Addison Lockhart 3

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Why not? What happened that day? Catherine, please. Tell me. Did he die trying to save her?”

  Catherine covered her face with her hands.

  A tear rolled down Billy’s cheek. “I don’t want to be dead.”

  I’m so sorry, Billy. You need to go home.

  “I am home.”

  You need to go to the place everyone else goes when they pass on.

  “I can’t, not without my mama!”

  In an instant, Billy was gone.

  “Help me help your son, Catherine,” Addison said. “Help me help you.”

  “You can’t. There’s nothing you can do for me, and there’s nothing you can do for him. He’s dead, and it’s all her fault. She’s the one who killed him.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Addison wadded up her clothes, tossing them into the suitcase like they were live grenades. “I don’t know what more I can do now, Gran. At this point I’m sure we’ve been thrown out. We have to leave.”

  Marjorie shook her head. “I warned you not to push.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I thought I was getting through to her. It seemed like she actually started to believe me. Her voice changed, her demeanor softened. For a moment I had her believing what if – what if there was a chance I was telling the truth? And then I mentioned Billy, and I realized I’d pushed too far. I’ve lost my focus. I don’t know what more to do at this point.”

  Gran pushed the suitcase to the side. “Come here. Sit beside me for a few minutes.”

  “I can’t. I’m too wound up. There’s no possible way I can relax right now. Besides, we’re supposed to be leaving.”

  “I need you to trust me. Can you?”

  Addison sighed, then nodded.

  “Then do what I ask,” Marjorie said.

  Addison joined her on the bed. “All right, now what?”

  “I have something for you. I thought about offering it as a wedding gift. I was even going to wrap it. But it’s more than a gift. Much more. And it isn’t for Luke. It’s for you.”

  “Oh ... kay. Where is it?”

  Marjorie reached into her handbag and pulled out the book. “Here.”

  Though Marjorie had pushed it in Addison’s direction, Addison thought it odd that when she reached out to take it, Marjorie didn’t release it to her right away. Instead, she clutched it tightly and didn’t let go.

  “Are you just wanting me to look at it, or are you giving it to me?” Addison asked.

  Marjorie lifted her hand off the book. “I ... yes. It’s yours now.”

  Addison studied the book’s cover and was reminded of a time when she was a little girl. She’d entered her mother’s room and saw her writing in a leather book similar to this one. When she had asked her mother what it was, her mother said it was a journal, just a place she kept her thoughts. “Is this my mother’s journal?”

  Marjorie shook her head. “This book never belonged to your mother. It should have, but she was unwilling to accept it. I held on to it, hoping one day I would leave it to you, and now the time has come for you to have it.”

  Marjorie’s tone was heavy, her words serious in nature. And though Addison wanted to open the book, she held back. “What is it?”

  “Our history. Think of it as an addition.”

  “An addition to what?”

  “To the powers you already possess.”

  “There’s more?” Addison asked.

  “Much more. The book will explain everything.”

  “Why did you wait so long to give it to me?”

  “I wanted to be sure you were ready. You understand, don’t you?”

  Addison didn’t understand. She’d never felt ready to accept what she was—not the first time her abilities had manifested as a child, and not now. It didn’t seem like there was a right time or a wrong time to have been given the book. Marjorie had withheld it from her, causing Addison to wonder what else she’d been hiding. Marjorie hadn’t seemed like herself lately. She’d been quieter, more introspective, a far cry from the feisty woman who never missed an opportunity to speak her mind.

  “What else haven’t you told me?” Addison asked.

  “Nothing. This is it.”

  “It isn’t though. I can feel it. You know I can. You’re not telling me something.”

  Marjorie tapped her fingernail on the book. “With this book, you’ll have all the power you can possess, everything I have.”

  “I’m not talking about the book. I’m talking about you. You haven’t been yourself since you arrived here.”

  “Let’s focus on this right now. One thing at a time. I know it isn’t the answer you want, but it’s the only answer you’re getting today. Now, instead of fearing the power you hold in your hands, embrace it. Take a look inside.”

  Frustrated and left with unanswered questions, Addison scanned the book’s cover. “What is this?” Addison asked. “A book of spells?”

  Marjorie laughed. “Of course not. We’re not witches. Look closer. What do you see?”

  “Women standing around a ...”

  “Pillar of light. The light is a symbol of our gifts—the gifts passed from grandmother, to mother, to child over time.”

  Addison peeled the book cover back, scanning the first few pages. The written verses were short—most only a few lines. They had been penned in cursive in black ink. Some were delicate and fluid. Others were like chicken scratches—craggy and hard to read.

  Each verse within the book offered guidance; each page was marked with a burgundy-wax seal pressed into the paper, much like the nobles had used to secure private, royal documents. The seal matched the emblem on the book’s cover of three women huddled in what Addison perceived to be a spiritual embrace. Beneath each seal was a date, the earliest being 1619.

  Marjorie reached out, snapping the book shut. “You can look through the rest later.”

  “If they’re not spells, what are they, then?”

  “A bit of extra help only to be used when necessary.”

  “If they help, why not use them all the time?”

  “When spoken aloud, these verses call upon the spirits of your female ancestors, those who lived before you, doing what you do now.”

  “Are you saying they will appear to me?”

  “I’m saying they will hear you, and they have the temporary ability to guide you in ways you can’t always guide yourself.”

  Marjorie set the book beside her on the bed and leafed through part of it, pausing when she seemed to have found the page she wanted. “Do you want to know how it works?”

  Addison nodded.

  Marjorie turned her palms up. “Give me your hands.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Addison placed her palms on top of her grandmother’s. In the past, when joined hands, it had always resulted in conjuring a spirit, at times forcing an entity to appear whether they wanted to or not.

  “Okay, I want you to close your eyes and breathe,” Marjorie said.

  Addison did as instructed.

  “Now, inhale all the air you can fill inside of your lungs. Hold it for as long as you can, and when you can’t hold it any longer, breathe it all the way out. Relax your body. Clear your mind. When your mind is clear, you will see what you need to see.”

  “How long do I need to—”

  “Shhh. You’ll know when the time is right. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

  Ready for what?

  Relaxing seemed impossible right now.

  Her breath was shallow and tight, her lungs feeling like they were on the verge of collapse. And nothing was happening.

  “Concentrate, Addison,” Marjorie said. “Focus on your breath.”

  If only it were that easy.

  Relax.

  Quiet my mind.

  Breathe positivity in.

  Push negativity out.

  She repeated the silent affirmations in her mind until she felt herself let go, becoming still, hearing only the sound of her grandmother’s vo
ice:

  Ancient mothers far and near

  Heed my voice, lend an ear

  With these wings allow her flight

  Protection and the gift of sight

  Her eyes opened.

  She was no longer with her grandmother in the bedroom.

  She was outside, perched on a branch in a tree.

  The sun’s beamed down, warming her face. She tried pressing a hand to her cheek, but she didn’t feel skin. She felt something else, something much softer—feathers. She looked down, noticed she’d transformed into a magnificent owl.

  An old woman sat next to her, dressed in a dress so white she appeared to be glowing.

  “Who are you?” Addison asked.

  The woman smiled. “Listen and see.”

  Through the wind, she heard her grandmother’s voice.

  Flap your wings and fly, Addison.

  Let them take you where you’re meant to go.

  See what you’re meant to see.

  Addison leapt off the branch, soaring across the ocean, farther and farther until all that existed was the open sea. In the distance, she spotted a sailboat. It was small and white, thrashing back and forth atop a furious, turbulent sea. Water spit from the ocean’s surface, drenching the boat then sliding back into the ocean again. Addison swooped down, her talons gripping the bow’s railing. Drenched and worn, a man fought against the sea’s rage, his hands clasping a rope, pulling himself toward the sail.

  Joseph.

  Fighting a raging sea, Joseph inched closer to the sail, only to reach it, look up, and discover it was ripped, torn beyond repair.

  He slapped a hand over his eyes, shouting, “No, no, no!”

  A monstrous wave rose up, crashing onto the deck. This time, the sea wasn’t as forgiving. Joseph catapulted into the air, shooting straight up before plunging into the ocean below. Addison’s eyes darted around, searching the water, watching for any sign of him. Seconds passed, then minutes. The boat capsized, dumping the water from the deck back into the sea. The scene blurred together like hours passing in seconds. When it came back into focus again, the sea was quiet and serene as if nothing had happened here.

  The boat floated in pieces on the water’s surface. Not far from the wreckage, Addison noticed something else bobbing at the water’s surface. She swooped down to get a closer look.

  It couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  Joseph!

  Weak and frail, somehow he had survived long enough to wrap his body around a piece of floating debris. His body showed no movement, no signs of life. His chest was bare now with the exception of a brown braided necklace clinging to his neck. Dangling from the center was a small, silver cross.

  Addison stared at him, gasping when his eyes flashed open. His breath was shallow, but still there.

  He was alive!

  In the distance, a slow hum grew to a loud vibration. Another boat was on the water, moving in Joseph’s direction. If Joseph heard it, he gave no indication. His eyes closed again, and he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Cora. I tried to make it back to you. I’m sorry.”

  “No, Joseph!” Addison shouted. “Not now. Not when you’ve fought so hard. Just a little longer. Please. Help is on the way. It’s your brother, Raymond. I’m sure of it. He’s coming for you. He’s almost here.”

  But her words were meaningless, unable to alter the past.

  There was nothing to be done.

  No way to reshape history now.

  Joseph’s arms went limp, causing his entire body to slip beneath the water. The piece of debris he’d been clutching drifted away. Addison watched in horror as Joseph’s body sank into the ocean until he faded from sight.

  “I’m sorry, Joseph,” Addison whispered. “So sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  A gust of wind surged like a tornado, circling around her, forcing her toward shore. She was back at the manor again, but given its pristine condition, it wasn’t the present. A much younger-looking Catherine stood in the front yard, pinning sheets on a clothesline while a Patti Page song played on the radio. Billy weaved around his mother, playing peek-a-boo, hiding behind the clothes and springing out when she least expected it.

  Catherine reached out and patted him on the head. “You silly boy.”

  “When are you going to play with me, Mama?”

  “Later. After the chores are done.”

  Billy hung his head. “Aww. You said that yesterday, and then you never did.”

  “Yesterday I had to go into town. I’m sorry things don’t always turn out the way you expect them to, son. That’s life. When you’re older, you’ll understand. Why don’t you run inside and find the new ball I bought you?”

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed. “No, I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.”

  Billy flopped to the ground, yanking blades of grass through his fingers.

  Catherine looked at him and frowned. “Billy, I’ll tell you what. When I’m done hanging these clothes, I’ll play with you. My other chores can wait.”

  Billy shrugged. “You mean it?”

  “I promise.”

  Catherine smiled down at her son, and for the first time, Addison witnessed a period in Catherine’s life when she was full of joy. Gone was the stern, hard exterior. She was soft; her eyes, kind.

  A few minutes later as Catherine shifted her focus back to hanging the last two sheets, the manor’s front door opened and Cora stepped out wearing the all-too-familiar black dress. Cora’s eyes were puffy and swollen, her face a picture of despair. Busy clipping the last sheet to the line, Catherine didn’t notice Cora walk past the gate, or Billy run out of the manor, following her. Addison spread her wings and flew ahead, certain where Cora was going—to the lookout point.

  She was right.

  Once there, Cora gazed out to sea and said, “I’ve tried, Joseph. I really have. I’ve tried living without you all this time, and I can’t do it any longer. I just can’t. I don’t want to be in this world if you’re not in it with me. I feel alone without you. I’m lost, and tired. So tired. Forgive me.”

  As Cora’s body teetered over the edge, a frightened, confused Billy rushed to her side. “Auntie, Auntie, stop. No!”

  He reached his tiny hand out, grappling for the fabric on her dress. It slipped through his fingers. He jumped forward, trying again, this time clutching a handful of the dress in his hands just as she went over. Cora shouted Joseph’s name and plummeted to the shore below, taking Billy with her.

  Billy screamed, and within seconds, Catherine’s voice howled through the air like a wolf communicating with her pack. “Billy? Billy, where are you?”

  Addison turned, her eyes surveying the area until Catherine came into view. Hand cupped over her forehead like a visor, Catherine ran past the open gate and hurried along the shore, her head twisting in all directions, searching for the one thing Addison wished she never had to find. She neared the point Billy and Cora had stood moments before and called out to him again.

  At first, looking over the edge didn’t seem to occur to her. Then her eyes came to rest on Billy’s red ball. It had fallen from his hands, lodging inside the crevice of a rock. Catherine squinted, reached down, and picked it up. Puzzled, she rolled it around the palm of her hand.

  The grisly truth didn’t take long, the harsh reality consuming her until her face was covered in tears. She hadn’t even discovered his body, and yet, somehow she knew.

  She stepped up to the ledge and looked down, the red ball slipping through her fingers as she screamed into her hands.

  Addison turned away.

  I’ve seen enough.

  I don’t want to be in this memory.

  I don’t want to be here anymore.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, forcing herself out of the nightmare and into the light.

  She was back in the room again, her grandmother sitting in front of her.

 
“What did you see?” Marjorie asked.

  Everything.

  I saw everything.

  Things I needed to see, but wished I hadn’t.

  “It was horrible, Gran. So much pain has happened here. So much suffering.”

  She turned toward the door, sensing a presence on the opposite side.

  “What is it?” Marjorie asked.

  “It’s ... Billy. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

  Addison rushed to the door, flinging it open to find Billy standing on the other side, trembling.

  “What’s wrong, Billy?” Addison asked. “Why are you here? What did you come to tell me?”

  “Mama needs you. Mama needs you now.”

  CHAPTER 20

  A woman’s raucous, blood-curdling shriek ripped through every room and corridor. Addison and Marjorie hastened out of the room, chasing the cry for help to Catherine’s door.

  Addison jiggled the handle. “It’s locked.”

  “We have to get in there!” Marjorie replied. “Now.”

  “Catherine! Are you in there? Are you okay?”

  A slow, steady moan was heard on the opposite side of the door, followed by a man’s voice. It was low and muffled, too hard to make out.

  “Gene, is that you?” Addison asked. “What’s going on in there?”

  Marjorie leaned in, inspecting the door. “It’s a regular lock, not a deadbolt. Go to the kitchen. Get me a butter knife.”

  Addison ran downstairs, riffling through the drawers until she found what she needed. She raced back to the door, placing the knife into Marjorie’s hand. Marjorie jammed it inside the crack, forcing the latch back until the door sprung open.

  Sprawled on the floor was Catherine, her sweater wet, saturated with blood.

  Gene knelt over her, sobbing. “No, no, no. It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be okay. Don’t leave me, Catherine. Please, don’t leave me.”

  Addison’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a weapon, anything to explain what had happened.

  Addison dropped to the floor next to Gene, pressing her fingers against Catherine’s neck. The pulse was faint, but it was there.