Destiny's Gate

by Lee Bice-Matheson

  “Well, now that you mention it, mom, I kind of remember. I kept it a secret because I realized through DVDs that not everyone can do it. Telekinesis isn’t an everyday occurrence. And I didn’t want to get in trouble for it.” I cast my gaze downwards.

  “I caught you one night and asked what you were doing. You looked so ashamed and as far as I know, you never did it again. I have to admit it scared me, as your mother, because I didn’t understand how you were moving the bowls by looking at them.”

  “Yup, I remember mom. I used to move things using my mind. I wasn’t sure if I was good or evil, myself. We all have it in us — good and evil. I also remember talking to an angel in my bedroom window until the age of ten. She was beautiful — surrounded in shimmering, white light. She guided me, instructing me on the rules of life. I don’t really recall what she said specifically, something about fighting for the good within us and not letting the dark side win.”

  “Pretty profound for someone so young at the time!” Dad interjected. He shot mom a sideways glance.

  “Go on, Paige,” mom retorted. “The same thing happened to me when I was young, remember? I mentioned it in the attic?”

  “Yes, I was thrilled to hear you say that. It was about then that I realized other kids couldn’t do what I could so I stopped for years until...this past year. It’s like something has awakened inside of me. Did the move do this? Is it moving here to the manor, mom?”

  “Perhaps, or it could be any number of factors. Your age, intelligence and maybe you are being called upon to do something for the Other Side. They are asking you to become aware of your gift. Who’s been guiding you?”

  Now that was a loaded question. I was hesitant to share too much. Pausing, I slowly responded, “Well, like I said in the attic, Grey Owl, and an older man with white braided hair, and a spiritwalker.”

  Dad smacked the table with his hand. “Oh, that’s all. You knew about all this, Lori?”

  Mom ignored the question. “Sounds like you have something important to do and I hope you are listening with your heart and your smarts. Not all spirits should speak to us. There are earthbounds that will try to trick you, Paige.”

  “Mom, stop!” I threw my left hand up. “I know about that already. Peggy and Carole have helped me as well. They are teaching me what to watch out for. And I trust them, don’t you?”

  “Of course, dear. That’s who advised me as well — Peggy, I mean.”

  Dad nudged mom to move, arose, waved his hand in the air, and said, “That’s enough for now.” He appeared to be uncomfortable and I knew he wanted to speak to mom alone about all of this. He poured some more tea for me and gingerly set Hanna’s Brown Betty down on a warmer, while he explained, “According to the British, the importance of the peculiar shape of the teapot causes the leaves to gently swirl around, creating the perfect flavour. Did you know that the teapot was made with a cobalt glaze? That’s what keeps the tea especially hot.” Dad sat next to mom on the bench.

  We sat in silence sipping away. It was nice, actually. Snow began to fall, tiny flakes, at first, then the ginormous kind that reminded me of paper cut-outs — the kind I once made in kindergarten. It was magical against the backdrop of an indigo sky until I saw Blue-Eyes watching us from the forest. It was the first time I had seen him since Halloween; everything had stopped that next day, no wolves, no visions, nada. My early warning system kicked in; why is he here now?

  It was mom who noticed Blue-Eyes first. She watched as he sat and returned her stare. Mom poked dad’s left arm and motioned for him to look out the window following her gaze. His eyes popped and Blue-Eyes ran away. I felt queasy, and could not help but wonder what he wanted; how would I find out without alerting my parents?

  Mom suggested we watch a movie together and relax until we heard further news about Dexter. It was a comfort to hear Hanna stir in the hall and poke her head in to ask if we would like salmon for dinner. Absent-mindedly we nodded, one by one, in agreement. The Maddison family had a lot to think about for one day!

  The phone rang shrilly and it gave us all a start. We looked at one another as if to see who would pop up and answer it. Thankfully, Hanna strode into the kitchen like her life depended on it, and picked the receiver up; after a series of uh-huhs, she hung up the phone and burst into tears as she announced Dexter was dead! Hanna stormed out of the room and all I could think about was my premonition. It had come true; I had seen Dexter dead. It only served to dishearten me. What was the point of knowing events in advance when there was nothing that could be done about it? Then, it hit me. That’s why Blue-Eyes tried to get my attention.

  I cried all the way to my bedroom and paused when I heard that same haunting song again by Neon Trees called Animal, in my head. The part where the singer declares he’s afraid he won’t get out alive played over and over. I covered my ears hoping to make it stop. The more I tried to ignore it, though, the louder the song became. This was a part of the gift that I had not bargained for, nor understood the significance of. I also wondered who was doing this to me.

  Flinging myself down onto the bed, I began to weep. It allowed me to release my emotions about Dexter’s death, and for the pain endured while living on the estate. It was cleansing. I sobbed until it parlayed into sleep.

  Late in the afternoon I heard my grandparents bang open the front door, sounds of crying, then silence and hushed whispers. My guesstimate — the funeral arrangements were being discussed. I heard a woman’s voice that was unfamiliar. Curiosity caught me and I tiptoed from the bedroom, down the hall and stood in the shadows peeking around the corner to the entrance of the manor. A woman with a blonde bob haircut and suntanned face stood in the foyer wearing an oversized, navy blue parka; it looked awkward on her petite frame. She thanked grandma for her help with the funeral costs. It dawned on me that this must be Dexter’s wife. How could I not have met her after living here for five months? She seemed fragile until she looked in my direction. I knew I was out of sight but sensed she knew where and who I was. Grandma invited her in for tea but she said she needed to pick up a few things in town. Then she hugged grandma goodbye and over her shoulder, waved to me. I was alarmed and jumped back further into the shadows. Clearly, I was not as hidden as I thought.

  As soon as the door closed, I approached grandma and said, “I’m so sorry. I was too late to save Dexter.”

  “Paige, I cannot help but wonder how in Heaven’s name you knew to go and check on him. I’m grateful you did. It is not your fault that Dexter did not make it. But how in the world did you know to go help him in the first place?” Grandma placed her hand gently on mine awaiting an answer.

  Thinking fast on my feet, I responded, “Must be women’s intuition. I hadn’t seen Dexter for awhile and decided to check in on him.”

  Grandma left the foyer without waiting for any further explanation.

  Reflecting on our conversation, I watched, horrified, as the brass doorknob turned to the left and the door creaked open. I froze and my heart skipped a beat until I saw Dexter’s wife poke her head back inside and whispered, “Paige, I must speak with you at once. Meet me at the guest house. You are in danger, all of you.” She slammed the door shut.

  On auto-pilot, I ran to the kitchen, grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and raced through the kitchen door. I did not stop to answer Hanna as she asked me where I was headed.

  Trudging through the snow banks to the guest house was treacherous. The stone bridge was icy. I managed to hold onto the concrete railing to avoid slipping. Yet, there was the blonde woman standing outside Dexter’s temporary residence, in the snowfall, with a black lab seated beside her. Not sure if the dog was friendly, I called out to the woman asking her what she wanted. She said not to mind the dog, she was friendly, and asked me to come inside and she would explain. I was a bit hesitant returning to the scene where Dexter’s bloodied body had lain, but gathered my courage and boldly stepped
inside.

  “Paige, I’m Dexter’s wife. I mean was...Delia is my name. Before Dexter died, he told me about some of the events of the past month or so and said he was influenced by a dark power that he could not control. He also confessed that he attempted to harm you and your family as forced to by this entity. Whatever or whomever that dark soul is...it has probably found its way into another unsuspecting human body. You must not trust anyone on the estate right now. Even coming to see me could have put your life in danger. I had to warn you before the funeral. Make sure that Peggy and Carole attend tomorrow so they can help protect you. I spoke to Peggy and asked her to come. Say your protection prayers, Paige. And keep saying them until you fall asleep. Include your family in the prayers as well. None of us are safe now.” Delia paused and put her hand on my right shoulder.

  I was grateful that Delia was such a kind soul who should have been worrying more about herself and her situation than about me or my family. Impulsively, I scanned the dog’s eyes and noticed flecks of red and stepped back.

  “Don’t worry, Paige, Trixie won’t bite. She has always had reddish looking eyes. That does not mean she has the devil inside. Bye for now.” And the two disappeared into the forest.

  A cold breeze blew over me. Shivering, I turned on my heels in the direction of the manor. Disbelieving my own eyes, there, before me, stood Dexter on the stone bridge. How could this possibly be? I mean, he just died, did he not? Rubbing my eyes, heart pounding and beads of sweat dripping from my forehead, I knew something supernatural was happening.

  Dexter smiled at me and said, “I am thrilled you finally met the love of my life. Delia was so good to me. She will be a good friend to you, Paige. I am eternally sorry for trying to harm you and your grandparents. I wasn’t in my right mind. You have to understand. I was the protector of the estate and somewhere along the line, grew resentful being the servant of sorts and of all the material things your family has. I was filled with jealousy and rage. I should have known something negative was influencing me. My thoughts turned dark — that’s not me. I only wish I had seen this coming.”

  “How did you die, Dexter?” I asked, hands shaking.

  “Something evil is coming to the manor and it’s bigger than even I can comprehend.” Sadly, Dexter started to fade away. His last words were, “Keep in touch with Peggy and Grey Owl. They will know what to do.”

  I fell to my knees and shuddered from the fear of Dexter’s warning. Hearing a noise in the bushes, I glanced up directly into Blue-Eyes’ face. It was all too much for me and I passed out.

  I awoke to nudging on my backside. Goosebumps raged from head to toe and I dreaded to see what stood behind me. Then I heard a low growl and instinctively huddled in a fetal position, covering my head. I did not want to turn around but the suspense was more than I could bear; I stole a look behind me. There sat Dexter’s dog, Trixie. She rested her head on my stomach and I began to pet her. This was not what I had expected in my chaotic life right now; it seemed I had two new friends. Thrilled as I was, I knew I had to hurry back to my parents. Trixie accompanied me all the way home. She seemed kind, although it struck me as odd that I would consider a dog, kind. It was almost as if she had human qualities but that was silly. A dog is just a dog, right?

  As I opened the kitchen door to the manor, I looked down expecting to smile at Trixie but was disappointed; she had vanished. I did not see her tracks in the snow either, and wondered, was she really here with me at all? Mom helped me in through the door and asked what I was doing outside when I was supposed to be asleep in my bedroom. I shivered and ignored the question. She helped me take off my jacket and led me into the living room where we sat on the elongated couch together, my head on mom’s shoulder and her arm intertwined with mine. Dad walked into the room and grabbed a throw blanket, carefully wrapped it around us and slipped out of the room again. I would cherish this moment for days to come. It was so nice that we did not have to exchange words to know exactly how we were feeling, thankful to have each other to love and lean on.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Funeral

  That night as I lay in bed, it seemed like my heart jumped into my throat. I wanted to cry so desperately but lacked the energy. I felt partly relieved Dexter was gone and felt guilty for that, especially when I thought of Delia and Trixie. I had to remind myself that Dexter was under another’s dark and powerful influence. He was, in fact, a true family friend and hero. After all, we had survived the attack over Halloween.

  My mind wandered to what was coming and my breathing grew shallow. The familiar tightness in my chest returned and I dreaded the evil soon to be revealed. The word stop exploded in my mind which caught me off guard. Thankfully, I remembered meditation techniques from my old gym teacher in Scarborough. I took slow, deep breaths, counting one to four on the way in, hold one to four, and exhaled one to four, out through my mouth. I visualized a white, sandy beach with turquoise water and four pelicans coasting, one behind the other, slightly above the waterline. Slowly my body began to relax. At the time of learning this technique, I had labelled our teacher super lame. Oh, how I would like to thank him now!

  I fell into a troubled sleep with visions of Dexter lying in a pool of blood and Trixie barking nonstop next to him. I woke up to the feeling of sandpaper scratching my hand as it dangled over the edge of the bed. Beads of perspiration dripped onto my sheets. As I rolled over and peeked under the bed, I spied Trixie’s brown and red flecked eyes reflected in the darkness, and zoned out again. When I stirred the next morning, it startled me to think Trixie was in my room. Jumping out of bed to look underneath it, I spotted a pool of water. Trixie had been here after all and that made me feel comforted and so happy.

  Footsteps entered the room and I heard, “Paige, what are you doing under your bed? We have to get dressed for the funeral and you need to eat something first. We don’t want you passing out on us from lack of food, do we?” asked Hanna warmly. “Everyone is sitting at the dining room table. I will get your breakfast while you dress, okay?” Hanna waited patiently for my answer.

  Looking up, I nodded in agreement. Hanna whistled an upbeat tune as she headed back towards the kitchen. I could hear her footsteps echo in the corridor and remembered how lucky I was that she had my back. Mere months ago, I did not even know Hanna. She had become part of my inner circle despite the bumps in our relationship along the way.

  I threw on my comfy pink flannel robe, bolted to the dining room and came to an abrupt halt. Delia was seated at the head of the table with Trixie obediently at her side. Thrilled my family took Delia and Trixie in, I wondered again why we had not met sooner. It did not make sense, somehow.

  “Paige, so glad you’re up. We all need to eat something before this day begins. We’re pleased Delia and Trixie are here with us.” Grandpa looked down and smiled at the black lab who was obviously pleased as she wagged her tail enthusiastically. “Now we all need to support one another today. It’s not going to be easy. We miss Dexter terribly, Delia, but we cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, his wife. You are more than welcome to stay with us for a few days. I know your family lives in England and cannot attend. Please know we are all here for you.”

  Delia began to cry.

  “Here you go, Delia,” said Hanna, handing her a box of Kleenex. “You are not alone.”

  Grabbing a tissue, Delia began, “I am so grateful for all of you...I have something I must say. After the funeral, I am going back home for awhile. I’ve already bought a one-way ticket. I haven’t seen my parents in ten years and they insisted I return home.” Delia wept dabbing her tears away, and then continued, “I have to ask a favour of you, which isn’t easy for me...I cannot take Trixie with me and was wondering...” She broke down again. “It won’t be...easy to leave her...behind.” Delia pet Trixie as she spoke.

  Grandma surprised me as she jumped in and said, “Of course, dear. We will be happy to look after Trixi
e. Paige will love the company too. You’ll help out, won’t you dear?”

  All eyes were upon me. I nodded in agreement, unsure if Trixie could be trusted. Everyone went back to eating the porridge Hanna had insisted on making; it was delicious, made with chopped dates, walnuts and apples. Pretty easy on the stomach, she pronounced, on such a stressful day.

  Trixie crawled under the table to sit beside me and I began to scratch her behind the ears. She loved it and kept pushing her head into my hand. I felt a huge sense of relief in the midst of everything because it suddenly hit me; Dexter had left his dog behind as my new protector. I was certain Trixie had some sort of perceptive abilities but to what extent, I did not know. I mean, come on, this was Dexter’s dog!

  While dressing for the funeral, I realized this was the first one I would be attending. I did not know what to expect. The car ride was short to the Protestant Church and part of me switched to autopilot. We entered the vestibule, and I shivered, as I methodically took my jacket off and hung it on the coat rack. I hesitated before entering the threshold to the parlour room where Dexter’s remains were on display in an open casket. As I walked towards him to have one last look and say my goodbyes, I lowered my head. I did not want to see him, lifeless. It seemed like a barbaric tradition to me. When I looked up, I gasped aloud as there was Dexter standing to the right of his casket, smiling. It dawned on me...he was helping me again through one of the toughest experiences in my life so far. Mom looked at me and then to the direction I was staring and back again. She smiled. It was comforting for me to understand that once someone dies, their body remains behind — ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but the spirit or soul lives on. It seemed suddenly strange — mourning the dead when their spirit has been freed. Obviously, this could not be the normal perception of death as I noticed many mourners in the room who were crying as if they would never see him again. What a gift I had received.