Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  “Alex,” I said, ducking beneath a bundle of black and orange balloons that hovered near the book store awning. “Do you suppose it was a rat that Fat Sam saw?”

  Alex had yet to speak about my vision. Now, he stopped walking and spun to face me, his cheeks as orange as one of the balloons. “I thought you said it didn’t look like a rat.”

  “I said mouse. Rats are larger, aren’t they? Either way, I hadn’t factored in memory distortion. Perhaps the mayor simply saw a rather large rat, and the surprise of it stopped his heart. That would explain everything. He was sixty, after all.”

  “You keep bringing that up. You know, that’s exactly twice your age. Does that still sound old?”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “We need to find the truth about what happened. Don’t we owe it to Elmer’s wife? And to Fat Sam?”

  “Elmer’s wife is a grown woman and can attend to this on her own. All I’m suggesting is that perhaps this is a job best left for law enforcement.”

  Alex snorted and put a hand on his waist. “You want Reed Hollow’s cops handling this? Have you seen that monkey show? Barney Fife was a better deputy than Markus.”

  I looked down at Alex’s ankle. “Alex, you aren’t wearing your leg cuff! Won’t you get into trouble?”

  My brother had been briefly incarcerated for ‘liberating’ cats from a pet shop, and had been wearing a GPS tracking device as part of his probation. If he wandered further than a half mile from home, he got zapped.

  His grim mood suddenly brightened. His feet launched into a jig, even as his upper torso remained oddly rigid. “Nah! Went to court this week and they removed it early for good behavior. I just know it’s eating Markus up, which makes it all the better.”

  As if my brother had conjured Markus with his words, the pudgy deputy drove by in his ancient police car with one broken headlamp. He slowed alongside us and rolled down his window.

  “Enjoying the weather?” The deputy asked, his eyes wandering towards my brother’s bare ankle.

  In response, Alex broke into another of his strange dances. This time, he lifted his arms out to either side like eagle’s wings, and slowly hopped from one foot to the other. He chortled as he flapped.

  Markus didn’t speak, but his scowl spoke volumes. He glowered and sped off, smoke curling from the rattling muffler.

  I coughed and waved the fumes away from my face. “Well, I think you suitably scared him away, and probably everyone else in town, too. No wonder customers are scarce these days. I love you, Alex, but please never do that thing you did again. Especially in public.”

  “You mean my Dance of the Dominant Crane? It’s what alpha-cranes and flamingos do when challenged. It’s natural.”

  “Natural for a crane, which you are not.”

  My brother began his dance again, adding in some whooping noises. Though I had never personally heard a drowning crane, I supposed that Alex unintentionally mimicked one well.

  Three pretty women walked by, giggling into their hands as they watched his display. This only encouraged my brother further, as he danced around in in a circle, whooping.

  “Now that you’re a free man, are you going to start dating again?” I asked, remembering that I had seen his profile on a dating site.

  “I am a free man, aren’t I? Free as the wind. Free as the sea. Free as a…” He froze mid-flap.

  I followed his eyes. Across the road, at Sweets and Treats, an attractive blonde woman in fitted yoga pants and a cropped sweater emerged. She nibbled the edge of a very large pink cupcake. It was Yvette, the owner of the yoga studio next door to The Aunt-Tea-Query. Alex’s eyes followed her firm bottom until she stepped into the adjacent nail salon.

  “Stop that,” I said. “You shouldn’t stare at people. It’s creepy.”

  “Did you see that?” he asked, undaunted. “I know for a fact that cupcake was not gluten free. And I have some serious doubts that it’s even vegan. Yvette is such a poser. ‘Oh, I’m so earthy. I care so much about my health and the planet and kids in other countries.’ Too bad I didn’t take a picture, so I could use it against her.”

  I gave my brother a questioning look. “Alex, I thought you liked Yvette? You did give her Mr. B’s kitten, if I recall.”

  His eyelids lowered to half-mast. “Like? Like has nothing to do with this, Baylee. It’s principle.”

  As usual, I didn’t understand my brother… or men… or relationships in general. There were too many games and rules that no one seemed to know. Alex had been infatuated with Yvette for the last year, and they had even become friends. But now he was on the warpath about a cupcake? It seemed trivial to me, but I reminded myself that I hadn’t walked a mile in Alex’s combat boots, so I had no real way of knowing what was in his head. Alex had long ago figured out how to block the psychometric abilities of his nosy younger sister.

  We continued on, walking a bit faster now. The mayor had died and yet the town hardly seemed concerned. No one stopped to pay homage to the re-election signs stapled to every telephone pole and poked into every patch of available lawn. Pedestrians absently skirted around them with their lattes and shopping bags, laughing and discussing the trivialities of the day. All the while Elmer’s wife, Fat Sam, and Alex privately mourned. Life could seem so surreal.

  “We sure love Halloween around here,” I said, noting that every store had a window sign welcoming trick-or-treaters.

  “We’re commercial sellouts,” said Alex. “But in Reed Hollow’s defense, Halloween is what this town was founded on. Witches and ghosts and restless spirits. Might as well profit from it.”

  “Indeed.” We were taught in elementary school that our town’s roots began with refugees from Salem – witches who fled before facing the gallows. It was our history that brought in the dollars.

  Two women I knew passed by, arcing wide to avoid us. “She doesn’t even wear her ring anymore,” said one in a loud whisper. “So sad.”

  “And I heard she’s on a dating site now,” the other mumbled back.

  “What’s that, Bridgette and Colleen?” I called after them. “If you’re going to talk about me, speak clearly. Proper pronunciation says a lot about a person.”

  They skittered nervously on. I had never been particularly popular in Reed Hollow – not many people wanted to be friends with someone rumored to be a witch.

  We stopped in front of Ella’s shop, The Little Tea Pot. I saw the spry old woman through the window. She was stationed behind the never-ending pastry case, filled with scones and crumpets and so many other delicious wonders. Ella was placing a tray of pecan sticky buns in the display. Before my mind could object, my feet headed for the door.

  “I made you buns already,” Alex said, grabbing my wrist as the door chime sounded. “And mine are doubly sticky. You don’t need to be spending money at our competition, even if she is your friend.”

  “Our friend,” I reminded him. “Just one small bun Alex, and then we’ll go.”

  “Baylee, who’s that?” Alex pointed to a man who had stepped behind the counter and was trying to get Ella’s attention. He was handsome, and looked to be in his mid-thirties. His flannel jacket and loose jeans couldn’t conceal his broad shoulders and narrow waist. And the wavy auburn hair that hung around his face didn’t distract from his soulful brown eyes. I was drawn to him, feeling the same pull I had with the sticky buns.

  “Where are you going?” Alex whispered to me. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” I whispered back. I didn’t know him, but I wanted to.

  As I edged a step closer, I caught the smell of his aftershave, woodsy and masculine. And the ruddy glow on his cheeks said he spent more than a little time outdoors. I also noticed that he wasn’t wearing a ring.

  I pretended to busy myself by looking through the assortment of chocolate mousse dishes. Though I couldn’t hear their conversation, Ella and the stranger now appeared to be arguing. Her face was tense and she was brandishing her tongs, snapping them bef
ore his eyes. He nodded slowly, an amused smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. They were obviously familiar with one another. He let her rant for a moment longer, until she eventually ran out of steam. Once she was calm, he gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead.

  “Stop staring, Baylee.” Alex elbowed me in the ribs. “It makes you look desperate.”

  “Perhaps you could teach me that delightful Whooping Crane dance instead? That seemed perfectly dignified.”

  I then felt a strange sensation, a prickling on the top of my foot. Looking down, I saw that one of my boot laces had come undone. Stranger still, it seemed to be pulling away from me, towards the counter.

  I bent down and found myself staring into two red eyes, looking out from under the pastry case. The creature scurried backwards, keeping to the shadows. I could make out the outline of its gray face and pointed, flappy ears.

  Thinking it might be a stray cat that had wandered in from the street, I softly tried to coax it out. “Here, kitty…”

  The creature hissed, then yanked on my boot lace with tiny, humanoid hands.

  “Mercy!” I gasped as I stepped back, tripping over my lace as the creature pulled it taut. I fell, crashing into my brother behind me. Quickly recovering myself, I dropped to one knee and peered beneath the counter again.

  A pronged tail whipped out behind the creature, before it disappeared altogether.

  Whatever it was, this creature was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

  Four

  “You okay, Miss?”

  “Pardon?”

  The stranger’s hands were on my shoulders, lifting me gently to my feet. I found myself staring into his soft brown eyes. I nodded.

  “There was something under the counter,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to alarm the customers. “It had red eyes and a long tail.”

  “Sounds like a rat to me,” said Ella. She promptly went to a blue hutch and drew out a heavy wooden rolling pin, wielding it like a club. “I won’t tolerate any rats in my tea house.”

  “No!” Alex said, holding up his hands. “Put down the weapon. If it’s a rat, I’ll catch it. Humanely.”

  The man, whose name I still didn’t know, squatted down and inspected the gap beneath the pastry counter. Standing back up, he shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”

  “I’m feeling rather foolish now,” I said. “Perhaps my blood sugar’s low.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, are you sure?” Ella repeated, both hands firmly gripping the wooden rolling pin. Her eyes were searching for any escape routes the rat might have taken.

  “Yes, I’ve just had a strange morning. I’ll chalk it up to that.”

  “It’s the veil,” Ella insisted. “Or the dead mayor’s ghost. Or a rat.” She lowered her makeshift club and returned to the counter, where several customers were waiting to pay.

  The handsome man grinned and wiped his hands on his jeans, as if to say his work was done. “Ella will calm down shortly. I’ll set out some eco-traps when I return.” With that, he waved goodbye and left through the front door, the bell chiming behind him.

  As Alex interrogated a former customer about why she’d stopped coming to The Aunt-Tea-Query, I mused over what had just transpired. Regardless of what I said, the creature was no product of my low blood sugar. As exhibit A, my shoe lace was still untied and strangely knotted at the end. I also knew for certain that it was no rat. Its face was too flat, its body too bloated, and its appendages were more humanoid than rodent. In all my years, I had never seen anything like this…except earlier, in Fat Sam’s vision.

  “Ella, I’m so sorry,” I said, rejoining her. With her customers taken care of, she was now busy pushing a long-handled broom under the counter, trying to scare out anything that might still be lurking. “It was probably just the stress of the news. Death always makes me act funny. My brother says I go into denial – although he should talk.”

  “I don’t have time for jibber-jabber,” Ella replied. She stood up, braced by the broom handle, her knees popping along the way. She spread her arms wide. The tea house was nearly full of diners, a stark contrast to The Aunt-Tea-Query. Of course, The Little Tea Pot had a garden-style ambience, dozens of exotic teas, and pastries made in the old-world style. All we had was nostalgia and rock scones.

  Alex chimed in. “Well, you should have more time now that the mayor’s birthday party isn’t happening. What will you do with all your uneaten inventory?”

  “It won’t go uneaten, trust me.”

  Alex’s face fell. Unless we ate them ourselves, the pies he had made were probably going to wither on the shelf.

  “Ella,” I said, tactfully changing the subject. “Who was that man who was here? He seemed familiar.”

  “You don’t remember my stepson, Nick?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “He was a few grades ahead of you in school. He left town right about the time you started high school. Alex, you should remember him.”

  “Vaguely,” Alex said with a yawn. “We ran in different circles.”

  I looked sideways at my brother. He had never been part of any circle, aside from the occasional drum circle in the park.

  “I didn’t know you had a stepson,” I said to Ella. The truth was, I didn’t know much about her life, but I was curious. She seemed rather old to have a stepson in his mid-thirties.

  “I have two stepsons. Nick is a tree-hugging hippie who runs from family and responsibility at the first sign of trouble. Garett is a sweetheart who works with the elderly and runs a lucrative business. Somehow, I ended up with custody of them both in my third… maybe fourth… marriage – the one to Fred. Not a dime in child support, either. I don’t know if Fred’s dead or hiding, but he better hope he’s dead.”

  As curious as I was about her various marriages, I wanted to ask her more about Nick. But not in front of Alex. Luckily, he promptly spotted a trio of tea drinkers who were once our regulars. He lowered his head like a bull spotting a red flag and charged over to their table. Those poor women. That Ella allowed him inside her establishment at all showed that the woman had kind heart beneath her cantankerous exterior.

  With Ella busy rat-hunting and my brother cross-examining, I decided it was a good time to return to the antique shop. Although what specifically I needed to do, I wasn’t sure. With the exception of the bag of clothes dropped at our door, everything in the antique shop had already been catalogued and dusted. Twice.

  As I made for the door, I saw my friend Dave Cullins waving to me from a corner table. “Baylee!” he called, standing to beckon me over.

  “Dave!” Genuinely happy to see him, I waded through the tables to reach him. He and I had a long history, and he had been many things to me throughout the years – childhood friend, high school sweetheart, and the man I left at the altar when I met my husband, Ryan. This last was not something I was proud of, and lately I’d been wondering how my life would’ve turned out differently had I chosen Dave instead.

  When I reached the table, my enthusiasm waned. Dave wasn’t alone. Sitting in the ornate chair beside him was the pretty woman with strawberry hair I had seen him with from the attic window. A baby giggled in a stroller parked between them.

  “Uh, hello,” I said, looking from Dave to the woman and back again. A smile edged across her face as I pulled a chair up to their table and removed my gloves. I wasn’t sure what Dave had told her about our relationship, but it was clear she didn’t perceive me as a threat.

  Dave gave me a quick hug from across the small table. “It’s great to see you.” As we hugged, I bumped the crystal rose vase, but Dave caught it before it could roll off the table.

  “So, you’re the great Baylee Bonds,” the woman said, pushing a pacifier into the baby’s mouth. “Dave talks about you endlessly.”

  “Oh?” I looked at Dave. “And its Baylee Scott now. I’m married.” I’m not sure why I said married, as in present tense. Perhaps because it was easier than explaining
to a total stranger that my husband had disappeared on a hunting trip three years ago, and I hadn’t seen him since.

  “Baylee, meet Rachel Morgan.”

  “Rachel Morgan Cullins,” she corrected. Her eyes were turquoise, matching her sweater.

  “Cullins?” I repeated.

  “My wife.” Dave placed a proud hand over Rachel’s. It was then I saw the ring on her finger, matching the band on his. “As you know, we’ve been apart for a while, but now we’re talking about reconciliation.”

  “That’s marvelous,” I said coolly, though my heart didn’t agree.

  Dave had told me that he had been married, and the divorce had been bitter. And only a few weeks ago, he had even asked me on a date. I hoped my expression didn’t betray my shaken up emotions.

  Rachel slowly lowered her eyes and stared dreamily into her tea cup. “I’m just so happy to be home. I can’t wait for us to rebuild our lives. If I don’t snap this guy up fast, someone else will. By the way, Hayley, I love the polka-dots and the gloves. You’re so thrift-shop chic.”

  “It’s Baylee,” I said.

  I looked for a clear path to the door, but it was now ‘sample hour’ and the counter was swarmed. Ella was fighting them off with the threat of her broom, just as she had intended to fight off the rat.

  “I had a hound named Baylee once,” Rachel said. “It was the laziest thing you’ve ever seen. Had these big sad eyes, sad droopy shoulders, sad everything.” Rachel shrugged, as if the story was either unimportant or she couldn’t remember the rest of it.

  “Baylee’s been a fashionista since I can remember,” Dave said, taking a sugar cookie from the tray between us. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about her in school.”

  “I thought it was my Little Mermaid underwear,” I said, smiling sweetly as I took the last cookie. “Dave tried to peek when I was hanging upside down on the monkey bars. I had to start wearing shorts under all my dresses.”