by AR Colbert
“Ouch! Yes. I’m just kidding. What is it with you two and owls?”
“Your mom saw it too?”
“Of course.” I shrugged. “Wait. You’re not scared of it are you?”
“Scared? Oh-ho-ho, no. Well,” she shifted, uncomfortably. “Yeah, no. I’m not scared of it. But did it… never mind.”
“Millie, what is going on?”
She chewed her bottom lip, deliberating before finally speaking again. “It’s not the owl I’m afraid of, okay? It’s what the owl stands for.”
“Is this one of those old wives tales? What was it… if you hear an owl hoot during the day it means death is coming. Was that it?”
“It’s not an old wives tale.”
“Folklore. Myth. Whatever it is, this sweet little guy doesn’t mean us any harm, do ya, buddy?” I walked over to the window, and surprisingly the owl didn’t fly away.
“One man’s myth is another man’s history,” Millie said.
“What?” I looked back over my shoulder to see if she was serious.
“Don’t talk to the owl. Get in the car. It’s time to go.”
CHAPTER 7
Millie’s driver was waiting patiently for us by the curb, wearing navy blue slacks and a crisp white shirt. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with a youthful, boyish face. He moved to open the back door when he saw us emerge from the gallery. The driver’s side door of the police car opened at the same time.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Miss?” The officer sauntered out of the vehicle, his gait clumsy and uncomfortable, like he had sweat running down the back of his pants and he was trying to avoid getting wet. He spoke to Millie, even though he was told I was the one looking for something.
“She didn’t. But that’s okay. We really must get on our way.” Millie’s patience was gone. Her flirty grin was replaced with unease. That owl must have really gotten to her.
“Well, tell you what… I’m going to give you my number here. You give me a call if you need to get back in, or if there is ever anything else I might be able to help you with.” He flashed his yellow teeth again, and it took everything I had not to laugh in his face. Millie was way out of his league. She was out of everyone’s league. She’d never married or even dated anyone that I could remember.
“Or if you want, I can call you if I find whatever it is you’re missing.”
“No, no. That’s quite alright.” She accepted the paper with his number written on it. “I’ll keep this handy. Thank you again, officer.”
“Anytime,” he grinned. “I live to serve.”
“He would live to serve you, anyway. Me? He doesn’t have time to help me,” I mumbled as I climbed into the waiting sedan.
Millie’s driver chuckled and closed the door behind me. “Where to?” he asked as he slid into his seat.
“Just take us home, please, Jeeves.”
“Jeeves?” The name fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I hadn’t heard him say more than a couple of words, but he certainly didn’t sound like a Jeeves.
The driver laughed again, his tone warm and kind. “That’s what I asked her to call me.” He glanced over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye. His voice was rich and thick with a syrupy southern drawl. “She wouldn’t let me wear a tux, so I said I at least had to get a cool name if this deal was gonna work.”
“I see.” I grinned at him. He was probably just five or six years older than me—definitely not the stereotypical New York City driver. Then again, there was nothing stereotypical about Millie’s life. I glanced over at her. She was chewing her lip and staring nervously out the window, so I turned my focus back to Jeeves, instead.
“So, tell me who you were before you became Jeeves the tux-less driver.”
He laughed again, and his joy was infectious. I couldn’t help but smile along with him.
“Well, my mama calls me Brian. But there’s a million Brians in the world. There ain’t too many Jeeves. I moved up here a few years ago after I graduated from college. I had big dreams. Still do. Not that I don’t love bein’ Millie’s driver—it’s just that I’ve always wanted to be under the lights, and preferably on a stage instead of on a field. Though I did love them Friday night lights…” He quieted for a moment, likely reminiscing. “But it turns out they don’t have too many parts available on Broadway for Alabama linebackers, so here I am drivin’ instead.”
“Do you like it?”
“Shoot yeah, I do! And I couldn’t ask for a better boss than Millie. She’s got finer taste than all the ladies in the Birmingham Junior League combined! Just wait ‘til you try this cheese we picked up.”
“I heard about the cheese, and I’m honestly not sure it can live up to the hype. I have a pretty high bar for—” My voice trailed off as I watched a group of pedestrians migrate through the crosswalk in front of our car. Dusk was making an appearance as the sun moved behind the skyline, so the people were just as illuminated by the city’s lights as they were the sun. But even through the neon blues and pinks, those golden eyes were unmistakable.
Especially because they were staring straight through the windshield at me.
“Millie.” I nudged my aunt. “Do you see that guy in the blue shirt in front of us?”
“Which one?” She directed her eyes to the front of our vehicle.
Tate winked at me, flashed his crooked grin, and moved further into the mass of bodies.
“Right there! The guy who just winked at me.”
She squinted and cocked her head to the side. “Sorry, Ev. I didn’t see. What about him?”
“Nothing, I guess. He was at the gallery with us earlier, but I don’t suppose he would have seen anything either.” I chewed at the edge of my thumbnail—a nervous habit I’d never quite been able to kick.
“No, probably not. And I’ve been thinking about that. Did your mom say anything to you this afternoon? Anything…different?”
“Different from what?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Just, out of the ordinary. Anything that might have sounded a little strange?”
“Everything she did was strange this afternoon. She did say she had something to tell me. She tried a few times, but I think she was literally worried sick. She’d nearly vomit every time she spoke. She tried to write something down, but all I got was an A and a T before the seizure started.”
“Oh. Oh my. Okay. This is… okay.” Millie began fanning herself with her hand.
“What is it, Millie? I feel like I have no idea what is going on today.”
She ignored my question, fanning frantically and staring out the window again.
“I’m out of the loop,” I said with a dramatic shrug that ended with my hands slapping down on my knees. “It’s a lot like Becca Harrison’s birthday party in the sixth grade, when I had tissue paper sticking out of my bra and no one thought to tell me about it. Everybody knew it but me. I thought I was getting away with looking mature and cool. Nope. I was the fool. They all just giggled at their little secret while I was left clueless and embarrassed at the end of the night.”
Jeeves chuckled from the front seat. “Dang, that’s rough. Becca Harrison sounds like a real brat.”
“You know what? She is a brat, Jeeves. Thank you for that.” I turned to my aunt. “Are you being a brat, too, Millie? Are you hiding a secret that’s gonna leave me embarrassed at the end of the night?”
“I would never try to embarrass you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I ground my teeth, frustrated and getting nowhere.
Jeeves rolled to a stop in front of my aunt’s mega-million dollar townhouse. I didn’t actually know what it cost, but my guess probably wasn’t too far off. I pulled the car door handle and stepped out before Jeeves had a chance to get to me.
My eyes grazed over the six story limestone façade of Millie’s home. We were less than a block from Fifth Ave. and Central Park, yet the exterior of her spot in the city felt cozy and charming. It wasn’t farmhouse
-in-the-middle-of-nowhere kind of homey, but still nicer than one might expect living in the largest city in the United States.
She stepped onto the sidewalk, pausing beside me as Jeeves shuffled inside with a bag carrying the famed cheese. Once he disappeared through the brass doors at the entrance, she leaned over and whispered, though she didn’t make eye contact.
“Alright. I’ve decided it’s time we let you in on the secret.”
“Oh? Color me intrigued.” I tried to play down the sarcasm in my tone, but I was getting a little fed up with this nonsense. If this secret could help me figure out what happened to my mom, she should’ve told me the minute I called her.
Millie inhaled deeply, then finally turned to face me. “Have you ever heard of Atlantis?”
“The lost continent under the sea?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t an ounce of humor on her face.
“Uh, yeah. What about it?”
She cleared her throat. “That’s where we’re from—your mother and me. I believe she was trying to tell you that she is Atlantean. And to some degree, you may be as well.”
She marched up the steps and through the doorway, leaving me slack-jawed on the sidewalk alone.
CHAPTER 8
I scurried through the door after Millie, only to be nearly plowed over by one of the giant beasts who lived with her.
“Lemon Drop, sit.” Millie wagged a finger at the English Mastiff who leaned its 200 pound body against my thigh. Another set of gargantuan dog feet galloped across the herringbone wooden floors of Mille’s foyer. “Look out, here comes Tiny Tim.”
Miraculously, the other dog was even larger than the first. Tiny Tim ran to greet me, his loose, slobbery jowls swinging with each bound until his squishy wet face smooshed right into my gut. “Oof!”
“Tiny, no!” Millie huffed. “Sorry, they’re just happy to see you.”
“Aww, I’m happy to see you guys, too.” I scratched Tiny’s head. “But I can’t play right now. I have something very serious to discuss with my aunt, who is currently walking away from me. Millie, hang on! You can’t drop a sentence like that and then just walk away. What did you mean by—”
“Shhh!” she turned around in the doorway to the kitchen and shot me a stern look. “Not now.”
“Not now? But—”
“We have guests coming over for dinner. They’ll probably be here any minute now.”
I pushed past Tiny Tim and Lemon Drop to follow Millie into her extraordinary kitchen. Her private chef was hard at work preparing hors d’oeuvres as Jeeves pulled the expensive cheese from its packaging and placed it on the marble countertop.
“It’s about time,” the chef said in an unmistakably French accent. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry, Pierre. We had to stop for Everly. We’re probably going to be one person short tonight, too. Only four plates—not five, unless you see my sister arrive.” Millie cut her eyes briefly to me and pressed her lips together.
“Oh!” Pierre dramatically placed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Always with the changes.”
I muffled a giggle at the sight of her distraught chef, then refocused on my aunt. “Maybe we can go up and prepare the dining room.” I shifted my eyes up to the second floor, where her formal dining room was likely already set and decorated beyond my wildest dreams. Millie wasn’t a last minute kind of person. But still, I needed to get her alone so we could talk.
She frowned and subtly shook her head. So much for that plan. I crossed my arms over my chest. It was so not cool for her to keep me waiting. And the Atlantis thing was obviously a joke. Right? I mean, it didn’t exist. But then again, yesterday I might’ve said the owl, the painting, and the glowing stone tablet couldn’t possibly be real, either. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
The doorbell chimed, a cheerful little riff from a Scottish jig. “They’re here!” Millie grinned and clapped her hands together.
I followed her back into the grand foyer, doing my best to keep the Mastiffs at bay while Millie opened the door.
“Claudia!” My aunt exchanged side to side air kisses with a petite brunette. Claudia was curvy, and ruffles lining the back of her seafoam green floor length cardigan only drew more attention to her hips. She wore thigh-high black patent boots with spiked heels to add slightly to her height. Her lips were stained a crimson red, her makeup just as perfect as Millie’s. They admired each other’s outfits before scuttling further inside like a couple of giggling school girls. It was only then that I noticed Claudia’s son.
He was lean and wiry. Handsome, as I’d expected, but not in a traditional sense. His hair was a dark auburn, the reddish hue only visible under the lights, and light freckles dotted his nose. His eyes were quite striking—green like the bay. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders tight as he surveyed the room. Landing on me, he offered an apologetic grin.
“Everly, this is my friend Claudia. And this,” she gestured proudly to the boy behind them, “is Sean. He’ll be starting college this year, too. At Columbia.” She dipped her chin for emphasis, already insinuating that I, too, should be attending Columbia.
How could she be thinking about my college choices right now? My mother was missing and she’d just implied that we may be a part of a mythical race of humans.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Claudia said.
“No apologies, necessary.” Millie started up the grand staircase that led to the second floor. We all stepped into line behind her, Sean bringing up the rear, and Lemon Drop bounding ahead to the front. “You haven’t missed a thing.”
She paused and turned back toward us with a conspiratorial glint in her pale blue eyes. “I was just telling Everly about her Atlantean background.”
“Wonderful,” Claudia said brightly. “Then it sounds like we’re just in time.”
Sean glanced at me with pity in his eye as he passed me on the stairs. My feet froze in place. Tiny Tim paused beside me, licking my hand with his foamy pink tongue while I watched the others ascend the stairs before me.
“Is this for real?” I asked him quietly. Thankfully he didn’t respond. With a day like this, I wouldn't have been all that surprised if he had.
CHAPTER 9
Everyone was already seated when I entered Millie’s dining room. She and Claudia chatted casually about some upcoming fundraiser while Sean sat opposite them, staring down at his napkin. The only other place setting at the table was right beside him.
Thanks a lot, Millie.
He looked up as I pulled out the chair next to him, feigning nonchalance. “So, when did you arrive in New York?”
I had to commend his effort in trying to make me feel comfortable. Any other day it might have worked, but I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. It boggled my mind that these people could mention something like descending from Atlantis with such flippancy and move on to dull topics like travel itineraries.
Ignoring his question, I sat down with a huff and pinned him with my glare. “Is this some kind of practical joke? Because I don’t think it’s funny. I’ve had kind of a rough day.”
The women stopped their conversation and turned to listen.
“I—uh, I don’t know about any jokes. No one is joking here.” He looked nervously toward his mother for help. She just smiled and gestured for him to continue.
“So what my aunt said about…” I swallowed, rethinking my plan. Perhaps they’d thought she said Atlantan. I could be from Georgia. That was much more reasonable than a sunken continent that didn’t exist.
“What I said about you being born from the people of Atlantis.” Millie filled in my blank with an encouraging nod.
Okay, so lost continent it is.
“Right. I’m going to need more of an explanation.”
Millie’s young housemaid arrived then with four dinner salads. They were topped with bleu cheese and candied pecans, and admittedly, looked really delicious. My hot dog from earlier was long forgotten.
&nb
sp; We all paused our conversation while the maid was in the room. But the moment she left, I raised my brows expectantly at my aunt. She needed to get to talking.
“This is delightful,” Claudia said. “What is this dressing?”
“It’s a vinaigrette Pierre makes from scratch. I think it’s—”
I loudly cleared my throat. Millie and Claudia both turned to me with the reprimanding looks of a mother. I didn’t care if I was being rude. They were, too.
“We can talk about salads later. I have been really patient.” My speech was slow, carefully enunciating every syllable. It was a true practice of patience. “I need to know what you’re talking about now. You say you’re from Atlantis. But surely you can’t be referring to the Atlantis.”
“There is only one.”
“Will you please elaborate?”
Millie placed her fork on the table next to her plate. “This world,” she gestured broadly, “is more than it seems. You have grown up with the humans in a very one dimensional view of life. But beyond your perception, there is another world.”
“An immortal world,” Claudia chimed in.
“Immortal?” I nearly choked on my lettuce. “Are you saying you’ve been around since the beginning of time? And mom?”
“No, dear. Not exactly. But my soul has. It’s difficult to explain.”
“Alright, talk to me like I’m five. Start at the very beginning. Where is Atlantis?”
Millie sighed, pausing as though she were trying to decide where to begin. “Plato’s writings of Atlantis are true, mostly. We were once a great nation. Powerful and advanced. We were placed here to protect the humans, and we served our purpose well.”
“Placed here. So you’re like guardian angels?”
“Of course not! The angels and demons are in a whole other realm. They usually stay there, and leave us to watch over this one. It’s our job to make sure mankind doesn’t destroy itself before the battle is complete in the spiritual realm. We are not angels. We are called Keepers.”