The shadow of the hotel materialized in front of us, saving me from having to answer him. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed. “Well, we made it,” I said, my voice a little too hearty. “Thanks to you.”
He flashed a quick, knowing smile at me before pausing at the foot of the path that wove through the lawn. “Want me to walk you to the lobby?”
I made a show of peering down the path. “Looks pretty safe. I think I can make it from here.”
He stepped back, making a flourish with his arm. “Sleep well, Charlie. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“Are you saying there are bedbugs here?”
He laughed softly. “Probably a bad choice of words. Sleep well.”
“You too.” I turned and started up the path. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked, and my neck grew warm.
There was a sign informing me that the door was locked after ten and I needed to use my key. I fumbled in my purse for a moment before I found it and unlocked the door. I glanced back as I twisted the doorknob. He was still standing there, his hands in his pockets. I waved and saw his head bob in return.
The moment I was safely inside, I collapsed, falling backward against the door. My knees were weak and shaky, and I would have slid to the floor if it wasn’t for the door.
What had I gotten myself into?
Chapter 6
I was back in my car, driving through peaceful, unassuming neighborhoods. The sun was out, the sky was a dark blue, birds were singing, and children were laughing. I could see them running through a sprinkler, screaming as the water hit.
I had no idea where I was, yet somehow, I knew precisely where I was going. I turned down quiet streets, my hands confidently on the wheel, until I discovered an undeveloped neighborhood. There was a farm on one side and a forest on the other.
I turned into a cul-de-sac, and there it was.
The house.
I wasn’t aware of stopping the car, but somehow, I found myself standing in the yard, gazing up at it.
It was a big, sprawling farmhouse, white with black trim and a red front porch complete with a swing. Well-maintained bushes lined the front while stately pine trees graced the sides.
As I stood there in the yard, I could feel my body start to unwind and relax.
I was home.
I started to walk toward it, feeling a sense of deep belonging inside me. This was where I was supposed to be.
The house knew it, too. It had been searching for me as much as I had been searching for it.
A fluffy white rabbit limped in front of me, holding its paw up off the ground. It fixed its dark eyes on me.
I crouched down. “Did you hurt yourself?” I crooned, reaching for it. The rabbit sat back on its haunches, its nose twitching, holding its paw out to me.
I touched it, intending to examine it, but as I held it, I felt a deep, warming sensation in the pit of my stomach. It rose through me, up my chest, down my arm, and into my hand. As it traveled across my body, it lit up in a golden glow.
When it reached my fingers touching the rabbit’s paw, the glow brightened, like a light had been switched on. It was so bright, I had to shield my eyes. My hand began to burn. I instinctively wanted to let go of the paw, afraid the heat would hurt the rabbit, but I couldn’t move. My fingers were clenched tight.
After a moment, everything faded. The heat and light were gone, and I released the paw.
The rabbit stared at me with seemingly brighter eyes. It gave a quick shake to its paw before promptly hopping away. There was no sign of a limp.
That’s your gift.
I glanced around, trying to locate the voice. It was deep, wild, untamed, and ancient.
But there was nothing there. All I saw were gently swaying trees and bushes dancing in the breeze.
“What’s my gift?” I asked, looking behind me but seeing nothing.
The gift of healing.
“Who are you? And where are you?”
Right in front of you.
I turned my head but still saw nothing. “I don’t see you.”
Because you’re not looking in the right place.
“I’m staring straight ahead of me,” I said, starting to feel exasperated.
Are you?
“Of course I am,” I snapped.
Then you would see me.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I fumed. I put my hands on the ground to steady myself, when I glimpsed the swish of a tail. A black cat was sitting on the ground, almost hidden by one of the bushes, its dark-green eyes staring at me.
“Are you talking to me?” I asked the cat.
The cat’s tail swished again. I said I was in front of you.
Even though the cat’s mouth didn’t move, I somehow knew it was the source of the words. I leaned backward to sit on the ground so I could better see it. It slowly blinked.
“So, you’re saying I can heal by touch?”
The cat flicked one of its ears. Even though I didn’t hear anything, I had the sense it was chuckling. Not exactly. But you do have the gift. Some might call it a ‘knack.’ You’ve always had it. And now, it’s been unlocked.
“How?”
The tail swished. You know the answer to that.
My side twinged in response, and I winced. Yes, I did know. Alan’s face, white with rage. The fall. The pain. Waking up in the hospital bed and realizing something had shifted inside me. I was different. And I could never go back.
“So, I should become a healer? Just like that?”
Only if you choose to accept it.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because of the price you will have to pay.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud, plunging the yard into darkness. The delightful, sweet-scented warm breeze suddenly turned icy. A crow cawed from somewhere close by. I shivered. “What’s the price?”
The front door of the house banged open, and a young girl rushed out. “Stop! You must stop this right now!”
I looked up at her in confusion. “Stop what?”
“This!”
She looked a little like Holly Hobby. She wore a long, old-fashioned-looking muslin dress patterned with tiny blue flowers. Her hair was long, very long, and plaited in two thick braids that hung almost to her waist. A blue bonnet hung around her neck.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You must leave,” she said. “Immediately.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a car.”
“Then find another way,” she shouted, her braids bobbing up and down. The crow cawed again, as if agreeing with her. “You must leave now.”
“Why?” I asked, feeling bewildered. “What does it matter if I leave now or in a few days?”
“Because the longer you stay, the more difficult it will be for you to leave.”
It’s already too late for that, the cat said.
The girl jerked her head toward the cat. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
The cat turned its big green eyes toward the girl. You know it doesn’t matter. What’s going to happen is going to happen. No one can stop it. Those wheels were set into motion long ago. What we do have is a chance to do some good.
“There is no good,” she snapped. “How can there be any good that springs from evil?”
Good and evil have always coexisted together. That’s part of deal. The trick is, which one you allow to be stronger.
The girl stomped her foot. “That is not true. You’re just trying to trick me again.”
I’m trying to help you see the truth.
“Black cats are evil,” she snarled. “Everyone knows that.”
Things are not as they seem.
She crossed her arms and focused her attention back to me. “Don’t listen to that, that thing. Leave
now. Before it’s too late.”
“I’ll leave, but I have to wait for my car ...” I started to say.
“Enough with the waiting,” she shrieked. “If you stay, you will open the door to massive suffering—not just for you, either. But for everyone around you.”
You will also set something good in motion. The cat said. Or, thought. Or whatever it was doing. Not just for you, but for everyone around you.
“It will come at a huge cost,” the girl insisted.
So will leaving.
“It would be better than this.”
“Wait,” I said, putting a hand out. “What are you talking about? What’s the cost? What’s going to happen if I stay?”
The cat turned back to me, flicked its ears. You need to wake up. Now.
My eyes flew open.
I was laying in an unfamiliar bed, soaked with sweat, the sheets tangled around me. The early morning sun streamed through a window and onto the colorful braided rug. Where was I? What just happened?
Then it all flooded back. Redemption. The car. Last night at the bar.
And Annabelle! I cursed as I glanced at the clock before grabbing the phone.
“You’re late,” Annabelle said. “I was just about to leave the house.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, struggling to untangle myself from the sheets.
“Were you out last night?”
“No. Not really.” I pulled out half the covers as I stood up. Now, where was my purse?
“’Not really’? What does that mean?”
I found the purse on a chair across the room where I had tossed yesterday’s outfit. I tucked the phone beneath my chin as I stretched out my arm, and the cord, trying to reach it. “It means I had one drink at a bar,” I said, although I thought it was more like two. Regardless, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t being irresponsible.
“Why were you drinking by yourself at a bar?”
My fingers barely brushed my purse strap. Just a little more. “I wasn’t by myself. I was with a group.”
“A group? Why would you do that? You’re not going to be there very long.”
“I know. But, Claire, she was the one who invited me. She’s been so nice. She helped me find the repair shop and the hotel, so it seemed rude to turn her down.” I managed to snag my purse just as the phone base tumbled to the ground with a loud clatter.
“Oh my God, Annabelle, are you still there?” I hurried over to pick up the phone.
“Yes, I’m here. What just happened?”
“I dropped the phone,” I said, putting it back on the stand. “Here, I’ve got the information to wire the money. I’m sure you have to get going.” I sat back down on the edge of the bed, so I could paw through my purse.
Annabelle didn’t answer. I tried not to think about that as I located the card and rattled off the numbers. “Did you get it?”
“Yes.” But her voice sounded odd. “Charlotte, you are planning on coming home, right?”
“Of course,” I said. Eventually, I silently added.
“The idea is I’m sending you money to get the car fixed so you can come home.”
“Yes,” I said. That is most definitely the idea.
“Okay,” she sounded relieved. “I’ll send it after Marguerite’s doctor appointment.”
“Thanks. “
I waited for her to say goodbye, but there was another long pause. Did she already hang up? “Annabelle?” I asked tentatively.
“You know I only have your best interest at heart,” she said. “That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”
My stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. Did she somehow sense I wasn’t telling her the whole truth? “I know that.”
“I only want what’s best for you.”
“And I appreciate it,” I said. “Just like I really appreciate you sending me the money. I owe you.”
“Keep that in mind,” she said cryptically.
I was about to ask her what she meant, but she continued talking, her voice brisk. “I suspect it will be late morning or so before I can send it. Once I drop Marguerite off, I’ll need to go to the bank first, and I’m not sure how long all that will take, but I should be able to get it sent off by noon.”
“Great,” I said, but she had already clicked off.
I hung up the phone, trying to squash that uncomfortable, nagging, guilty feeling that kept trying to raise its head. Annabelle wanted me to be safe and happy. She wouldn’t be pushing me to come home if she knew how dangerous it was. Someday, she would understand. Someday.
In the meantime, as soon as Annabelle wired the money, I would at least have the initial bills covered. I could worry about getting my hands on more later.
I took a quick shower, and then, for lack of something better to do, headed down to check out what Nancy had put out for breakfast.
There was buffet-style fruit, baked goods, cereals, and coffee. I helped myself to a croissant and coffee and sat at a table by the window.
The sun was just getting high enough to create a sparkle in the dew on the grass, and there appeared a field of tiny diamonds. The trees were lush and dark in the stillness, looking very much like the forest next to the house in my dream.
Oh God. That dream. My throat closed as I started tearing apart the croissant.
It had started out normally. The search in the car. Seeing the house. A deep knowing that it was the house I was supposed to find. Even healing the injured rabbit was like all the other dreams.
But then it shifted. First the talking cat. And then, the girl.
You must leave now.
If you stay, you will open the door to massive suffering, not just for you, but for everyone around you.
What did that even mean? Why was it so important I leave immediately? What could possibly change in a day or two?
Or maybe it didn’t mean anything at all. Maybe it was just my subconscious processing the strange stories Claire and her friends had shared with me at the bar.
I mean, come on. A town that somehow decides who lives there and who doesn’t? They couldn’t really believe that. They must have been teasing me.
Still ...
A white fluffy rabbit awkwardly hopped across the grass right in front of the window. It paused to nibble on dandelion. It appeared to be limping.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. So what if it looked exactly like the rabbit in my dream? It didn’t mean anything. There were probably lots of white fluffy rabbits hopping around Wisconsin. Maybe it was someone’s pet that had gotten away.
It especially didn’t mean anything if it was limping. It wasn’t like I was going to go running right out there to try and heal it.
The rabbit twitched its ear. It seemed to be looking right at me through the window. There was something reassuring about it. Something that made me feel like the rabbit was ... greeting me, somehow. Welcoming me home.
A loud crash startled me. A woman had dropped her coffee cup on the floor, spraying coffee everywhere and shattering the cup. She instantly dropped to her knees, looking horrified as her companion, assumedly her husband, started grabbing handfuls of napkins. Nancy came running over, reassuring the couple that everything was fine, and she would be happy to clean it up.
By the time I looked back outside, the rabbit was gone. I craned my neck trying to catch a glimpse of white fur anywhere, but there was nothing.
Which probably meant the rabbit wasn’t limping after all. I took a sip of my coffee. White rabbits and spooky dreams aside, what I really needed to do was put a plan together so that once my car was ready, I could just go.
And a good place to start would be to find out precisely when my car would be ready. I started tearing my croissant with more vigor. After breakfast, or once I was done destroying my pastry, I would call the repair shop for an update.<
br />
That felt like a good plan.
Chapter 7
I stood on the sidewalk in front of Grant Street Auto, wiping my sweaty hands nervously on my jeans.
I should have called. Why hadn’t I? I wasn’t even sure, except for having quite of bit of time to kill before I could collect the money from Western Union.
So, why not take a walk?
Just a walk around downtown. No, I didn’t need to stop at the repair shop.
And yet ... there I was.
I wiped my hands one more time, squared my shoulders, and headed into the office. After all, it was entirely possible Jonathan wouldn’t be there, or if he was, that he would be busy with something else. Chances were high I’d be able to get an update from some other mechanic.
A bell jangled as I opened the door, and the smell of motor oil and grease slapped me in the face. No one was behind the counter, but a door stood ajar. I assumed it led to the garage as I could hear the sounds of clanking metal and low voices. I tried to peer through it, seeing if I could catch someone’s attention rather just walking back there.
Jonathan stuck his head in. “Oh, hey. Here about your car?”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the flutterings in my stomach. But then my brain caught up to what he was saying. “Is it ready?” That would be welcome news, although I’d have to come back in the afternoon to pay. Maybe I could be out of Redemption first thing in the morning.
He came into the office, wiping his hands off with a stained blue towel. “Unfortunately, not.” He tucked the towel in his back pocket. “We need to order a few parts, which will take a day or so to get here.”
I was starting to get a bad feeling. “So, how much longer will it all take to get it fixed?”
He took a deep breath, which really worried me. “Well, part of the complication is that it looks like there are even bigger problems than the bad transmission. Even your brakes need replacing. When was the last time you took it in for routine maintenance?”
I gave him a blank look. Knowing Nana, she likely hadn’t done much besides fill it with gas. “I ... uh ... never.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Never?”
The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4) Page 6
