I refilled everyone’s wine glass before picking up the candles to arrange in the center of the table exactly the way I saw them in my dream. The black wrought iron felt heavy and cold in my grasp.
I didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t want any part of this.
But I forced myself to keep moving.
Once the candles were in their proper place, I took my seat—the exact seat I was in in my dream.
Mia and Daphne watched me without speaking, waiting until I was set before joining me at the table.
“Any particular place we should sit?” Daphne asked.
I started shaking my head before changing my mind. “Actually, maybe one of you go there,” I pointed directly across from me where Aunt Charlie had been. “And one here.” I pointed to my right where Pat had joined her during a different dream.
They silently moved to their places, Daphne across from me and Mia to my right, and reached for their respective wine glasses.
I picked up mine as well and took a long drink. Courage in a bottle, baby. I’ll take it.
“So, what do we do?” Mia asked, fiddling with her wine glass.
“We should probably turn the lights out,” Daphne said. “Close the drapes.”
I nodded. They both moved to darken the kitchen and then returned to their seats.
“Is there anything else we should do to prepare?” Mia asked. “Say something? Join hands? Or ...?”
I took a deep breath, staring at the unlit candles, feeling into what the next step should be. “I think I just light them,” I said. “Do you have matches?”
Mia pushed a book of matches across the table. I picked it up. In the faint light, I could see the outline of a cow with a lamp shade on its head and the words “The Tipsy Cow” printed underneath.
I opened up the book and tore a match off.
“Do you remember the order to light them?” Daphne asked.
Black to vanquish the bad energy. Red to draw in fresh, new energy. White for truth.
“Black, red, white,” I said.
Mia licked her lips. Even in the semi-darkness, I could see the sweat beading on her upper lip. “You’ve got this, Becca.”
I didn’t answer, instead focusing all my attention on lighting the match.
I destroyed the first one, shredding the head. The second one fared no better.
My hands were wet. I rubbed my palms on my dress. The air was filled with the slight odor of sulfur.
I tore a third match off, but before I could strike it, Daphne put her hand over mine.
“Breathe,” she said. “There’s no hurry. Just relax.”
“And if we need more matches, I have a purse full, so don’t worry,” Mia said.
I eyed her. “You don’t smoke. Why do you have so many matches?”
She shrugged. “You never know when you might need one.”
Daphne shifted uncomfortably next to me.
“Like just in case you get stranded in the middle of nowhere or something?”
She smiled slightly. “Something like that.”
I turned back to the match and sucked in my breath. Breathe. You can do this.
I struck the match. It immediately burst into flame.
I blinked, the yellow-orange light sudden and almost shocking in the dimness of the kitchen. A part of me wanted to blow it out immediately but I forced my hand toward the first candle. The black one. I lit it.
“Black to vanquish the bad energy,” I said.
I could smell the dust burning and the wick crackling. I moved to the second candle. The red one.
“Red to draw in the fresh, new energy,” I said as I lit it.
I moved to the third candle.
White. For truth.
I sucked in my breath. Was I ready for the truth?
I felt the heat against my fingers a second before a searing pain and instinctively shook my hand. The match went dark as the flames from the other two candles danced, almost going out themselves before recovering.
“Crap,” I said, tearing out a new match. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Did I screw everything up now because I hadn’t used the same match? I shook my head, trying to bury the thought as I quickly lit the match and then the candle.
“White for truth,” I said.
The white candle didn’t want to light as quickly as the other two. I had to hold it there a few seconds longer before it finally caught. I carefully blew the match out.
The candles flickered, throwing dark twisted shadows against the wall.
Just like my dream.
The flames seemed to grow taller, the orange-red fire leaping and twirling. The shadows looked more like misshapen monsters, dancing and cavorting against the walls, surrounding us, coming closer and closer as the fire burned out of control ...
Mia cleared her throat, the sound cracking though the stillness like a gun shot, making me jump. “Are you okay, Becca?”
“Um,” I blinked. The candles snapped back to tiny, steadily burning, yellow-orange flames. The shadows shrunk down into quiet, calm reflections of Daphne and Mia. How long had I been sitting there, staring at the shadows, lost in my own world? “Yeah, I think so,” I said, my mouth feeling dry and woolly. I reached for my wine.
Mia shifted in her seat as she watched me carefully. “Is that it? Is there anything else we should do?”
“I don’t know. Aunt Charlie just told me to light the candles.”
“Are you remembering anything?” Daphne gently asked. “Feeling anything?”
I closed my eyes and poked around in my memory bank, looking for anything about that night to reveal itself.
Nothing. It was as empty as a gaping hole in a mouth where a rotten tooth once was. Just a black, empty, dead hole.
It didn’t work.
I couldn’t tell if I felt relief or disappointment.
While I was still deciding, and before I could even open my mouth, Mia’s face fell.
“I suppose it was a long shot,” Mia mumbled. “I mean, really. What could lighting candles have to do with remembering that night?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure nothing happened,” Daphne said. “Just because it wasn’t instantaneous doesn’t mean it didn’t work.”
Mia made a face. “That sounds like you’re reaching,” she said. “Why would there be a delay?”
Daphne shrugged. “How does any of this work? We have no idea. But what I can tell you is that things reveal themselves on their own timetable, not ours. And, sometimes it just takes time.”
“I don’t know,” Mia said, sounding skeptical. She turned to me. “What do you think Becca?” I could hear a note of hope in her voice.
You can’t make me remember.
“Yeah, there absolutely could be a delay,” I said, my voice rusty, as if I hadn’t used it for years. “I mean, maybe I need to dream about Aunt Charlie again. Get further instructions.” I tried to chuckle but it fell flat.
“Is that what happened before?” Mia asked, the sound of hope growing stronger in her voice. “When you drank the tea, I mean. Did you have to talk to Charlie again?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. In truth, the answer was no. The effect had been pretty instantaneous then. But that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a delay this time.
“It’s a little fuzzy,” I said carefully. “I’m not completely clear on what happened when. Remember, I was still pretty drugged up. I hadn’t eaten in days. Physically, I was a wreck. I had to recover before I did anything.”
“So, maybe then,” Mia said.
The greasy lump in my stomach twisted.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “As Daphne said, none of us know how this works.”
“What happened to you?” Daphne asked. Her eyes gleamed in the candle light.
I sh
ifted uncomfortably. Was she seeing right through me? Did she know I wasn’t telling the whole truth?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“After you lit the candles,” she said. “You got so quiet and still. Like you were in a trance. Did you see something? Hear something?”
Other than shadow monsters and out-of-control candle flames?
I didn’t think it wise to share.
“I ... I guess I was just lost in thought,” I said.
“What sort of thoughts?” Daphne asked, leaning in closer. The candles cast light from below, throwing crazy shadows against her face. For a moment, I was thrust back into my dream. Aunt Charlie had leaned into the candles just like that, too, and had that same strange eagerness on her face.
“I’m ... not really sure,” I said. “Nothing that makes sense. It sort of felt like I was back in my dream with Aunt Charlie.” I was starting to feel like there was something Mia and Daphne weren’t telling me. Had I lost more time than I thought?
Daphne turned to Mia. “See? You saw her. Maybe she just needs some time to shake the memories loose.”
“God, I hope so,” Mia said.
My gaze ping ponged between them. “What do you mean you ‘saw me’? What was I doing?”
“You weren’t doing anything. That’s the point,” Mia said.
“Like I said, it was like you were in a trance. Your eyes were all glazed over and you were just sitting there, staring at nothing,” Daphne said.
“For how long?”
Mia frowned. “Fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty? Maybe a little longer. We were waiting for you to come out of it yourself.”
Yeah, I had definitely lost a chunk of time.
Mia looked at Daphne. “Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted her.”
“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not in the room,” I said.
“Okay, then. Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted you. But you were sitting there like that for so long. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Too late now,” Daphne said. Mia looked crestfallen.
“Mia, I don’t think it mattered,” I said quickly. “I don’t know what happened but I’m pretty sure you didn’t interrupt anything. I probably did something wrong. Maybe I needed to use the same match for all three candles.”
“Maybe,” Daphne said. “Or maybe you just need a little more time for the memories to come back.”
I hoped she was right.
“Well, all I have to say is it sure would have been nice if I had gotten an instruction manual for this,” I said. “At least then we would know I did it right.”
Daphne picked up her wine. “Yeah, that would have been too easy.”
Mia looked at each of us before sitting back in her chair. “So, is that it? Are we done?” The disappointment was clear in her voice.
“I guess,” I said. “I can’t think of anything more to do.”
Daphne reached for her cell phone. “I probably ought to get going anyway.”
I leaned forward to blow out the candles, feeling like something was unfinished … that there was something I was missing. Something I needed to do.
But what?
Chapter 32
I heard the hiss of a match being struck, and a soft, warm glow filled the dark kitchen.
Aunt Charlie sat in a chair in front of me—the same one Daphne had been in. She lit the candles in front of us.
Black to vanquish the bad energy. Red to draw in fresh, new energy. White for truth.
“It didn’t work,” I said.
She shook her hand to blow the match out. The flames danced. “How do you know?”
I gaped at her. “Seriously? Because I still don’t remember.”
“Maybe you do,” Pat chimed in from where Mia had sat.
“I think I would know if my memory had come back.”
“Not if you don’t want to remember,” Aunt Charlie said.
You can’t make me remember.
I closed my eyes briefly. What did I not want to remember?
“That’s not true,” I said, but my voice sounded hoarse. “I do want to remember.”
Pat slowly shook her head. “It’s okay, honey,” she said. “Maybe it’s for the best if you don’t.”
Aunt Charlie glared at Pat. “You know that isn’t true,” she said. “She must remember. That’s the only way this ends.”
“Are you so sure you want to go down that path?” Pat asked Aunt Charlie, her voice dangerously quiet. “Once you start, you won’t be able to stop. And we all know what’s at the end. Is that what you really want?”
Aunt Charlie dropped her gaze to her hands, which were splayed out against the table. They looked so old and gnarled. Were they like that when I had seen her last? “I have no choice,” she said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
I stared wildly at both of them. “What are you talking about? What does this have to do with my memory? Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
Aunt Charlie slowly raised her head and met my eyes. “It doesn’t work like that Becca,” she said. “Even if we did try and tell you ...”
“You’d just wake up,” Pat said. She reached over to touch my hand. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to remember. I wouldn’t want to either if I were you.”
“You have to decide,” Aunt Charlie said, her voice sounding old and heavy. “You have to be ready. Once you are, you’ll remember.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “If that were true, I would have remembered by now.”
Aunt Charlie’s eyes bored into mine. “Is that true?”
I opened my mouth to protest, of course it’s true, but something inside me stopped me.
You can’t make me remember.
“What if I don’t ever remember?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse again as I struggled to push the words through lips that suddenly felt numb and dead. “What then?”
Aunt Charlie’s eyes never left mine. “The truth about what happened to Jessica stays buried. Mia. Daphne. Daniel. Rich. Barry. Jessica’s family. They continue to be trapped in a world with unanswered questions. They don’t get closure.”
I forced myself to swallow, feeling sick. “They don’t move on.”
Aunt Charlie shrugged. “Maybe one day they do. They made certain choices about their lives after that night. All of us did. Even you. And everyone, including you, will stay stuck in those choices, at least for the foreseeable future.”
My mouth was so dry, I felt like I had to force the words out. “Unless I remember.”
Aunt Charlie inclined her head. “Their choices are not your fault or your responsibility. But, for better or for worse, until something changes, they won’t be able to make different ones. But if you remember, it will be a catalyst for change.”
I dropped my gaze to the candles. Was it my imagination, or were the flames growing again?
Aunt Charlie cleared her throat. “And don’t forget about Brittany.”
My head shot up. “What about Brittany?”
Pat sighed. “There you go again. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”
Aunt Charlie whipped her head around to Pat. “She’s a child,” she hissed.
Pat raised her hands. “So, what? Everyone dies. Children die. It’s natural. It’s not the end of the world.”
I wanted to speak but my breath felt like it had caught in my throat and I could only sit there, frozen and gasping.
“You’ve been dead for like ten minutes! But now you’re an expert?” Aunt Charlie snapped.
“I’m just saying,” Pat said, sitting up straighter. “Life is wasted on the living.”
Aunt Charlie rolled her eyes. “Oh for God’s sake.”
I finally found my voice. “Are you saying Brittany’s going to die?”
I squeaked.
Aunt Charlie glared at Pat. “We’re not saying any such thing, because we don’t actually know.”
Pat leaned forward, as if to confide in me. “We can’t actually see the future, you know.”
“Then why did you bring up Brittany?”
“If you remember, you’ll save her,” Aunt Charlie said simply.
“So, the question becomes,” Pat jumped in. “How much do you want to save her? Are you willing to remember?”
“She might be saved if you don’t remember,” Aunt Charlie said. “It’s possible, at least.”
“But, probably not,” Pat said.
“True. It would definitely be better if you remembered,” Aunt Charlie said.
“Definitely better for Brittany,” Pat said. “And probably better for your friends, too. Might not be for you, though. Something to ponder.”
“Are you saying I’d be trading my wellbeing for theirs?” My throat was so constricted, I could barely speak. It was painful to talk.
Pat’s eyes bored into mine. “What makes you think you haven’t already? By NOT remembering?”
No! That’s not true. I want to remember! I wanted to talk, to defend myself, but I suddenly couldn’t breathe. My eyes were filling with tears as my hands flew up to tear at my throat, desperately trying to relieve the tightness around my windpipe.
I woke up thrashing around on my bed, barely able to breathe as I tried to suck in air. The sheet had wrapped itself around my throat like a noose. I got myself under control long enough to disentangle myself. I lay there, choking and gasping, until my breathing began to slow.
How the hell did I manage to wrap a sheet around my own neck?
I rubbed my sore neck as I stared out the window, watching the edges of the dark start to turn grey. Dawn was approaching.
A new day. And another day Brittany would stay missing.
Unless I remembered.
My mind protested immediately. How could remembering what happened fifteen years ago have anything to do with Brittany being gone now?
No one else thought that was true. Not even Daniel. I was being ridiculous. It was just a dream.
Secrets of Redemption Box Set Page 60