“You just have no idea how much I love you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The day we had brunch. When the little girl misunderstood what she saw. You have no idea how crazy with jealously you make me. I know you were embarrassed by what she said. I was embarrassed, too. But that’s no reason to end our engagement.”
“No, that’s not what happened,” I insisted, but my voice was sounding more like a petulant little child. “You were going to hit me.”
“Sweethe ... Charlotte, come on! Have I ever hit you?”
“Well, no,” I mumbled. Not yet.
“Then why would you possibly think I was going to then?”
“You just ...” How could I explain the look on his face? How he would press his lips together so tightly into a thin, taunt line? How his face would flatten, and his nostrils would flare? How his eyes would narrow into angry slits?
“Your hand was raised,” I said finally.
“My hand was raised because I was going to put my arm around your shoulders,” he said. “Which is exactly what I did, if you remember. I would never hurt you, at least not on purpose. You must know that.”
Must I? I closed my eyes, picturing him in front of the restaurant, in our bedroom. He’s doing it again to me, I thought. Making it seem like I’m crazy when I’m not. Telling me I’m remembering things wrong.
“I know you’ve been under a lot of stress,” he said, his voice warm and sympathetic. “It’s a big adjustment, moving in with me and planning our wedding. Maybe we were going a little too fast. I blame myself for that. I just can’t wait to marry you and start our life together. You probably just need a little more time to adjust. Maybe we need to get away … take a long weekend and go somewhere and be together. What do you say?”
I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, shaking my head violently, my mouth clamped shut so I wouldn’t scream in frustration. My scar burned and throbbed. No! I don’t want that! I don’t want any of that.
But I knew anything I said was going to sound like I was the one being unreasonable. I was the one who was forcing my “loving” fiancé jump through hoops to make me happy. I was the one who was impossible to please.
“Charlotte? Honey? Are you still there?”
“Alan, I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us,” I said, when I was fairly certain I too would sound calm and reasonable. “I’m sorry about all of this, truly, but I think it’s probably better if we end things now.”
“You’re really going to end our engagement over something a stranger said? What a child said?” His voice was incredulous. “This isn’t you. You’re acting very rash and impulsive. Have you seen your doctor at all?”
“It’s not just what happened that day,” I said. “It’s a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“You pushed me down the stairs ...”
“You’re remembering it wrong,” he said swiftly. “Once you’ve healed from your concussion, you’ll realize I’m right, and it was all a terrible accident.”
“You’re ...” My voice trailed off.
“I’m what?”
I struggled with what to say. “You ... you want to control me,” I finally blurted out.
“Control you?” He sounded surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“Just ... I feel like you want to control me.”
“How do I do that?”
How could I answer his question? It’s a feeling I have? I racked my brain for examples. “You told me to quit my job,” I said.
“I didn’t tell you to quit,” he said. “Yes, I encouraged you to when we discussed it. I thought it would be too much for you to work, plan our wedding, and do everything else to start our lives together. And, considering how upset you got at that misunderstanding, I don’t think I was wrong.”
“No, that wasn’t why I got upset ...” I gritted my teeth together. Why bother? He would just tell me again I was “remembering it wrong.”
“Well, clearly you’ve been under too much stress,” he said. “Is that the only reason you think I want to control you?”
“You don’t want me to see my friends,” I said.
“Again, you have enough on your plate. And, besides, the only time you get to see your friends is nights and weekends, which is our time to spend together. Right? Why would you rather see your friends than spend time with me?”
This was ridiculous. I couldn’t argue with him. I needed to just get off the phone and hopefully never see him or talk to him again.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said. “I have to go.”
“I agree. This is really difficult to do on the phone. Let’s pick this discussion back up once you’re home, okay? Face-to-face is always better.”
“That’s not what I meant ...” I started to say, when something broke inside me. My frustration and anger suddenly spewed over, engulfing me in a tidal wave of boiling emotions. Why can’t I be rid of this man? Why won’t he leave me alone? “Even if I was going to come home, I’m done discussing this with you,” I nearly shouted. “It’s over, Alan. Are you finally listening? Can you hear me? It’s. OVER.”
Silence. All I could hear was the harsh sound of my own breathing and the pounding of the blood roaring in my temples. Maybe I finally got through to him, I thought. Maybe he’s finally ready to let me go. Oh please God, let that be the case.
“What do you mean ‘if’ you’re going to come home?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
I froze. Oh God. What did I say? I tried to remember my exact words, but I was so caught up in a righteous sea of fire, I could barely recall what had just tumbled out of my mouth. My stomach twisted inside me, and I doubled over. My scar felt like an ice pick had been thrust into it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’ll be home in a few days, once my car is fixed.”
“You said ‘even if’ you were going to come home.”
“No, you misheard me. I said even if I was home.”
More silence. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, it’s what I said. Of course I’m coming home.” I wanted to keep talking, keep babbling and repeating it so he would believe it. Of course I would be home … where else would I go? But I knew that would be a huge mistake. Instead, I bit my knuckle. Hard. I could taste blood on my tongue, but it was better than giving myself away.
“Okay, then. We’ll talk more about this once you’re back.”
“Fine,” I said. I was done arguing. All I wanted to do was get off the call before I said anything else I would regret.
“Do you want to speak to Annabelle?”
Hell yes I wanted to speak to my sister. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind for ambushing me. How could she do that to me? And why was Alan over there, anyway? What was going on?
But I didn’t dare. I didn’t trust myself to say the wrong thing to her.
“No, I’m sure she’s busy,” I said. “And I’ll be talking to her later this week anyway as I’m driving back to New York. She always likes me to check in.” I clamped my teeth down on my knuckle again. Don’t overdo it, Charlie.
“Well, okay then. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure,” I said, and quickly hung up.
My knuckles cracked as I let go of the handset. The blood came rushing back in, making my fingers tingle. I shook my hand, trying to relieve the pain. I didn’t even realize how hard I had been squeezing the phone.
My other hand wasn’t much better. Blood dripped from my index finger where I had bitten down, and it stung. I went to the bathroom to try and clean it up.
What else did Annabelle tell Alan? That I was in Redemption?
My heart started to race, and I was having trouble breathing. I knocked over a bottle of lotion in my hurry to get back to the phone. Maybe I bette
r call back and demand to know exactly what she had told him.
But what if he was still there? My hand stilled, halfway to the dial.
I could ask her if he was there. Of course, she could also lie to me.
For that matter, she could lie to me about whether or not she told him where I was. The chances of me getting the truth out of her at this point were pretty low.
No. I better not call. It was after ten there, anyway.
Which meant, even if she did tell him I was in Redemption, and even if he was going to try and show up, he wouldn’t leave right then. No, the soonest he would leave would be the next morning.
It would be tight, but if I left as soon as I got my car, I could probably beat him.
Probably.
I started pacing around the room. I wished my car would be ready sooner. Another day suddenly felt really dangerous.
But what choice did I have? I couldn’t leave without my car.
Annabelle had promised not to tell Alan where I was. I just had to hope and pray that she had kept that promise. If she hadn’t, my only hope was that Alan would be too slow.
Chapter 16
“There you are, Charlie,” Nancy cheerily called out. She was standing in the lobby, busily making a fresh pot of coffee. “You have a visitor.”
I had been digging in my purse for my room key, only half paying attention, when her words filtered through my brain. My head snapped up and my purse tipped over in my hand that had suddenly ceased to work, spilling all the contents onto the floor.
“Oops,” Nancy said. “Do you need some help?”
“I’ve got it,” I said, kneeling down to scoop up packages of tissues, a roll of breath mints, lipstick, lip gloss, a compact, a comb, a couple pieces of gum, and my wallet, all the while my head whirling. Was it Alan? Had he left last night after all?
It had been a surreal, strange day. People hugged me, everyone from my coworkers to the regulars, telling me how much they’d miss me. I kept having to dash away to the bathroom to wipe away tears.
I shouldn’t be getting so upset, I kept telling myself. It’s not like I had been there that long.
But still. Redemption seemed to have burrowed under my skin and invaded my bloodstream. No matter where I ended up, I had a feeling I would always bring a part of Redemption with me.
The worst part of the day was when I had to pull Claire aside and explain how I had to leave the moment I got my car. “But Lou can’t come out tonight,” Claire had protested. “You can’t leave without a final hurrah.”
I hurriedly explained about the call and my slip up, and how I had to leave immediately.
“You don’t really think he’s driving all the way here,” Claire said, but her eyes were worried.
“I don’t know what he’s planning. I just know I’ve got to get out of here.”
She didn’t look happy or convinced, but she accepted my explanation.
I wasn’t happy about it either, but it felt like the right thing to do.
Now, kneeling on the polished hardwood floors, surrounded by all the random, unimportant trinkets I carried with me everywhere, I wasn’t so sure.
“Do you know who it is?” I asked, my voice high and thready. Maybe if she told me it was Alan, I could simply walk out the door and never look back. I wasn’t sure how I would get my belongings, but I could worry about that later. Maybe Claire could get them.
“It’s Helen Blackstone,” Nancy said.
My hand, holding a green plastic comb stilled, frozen in the air. I sat back on my heels. “Helen Blackstone?”
“Do you know her? She owns that big house on the edge of town. You may have heard of it by its nickname—the Witch House.” Nancy snickered.
“I know who she is,” I said. “But how did she know where to find me?”
Nancy finished with the coffee machine and took a few steps back, drying her hands on a white towel. “Probably because she called me and asked if you were staying here.”
“She called you?”
“Of course! We’re friends. Well, I like to think so, anyhow. I bought a lot of tea from her back in the day. I wish she’d get that garden going again. Hers was the very best.” “ She moved toward the desk peering down at me. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
She bought tea from Helen? Was everyone connected in this town? “I’m fine,” I said, stuffing the last couple of items into my purse and standing up. “Where is she?”
Nancy pointed. “In the breakfast area. I thought she’d be more comfortable in there.”
I walked in to find Helen seated at one of the tables in the back. Like before, she wore all black—a loose-fitting black shirt and black trousers. Her hair was still braided in that messy braid, which seemed even more messy than before. My heart hurt looking at her. She really needed to move into that facility.
I walked over and took a seat next to her. She smiled as I sat down, her too-pink lipstick smeared across her chin, as if her hand shook as she applied it. “Hello, Charlie.”
“Hi, Helen.”
There was a paper bag sitting on the table in front of her. She picked up one misshapen claw of a hand and pushed it toward me. “A gift.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, feeling touched despite myself.
She shrugged. “You brought me dinner. A couple of times. It’s the least I could do.”
I stared at the bag.
“Go on,” she urged. “Open it.”
I glanced over at her. Her face was eager, excited. I unwrapped the top and took a look inside. It appeared to be a pile of loose leaves and herbs.
“It’s tea,” Helen exclaimed happily. “I wanted you to have it.”
“Thank you,” I said, as emotion welled up inside me. I made a big show of digging a tissue out of my purse and telling her it was allergies. What was wrong with me? I was way too emotional. “But this is your favorite tea. I can’t take it.”
“You can,” she said, and reached over to touch my arm. Her fingers were surprisingly cool and smooth to the touch. Based on how they looked, I would have expected them to be burning hot. “Remember how I told you there was a time when I had no intention of living in that house?”
“I remember.” Was this another attempt to talk me into buying it? I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I should just stop her now and save us both some time.
She smiled. “It was years and years ago. I was probably around your age, actually. I had left home, determined never to set foot in Redemption ever again.” Her smile turned sad. “Things don’t always work out the way we plan.”
“What happened?” I asked, interested despite myself.
She shrugged. “It’s a long story, but the short version is my family needed my help. So, I came back. I had no intention of staying. I had planned to leave as soon as I could, but that didn’t happen, either. Eventually, I realized I didn’t have much choice anymore. I needed to stay. And boy, did I resent that.”
“I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you leave?’
She sighed. “It was the only way I could help my family. My father, well, both my father and my brother needed me. My father still lived here, and he was having financial problems even before the Great Depression hit. I had to stay and help him stay afloat, or he would have lost everything. And my brother ...” Her voice dropped. “He couldn’t help my father. The house ... it made him sick. I had to stay, to live in the house, so he could build a healthy, happy life.”
“How did the house make him sick? Is there something in the house, like black mold, or something?”
She waved her hand. “No, it’s nothing like that. My father lived to be ninety-five. I’m still alive and kicking, and other than my arthritis, I’m perfectly healthy. It was ... maybe you would call it a mental break. My mother ... well, something happened to her after He
nry was born. She was never the same. And I think that affected Henry. Even as a baby, my mother rarely fed him herself, or even held him. I ended up more or less raising him, a child myself. And I think all of that took a toll on Henry. Emotionally, he was always troubled, and I think spending time here in the house triggered all of that.
“Anyway, none of that matters anymore. What matters is that I ended up staying, even though I didn’t want to. For years, I was angry and resentful. What finally turned it around for me was my garden. I discovered how much I loved being outside, in the fresh air and sunshine, growing plants.
“At first, I grew a lot of vegetables to help supplement our food bill. Eventually, though, that wasn’t enough, and I had to make some money. So, I started experimenting by growing and harvesting herbal teas.
“It wasn’t as strange as it might sound now. I had actually been making tea for myself for years. At first, it was to save money. When friends visited, I would serve them my homemade tea, and they would just rave about it. So, I thought, why not try and sell it?”
“Sounds like a great little business venture,” I said. I still wasn’t sure where the story was going, and I was starting to get a little antsy. I had a lot to do to finish packing and get ready to leave, and as far as I could tell, there was no end in sight to Helen’s reminiscing.
Helen nodded enthusiastically. “It was. The more I dabbled in tea making, the more I also started to learn about all the health benefits of it. Some of my customers would ask me for specific types that would help them with medical conditions. I would research the different flowers and herbs, and if I could grow them here, I would. It was a great way to earn an income as well as help my friends and neighbors out.”
“I’m glad,” I said, making a point of glancing at my watch. “Helen, I ...”
“One of my biggest regrets in selling the house is knowing I can’t help my customers anymore,” she interrupted.
I started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. In my mind’s eye, I saw the rabbit from my dreams, limping across the path, as I knelt to heal it. You do have the gift. Some might call it a ‘knack.’ You’ve always had it. And now, it’s been unlocked.
The Summoning: A gripping psychological thriller (Secrets of Redemption Book 4) Page 14
