by N. A. Cash
“Hey, if you’re ever in the area again, come give my shop a visit. I love visitors.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white card. He slipped it through the crack in the window, and I reached over to take it from his bony fingers. I read the card and saw the name of his shop printed on it in curly letters. Underneath it was his name, A. Sultren Martin, and then an address. I looked up to comment on the oddity of his name, however, he was gone.
I swung my head swung around to see where he went to but the parking lot was just as it had when I first pulled in. In fact, I saw no extra cars. Puzzled by this, I looked over to his shop again and saw it shrouded in darkness. I rubbed the cardstock material of the card between my fingers before I put the card on the seat next to me and switched the car into drive. As I slowly moved my foot off the brake and onto the pedal, I started to feel dizzy. A feeling of heaviness weighed on me. The dashboard clock showed five minutes to 12:00 a.m. That must be it, I thought groggily. It’s late.
I remember that as the last thought I had as I closed my eyes to yawn again. Blackness overtook me so suddenly that I had no time to panic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A boom throbbed inside my head. With effort, I turned my head against what I assumed to be the airbag and pried one eye open. I blinked a few times to clear the blurriness. The image of a harried looking female face stared at me from behind a glass. Her mouth formed words, but I couldn’t understand. Slowly, I attempted to move. My blood felt like lead. I slumped against the back of the chair and closed my eyes once again. The booming began again.
The woman was shouting now. “Miss! Miss! Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?!”
Ambulance? Why would I need an ambulance?
I breathed in deeply, feeling woozy and nauseous. After the feeling of wanting to throw up passed, and opened my eyes once again. It took a moment for me to realize that I was sitting in my car. I tried again to raise my head and felt a dull pain throbbing on my right side. When I touched my hand to my head and pulled away, small flecks of dried blood were on my fingers. I shook my head to clear it, feeling as if my brain was knocking around in my head and looked around. I slowly realized that I had an accident. The air bag was inflated, but I still sat strapped in by the seatbelt. I turned to the window to see the face of the woman who still stared at me with a worried expression.
I reached over, slowly loosed my seatbelt, and opened the car door. The woman stepped back to allow me room to move. When I tried to stand, a wave of dizziness hit me and caused me to fall back into the seat. I paused for a moment and breathed, and then opened my eyes and attempted to stand again. This time, the woman put her hand underneath my arm and helped me to my feet.
“You okay?” She appeared to be about early fifties, wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a printed blue blouse. I squinted and saw that the prints were pictures of cats drinking tea.
My throat felt dry and parched. “I…I think I just need some water and to sit for a moment.”
“My shop is right over here,” she said. “You can come in and lie down for a moment to catch yourself.”
She pushed my car door shut and helped me walk the short distance to a nearby building. When we arrived at the door, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket and opened a wooden door with a glass window, on which “Sarah’s Sugars” was etched. When we stepped into the door, the scent of heavenly baked goods hit me. The place smelled of cakes, breads, and pastries.
She eased me onto a soft old-fashioned patterned couch near the door. I slumped down until I it was lying on my side, the throbbing in my head bringing back waves of nausea. The woman locked the door and then headed behind the counter. I strained to look at the décor—flower-patterned wall paper with framed pictures of cakes and pastries hung on the walls. I closed my eyes and inhaled the delightful scents, which didn’t help the nausea until I heard her muffled footsteps returning. I opened my eyes and sat up slowly, trying to ignore the multitude of aches now surfacing throughout my body from the accident.
She carefully handed over the Styrofoam cup of black coffee to me and placed the plate with the roll next to me. “Here’s some coffee and one of my world-famous rolls.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I took a sip of the coffee despite not feeling like I could keep anything down and tasted a hint of chocolate. I looked over at her, surprised at the taste.
She pulled up a plastic chair and sat across from me. “It’s my secret recipe,” she explained, and her strong Southern accent flowed from smiling lips. “I don’t like black coffee but I like the thought of it. So, I started adding some sweet chocolate to it and it cuts the bitterness.”
“It’s nice,” I said, surprised by the flavor.
I drank some more and felt the dizziness and nausea seep away. Even the throbbing in my head dulled significantly making my surroundings clearer. I suddenly realized that it was almost dawn. Out of the window I could see the dark sky turning slightly lighter in the east, tinged with orange and pink. “What time is it, and what happened?” I asked, confused.
“I was hoping you could have told me, honey. I pulled up to open my shop like I do at five every morning and saw your car right then wrapped around the lamppost in the front of my shop.”
I saw my car right where she said it was, rammed into a lamppost. The front fender was completely bent in, and the hood had popped open.
“I honestly thought you had been drinking and had an accident,” she said. “I had just taken out my phone to call an ambulance when I saw your face turn and your eyes open.” A stern look crossed her face. “Have you been drinking, child?”
The way that she said “child” stirred up something deep in my memory that my muddled mind wouldn’t let me access right then. “No, ma’am,” I insisted. “At least, I don’t think so.”
At the sight of her suddenly stern face, I stumbled to explain. “I don’t drink. Never touch the stuff. It just never appealed to me.”
Her face softened. I looked into her eyes and saw something that once again triggered some faraway memory. “So, what happened then?” she asked, a softness in her voice.
“I…I don’t remember. I was in a parking lot last night watching someone, and then there was a guy, and then I blacked out.”
I wondered if my explanation sounded as crazy to her as it sounded to me. From her expression, I could see that it did. “You were watching someone?” she asked, skepticism in her voice.
“Umm, yes. I mean I think I was. I just…”
I trailed off, feeling frustration rise. She must have sensed it because she gave the roll to me to eat. “Take a bite, honey. It’ll make you feel so much better.”
I took a bite of the soft roll that was lightly covered in butter. The rich sweetness and softness of it melted in my mouth. “Mmm!” I exclaimed with a mouth full of the roll.
She beamed. “That’s one of my secret recipes too. Long passed down by my grandmother.” A tinge of sadness crossed her face for a brief moment.
“She’s no longer alive?” Almost immediately after I blurted it out, I slapped a hand over my face, realizing how insensitive my question sounded.
She smiled slightly at my embarrassment. “No, she passed away when I was about ten years old. She was an excellent baker and cook. Always had me in the kitchen with her from since I could walk and knew what an egg was.”
I smiled after I swallowed. I was beginning to feel close to this woman already. “Thanks so much for the roll and the coffee. I feel a lot better.”
Although I didn’t want to leave, I started to feel as if I was imposing on her gracious hospitality.
“Oh, it’s no problem, child. In fact, anytime you’re in the area you can give me a call.”
She went over to the counter, then came back and handed me a business card. A rush of familiarity coursed through me as I reached over to take it. Something about last night…a guy, an old guy in fact, and a card. I looked at the card and saw the name of her bake
ry. It was the address underneath that caused me to catch my breath. Fayetteville, North Carolina. I whirled to gape at her. “North Carolina?!” I squealed. I’m sure my eyes were the size of saucers.
The woman seemed temporarily taken aback at my sudden shock. “Yes, honey. Where did you think you were?”
I looked back at the card again and shook my head in disbelief. What was going on?! A thought then occurred to me. “What day is it?” I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear the answer.
“It’s Sunday, June 1st,” she said with such certitude that I couldn’t help but believe her.
I quickly got up and walked over to the window where I could see my car. It was Monday when I left home to follow Owen…Monday two weeks ago! Where had I been all this time? What had happened to me?
Sarah walked over and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Child, have a seat. You don’t look so good.”
Once again, the way she stated the word “child” provoked a memory. I turned to her. “You don’t understand,” I said, pleading in my voice. “It was just Monday, two weeks ago. The last thing I remember was Monday, two weeks ago. What happened to me?”
The last sentence trailed off as my head began to throb again. I felt like I was going to be sick. I reached over to the wall and rested my head against it. The woman took me by my shoulders and led me over to one of many chairs in the shop.
This time, she sat next to me. Worry creased her face. “Sounds like you need a doctor. We’re not far from one. I can close up the shop today, and take you to one, and sit with you if you’d like.”
I wanted to respond, but vomit rose in my throat, causing me to cough. I paused and took a deep breath. “No, I can’t allow you to do that. You have a business to run.”
She let out a little laugh. “Child, I’m doing so well in this business, I could take a couple of days off, and there would still be a line in the front of my door for my treats. The best in the country I tell you.”
She smiled at me again. One look into her eyes, and once again, I felt like I knew her. I shook my head in disbelief. “You look so familiar to me,” I insisted. “It’s crazy, right? I’ve never been to North Carolina before, and I’m sure I never met you.” She just smiled again.
“It’s possible I just have one of those faces.” Concern gave her voice edge. “Seriously, though, do you want me to take you to the doctor?”
“I guess…I mean, I don’t know. I might just need to lie down for a bit. I have to make a phone call though. I have to let someone know where I am.”
“Sure. Use my cell.”
She pulled out an old flip phone that had seen better days. As if reading my mind, she smiled again and assured me that it worked. I took the cell phone from her and concentrated hard as I dialed Cicely’s number. I knew I would have a lot to explain to her, but I thought that I would just tell her where I was. The other end of the phone rang and rang, though, and I got her voice mail. I left a brief message, with the number of this woman’s shop, and promised to call back soon.
The woman stared me curiously after I hung up. Strange…“What?” I asked.
She continued to stare, then suddenly got up and disappeared into her back room. I started to feel awkward, on top of dizzy. Did I do something?
I waited for about a minute. Suddenly, she came rushing from the back room towards me. She pulled me up into a spine-crushing hug. I almost threw up again because of the pressure. When she let go, she smiled broadly, with tears in her eyes.
“Karma!” she shouted.
I didn’t think I had told her my name, but then I remembered I had mentioned it when leaving the message for Cicely. “Yes, that’s me.”
Her smile grew wider. “Karma Patel?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She pulled me into yet another bone crushing embrace, this time longer than the first. When she let go, I felt as if I would fall into the chair.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you!” she cried. “I’m your Aunt Shugs!”
I definitely fell back at that time, staring up at her smiling face as my body descended. With a loud thump, the chair hit the floor. Gratefully, I wasn’t hurt, but the fall jarred a memory in me. The face I remembered was a lot younger. She was the one Aunt Vern had pointed out in the picture she showed me.
“Aunt Shugs?” I asked cautiously.
She helped me up while righting the chair and pulled up another chair, sat next to me, and placed her arm around my shoulder. She showed me a small passport photo in her hand. It was of a younger version of me at about six years old. “Yes!” she said. “I knew there was something familiar about you too!”
I took the photo, looking between it and her.
She beamed. “I knew it was a long shot that it would actually be you, but how many people have that name? It’s quite rare. Your mother sent me this photo of you. She said it was your first-grade picture and she was so proud of you. How is she? Where is she?”
A flood of sadness threatened to overtake me. “She’s gone. She and Aunt Vern are gone.”
A gasp escaped her lips. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”
I proceeded to tell her the story of the letter sent by Aunt Carol, and the trip they took, and the voice message. I was going to also tell her about the evidence I found in my backyard, but I wasn’t sure how much I should reveal right now, given everything I had just experienced.
After I was finished, a resolute look came over her face. “Well, I’m not sure that they’re dead. Just probably missing or captured.” She said this with such confidence my mouth gaped open. She saw my expression and rested one hand on top of mine. “I’m sure you know about out special ‘gifts’.”
I nodded.
She continued. “One of them is being so connected with the others that we could just tell if something bad, like death, happened to the others. I haven’t felt the sensation since one of our uncles died. But that was from cancer. He smoked.” Her assured facial expression almost made me laugh.
A flood of relief filled me instead. It was my time to reach over and give her a squeeze. When I let go, the smile returned to her face. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. A group of lines gathered in the middle of her forehead. She looked out the window to my car, then back at me. “This begs the question: Why are you are here? What happened to you? And why are you missing two weeks of your life?”
I shook my head, hopeless. “I don’t know that. Like I said, I remember following some guys and then taking a card…” My voice trailed off as I remembered. “The card!”
Jumping up, I walked out the building towards my car. Aunt Shugs trailed close behind. The white piece of paper lay on the passenger side floor. I opened the front passenger door, stretching painfully in to reach for the piece of paper.
“No child! Don’t touch that!” Aunt Shugs shouted.
I leapt back at the sound of her panicked voice. She rushed over and pulled me back. Leaning in, she stared at the card. When she looked at me, her face was pale as a sheet. “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
She left my side, rushed in her shop, and returned a few minutes later with a pair of plastic gloves. She snapped one on and reached into the car to carefully pick up the card from the floor. She turned it over to view the back. Without a word, she grabbed one of my hands, kicked the door shut, and led me back into the store. We walked through the door that led to the back room of her shop, brimming with baking equipment and supplies, industrial sized mixers, ovens, and tables.
Tugging my hand, she pulled me past all the equipment into another door at the rear of the room. She let go of my hand long enough to open this door, which led to a pantry, filled with supplies, such as flour and sugar. One wall contained shelves filled with numerous bottles of colorful sugar and decorations in all shapes and colors. Another wall held shelves with an assortment of empty boxes of various shapes and sizes. Aunt Shug’s supply closet fascinated me, my eyes darting around, as Aunt Shugs pulled me along.
We
stopped in the front of a wall of shelves at the back of the room. She gave me the other glove, instructing me to put it on. I did as I was told. She carefully handed me the card. As I touched it, I felt a warm tingle underneath the glove.
“Don’t allow that to touch any part of your skin. Don’t sniff it, and don’t drop it,” Aunt Shugs warned, her tone no-nonsense.
She turned back to the shelves which contained bottles of colorful liquid. Mumbling to herself, she shifted a few bottles around. When satisfied with her rearrangement, she pulled on a brown bottle to the far left of the middle shelf. I stepped back, shocked, as a few clicks sounded and the vertical middle row of shelves slid backward on its own. After a few seconds, the whole center column of the shelves had disappeared into another back room. Aunt Shugs grabbed my hand once and pulled me into the room.
The darkness that overtook the space blinded me. My aunt let go of my hand and clapped her hands twice. The room illuminated to reveal a space smaller than the one we just left. She turned towards me and clapped her hands once more, and the shelves that had disappeared moved back into place. I saw a comfortable room that looked similar to my basement. I saw a solitary table, with a desk lamp and a chair, in the center of the room. Around the room, there were bookshelves, just like mine. I wandered over to one of them while Aunt Shugs continued to mutter to herself as she walked around the room. I read the titles of the books—“Cooking with Heart,” “Falling in Love with Your Food,” “Pastel Pastries and More.” I saw more culinary art books, mostly related to baking on another shelf.
“Ah ha!”
My aunt’s voice startled me, and I turned to see her standing on the other side of the room, in front of an open white cabinet. She held a small brown bottle with a dropper in one hand; in the other hand, a flat piece of parchment. “Come, come child.”
She moved towards the table in the center of the room and motioned to me to sit. She rested the items on the table and walked over to one of the shelves to pull out a large bowl. She put the bowl on the table next to me.
