Before she could utter the reply at the tip of her tongue, the shrill tones of her cell phone startled them both. She pulled it off its belt clip and saw that it was Lori. Mentally groaning and rolling her eyes, she realized in that instance that she’d completely forgotten to call her last night as promised. She opened the phone and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Jesus, girl, where the hell have you been? You never called me last night!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
“Shit, don’t do that to me. You okay?”
“Of course I’m okay!” she replied hotly, rising from the chair and stalking out to the living room. “Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m okay?”
There was a moment of silence. “Jane, talk to me.”
“About what? I’m fine, Lori. I’m just not up to the book today, I’m sorry.”
“Jane…listen, don’t worry about the book. Just do whatever and when you feel like it, give me a call.”
With that, Lori hung up. Jane stared at the phone in disbelief. Well, she had been a bit snippy. Probably pissed Lori off. She was a good friend; she was only worried. And rightly so, Jane thought as she snapped her phone closed and put it back on the belt clip. She looked up to find Trevor standing in the doorway.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
Why the hell does he want to know? She felt anger rise within and squashed it down. She was staying in his house. He had taken care of her when she’d passed out. He was an old friend who was concerned. It didn’t stop her anger from trying to push its way to the surface.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said curtly, turning on heel and opening the front door. “Alone.”
Trevor watched as she closed the door firmly behind her. He went to one of the front windows and watched her move down the sidewalk, then hang a right and begin walking quickly away. He shook his head sadly. All he wanted was to be her friend. All he wanted was to know what was bothering her, why she’d lost consciousness. Something wasn’t quite right, that much was certain. But whatever it was, it was clear Jane wouldn’t be divulging any secrets. At least not yet. If only he could know she was making progress. There was just so little time to squander.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jane walked quickly along in the fading light of early evening. She could almost feel the steam pouring out of her ears. Why was she so angry with Trevor? Or was it really Trevor she was angry with? The long sidewalk which ran straight through the center of town along Cornflower Street, and represented its one and only main thoroughfare, blurred as her thoughts turned inward. Wind rustled through the leaves in the trees, creating a sort of white noise that drowned out all but her current train of thought. She had no reason to be angry with Trevor, that much she knew. At least, logically, she did. He’d shown nothing but kindness and though it had been less than two days, she didn’t feel as though he were bad, or had any designs on her that were less-than-savory.
Yet still her anger burned. Her thoughts turned once again to Vasan and she realized it was him she was angry with. Angry for doing what he’d done so long ago; for returning to her now and exerting whatever this power was he held over her. He knew she wanted him. How and why, she didn’t know. His movements and actions were clearly those of a man who didn’t expect to be rejected. What was it inside her that refused to turn away? She’d even sought him out, dashing up the stairs to her room even though she’d just told Trevor she didn’t think being there was a good idea.
She’d been drawn. Inexplicably and irresistibly drawn to the scene of the crime. To her past. That was why she’d made this trip. That was why she’d wanted to come back to Darvon so badly. Somewhere deep inside, in places she didn’t even know existed, she’d known he was returning. Known she had to come back here to the place where it had all started. But to what end? What could come of it? That depended on how real or unreal Vasan was. Real enough, he could whisk her away and make her his. In spite of logic telling her otherwise, a thrill ran through her, causing an involuntary shiver.
Not real, what could she gain? What could he gain? Who was he? She knew that unless and until she could answer that basic question, she could never hope to answer the rest of them. She figured the only way to get that answer was to ask him. That meant she had to see him at least one more time. And though something in the back of her mind told her she was just using that as an excuse to justify wanting to see him again, she ignored it, brushing it aside. She couldn’t examine her own desires until first finding out the origin of them.
She stopped and looked up. It had grown nippy and she shivered in her short-sleeved sweater. She was directly across the street from the school. There were a few cars left in the parking lot, undoubtedly teachers staying late to grade homework or set up for the next day’s classes. She heard noises coming from behind the school and saw the glow of stadium lights. It surprised her. When she’d gone to school here, there’d been no lights on the field. That was why the Darvon Jr. High and High School track competitions and football games always occurred during daylight hours. Now, it seemed, the school had moved into this century and installed lighting.
She walked across the deserted two-lane street and through the school’s parking lot. Around the left side of the building, across the playground she remembered so well. There were a couple new pieces of playground equipment, but the swings, merry-go-round, large and small slides and hand-over-hand metal bars were still the same. Through to the end of the playground and along a vast expanse of grass. Over the rise of a hill and down the slope. The full stadium now came into view. She was highly impressed. The Darvon Devils evidently had a much better place to call home now than they had in her youth.
It was a track meet. She watched from afar as a young runner sailed over the high hurdles and remembered her own stint as a track runner. Sprinting, high and low hurdles, the 4x100, 4x400. She’d also done long jump, shotput and discus, with discus being her best field sport. It had been a long time since she’d thought of those athletic days. Her dark red uniform had been #52. She’d been stocky – a lot larger than she was now thanks to the force-feeding at Mavis’ hands. But she’d been able to run. Somewhere, probably in a box in storage, she still had all the ribbons and awards she’d gotten both in track and at vocal competitions all the way up to National.
But that had been long ago. The small crowd cheered as a brown-haired teenager crossed the finish line. Moments later and the next heat was lined up, the starting gun popped. Jane’s heart picked up pace. Waiting for that gun to go off, waiting to hear that sound so the ball of your foot dug into the gravel and propelled you forward. Racing against time and against the others, knowing you could beat them if you made your legs go faster. Keep your breathing steady, wind up with chest heaving at the end as teammates came to congratulate you. The rush of winning. The thrill of competing. Yes, it had been a long time.
She turned and looked up the hill at the half of the old brick school building she could see. To the right, the long and low portion was for elementary school, grades K through 6. To the left, the three-story larger portion was Junior High and High School, grades 7 through 12. She remembered getting her first locker in 7th grade, how thrilled she’d been. Remembered sitting in Social Studies admiring her somewhat good-looking teacher, Mr. West. Remembered Science class and crushing hard on her teacher Mr. Lembeck. Remembered the Science teacher for the older kids, Mr. Talpert, and how he walked stiffly and bent slightly forward due to some back problem or other.
She’d been at her happiest writing, no matter where she was. But outside the world of her mind, her most content moments had been within the walls of Darvon’s school. Here she’d befriended a teacher who had encouraged her to write. Here she’d befriended a talented woman who sang her praises in choir and insisted she perform in all the talent shows and musicals. Here she’d experienced her first crushes, her first puppy love and her first friendships. Here, her mind had expanded as
she’d learned about the world around her, about interacting with others, about the cruelty of other children. Here she’d gotten into more than one fight defending her smaller, weaker friends against schoolyard bullies.
It hadn’t all been good, of course. She’d spent time punished for talking too much, for disrupting the rest of the class. She’d never been able to help it. Always done with assignments and tests in one-tenth of the time her classmates finished, Jane was frequently bored. And if she couldn’t think of anything to write at that moment, she talked or made noise. Not out of spite, not to piss the teacher off, just out of sheer boredom. She’d spent half of 1st grade being sent back to sit in the Kindergarten class, humiliated as she’d hunkered in the corner in one of the small chairs, watching her former teacher teach the new kids.
But all in all, this was the one place in Darvon that did harbor fond memories for her. Now she was glad she’d come. She looked to the left, where the water tower stood tall against the sky, the word DARVON emblazoned on the side in bold, black letters. She’d always wanted to climb it, but never had due to her fear of heights. But she’d wondered what it would be like to be up that high, to be able to see for miles in any direction. A smile crept over her features. She was still scared of heights, but she knew now that she wouldn’t fall unless there was some sort of catastrophe that hit while she was up there, like an earthquake. And having an earthquake here was unheard of.
Jane squared her shoulders and headed up over the hill, across the playground and through the tall grasses of the next field. In the distance she could see Darvon’s trailer park, a place a couple of her school friends had lived, the place where the first black residents of Darvon had moved into back when she was only eight and had never before seen someone of color. She wondered if the place was still as seedy as it had been back then, but right now her target was the water tower.
As with most things in towns this small, it was unprotected. Anyone could come and go on and around the tower; anyone could climb its ladders. Provided they could get up to the ladders, which were a good seven feet off the ground. She looked around and saw a wooden crate near the tower’s shed. Smiling, she hauled it over and propped it up against the tower leg. It provided the perfect quasi-ladder for reaching the real one. She put her hands on it and began to climb.
Halfway up, Jane knew better than to look down or even sideways. The circular cage extending out from the ladder did little to make her feel protected. Up close, she saw how aged the paint was, how rust had formed, how filth had penetrated it, how her hands were already black with grime. But still she pushed onward. It stretched like an endless tunnel above her. She could not see the end thanks to the near-total darkness, but the anticipation of being up there, way above the world and its cares…and perhaps her own…was too much to resist. Up she went. Up and up and up.
At last, she reached the catwalk. Triumphant, she crowed as she hoisted herself onto it. It circled the entire base of the large tank. She looked back toward the Devils stadium and noticed there was now a longer race being run. The sounds of fans cheering were distant, carried off on the springtime breeze. She looked upon the school, a few lights burning in windows, one car backing out of its space in front of the school and heading off to the left toward the town of Olway. Larger than Darvon by about three times, but a haven for drugs and prostitution from what Jane remembered.
For the first time in her life, Jane realized that as she looked down upon the world from hundreds of feet in the air, she wasn’t scared. She’d always loved roller coasters, but they terrified her. She’d been on a Ferris wheel one time in her entire life and had nearly thrown up. Once on a trolley that went uphill in San Francisco she’d frozen looking back down the steep hill as they’d risen. Even climbing up a step ladder made her body vibrate with fear. Yet here she was, higher than she’d ever been without being strapped into a seat, and the only thing she felt was wonder.
In the distance, farm lights burned. Tractor lights dotted the fields. A glow far off to the northeast spoke of larger towns. She walked around so she was facing away from the school, away from Darvon proper. Lights were on throughout the trailer park. Car lights moved, a horn honked. Yet still she felt at peace, as though each rung of the filthy ladder had caused more and more of her fears and doubts to fall away. Up here in the cold, crisp night air, things were suddenly as clear as crystal. Yes, she knew why she’d come back home. Knew why she wanted to be here. Knew what the journey would hold and why she had to make it.
She wanted to feel his lips, his hands, his skin, his heat. Even now as she thought of him her body warmed, as though someone had thrown a thick blanket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the water tank, wrapping her arms around herself. She would seek him out. She would go somewhere where they could be alone. Back to her room, and this time she’d make sure Trevor wasn’t there. She would have him again. Feel him again. And she would get the answers to him…to her…to them.
“Jane?”
The voice startled her. She jumped and her sneaker slipped on the slick metal catwalk. Crying out, she fell toward the railing and in an instant knew she was going to die. She yelled as she felt it hit just above her butt, felt her torso falling outward…felt the hands on her wrists. She looked up to find Trevor in front of her, chest heaving, eyes wide. His face seemed ugly to her now. He had interrupted her. He’d almost killed her! He saved your life. It was his fault she’d been startled to begin with! She jerked her hands away, eyes shooting daggers.
“Jane, you could’ve been killed!”
“No thanks to you!” she replied hotly, heading back around the catwalk toward the ladder.
“Jane, wait! I’m sorry!”
“Just leave me alone!” she cried, swinging down so her feet were on the ladder’s first rung.
“But I saved your life!” he yelled, running after her.
“Goddammit, Trevor, nobody asked you to!”
With that, she began her descent. Damn him all to hell. What was he thinking, following her up there? Speaking in the blessed silence she’d found? Scaring her into almost dying? Shit, she shouldn’t even be staying in his house. Now she couldn’t get away from him, had to be hospitable to those who were being hospitable to her. Damn this tiny town for not having a hotel. Damn Trevor for being a nuisance. Damn this ladder and how long it was taking her to get down.
Yes, she’d go to her house. She’d find Vasan and get what she wanted, what she needed. Trevor be damned. Everything and everyone be damned. Desire swelled inside her, beating down all thoughts of reason, of logic. All questions, all fear. It was what it was. It was her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Out of breath, she stood at the base of the stairs for a full fifteen minutes before finally putting her foot on the first step. Her body shook, half with fear and half with anticipation. She couldn’t know if he’d come or not, but just being there in the room where it had all first happened, where he had had his way with her, sent shivers up and down her spine. She wanted it again and wished her bed was still in that small room, wished her clothes were still in the closet so she could see him appear among them, materializing into flesh and blood that she could touch, taste, smell.
By the time she reached the second floor hall, every nerve ending was on fire. She felt hot, so hot. Why so hot? Onward she pushed until she reached the bedroom. The door stood open. She could see only by the light that filtered in from a street lamp down the block. But he wasn’t there. No, he wouldn’t be. She walked over to where her bed had once stood. Her arms wrapped around her body and she closed her eyes. She could almost feel him with her.
The weight of his body on hers and the smile on his face; his soft mouth, the way he tasted. The feeling of static electricity that built up around her making her think she might explode. It was what she wanted, what she craved. All her life, she realized, she’d wanted it more and more since that first time, but it had always seemed like a dream. She opened her eyes, pr
epared for the disappointment of finding herself alone, surprised when she discovered she wasn’t.
Vasan emerged from the empty gray of the abandoned closet. She watched him walk forth, red and gold robes fluttering in a breeze she could not feel. She had never seen him in such dress, though at the moment she couldn’t recall precisely what dress she had ever seen him in. Time seemed to stand still. His hand moved out from his body, palm outstretched, asking permission to take hers. She moved forward and in the instant that skin met skin, she knew she was no longer in that little bedroom in Darvon, Iowa.
It was like watching a movie, a broken and disjointed movie. Scenes flashed before her so quickly she could barely comprehend one before she was on to another. She could feel him holding her hand, but could not see him. Only the images. A woman she recognized as Katherine Marsh, from the few pictures of her mother she had. Pregnant, smiling, happy. A man with black hair and green eyes holding her, hugging her. Not her father, Tom. But who? No time. Next flash. Young men, no, younger than men…children. The tallest with dark wavy hair and dark blue eyes. The next with hair like Trevor’s, eyes of topaz. The third, a very little boy, no more than 3 or 4, blonde-haired and blue-eyed.
Next flash. Blinded by whiteness, blinded by light, deafened by a loud roar and clap of thunder. A doorway, tall and rectangular. Strange bluish-white light, almost like a pool of clear Caribbean water, but it held its place. The woman…her mother…suddenly being thrown toward the door, thrown through it, disappearing into the liquid and gone. The man, the three young boys, tears streaming down the children’s faces. But none more so than a man she did not recognize who wept on his knees as the brown-haired man soothed him, holding him, hand on his back. She watched in fascination as the brown-haired man lowered his head and began whispering to the black-haired one.
The moment between them was broken. She heard someone yelling, someone crying out, “No! No!” and didn’t know whether it came from what she was seeing or where she had been in Darvon. But the pictures began to run together like melting wax, no longer recognizable as people or objects. She felt a pull, someone tugging at the back of her shirt. Vasan’s grip on her hand tightened. It was then she realized she was being pulled in two different directions. Vasan tried pulling her one way, she could see him now, they were in somewhere completely devoid of light and yet she could see him. Behind her was someone else she could not see.
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