Jobs done, I wasted no time going to bed.
I slept only a few hours, long enough that the sun was setting when I opened my eyes. I lay there, thinking. There was a nice breeze coming through the open window, and the quiet was a welcome change from the city life I was used to. It was louder than the quiet that had been my life with Gramp, but the sounds of life were nowhere near what I’d known in the city.
I enjoyed it while it lasted.
At first, I barely noticed the inclusion of other sounds in the mix. The sun sank, Olive curled up under my arm, and I was in a half-doze. Then the worst cacophony of sounds I’d ever heard started up outside, startling me back fully awake. It was the bastardization of chicks peeping and ducks quacking, loud and endless. Olive was fully alert, eyes blackened and ears tipped.
I shut the window, but I still could hear the noise. Once or twice the cries trickled away and I’d have a moment’s respite—just enough time to think it might be over—before the racket started up again. It was a long, long time before I found sleep.
Chapter Two
I crawled out of bed the next morning to the sound of an old swing-set sighing beneath the cawing of crows. I wracked my memory trying to think of a playground I’d seen, then realized it had to be the birds. Mourning doves. It seemed nature had no interest in letting me relax. At least the noise from last night was over with.
Turning off the unsounded alarm, I headed for the washroom. The bruising around my eye had lightened, but it was still fairly noticeable. I’d stopped earlier the day before to pick up some groceries to do me the next week, and I hoped they would last. I’d rather not be noticed around town until my eye had settled. Guys you wanted to hire didn’t tend to show up in a new town looking like they’d just come out of a fistfight.
I threw back a dry breakfast, tipped enough food into Olive’s bowl to keep her happy, and had just finished rinsing my dish when Key texted to say she was there. Swallowing nerves, I headed down to meet her.
A short woman, thirtyish, in a slate-colored suit was standing talking to the Briggs in the lobby, laughing and leaning forward as the three of them traded news. I recognized her instantly thanks to the pictures on her website. Kay Matthews, realtor. She turned with a beaming smile as I reached the bottom of the stairs, but it quickly dimmed when she saw my face.
I swallowed a sigh and smiled back, walking over and offering my hand. “Ms. Matthews?”
She took it, her smile filling again. “Kay, please. Yes, and you must be Mr. Garder. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
I wanted the privacy of my gloves, but I wasn’t brave enough yet to give myself that respite. Better to know how the people around me felt, at least until I was sure of things. She was bubbling inside with impatience to be off, but beneath that was a contentment that reminded me she was born here. She’d known Lillian and Joe her entire life, which was why she had suggested I arrange to stay at their inn. I could tell that she had enjoyed the chance to talk to them. Considering she was predominately a realtor for our society, they probably had a pretty good idea that I came from a line of mages.
“Brett,” I smiled, “and it’s good to meet you, too.” I gave a self-deprecating smile, lifting a hand to my eye. “Moving accident,” I lied. “The corners on those boxes are sharp.”
She laughed, the last of her tension easing. Good. “All the bank work is done, as you know. I just need a signature stating I handed over the keys and we’ll be set. The keys are right here.”
She was a very straightforward woman, and an old coworker of the man whom I had initially contacted out west. They’d both made the process of moving much easier than they could have, and I was intensely thankful for that.
When I’d contacted Jeff Pratt, he’d asked about the possibility of problems with any land I already owned, and hadn’t blinked twice at my answer of, “Three bodies. In the garden.” He hadn’t pressed, not needing to, but I’d been flustered and added, “My brother, father, and grandfather. Anything else I don’t know. It was my grandfather’s property, and he died five years ago.”
I’m not sure where he’d buried Gram, but I’m confident it hadn’t been in the garden.
The realtors in the mage circles served two purposes. The first was the mundane, house-selling and buying, while the second was more practical to our own set of laws. Their firms employed those who could speed up the decomposition of soil in the event that a normal human bought a body-strewn property. As an added price for their services, any existing property in a buyer’s hands had to be assessed prior to new purchases being added. Records were kept, but only updated when changes were occurring. While our only rule concerning murder was to keep it from the eyes of the humans, the human rules were much more protective.
It must be nice to have that type of care in place.
Mr. Pratt had connected me with Kay when I’d explained I wanted to move to the east coast, and one of the first things Kay had told me about this property was that there were no traces of magical energy on either land or home. That was perfect. I was desperate to distance myself from our society as much as possible. Having magical neighbors might make it a bit trickier, but at the same time it might also look a bit less like I was hiding.
Hiding was a worse warning sign than being a lone mage.
It wasn’t uncommon for magical traces to be left around homes where mages lived, or for there to be bodies scattered around their grounds. Our people had a long history of settling disputes themselves, which carried over into our system of governing. Gramp had always told us to keep our noses clean. There weren't enough of us to survive a feud, and foolishness like that ended lines.
He’d done his best, but ours would be dying out anyway, no matter how hard I tried to be what he asked. There'd be no children after me. Had Geoff lived, well, he’d have one day had a large, boisterous horde of little ones.
Kay told me a little more about the town while looking through her folder and making sure everything was set. Having been dealing with her the last several months, I had no doubt that she’d already gone through the paperwork at least thrice. She was likely acting the motions to make me feel more secure.
“An old schoolmate of mine has a restaurant down the road from here,” she told me. “You should try it some time. The food is all homemade, and a lot of people your age hang out there.”
I had about as much interest hanging out with people my age as I did in cutting my heart out, but I smiled politely and assured her I’d try it. The rules about socializing outside of those with magic weren’t as stringent as the ones about romantic entanglements, but I’d always felt safer avoiding the situation altogether, especially with what had happened to my family. My former boss had been my only real exception, and even then, I had self-monitored and overanalyzed every single conversation we shared.
I soon received the keys, and their light weight felt wonderful in my hand. With one last handshake and a welcome to the community from Kay, I became the very relieved owner of a new house.
It took me a few minutes to gather up Olive and the few things I’d brought, and then several more to finally bid my new neighbors good day, but once those things were done I took a deep breath and headed home.
There was a flyer on my car’s windshield when I went to jump in, bold script across the front reading “NATURE IS TO NURTURE.” I gave it hardly a glance before throwing it into my back seat and forgetting about it.
Chapter Three
The house looked different, somehow, with the keys in my pocket. More mine, I guessed. Unlocking the veranda door, I pushed in and took a deep breath. Kay must have been by to air it out that morning. The windows had been left open, their blinds up, and the air smelled fresh and clean.
I released my little captive and left the sunny veranda to explore the rest of the house. It was as nice inside as the many pictures had suggested. It needed a bit of care, but was perfect all the same. The doorway between the kitchen and the living area was wide a
nd square, and its old-fashioned lines were gorgeous. The flowered wallpaper throughout would have to go soon, but the old wooden floors would stay.
I itched to have my furniture arrive. Right now, the neglected space felt empty, but once my belongings filled the property I knew I’d feel more settled.
I checked the taps, the lights, the upstairs rooms, and even the basement with its wood-furnace. An actual basement wood furnace, not the old stove we’d grown up with. Kay hadn’t liked my buying the house sight unseen, but I had no regrets. I loved what I saw as much in-person as I had the many pictures she’d sent.
Shutting Olive inside the main portion of the house, I propped open the front door with a rock, probably left there for exactly that purpose, and started unloading the car. I’d only carried the more fragile or precious items in the car, such as Gramp’s lamps and pottery, and Gram’s old dishes—and things I didn’t trust a last-minute moving company to care for, like my laptop, television, and other daily needs.
The doorbell rang, and I started from where I’d set down my television. I edged towards the door to the veranda, using the reflection of the carefully positioned microwave to see who waited outdoors. An older woman, short-cropped gray hair and well-lined face full of excitement. She had her arms wrapped around a plastic Tupperware container.
“It’s wonderful to meet you!” she crowed when I opened the door, and I instantly found my arms full of warm plastic. “I just wanted to bring some cookies for you to welcome you here. Don’t worry about the container, no rush to give it back.”
She introduced herself as Mrs. Laura Flint, and didn’t stay long. I barely managed to get a word in, which was fine by me. When I offered for her to come in she brushed it aside, laughing and claiming that she had to meet her daughter at the restaurant—the restaurant, I noted, as if there was only one worth thought, although I knew there were at least two in the community.
More of my neighbors showed up to welcome me as morning drifted into afternoon, then on again into evening. They offered wrapped food and smiles that twisted into concern upon seeing my face. “Moving accident,” I laughed each time, touching my cheek the same way I had with Kay and swallowing down the shame of having my weakness on display. I was a little guy, which went a long way in my lie’s favor. It wasn’t exactly a lie, either. The injury did have to do with my move, just more cause than result.
One woman with an impatient little girl attached to her hand brought a jar of yellow … something … and rolls wrapped up in a grocery bag. “I hope you like Lady Ashburns!”
“They look delicious,” I assured her. “Thank you.” I tried to think of something else to say. The little girl on her arm saved me by letting out a particularly heart-wrenching whine.
“I’d best go,” the lady laughed. The sound of her scolding her daughter drifted back through the open windows as they walked away.
The most popular question I fielded was when my truck would arrive. “Probably next week” was my default answer, though it was likely going to take longer than that. Last-minute moving companies were probably not always the most punctual. I’d pretty much grabbed what I could find rather than researched.
Night couldn’t arrive soon enough. I’ve never been comfortable around people, and so many strangers showing up at my doorstep was intimidating. Lillian also came by late in the day with a plate of cinnamon rolls and a bulging knit shoulder bag, and for the first time that day I was happy to see someone.
“How did your morning go, dear?” She asked.
“Good…” I scratched the back of my head, shifting awkwardly and holding the plate of rolls in my other hand. “Everyone has been very welcoming.”
She laughed, but there was a look of sympathy on her face. “We don’t often get new people in our area. I hope they weren’t too pushy.”
They were, but no reason to tell her that. “It was nice,” I lied, just one more after a day full of them. The smile Lillian returned showed she didn’t buy it.
“Well, maybe I can make it a little better, at least.”
She dug in her bag and pulled out a set of wood-carved wind-chimes, little outlines of varnished birds twisting around hollow, reed-like wooden tubes.
“It’s beautiful,” I croaked, swallowing the swelling in my throat. It was a beautiful gift, sweet and thoughtful. I tentatively touched one of the delicate birds, carved with so much care and kindness. How long did it take him? I wondered.
“Joe loves making things like this. Just a second, though, sweetie,” she smiled, and closed one hand around the largest of the birds, and another around the cord support. She closed her eyes, and I wished that I could feel the warmth of her intent infuse the wood to make it as sweet and welcoming as her lodge.
I blinked back tears as I watched. Although I couldn’t feel the change, there was only one thing she could have done. The sweetness of the gift, and of the offered sharing of her energy, touched me where I hadn’t felt warmth since before Geoff died.
“I love them.”
“Well,” she told me, “you’ll just have to choose a spot for them. Maybe the corner over there, dear? The wind comes through those windows nicely.”
I smiled back, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I see a hook up there. I’ll put them up right now.”
I took them as carefully as I could, and craned up to loop the little wooden whirl over the metal hook hanging from the wooden beam of the veranda ceiling.
“Very nice,” she praised. I agreed.
We talked about the day, and then she looked at her watch and sighed.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “We haven’t had supper yet. I should probably head back. Joe forgets the oven more often than not, and I’d rather not leave him to it.”
“It was nice seeing you,” I told her. “Thank you, again, both of you, for everything.”
I meant it, and the kindness of her smile warmed me to the bone.
Following her outside, I walked the perimeter of my yard as the sky above gave way to sunset. I took in the trees and brush, admiring the beauty of the place I now owned. There were very few flies, something I’d been assured would change as we moved deeper into summer, and the air was that in-between combination of winter chill and spring warmth that marked early spring.
Finding a stone-sunk path down the hill, I eased my way down it and walked past the overgrown garden to where the water waited. Birches along the bank rose in the golden light like sun-bleached bone, strips of rustling bark showing the yellow underneath as they caught the breeze. It was hard to make out the sound of the river over their own whispers. I stood watching the light on the surface of the water until dusk fell. With it came that strange, horrible sound I’d heard the night before, and I regretted not asking about it when I’d woken that morning. It filled the air, and I wondered what could make such a strange racket.
I headed back to the house, feeling a chill settling that had more to do with my own unease than anything weather-related. Lillian and Joe waved to me from their porch and I waved back, calling over for them to have a good evening. It must have been a quick supper, that or I had spent longer than I thought watching the sun set over the water.
I threw a block of wood into the furnace before heading for bed, remembering Kay’s caution not to overfill it. There wasn’t a lot of wood left, but it should soon be warm enough that a fire wouldn’t be needed. It would be my responsibility to fill the wood-room in the coming year. I hoped a seller would be easy to find.
By the time I finally settled for my first night there I was a horrible combination of too exhausted to even consider crawling out of bed and too awake to bother trying to sleep. My mind raced when I closed my eyes, seizing on every rumble of the house settling or thump from the various appliances humming away downstairs. At least the air mattress was comfortable. More than I could say about myself.
Everything stood out in the echoing absence of city life, each sound Morgan coming to find me, or if not Morgan then another horr
or from my past ready to relive itself in my presence. The noisy chatter from outside, even louder here than it had been at the center of town, was no help at all.
I couldn’t live like this, I told myself. My heart thumped in my throat at every creak, and the flesh of my arms prickled uncomfortably. I wasn’t going to live like this, dammit. That’s why I’d left.
A louder thump brought my mind back to Gramp’s old place and my childhood there. He’d been a severe man, cold but good to us. As both the oldest mage in our family and, for most of our childhood, the only guardian my brother and I had, he’d done his best to teach us what we’d needed in order to survive.
His lessons had been tempered with the last image we’d had of our father. The ranch had long been without livestock, but the gardens had always been full. Huge, well-tended, and Geoff and I had been largely responsible for keeping them so. It was in the garden that I’d found him, Father’s lower body mixed with the churned ground, a transmutation of flesh and soil gone perversely wrong. Half the man’s flesh had melted into the backyard of the old homestead, his body sunk deep, blood-filled eyes staring at the sky and yellowing grass rustling between gaping lips.
My screams had brought Gramp at a run, my older brother close on his heels. They’d stopped next to me by the garden and I will forever see how Gramp’s face had gone cold and still as stone, hear his decree echoing in my thoughts: “It was coming.”
He’d said a few sharp words and the earth had finished swallowing my father’s mutilated remains. “He’s returned to ground,” he told us when it was over. I had continued staring at the ground, my throat aching from swallowed screams, as my brother Geoff had stumbled back, whatever words he’d said lost in my numbness.
Gramp must have comforted us, but I have no strong memory after that point, just images of my late brother’s anger and the beginnings of the fear that had chased me all the rest of my life. Gramp had struggled to distill that fear in us from an early age. Gram had been too far gone to be much help, but her own worries and words had bolstered his cautions. Most of those had centered around my existence, and the problems it posed for our family.
Upon the River Shore Page 2