full of bagels.

  “Good girl. Did you pack the extra honey pecan spread?”

  “Of course,” Alice replied as she started punching keys on her cash register.

  “My relatives come in tomorrow morning. They always cry for your bagels, honey.”

  “They have good taste,” Alice answered.

  Tootie laughed as she dug into her purse for her wallet, but then she saw me sitting at the counter.

  “Oh, Kate,” she said, gently setting her hand on my shoulder. “How is Cooper? I didn’t get a chance to go by. I’m just so busy preparing for my sister and her grandkids. What happened? Did they say?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Oh,” Tootie breathed in surprise. “You don’t know?”

  Confused, I shook my head.

  “Rose’s grandson, Scott, was out with some other boys at Frog Creek yesterday evening, and they found Cooper passed out in the woods! They called an ambulance to take him to Titus Medical. I thought for sure someone would let you know.”

  I rose and picked up my purse. “No…I…I had no idea.” I felt like someone had poured ice water down my back. “I’ve got to go,” I told Alice.

  She nodded. “Call me.”

  “Wish him well for me,” Tootie said then turned to Alice. “You know that boy’s mother died of cancer. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Her words rung in my ears as I thought about all those bottles of medicine sitting on the window sill. With my hands shaking, I rushed out of the deli. It had never even occurred to me that maybe something terrible had happened to him. He’d gotten sick. And I…I hadn’t been there for him.

  I rushed down Main Street, turning onto Fence Post Lane which led to the public dock. I was planning to just jump onto the beach and rush home. I could make it to Titus Medical in twenty minutes if I hurried. I was surprised, however, when I turned the corner. At the end of the dock several TV crews had gathered around a man with curly red hair. He was holding something in his hands. I could hear a reporter asking him questions. Bright light glared on his face. Nearby, a group of college students—evident from their Chancellor College sweatshirts—stood watching in awe.

  “There was anecdotal evidence, folklore, that the Native Americans inhabited the islands in Lake Erie, but physical evidence has been hard to come by…until now.”

  “Why do you think these artifacts have been overlooked for so long?” a reporter asked as I moved toward the crowd, a sick feeling rocking my stomach.

  “Mainly because it was small and covered in scrub. Archeological digs have been completed on other larger islands with limited success, mainly unearthing evidence of European use of the islands. While we’ve long-suspected we’d find artifacts on the smaller islands, we never expected anything of this scale. Earlier this spring, a fisherman discovered artifacts on the island’s bank. That got our attention. Since the college recently acquired the island, the board thought it wise to do a thorough investigation. What we found today, however, was unimaginable.”

  “How many rem
ains were discovered?”

  “We’ve only uncovered the first few, but sonar readings suggest there are nearly one hundred. The bodies were laid out in ceremonial fashion before they were burned.”

  “Was it a slaughter? Sacrifice?”

  The man shook his head. “No, they were burned after death. You can see from the scorching on this skull,” he said, lifting a charred skull.

  My knees went weak as I gazed into the empty sockets of the skull he held up. It stared back at me, watching me, accusing me. On a TV screen nearby, they were displaying a map of Lake Erie, pinpointing the island where the archeologist had made this discovery. The island…the island where my kind had died…the skull he was holding had belonged to one of my people.

  The reporter then turned to a young woman standing near the archeologist. The reporter asked her a question, but in my haze, I missed it.

  “You just don’t see this kind of craftsmanship amongst the Native Americans,” the young woman, said, holding something in the palm of her hand. “It was on one of the bodies. It’s extremely rare to see such metallurgy and jewel work. It looks Viking,” she said then lifted a charred band. It was a bracelet. “You can’t see it well, but there is agate and amber worked into the band,” the girl said proudly.

  The reporter smiled then turned to the camera. “Quite a find for these junior archeologists. We’ll bring you further updates on this remarkable discovery as they become available. Back to you, Tom.”