Dawn Of Hope: Charity Anthology

by J. A. Culican

  Not wanting to waste precious daylight time, I avoided unpacking. With my canvas bag of art supplies and a beach chair from the deck, I headed to the shore.

  * * *

  From the low seat, my legs sprawled across the pebbly sand. The shore lay quiet, save for a father teaching his two small sons how to fish from the short dock. Although the sun dipped low, I wanted to complete base washes on my first painting. I filled a glass from my supply kit with lake water. My one-inch flat brush mopped up paint hungrily from the mixing well. In a few quick strokes, I tinged the sky with cerulean and the foredunes with yellow ochre, swirling the tip to create impressions of the rippled wind circles. Damp paper and fading daylight—I could do no more for today. While the paint dried, I packed up.

  Back in my room, hunger hit. After a long drive, not wanting to go out, I snatched a pizza flyer from the dining table and called in my order. Time to unpack. I opened my suitcase on the bed and put away my belongings, saving out a nightgown, clothes for morning, and a good book.

  Hearing Erebus barking, I went to the door, anticipating aromas of cheese, tomato sauce, and mushrooms. The door to the other apartment across the landing slammed shut as I opened mine.

  My pizza man ran up the stairs, carrying a flat box that made my mouth water.

  While munching steaming slices, I wondered why anyone would give a dog such an evil name. After dinner, I dove eagerly into the novel waiting on my bed, a romantic suspense. I devoured chapter after chapter until my lids drooped.

  A sudden thump jolted me awake.

  A shadow of a man moved across the puddle of light falling into the bedroom window.

  My heart skipped a beat. I crept beside the window and held my breath as I peered out.

  A raccoon chattered, his nose pointing at me from the other side of the screen.

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. The night air, certainly cooler this far north, made me shiver. I shut the window and turned back to bed.

  My book lay carelessly cast aside on the sheet. I must have dreamed about the stalker character who walked around the heroine’s bed while she slept. I pulled the covers under my chin and wondered why I had brought such a scary book to a strange place.

  * * *

  I awoke before dawn, head throbbing and legs tangled in bedding. What had I battled last night? Tired of struggling to sleep, I fumbled toward the bathroom, my eyes stuck partially closed. Thankfully, my capris and tank top for the day were laid out and required no difficult decision-making. I washed my face, put my long hair into a quick ponytail, and routinely applied whatever simple make-up I could easily find at the top of my packed toiletries.

  Too early for breakfast, I stepped out onto my small deck. The cool morning air slapped my face. Desperately needing caffeine, I squinted against the cloudy dawn.

  Just off shore, a man sat in an old fishing boat, rod in hand. What a great painting that would make.

  Groggy and unable to do an accurate sketch, I stumbled inside to find my camera. I snapped three shots and checked my viewer to be certain my tech skills were awake. The boat, water, and dunes, everything but the man, looked focused and fine. A ball of light, like a flash glare, appeared where he sat. Confused, I immediately looked out at the lake. Both the man and his boat were gone. More certain of my urgent need for caffeine, I headed straight to the main house.

  As I opened the door, Erebus along with a cavalcade of delicious aromas welcomed me. I sat at a small table set with pretty garden flowers. A retired couple lingered over their newspapers and coffee, while I ate a breakfast of homemade blueberry muffins, fresh peaches, and several cups of black tea.

  “Looks like rain’s set in for the day like they forecasted.” Mags nodded toward the window as she cleared plates. “Once in a while those weathermen get it right.”

  “Guess I’ll tour shops today then,” I reached for one last muffin and stood. “These are so good. I’ll take one with me.”

  She grinned from ear-to-ear. “Take all you want. You’ll have a good time seeing the sites, dear.”

  I hesitated on the porch, watching the pouring rain and bracing to be drenched.

  A couple, huddled together under an umbrella, picked their way around puddles along the walk to the inn. Once out of the weather, they lowered the umbrella, and in front of me—the man from the fishing boat!

  I couldn’t help gawking, even though he looked normal enough. In fact, much better than normal with dark hair curling in layers to the bottom of his collar above broad shoulders.

  He looked my way and held out the umbrella. “Here take this. I’ll get another from Mags.”

  I hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

  “No problem. Rain comes up quickly around here, and we all share.”

  Thanks.” I accepted his offer. “I’ll leave it outside my door. I’m staying—”

  “Above the garage.” His white smile contrasted with the shadow of a beard, and his eyes seemed to penetrate deep inside me.

  Heat rose in my face, and I hoped it didn’t show.

  The woman stepped forward, ahead of the man. “Mags said you’d be staying in the suite next to me. I’m Zandra.” She was in her early thirties with luxurious, long auburn hair, an attractive woman except for her unnerving, beady hazel eyes. Her assertive behavior made me think she felt threatened by her partner’s friendliness toward me.

  “I hear you own an art shop in the village.”

  “You need to come by my shop while you’re here. The Mystical Moon, on the corner of Birch and Lakeview.”

  I nodded. “I will. Thanks.”

  “Your name’s Kate,” the man said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Anson.”

  I lifted the umbrella. “Thanks again for this. I took a picture of you fishing this morning...umm, to make a painting from later, if you don’t mind that is. I’m kind of good with watercolors, but if you don’t want...I’d understand. Strange though, in the shots on my camera...”

  Zandra stood tapping her foot outside the door, waiting for Anson to open it for her.

  He laughed and complied. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll happily be your painting subject. The weather’s supposed to be clear tomorrow. I’ll look for you. Have a good day in town, Kate. And keep the umbrella inside your room—Erebus likes the taste of them.”

  Alone again and under cover of the umbrella, I shook my head over the strange encounter and wondered what just happened.

  * * *

  I parked my car and trudged through puddles and drizzle. Inside shops, tourists lingered, reluctant to brave the rain. Artisans took advantage and talked freely about their trades, hungry for a captive audience.

  After a late lunch in a café, I upped my umbrella once again for a walk down Lakeview Street to see The Mystical Moon, one last quick stop. Tired from lack of sleep, my head begged for a nap soon.

  As I opened the door, heady fragrances of patchouli and sandalwood overwhelmed me, hanging thick in the damp air. A clerk said hello, and I browsed for a few minutes. An eclectic variety of spiritual items lined the shelves: crystal pendants; tarot cards; candles; gazing balls; prints and statues; how-to and inspirational books. I picked up one volume with hypnotic cover art.

  “Kate! So glad you came. Good day for shopping since it’s not beach weather.” Zandra’s floor-length skirt swished as she swept from behind the counter. Her face lit with a smile, she extended a hand, dozens of bangles jangling on her wrist. She seemed happier to see me than this morning, probably wanting a sale.

  I accepted her handshake. “Nice shop.”

  “Thanks.” She bent to routinely tidy a display, and her gaze moved to the umbrella hanging from my forearm. “Lovely talisman on that chain. Where did you get it?”

  “It’s the umbrella Anson loaned me this morning.”

  Her jaw tensed and through clenched teeth she said, “I see. I hadn’t noticed. Not sure why he gave that one to you…a stranger.” Her posture stiffened as she stared at the silver charm.

&nb
sp; Her icy glare made me shiver, and I tucked the umbrella closer to my side. Why was the charm so important to her? Did Anson have a reason to give it to me? From the vibe I was getting from Zandra, I didn’t dare ask her.

  She took a step back, and, as if an afterthought, asked, “Is there anything in the store I can help you with?”

  “No. Not yet, but—”

  “Well, I think you should go then.” Her eyes burned into mine.

  Shocked by her blunt reply, I didn’t respond, laid the book down, and made way straight for the door. Outside I picked up my pace, anger preventing me from bothering with the umbrella. Rain trickled down my hair and into my eyes. The wetness against my skin felt real, unlike what seemed to be happening around me. When I reached my car, I took a deep breath to remove Zandra’s incense that clouded my mind. I examined the talisman, a ball balancing upon a pointed post.

  I’d never seen the symbol before. What did it mean? I wondered if there was any danger in keeping it.

  I sat in my car for several minutes, rain streaking in rivulets down the windows, as I contemplated what to do. I inhaled sharply, overcome with apprehension over staying in the room across from Zandra. After her odd behavior, I didn’t think I could relax enough to sleep there. But I’d signed a non-refundable full-week clause in the rental contract.

  Reluctantly, I drove back to The Sea Grass. The foreboding, dark tunnel of dense woods along the lane now seemed appropriate and added to my anxiety.

  At the main house, Mags folded linens.

  “May I switch rooms to one here in this building?” I asked. “Is the plumber finished?”

  “I’m so sorry you’re unhappy with your accommodations. No, dear, the other rooms are occupied save the one we’re repairing.”

  I searched my mind for other possibilities. “If any guests are willing to share a bath, I’ll gladly sleep in that room.”

  “I’m afraid the bedroom floor is also badly damaged from the water. It isn’t fit. I do hope you stay and enjoy your vacation.”

  I sighed. “Mags, do you have any idea what this charm means?” I held out the umbrella’s chain to her.

  “Can’t say as I do. Looks like any old trinket to me.”

  I nodded and walked away—tired, confused, not to mention afraid.

  Back in my room, I locked the door and stared at the umbrella. Maybe I should go home.

  Too exhausted to drive, I decided to leave first thing the next day. I curled up on the bed and drew a blanket tight around me for a small bit of security. After a while, my thoughts blurred together and gave way to sleep.

  * * *

  Vivid dreams colored my sleep. A handsome man, a prince, sat beside me, watching me sleep. He bent over me and stroked my golden hair. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.

  The skin of my lips sensed real, lingering warmth—the Sleeping Beauty dream shattered. My eyes flashed open.

  Anson sat next to me, his hand on my shoulder. I jerked away. “How did you get in here?”

  “Kate, don’t fear me,” he pleaded. “I’ll not hurt you. Let me explain.”

  The genuineness of his eyes convinced me to listen. And touched me deeply. I swallowed hard and maintained some distance, pulling the sheet over my thin nightgown. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “My soul connects to yours. I first knew when I heard your voice over the phone’s speaker as Mags talked with you about your stay. My soul is very real, but I’m a…a ghost. That’s why my image in your photos is just a mass of light, the image of my bare soul. Few can see me. Only those whose soul connects to mine, like you.”

  “Mags? Does she see you?”

  “Yes.” He lowered his head. “I’m her son.”

  “Zandra can see you, certainly, but why?”

  “She’s a witch and tricked me. She uses her magic to hold me hostage to serve as her boyfriend, lover, servant, slave, whatever suits her at the moment. She’s cruel.” He clenched his fists. “I loathe her, but I’m trapped. Under her spell, I can’t leave the property. Mom tolerates her in order to have me near, fearing she might lose me otherwise.”

  “Today at the shop, Zandra freaked out seeing me with the amulet on the chain of the umbrella you gave me.” I sat up against the bed pillows and reached for the umbrella leaned against the nightstand. “What does it mean?”

  “The amulet is one of my only means of magic. It should allow me to freely enter the locked quarters of whoever possesses it. But, she cast a spell, limiting its power to within the walls of this garage.”

  Understanding swept through my mind, and I fingered the silver charm. “That’s why the plumbing in the room I booked in the main house suddenly broke, even though the fittings were brand new. You did that to make sure I stayed in this suite. Right?”

  He gave a single nod.

  “Why?”

  “I need you to help me break her black magic so I can be free. Will you help me, Kate?”

  “Umm, I don’t know.” I wadded the sheet in my hand.

  “I know how this must sound. Sleep on it for the rest of the night. We can talk more tomorrow.” He unfurled my fingers from the fabric and took my hand into his. His skin felt considerably cooler than mine. “Thank you for listening.”

  I gazed into his dark eyes and felt my soul become distinct from my body, floating weightless with his. He was right; we were connected.

  He leaned closer and, with his other hand, cradled my head.

  I felt vibrations of static as his lips approached mine. In the slightest contact, an almost imperceptible touch, I envisioned a vivid tableau of horrors—the tragedy of his death.

  He’d drowned on this shore after swimming into a rip current. Zandra laughed at him from the dock, life preserver never leaving her hand. Mags ran out, screaming, but too late. She jumped into the surf. Her ankle broke when the tide slapped her against the rocks. The injury never healed properly and left her with that limp.

  I pulled away, unable to view more. “Please, stop,” I gasped.

  “I promise all our kisses will be happy ones from this moment on.” He smiled.

  A tear rolled down his cheek as his form vanished before me.

  My throat clenched with pain, and my hand tightened on the umbrella.

  * * *

  The next morning, to my surprise, I awoke more rested than the day before. I wondered about the powers in Anson’s kiss and his control of my dreams. During the day, I steered clear of Zandra. Although the sun shone, I wore the umbrella chain as a bracelet to keep it safe. I left for a short grocery store run, and while the witch was at work in the afternoon, I enjoyed the beach with Anson.

  As promised, he posed as my painting subject. He amused me with plenty of jokes, and I did as much laughing as painting. I added him to the composition already begun—a fisherman sitting pensively on the dock. Although a ghost, he managed to catch several real fish during our session.

  Mags cleaned and fried the perch he caught for our lunch.

  “Good fish, Anson. Nothing better than fresh, flaky lake perch.” Facing me she said, “I see you and my son are getting on well.” She nodded approvingly and grinned. “He needs a friend like you, dear.”

  I returned a shaky grin, still uncertain what I’d gotten involved with, what might be the consequences of having a friendship with a ghost.

  * * *

  Later that evening, I stayed in my suite when the witch returned home. Anson served her bidding, while I quietly made my dinner and afterward wrote his amazing story in my journal. As darkness fell, I waited eagerly for his arrival. He promised he’d come to me once she slept, but hours passed. My book didn’t hold my attention. I grew tired and left the living room for my bed.

  Again, he awakened me with a kiss. I loved his dream kisses, made more intoxicating as I hung between sleep and waking. He used his magic to suspend me on the edge of a dream. Waves of passion rippled through my body as his tongue parted my lips and explored my mouth.

  Entranced, I couldn�
��t respond. My intense desire to be able to see and touch him only heightened my passion. I fought with myself to completely relax and enjoy the ethereal encounter.

  He trailed his fingertips lightly across my collar bone.

  A whimper reflexively sounded from my own throat and startled me.

  Light circles over my skin caused every hair on my body to rise. His touch skimmed along the nightgown covering my stomach. And then stopped.

  I thrashed in my dream-like state. Where had he gone? I craved to be fully awake, grab hold of him, and force my mouth hard onto his. But I remained quiet, locked in enchantment.

  His ragged breath revealed his passion. Where was his touch?

  After making me crazy waiting too long, something tickled the inside of my knee and slowly danced up my thigh.

  Delicious shivers shot across my skin.

  His mouth covered mine. He thrust his tongue inside, which released the dream-spell.

  Immediately, I clasped him with arms and legs. Heat flooded my face as our bodies entwined.

  A loud knock on my door made us hush, frozen like trapped prey.

  I held my breath.

  I heard metal scraping, as though the door bolt slid open. A shadow moved across the rug in the main room.

  My pulse pounded in my ears.

  Zandra stood in my bedroom doorway, her face ashen as she commanded, “Lover, you and I have something to discuss. Leave her!”

  Anson gathered his clothes and left obediently, head down.

  With only a chilling look cast at me, she spun and followed him. I trembled, wondering why she didn’t harm me but felt certain Anson would pay a high price.

  I dressed quickly and quietly inched to a position on the landing under their sitting room window, listening to every noise. Inside, a door slammed and then opened.

  “You know I own your soul,” Zandra proclaimed.

  “You possess me only with your black deeds.”

  “You are my lover. What do you think you’re doing with that girl?” she spat in a higher pitch.

  “I’ll never love you.” His voice remained composed, assertive.