Into the Gloaming

by Mercy Celeste

  Both Jemma and Heath stared at him, their mouths agape.

  “Okay… just me, then. I’m sure you ladies knew each other at Emory, anyway. So… that’s patently ridiculous.”

  Jemma uncrossed her legs, putting the lethal foot on the floor and leaned forward. She reached for his hands, Grasping his injured hand gently. “It’s not just you. You and Heath… know more about me than anyone outside my birth family, or the very few lovers I’ve taken. Because I felt comfortable enough with you to… reveal my real self. That doesn’t happen, Oz. Not ever. I can pass as female. Most of the time. Until someone looks too closely at my hands or feet or throat. I mean very close. But I told you. Both of you.”

  “But not Donna or Britney,” Heath pointed out. Because so far, the other two women were still on the outside. But even then, Austin felt a pull of familiarity from both women.

  Jemma shook her head just as the back door slammed open and the two wayward women stumbled into the house, laughing hysterically. Sounding drunk. While on the clock.

  “We got dinner,” Donna shouted. “The pub was packed, so we went on a KFC run. Got everything on the menu. Plus, extra. Feels like we’re going to have a long night.”

  Jemma reached for the newspaper clipping and tucked it back into the scrapbook she’d found it in, and Austin picked up the pages of the journal and tucked it away in a lined box to get back to later.

  Everything of any value or delicate nature safely stored away from the threat of chicken grease and spilled gravy… Austin caught Jemma’s eye. And he knew that the conversation they’d abandoned wasn’t forgotten. He’d end up spilling his guts about his courtship with a dead man… whether or not he wanted to.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Heath went to the office for plates and plastic utensils. The Christmas music that had been playing in the main part of the house finally went off. Probably because the tea room was closed for the day.

  Five o’clock already?

  Felt earlier. Even if it was dark outside. Or maybe it was because he and Austin had gotten a late start on the day. He wondered if he should call it a night and dismiss the staff.

  Which wasn’t his job. So far Austin hadn’t complained about his stepping on his toes in the management department. Partly because Austin had been recovering from the accident… but… Austin might have been afraid of upsetting Heath. Maybe he considered him the one in charge now because he owned the place.

  “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m in here?” He shouted into the blessed silence. The scent of spiced grease wafting back to him from the workroom.

  “Grab the sweet tea.” One of the girls shouted back. “And cups. We got a gallon of lemonade. And a cake. Love their little cakes.”

  Heath grabbed the milk jug filled with the dark brown liquid they all drank like it was wine during the day and carried everything out to the workroom.

  “Oh great, did you get spoons? We have forks. They never have sporks anymore. I asked too. I always ask, hoping for a spork. I miss sporks,” Britney said, pulling the lid off a bowl filled with a thick brown viscous looking goop. “Oh god, that smells so good. Can’t you just drink the whole bowl? I mean, I won’t. But mmmm.”

  “That stuff is loaded with MSG.” Jemma pointed out as she opened a large bowl full of something weirdly white. “But it makes this stuff pass for potatoes.”

  “Well, there’s mac and cheese if you don’t like fake mashed potatoes and MSG Miss Hoity-Toity,” Donna quipped tossing the lid from a bowl of something yellow and mushy at the woman.

  “Don’t make me snatch that wig off because I will.” Jemma raised that evil eyebrow at Donna, one hand on her hip as the lid sailed past her. There was no anger in her eyes. And Heath hoped like hell this wouldn’t become something… he didn’t know if he could handle either woman if they went after each other.

  “Bitch, I will yank that ponytail and drag your ass across the floor with it.” Donna dipped her finger in a bowl of brown goop. “This one is mine. I called dibs.”

  “What kind of flowers do you want when we visit you in the cardiac unit at the ER?” Jemma took a plate and dipped a little of the white mush onto her plate and searched in the bag for another bowl of the brown goop, she pressed a divot into the white goop and poured some brown goop into it. “Pass the coleslaw, please.”

  “I miss Chic-Fillet’s coleslaw.” Donna sighed and handed over another container, this one filled with something that looked like minced confetti in mayonnaise soup. “They had the best slaw. This stuff is almost as good, but not quite there.”

  “Ooh, you’re not supposed to eat at… uh… the Chicken-Sandwich-Place-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named,” Britney said in a teasing voice as she ladled the yellow goop onto her plate.

  “Why ever not?” Donna said, aghast.

  “Their founders don’t like gay people, and actively donates money to anti-gay groups,” Jemma said, her voice carrying an ‘I don’t believe you don’t know that’ tone. “Girl, your ass is gay, and you support that?”

  “I am bisexual, but I didn’t know. I never had them until I came to Atlanta, and nobody told me. I am so sorry. I won’t… anyone know how to copycat their chicken, that shit is good.”

  “Full of MSG and pickle juice,” Britney said, opening a bin with the smiling creepy dude on the side. “Original or extra crispy? We have both and popcorn chicken too. Just in case someone doesn’t eat it on the bone. Heath, which do you prefer?”

  Before he could answer Jemma looked at him, horror on her face. “You’ve never had KFC before, have you?” She said it like there was something wrong with him.

  He shook his head. “I was… I’m not sure any of that is food.” He tried not to let his distaste in the spread on the table show on his face.

  “Oh, it’s mostly not, but it’s SOOO good, anyway. You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten instant potatoes and overly spiced brown sludge with questionable origins that passes for gravy. Because it’s… to die for,” Britney said, pausing for effect there at the end before dissolving into giggles. “Oh honey, it won’t kill you. The chicken is decent. Just try it. If you don’t like it, we’ll get you something from the pub when the crowd thins out.”

  With a sigh, Heath pulled out a chair beside Austin, who’d stayed out of the whole mess. He’d ducked his head, his shoulders shaking as if he was getting a kick out of Heath’s embarrassment. “It’s not funny,” Heath whispered to him as someone passed him a bucket of chicken with the cryptic original comment. He chose a grease-laden piece that looked like a square.

  “But it is… very funny. Damned funny. That’s a thigh. You know what the parts of a chicken are right?” Austin took the bucket from him and took one of the same and a leg.

  “Of course, I know what legs and thighs are. I have had fried chicken before. It just didn’t look like this.” Heath accepted the other bucket, which wasn’t as greasy. “More like this. Crunchy.” He selected a breast.

  “Pass the potatoes?” Austin reached his good hand across Heath’s plate and scooped a portion of the white mush onto Heath’s plate before putting more on his own. “Just try it. You don’t have to like it. Make a bowl in your potatoes for the gravy.”

  So, Heath did, and Austin poured a bit of the gravy into the bowled-out area. The green and orange confetti stuff came next. Followed by a bit of the yellow overcooked noodles that couldn’t be in anything that came from a cow. Then a biscuit landed on his plate.

  “There’s some French fries or potato wedges if you’d like.” Britney held out a container of fried potatoes, and Heath shook his head. “More for me. Because I don’t like the mashed stuff. It’s gross.” She popped a piece of chicken nugget into her mouth.

  “That is un-southern.” Donna pointed to her lover with her spoon. “Girl, you should have told me before we hooked up.”

  “What? Because I don’t like fake gravy, suddenly I’m not good enough? And you don’t get more southern than being from South Dakota.”
<
br />   Donna, her mouth open, just kept on pointing.

  “Oh, she’s speechless. I’d wondered if that was possible,” Heath said, snickering. He liked Donna. She was brash. And she loved Britney. Of that, he was sure.

  “Asshole,” she said, pointing the spoon his way. “Yankee asshole.”

  “Hey,” Heath said, injured. “I resemble that accusation.”

  “At least you own it. Unlike someone, I could name.” Donna cut her eyes at Jemma, who looked shocked, really shocked.

  “I’m from New Orleans, so what the hell are you insinuating? That I’m lying about where I come from. And where my family comes from?” Jemma forgot they were teasing each other. If only she’d just played along just a little longer.

  “I’m just saying you don’t have an accent. And I checked the school directory while we were on campus. There’s no Jemma Hervau listed in the student registry. There’s a Gerard Hervau who is from New Orleans. But no Jemma.”

  And what had been a friendly little dinner between friends suddenly turned dark. The buzzing in Heath’s ears growing stronger as the energy shifted… becoming louder and… dangerous.

  “It’s not your business, Donna.” It wasn’t Jemma who answered. Jemma sat in her seat, her face pale, her eyes downcast. She clenched her hands into fists. Austin, however, looked angry enough for the both of them. “Jemma is who she says she is. I have her paperwork. It’s all in order. Maybe her name is omitted from the student registry for privacy reasons. I had mine purged when I was a senior in Savannah because an old boyfriend made threats. I didn’t want him finding me on campus.”

  Heath knew Austin lied. He’d never sent the files of the applicants to him after the interns were chosen. And now he knew why there were three women instead of two men and two women as he’d originally intended when he chose the first team.

  “Oh,” Donna said, shame in her voice. “I’m sorry. I, uh… should have thought about that.”

  “I told you not to start something,” Britney whispered to her girlfriend. “I told you there was a reason.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Donna replied in a hushed whisper.

  “No,” Jemma said finally. “You’re not sorry. You have an issue with me. You’ve had an issue with me since we got here. You went into the student directory to look me up because you’re threatened by me. I don’t understand why. We’re in different departments. But you looked me up because you wanted something to bolster whatever imagined slight you feel I made against you. And that is not okay. I didn’t do anything to you, Donna. But you’ve been on my case since we got here.”

  “I haven’t.” Donna denied the accusation. But Heath could tell she was gearing up for a confrontation.

  “You have,” Austin pointed out. And Britney nodded in agreement. “I thought it was a friendly competition at first. Someone said there would be a permanent position here in the summer. I think. I’m still unsure what was real and what was drug-induced after Christmas Eve. But, the animosity between the two of you has been strong. I’d hoped you’d work it out. I’m not your employer. I’m the site manager for the time being. And honestly… there was never a summer position. I do not understand where that came from.”

  “The summer positions will be filled with interns.” Heath decided it was time to set the record straight. “The plan was to have a limited paid staff, that we bolstered by volunteers and interns. There was never a paid position other than the one Austin holds.”

  Austin shot him an almost hostile look. “Thanks for finally clarifying that. Even I was confused about how we were planning to operate after the grand opening.”

  “Sorry. Yeah. I’m… the budget is too tight. The house cost too much to restore. And as you have all stated, the museum aspect might be a financial black hole. The tea room has been profitable in the two weeks it has been open, but as soon as we open the main house, those profits will dwindle, sucked away by upkeep on the house. The place is a money pit.”

  “Then why did you decide to open it to the public?” Austin questioned. He had a right to. He was the one person here who could end up on the streets if this all went bad.

  Heath didn’t have an answer. “Vanity, I guess. Something…” he shook his head to clear the buzz of voices that clustered just behind him. Voices that seemed to grow louder as the energy in the room grew… darker. “Does anyone hear that? Like… wasps… buzzing… in the walls behind me. I’ve heard it before, just not this loud.”

  Jemma was the first to leave the table. She went to the windows behind the girls and peered out into the darkness. Her reflection… wasn’t of a young woman too tall with delicate features and haunted eyes. The person peering back at Heath from the dark was smaller, with hair the color of the sunset in the summer, and a heart-shaped face. The torment in her eyes as she stared at him, accusing.

  “The baby is crying. Do you hear it? Husband… the baby… take care of my baby…” She faded away before Heath’s eyes.

  “Heath?” Someone cupped his face with cold fingers. “Heath? Can you hear me?” The voice was male. Not female. Not… Irish. He’d been Irish once. This voice… was… gone. “Someone get the smelling salts in my office.”

  He heard people speaking, but he couldn’t clear his head of the buzzing of voices that made no sense. Too many voices. All speaking at once. In terror.

  “The baby. Where’s the baby?” He heard someone say.

  “There’s no baby, Heath. Come on, love, wake up. You’re fine now. That’s good.”

  Heath jerked back to awareness. His eyes watering. He pushed at the hand that lingered near his face. “That shit is vile. Get it away from me.”

  The foul smell faded away, and soft, nervous laughter drifted in to drag him to full consciousness. Four concerned faces hovered over him. One closer than the rest. Red hair and sweet freckle-face… faded as he focused on the dark-haired beauty he’d fallen in love with. He reached up trembling fingers to caress the face he loved. “Your freckles are gone.”

  “Freckles?” Austin’s peaches and cream complexion faded to just cream. “What did you see just now?”

  Heath looked around, the lights on the ceiling blinding him as the faces moved away. “Why am I lying on the floor? We were eating, I… I told you that chicken looked deadly.”

  Austin laughed. “Okay. Good. That sounds a little more like you. Well, the uptight New Yorker version of you. But… you fainted. Heath. One minute you were fine, the next you crumpled over and I caught you. But you’re kind of heavy and dragged us both to the floor. I’m pretty sure you didn’t hit your head.”

  “I fainted?” Heath struggled into a sitting position. His head spinning enough to confirm Austin’s words. “I don’t faint.”

  “Join the club.” The tall woman with the haunted eyes squatted beside him. Her delicate face, not heart-shaped at all. Her hair, dark. It should be… he shook away the nightmare. “Hey, there.” She cupped his face, her voice deeper than it should be. “Tell me what you saw in the window. No matter how insane it sounds.”

  Insane? That’s exactly the problem. These people were insane. He clutched one of her hands, cupping it to his face. “I’m so sorry, Amelia, I couldn’t care for your daughter. I am so sorry.”

  And the buzzing stopped. As if the power to the electronic device powering it suddenly died. The blessed silence in his head a relief so strong he almost collapsed in the arms that held him.

  “It stopped. The wasps. They’re silent now,” he said… but no one spoke. Jemma, with her large haunted eyes, staring at him, silent tears sliding unchecked down her face.

  “Amelia?” A deeper voice said from somewhere outside of his circle of vision. “Who’s Amelia?”

  “Heath’s wife,” Austin answered the new voice.

  “I thought he was married to that movie star… Clark something or other. Oh god, y’all have KFC. I’d sell my left nut for a meal I didn’t cook.” Rory stood over them, raking a hand through hair that looked like it hadn’t be
en washed in days.

  “Yeah, well, at least I’m not being banged in my sleep by a ghost. Seriously, dude, you need a shower.” Heath struggled to his feet. “And to hire more help over there.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Rory, oblivious to whatever had just happened to put Heath on the floor, and fear in the eyes of everyone else, helped himself to a piece of chicken out of a bucket. “It feels like a funeral in here. Did someone die? What have I missed? Why aren’t y’all eating?”

  And, as if nothing had happened without a word, everyone returned to their seats. Austin settled in beside him at the table. He drank heavily from the red plastic cup, filled with the dark sweet tea they all preferred.

  Small talk erupted from Donna and Britney. Rory stuffed his face as if he hadn’t eaten in months. And Jemma played with her food. She wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

  “Gerard is my dead name. The state of Georgia is reluctant to allow me to have it changed legally,” she hissed, and before anyone could say a word, she rushed from the room.

  The courtyard door slammed a moment later.

  No one spoke. What was there to say?

  Donna dipped her head and ate her dinner. Britney looked on the verge of tears.

  Austin stared after her, and Heath knew he was deciding if he should follow.

  Rory was the one to get up. “Don’t everyone do a damn thing about it at once,” he growled and took a piece of chicken and a cup of sweet tea with him as he followed her out.

  “She could have told us,” Britney said after the door slammed again. “She could have trusted us.”

  “Why would she, the way I’ve treated her? Why would she trust either of us with that secret?” At least Donna knew she’d caused pain. “But y’all knew, didn’t you?”

  Austin nodded. “Since New Year’s Eve. Not before.”

  “Same,” Heath said, picking at the piece of congealing chicken. His stomach threatening to empty at the smell of the stuff. “I can’t eat this.”