by Doug Welch
Chapter 12
Love under Shadows
I jumped out of bed as the first hint of sunlight gleamed thorough the window. I had a slight headache from the champagne, but I hit the shower before Alex. From previous experience, I knew she would be in the bathroom for a long time, so I started preparing breakfast. Soon, she staggered down to the kitchen to draw a cup of coffee.
“I've got to stay away from champagne,” she said and groaned. “It sneaks up on you.”
“I'll have breakfast ready in a while. Eat something, you'll feel better.”
“No thanks, I'll just have a piece of toast. What is your plan for today?”
“Date with Beth.”
“Good. Caesar is going to pick me up here at the house.”
I laughed. “Did you have an argument about who was going to drive?”
She pursed her lips. “Yeah. I lost, rock, paper, scissors, best two out of three. I think he cheated.”
“Beth is going to pick me up today after I call her.”
She laughed. “You lost too?”
“Wasn't fair, I lost a tickling contest. Although, it was a lot of fun.”
“I'll bet. I'm heading back upstairs. Thanks for the coffee and toast.”
“No problem, Sis. You have a good day.”
I resolved to give Elizabeth some time, since it was early in the morning, so I planned to delay calling her cell phone for at least an hour.
Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang. The caller ID indicated that it was Elizabeth's phone.
My voice was a little husky when I answered, “Good morning, darling.”
I heard her intake of breath over the phone. She said something. It was obvious that the mouthpiece was muffled. I waited. Soon her voice answered.
“You have to be careful with that,” she replied. “It makes me feel all fluttery inside. I didn't want Caesar or my father to see tears in my eyes, so I had to leave the room.”
“So, when are you coming over?” I said.
“I have the car keys in hand, and I'm heading out the door. I want to beat Caesar.”
“Tell him Alex won't be ready for a while, although I suspect that may change if he arrives.”
“See you soon darling.” She chuckled, and disconnected. It was my turn to melt.
I waited on the front porch. I had butterflies in my stomach. When I saw her drive into the yard, the butterflies took flight and started rustling through the rest of my body. I ran from the porch toward her as she exited the car.
It isn't possible, I thought, she looked even lovelier than the last time I saw her.
She wore a lavender frilly blouse with a white pleated skirt. Her tiny feet were clad in sandals that matched the color of her blouse.
I swept her into my arms. I held her tightly, feeling the closeness of her body. We clung to each other for a long time. A profound feeling of peace and contentment suffused me. The butterflies ceased their rumbling. I didn't want to let her go. I leaned back and cupped her cheek in my hand. I bent my head and kissed her tenderly, just lightly brushing my lips on hers. I sighed, and looked into her eyes.
“Don't tell me it gets better than this, I think I'll have a heart attack if it does.”
She swatted me playfully on the arm. “I'll make sure of it. Maybe I'll get the insurance.”
I heard a wolf whistle coming from the house. We turned to stare at the sound. Alex leaned out of the upstairs bedroom window. She smiled and waved.
“Have a nice time, you two.” She ducked back in and closed the window.
Elizabeth drove toward Russell Springs, and short of the town, turned onto Cumberland Parkway. The parkway was a state highway, route sixty-two. It was a four-lane road, and provided access to the interior of the state. It eventually connected to the Interstate Highway System at the west end of the state. It was a good, fast road. She drove the car onto the parkway and headed east.
Elizabeth used the Jag's power to spin up the speedometer. She drove smoothly and settled into the fast lane. The car accelerated.
“In a hurry?” I asked nervously.
“No,” she said, “I don't get to let the car out often, but when I do, I let it all out. Hold on, and fasten your seat belt.”
The speedometer read ninety and crept up the dial. I gripped the door’s hand rest.
“Huh, Beth, the State Police patrol this road regularly. You may get a ticket.”
“I've got MD plates on the car. They don't stop me.” She grinned, and then she glanced my way. “Okay, I'll slow it down.”
The speedometer dropped to an even one hundred, I hadn't noticed what it was before. Cars flashed by in our right lane as we passed them. Elizabeth sighed. She took her foot off the gas pedal, and settled the car down to a sedate sixty-five.
“I suppose you're right. I should know better. I've seen the results of an accident often enough in the ER. It's just that sometimes I feel a need for speed.”
I filed this knowledge away, marveling at this new, unexpected dimension of the woman I sat beside.
“Where are we going?”
“Somerset. Do you like Bluegrass?”
“Bluegrass? As in music? I love it.”
“Somerset's sponsoring a Bluegrass music festival this year. Also, there's a beautiful bed and breakfast near the city that has good food. Sound good?”
“Sounds like fun.” I settled back in the seat and watched the countryside roll by. Soon, the parkway ended. We rolled into the outskirts of Somerset, and found a place to park the car.
The town wasn't much different than Jamestown or Russell Springs, although the population was larger. It was a typical Kentucky town, with a large impressive square in the center, and numerous opportunities for nearby outdoor recreation.
Nightlife wasn't a focus of Kentucky living, the state was more rural and laid back. Somerset had initiated the Bluegrass festivals to attract tourism during the spring and summer months when Kentucky was at its tourist peak. As for me, music had always been a pleasure, and foot-tapping, Bluegrass Music was one of my favorites. It was just another reason to love the beautiful woman who walked by my side.
We strolled, holding hands, through the arts and crafts booths, toward the strains of fiddles and guitars. We sat down at an out door cafe, near the bandstand. Since Somerset was located in a dry County, there was no alcohol served, so we sipped lemonade and enthusiastically clapped to the music.
We sat for a long while and listened to the succession of ensembles that enlivened the square.
Leaving the cafe, we explored the booths and shops. There were numerous arts and crafts booths; some antiques shops, a few religious displays and a National Rifle Association booth. We ignored the latter religious and political booths, and concentrated on the former, arts and crafts. In the background, I could hear the music start again.
Many of the booths displayed quilts. Quilting was an old Appalachian and Southern tradition and pastime. It had recently evolved into an art form. Some antique quilts were worth thousands of dollars. One antique quilt entranced me.
Most of the displays were modern creations, but in this booth, the hand-stitched, antique quilt was exquisite. I marveled at the example of creativity. I thought of the long-ago woman who had sat by a fireplace, adding colorful swatches of fabric, one piece at a time, to create something of beauty and usefulness. Curious, I asked the woman who manned the booth how much she wanted for the quilt.
“Oh. That's just for display sir. It's over a hundred years old. I really don't intend to sell it. It's a family heirloom. I had it appraised, and it’s nearly priceless. I'm selling my own quilts. I'm trying to keep the family tradition. Is there anything you would like to see?”
I checked her display of modern designs, and complemented her on the creativity. I thought of hoped-for, potential cold nights with Elizabeth, and impulsively bought two of the most pleasing designs.
As we were leaving, a woman walked up to the antique quilt and removed it. She
folded the quilt and tucked it under her arm. I watched her. At first, I thought that she was with the woman who sold me the quilts, but the booth's owner seemed to be unaware of her, or the loss of her display.
Elizabeth began to browse the next booth.
I stopped and observed the action of the woman who’d taken the quilt. She seemed unconcerned, and started walking away, the quilt firmly under her arm. Surprised at this turn of events, I went back to the woman from whom I’d purchased my quilts.
I approached her. “Excuse me. Didn't you say that your display wasn't for sale?”
“Huh? All my quilts are for sale. What do you mean?”
“I mean that antique quilt that you had on display. You said it was priceless, a family heirloom.”
“Antique? What antique? I don't have any antique quilts.”
“You told me that you had had it appraised, and that you considered it priceless.”
“I don't know what you are talking about. Is this some kind of scam?”
By this time, Elizabeth had returned to my side, and listened to the dialogue. She seemed a little puzzled. “What's wrong Paris?”
“What's wrong? – What's wrong is that another woman just walked off with this woman's prized possession, and she doesn't seem to care.”
Elizabeth was silent. She just looked at me with a worried expression. Finally, she said. “What possession are you talking about?”
“The antique quilt,” I said. “The one she wouldn't sell.”
“Uh, Paris, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see a quilt other than the quilts you bought.”
I stared at her. The conversation between me and the booth's owner had occurred in her presence. There was no way that she could not have been aware of the quilt and the reason that the woman had given as to why she wouldn't sell it.
I felt chills caress the back of my neck. Either I'd hallucinated the whole event, or something else was happening, something I didn't want to contemplate. The only way to resolve this, I thought, is to find the woman who took the quilt. Otherwise, I’d need to question my sanity.
“Sorry,” I said. “I may have mixed you up with another booth.”
“It's okay. I suppose I should thank you for trying to protect me,” the booth owner said but her eyes reflected uncertainty, “even though I don't know what you’re protecting me from.”
I took Elizabeth's arm and walked away from the woman. We walked for a distance, and I turned to her.
“Excuse me Beth. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
I abruptly left her and wound through the crowd, looking for the woman who had taken the quilt. I didn't know what to make of the previous events. The memory of what had just happened to me triggered recollections of my conversation with Silas and the altercation with the trespassers.
I looked for the woman. It wasn't hard to find her. She stood in the crowd holding the quilt under her arm, and gazing at the people who passed by. I approached her. She didn't seem concerned, so I stepped in front of her.
“Excuse me. You have something under your arm that doesn't belong to you.”
She looked at me in apparent alarm. “You can see me.”
“Of course I can see you. Give me the quilt, and I won't call the police.”
“It's mine. I can take what I want. You have no authority to stop me.”
I was surprised at her reaction. I’d expected resistance or remorse that she had been found out, or aggression and an attempt to flee. I grabbed her arm to restrain her.
“The quilt, please.”
“It's mine. Screw you.” She struggled to release my hand.
By now, I’d expected others in the crowd would come to her aid. However, the people in the square walked around us. They were apparently oblivious to the drama taking place in their midst.
She stopped struggling, and an intense look of concentration appeared in her features. I felt a faint sensation as if something alien brushed across my mind, but then it ceased. I was a little shaken by the feeling. It felt slightly dirty, as though someone had walked across my mind with muddy shoes. I forced her arm away from her body, and gently removed the quilt.
“I'm going to return this to its owner. I suggest you leave this area before I call the police.”
“What are you talking about,” she replied, acting nervous. “The police can't touch me. If you give it back, I'll just take it again. You're acting strange. This is absurd. You can't do this. I took it first. I'll report you to the council.”
I shoved her away. “Get out of here. Run,” I said. She didn't move.
She gave me an evaluating look “Who are you? I haven't seen you before. Who do you belong to?”
“None of your business,” I replied. “If you won't leave, I'll find a way to restrain you and call the cops.”
This seemed to shake her. “Okay. I'll go, but you haven't heard the last of this.” With that final word, she headed toward the street leading from the square.
I was shaken. While the whole, vigorous discussion had transpired, none of the people in the vicinity had taken note of it. It was as if the two of us had existed on an island, out of communication, hidden behind a veil. It was an unsettling experience.
I returned to the area in which I had left Elizabeth. Eventually, I found her.
“Sorry, Beth, I had to find a restroom.”
“I understand – I needed one too.” She spied the additional quilt I held. “What did you do? Buy another quilt?”
I didn't know how to respond. On the spur of the moment, I said, “yes, it’s for you.” I didn't want to keep the quilt. I felt guilty. I resolved to make it right with the owner as soon as I could convince her that she had been ripped off.
“Paris, this is an expensive gift. You may be rich, but you don't need to impress me.”
“It's a long story, I'll tell you sometime later. Just accept it, please. Keep it safe.”
We found the restrooms in the restaurant. The woman's restroom line was long, and I had a while to think. The implications of the incident at the booth, and the encounter with the woman were nasty. If she could block out the knowledge and ownership of the quilt from the minds of both the booth owner and Elizabeth, what couldn't she do? No one seemed able to see her but me. She seemed to assume it was her God-given right to steal anything she pleased, and she was not fearful of the consequences. She sneered at the law. How was it possible? Was she one of the ones that Silas had called Shadows?
The fact that Elizabeth had been affected by her filled me with anxiety. If the woman could do that to her mind, what defense did Elizabeth have? If the Shadows existed, I realized that the only thing that stood between people like that woman and normal people like Elizabeth was a person like me, someone who was immune to their influence, and could prevent them from taking advantage of the rest of the population.
Was that why they wanted to abduct Alex and me? I realized that I almost believed some of the things that my father and Silas had warned us about. What did that say about my sanity? Was I going nuts, starting to believe in ghosts?
Eventually, Elizabeth emerged from the restroom. We walked back out to the warm sunshine.
“Let's go have lunch,” I said. “Where's that bed and breakfast?”
We headed back to the car. I was nearly paranoid about her safety. I put my arm around her, and pulled her in close. I watched each person we passed, looking for any evidence that they might be a Shadow. It wasn’t a good feeling.
“What’s wrong Paris? I can sense you're upset and tense.”
“Oh, just upset about the incident back at the festival.”
“Don't focus on it. Your heart was in the right place. You just made a mistake.”
No, I didn't.
I felt frustrated with my inability to communicate my knowledge and feelings. The problem was I was feeling the need to protect her, but my inability to explain the reason for it was festering inside of me.
Gradually, the closeness of
her body, and the smell of her perfume eased my tension. My frustration evolved into a fierce resolve, and I was grimly determined never to let anything hurt her. I would give my life for hers.
That thought made me feel better.
We entered the car and Elizabeth drove a few miles from Somerset to the bed and breakfast.
She was right. The old mansion that housed the B&B was a treasure. Its stately pillars and portico were set back amongst the mature trees that surrounded the property. Blossoms hung heavy from the wisteria vines and their perfume surrounded the house. We entered through the ornate front door.
The house was tastefully decorated with antiques. The wood floors gleamed with polish. Antique throw rugs littered the floor. The foyer had a high ceiling. The walls were white at the ceiling height and covered with satiny wall covering at eye level. Flowers in vases covered most of the flat surfaces. An unobtrusive welcome counter stood at one end of the hall. We approached the counter.
“What do you think?” Elizabeth said.
“It's gorgeous,” I replied.
“Would you like to stay here sometime?” she asked.
“With you? Now.” I replied.
“I’m needed at the hospital tomorrow, perhaps another time?”
“Oh yes. The sooner, the better.”
We reserved a place for lunch, and strolled outside for a walk around the property.
The fresh green growth added to the scent of the wisteria. The grass was thick under my feet. Blossoms from unseen trees, floated down in the sunlight, and numerous spring flowers were blooming in carefully tended flowerbeds, a riot of color.
“How can it get much better than this?” Elizabeth sighed. “I feel like I'm in heaven with you by my side.”
“Oh I can think of ways,” I said.
I caressed her arms, and cupped her cheek in my hand. “For example –” I closed my eyes, and kissed her tenderly, just lightly brushing my lips across hers. I did it again, but pressed fully upon her lips, feeling the soft texture of her skin. I leaned back, opened my eyes, and gazed at her face. Her eyes opened, and her shining violet eyes stared back at me. In an instant, I felt pure desire sizzle though my body. I stepped back.
“Okay that's enough, unless you want to spend the night here,” I said, hopefully.
“It's tempting,” she replied. “Believe me, it's tempting. However, I’ve still not started the pill. I warned you that you were falling in love with a doctor. Sometimes that becomes an overriding responsibility. You'll just have to be patient.”
“Patient? I don't want to be patient. I suppose I'll have to reserve you.”
“Reserve me? What do you mean?”
“I've made up my mind. As crazy as it sounds, I'm going to go shopping for a ring. I don't want to lose you.”
“You don't have to do that, Paris. I’m yours, heart, body and soul. There will be plenty of time for that.”
“I know what I want, Beth. I want you. I want you for the rest of my life.”
“And I want you.”
We embraced each other, kissing. We only broke our entwined bodies, when we saw a couple strolling through the gardens. I remembered that Kentucky was not comfortable with public displays.
I briefly thought of changing states.
We went back into the house, and sat down for lunch. The food was good. We finished off our meal with a mouthwatering peach cobbler with cream sauce.
We went back outside and explored the property. We talked about ourselves. I told her about my service in Iraq, and some of my Army adventures. She told me about her family life, and her college years. She also enlightened me as to her brief flirtation with romance, and her deceased boyfriend.
Heading back to Jamestown, we talked and planned some more. Lunch had been a big meal, so we didn't need supper.
We pulled into the front lawn of the farm.
Alex's truck sat at the front, along with the car that Caesar drove.
We got out of the Jag, and I opened the front door to the house.
We saw Alex and Caesar clinched together in a passionate kiss, entwined on the front couch. I closed the door, loudly. They broke and sat up. I laughed. “Would you guys like to play some cards?”
We spent the remainder of the evening, playing Monopoly, cracking jokes, and drinking and snacking. It was the only way that Beth and I could keep our hands off of each other, and I suspected that it was the same with Alex and Caesar.
Eventually, Elizabeth indicated that they needed to go home. She wanted to rise early to head back to the hospital. Caesar, I sensed, was not as willing to go, but after a lingering goodbye to Alex, he agreed.
“Okay guys, we do this again, but this time, we drive,” I said.
“Horrors.” Caesar laughed. “She drives too fast.”
“I do not,” Alex said.
“Yes you do,” we both replied, laughing.
“Seriously, Alex and I have to meet with our lawyer tomorrow, and I promised to teach her how to shoot at the practice range.”
“I can teach her,” Caesar said.
“Good. Maybe between the two of us, she might turn out to be a decent shot. Tell you what, why don't we meet at the range tomorrow?”
“I've got classes,” Caesar said, resigned, “all day.”
“Okay Caesar, another time,” I said.
We each turned to our respective partners and embraced them. After a series of deep kisses, we said our goodbyes. Elizabeth and Caesar climbed into their respective cars and drove off into the evening. Alex and I walked back into the house.
In the living room, I looked at her.
“So how did it go?” I said nonchalantly.
“How did it go? You've got to be kidding me. If you hadn't walked through that door, I'd have had him in my bedroom.”
“That serious, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, huh?”
“Sis, I got it bad.”
“Not worse than me.”
I laughed. “How did we get into this wonderful mess?”
“You wanted to go hiking, remember?” She chuckled.
“Yeah, best decision of my life.”
“I think so too.”
We then started relating the day's events like a couple of giddy teenagers.
“By the way, I bought two quilts from a booth in Somerset.”
“Two? Really? –Why?”
“I couldn't resist, they were really nice.”
“Why two?”
“Ah, one for me and one for you?”
“Let me see them.”
“Damn it. I forgot to bring them from Beth's car.”
“Ha. How convenient. Now you'll just have to visit her to get them, won't you?” She laughed. “Why didn't you give one to Elizabeth?”
“Oh I forgot. – I did, only it was under a rather strange circumstance.”
“How strange?”
I related the incident of the woman who took the antique quilt and how I had pursued her to get it back.
“You say that neither the owner nor Elizabeth seemed to take notice of the theft?”
“More than that,” I said, “It was like they had blocked out all knowledge that the quilt ever existed.”
“Wow! That is strange. Well, how do you know that you're not the one who is hallucinating?”
“The quilt was real, Alex. I gave it to Elizabeth for safe keeping, in case the owner came to her senses.”
I waited for her to arrive at the logical conclusion.
Alex winced. “You're implying that the woman was a Shadow. That means that maybe the Shadows can alter someone's mind, like Silas said. I thought that was science fiction. I've read that there's no possibility of controlling people with your mind. It's just magician's tricks.”
“Yeah, so did I,” I said.
Her face held a grim look. “I think that I've got to learn how to shoot that gun.”
I sighed. “
Yeah, tomorrow we'll go to the firing range before we meet with Silas.”