by Kelly Martin
Lizzie put on her apron and patted some flour on her hands. "Do you think Daddy will say yes if Daniel asks him?"
"Just because they differ politically, doesn't mean your father doesn't like the boy. He'll give his blessing."
The thought that had haunted her thoughts since learning both men's allegiances crept back in. "Mother, what if they end up on the same battlefield? What if they have to fight each other? What then?"
Lizzie's mother faced her daughter and placed her flour-covered hands on either side of Lizzie's rosy cheeks. "We cannot dwell on that now. What happens in the war is for the men to worry about. Our job is to keep them focused and not worried about us at home. I daresay, however, that your father would never fire on Daniel, and the same for the boy. This God forsaken war will be over soon and we will have our men back. Until then, we have to go on like always. Do the best we can, and pray everything will be alright. Putting all of this in God's hands is all we can do."
Lizzie knew her mother was right, but it didn't mean she worried any less. What would she do if the love of her life died in war? She was certain she couldn't go on without him.
****
The brightness made her jump and she nearly rolled out of the bed, which would have been bad since she couldn't exactly walk yet. Fighting to see what it was, she held her hand over her eyes and squinted toward the glass window. The sun! It was the sun!
If what Shane had told her was accurate, she hadn't seen the sun in one hundred and fifty years. Last night, she thought the fire had been bright, but nothing compared to this. The brightness invading the room hurt her eyes and it took a while for them to adjust. Had the sun always been that bright?
The last sunrise she'd seen hadn't impressed her. In fact, she never even really noticed it. For years in the dark box, she tried to remember what it had looked like, but she never could recall. It hadn't been important at the time. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she couldn't get enough. Funny how a century in the dark changed one's perspective.
After the initial shock of seeing the sun again, she scanned the room for Shane. The black swiveling chair he sat in last night was empty. For the first time, she got a good look at his room. Times had certainly changed.
From the angle of the window and her view of the rooftop on the house next door, she assumed she was on the second floor. A house with a second floor… only the rich had that. His bed, and it pained her to think she was lying in his bed, had a wooden footboard and headboard. The sheets, sheets she was now lying under, were black and actually very comfortable. Not a quilt, which confused her. She couldn't place the material, but she knew she liked it. It felt good against her skin.
At the foot of the bed sat a small dresser with a large gray box sitting on top. She had no idea what it could possibly be used for. To the left of the dresser was a door. She had no idea where it led.
Another door, the one his sister Cheyenne entered last night, was to the right of the dresser. The ceiling did a strange little descent thing into a nook or something. A long rectangular table sat under the window and another strange box, this one black, sat on top of it. Swirling shapes of all colors rolled around the front of the thing like a moving picture. She had no idea the box's function, but found herself curious. She'd have to ask Shane when he came back.
If he came back.
Mr. Davis… not Shane. She couldn't think of him as 'Shane'. It wasn't proper. Well, maybe she could think of him as Shane, but call him Mr. Davis in conversation. Perhaps that would be agreeable.
Shane was another mystery to her. She was grateful he'd saved her. Very grateful in fact. She'd still be in the casket if not for him… actually, she'd be burned in a fire if not for him. She was appreciative, but still very curious about him. It didn't get by her that he was a Davis. One of the last people she saw in her living days was a Davis. Frederick Davis. Symmetry, she supposed.
If only her legs would work. Things would be better when she got the stiff, non-working appendages to cooperate again. When she could walk again or at least learn how to take care of herself, she could leave and could start her life… a lonely life. Wasn't that ironic? A lonely life was what she feared when she slid the knife across her wrists.
Moving her hand over her eyes to block out the sun a few moments before was the first big step to independence. If her arm had started working, her legs would follow. She couldn't wait to show Shane her progress. Where ever he was.
****
Shane tapped his spoon nervously on his cereal, waiting for his mother to get home. Any other time, she'd be the one yelling at him to get his lazy butt out of bed. This would be the day she worked over, or he guessed she was working over. She never called, but that wasn't unusual.
He leaned his head on the table and played with the milk, pouring it over and over in the bowl with his spoon. It would have nice to sleep last night, but he found he couldn't sleep with the dead girl in his bed with her eyes closed. It was creepy. He kept thinking she wouldn't wake up and then he'd have to explain how a deceased teen was lying in his bed to his mom. Yeah, he was a good BS-er, but he wasn't sure even he could talk his way out of that. He'd been lucky last night that Cheyenne hadn't believed him. Very lucky.
Cheyenne… she could be a problem. If only she had somewhere to be, some camp like she used to go to. He didn't think her eighteen year old self would go to camp though… maybe she'd go to some music concert… or disappear on a bender — such a strange thing to wish for your sister.
The plan was to keep Lizzie hidden in his room until she could walk again, but who knew how long that could take. His mom wasn't a frequent visitor to his room, but she did bring the occasional clean pair of underwear up. Meeting Lizzie in there might not be the best thing in the world for either of them.
Ugh…
He slammed his head down on the table and his curly hair spilled over his face. And what about Lizzie? How long could he keep her cooped up in his room? Was there a limit on whatever magic was keeping her conscious? When he went back up there, would she be good and dead on his bed? Because that wouldn't be suspicious…
Gah! Why had he burned down that stupid church?
"Shane!" The kitchen door slammed against the outside of the house and footsteps clomped inside. "Shane, get your butt down here!"
Oh joy. Mother was in a great mood. "I'm right here. Stop yelling." Good glory!
She looked surprised to see him downstairs and dressed, not that he blamed her. He was never up this time of morning. She didn't have to know he'd never been to sleep.
Stacy Davis was a short, little woman, about the same height as Cheyenne with straight brown hair. Shane got his curls from dear old Dad.
Many a man had been thrown off by Stacy's small stature, but Shane knew better. His mom could pack a punch if she needed one. Being technically a single mom to teenaged twins, she needed one a lot. Stacy tossed her worn brown bag on the old green kitchen chair and stood with her hand on her hip. She looked royally ticked, and Shane didn't know why. That wasn't technically true. He knew she probably had a pretty good reason, but he'd done so many bad or unsavory things in the past few days, he wasn't sure which one she was ticked about at the moment.
"What did you do, young man?" That didn't narrow it down. It wasn't like he was going to confess when he wasn't sure what she was upset about. He might inadvertently get her mad about something else. To keep her from undue stress, he decided to plead the fifth.
"Can you be more specific?"
"Did you do it?"
Again with the vagueness. "What?"
Stacy sighed, pulled out the old yard sale chair from against the dinner table and plopped into it. She'd worked overtime at the factory and looked exhausted. Shane felt bad for her… he did, but she'd made her bed, as they say, by marrying his no-good father and reproducing with him. Now, she had to lie in it as the saying went. "The church fire, Shane," she said, exhausted. "Did you set it?"
Holy cow! How did she know? It wasn't li
ke he'd advertised his intention on the internet to burn the thing down. The only person who knew was Preston and he'd better keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him. Cheyenne might know, but she probably wouldn't tell unless she wanted something. Time to play dumb. He was good at that. "What church?"
"Don't pretend you don't know."
"I don't." He put on his best hurt tone. If it went like usual, he'd start to convince himself that she was off her rocker and totally wrong.
His mom leaned back against the back of the chair. "Dixon Church. The white one where your father and I got married."
"It burned?" Shane shrugged. "Oh well. Can't say I'm sorry to see that piece of crap go."
"Shane! That's a terrible thing to say! I loved that church."
"You loved my father at one time too, but that didn't work out either." Wow, where did that come from? He sure hadn't been thinking about his father. It just came out. Maybe he was more upset about his father leaving than he realized.
"You didn't answer my question."
"You asked a question?" Smart aleck was always a favorite for him. Lots of times it made her so mad she dropped it. Then again, he didn't want her mad at him, or did he?
"Just tell me the truth. Did you burn the church down or not?" By the way her tired eyes dropped and her shoulders slumped, he could tell she honestly didn't want to know. Knowing would be a burden she would have to live with, and she just didn't look like she could handle it.
"No. I didn't." Shane looked her dead in the eye and never flinched. It wasn't the first time he'd ever lied to his mother. It definitely wouldn't be the last. Got his con chops from his old man, only he swore he wouldn't end up like him.
"Promise?"
Shane smirked. "I swear on a stack of Bibles." Which wouldn't be any big deal for him. He believed in the Bible like he believed in the latest Wendy Knight novel — a good read but not true. Who cared if he swore on a Bible? An imaginary God wasn't going to strike him down over it. It was like being scared of a ghost. Or the dead girl in his bed — okay, so she could be a little scary, especially when she didn't move.
"You don't believe in the Bible," his mom said exhausted.
Dang it. Of all the times for her to remember. "It's a saying, Mom. Just a saying. I didn't do it. Why would I?" Always good to turn the tables on the people cross-examining you. Fun times.
"Who knows?" Stacy shook her head. "I'm not sure why you do half the things you do."
"Great to know, Mom." Shane rolled his eyes, only half-pretending to be hurt. Maybe if the woman started expecting something from him besides failure and disappointment he'd stop getting in trouble — okay, so she was usually right and he normally had done something to be disappointed about. It wasn't like he was the best guy in the world, but a little believing in him would be nice. She was his mother after all. Weren't all mothers supposed to believe their kids no matter what? Stacy hadn't gotten that memo.
Shane threw his half-eaten bowl of cereal in the sink and stalked back toward the living room through a doorway facing with no door. The house didn't have an open floor plan in the least, and hadn't been updated probably since Lizzie was in diapers.
The kitchen was green, an old timey seventies green that resembled pea soup. The appliances were white and sort of grimy. His mom never had time to clean thoroughly and Cheyenne never took the initiative. The wall next to the living room held the fridge that was hardly ever stocked — much to Shane's annoyance. The woman worked, would it kill her to bring food home to her family?
From the kitchen, he went through the passageway into the living room. It had the same dated look. An exposed red, rectangular brick fireplace took up one whole side of the room. It was dog ugly and useless as sin. The other walls were some wall paper with flowers and just basic nastiness that no one bothered to try to take down or cover up. His father had never lived in the house, and Shane had never been one for home improvement. It was functional for the most part, so who cared what it looked like?
The couch was alright. Comfortable at least. And a small twenty-seven inch television sat on the bottom half of a hutch. His room wasn't nearly as drab and unmodern as the downstairs. He had a computer, but just because the caseworker told his mom he needed it for school and got them a grant. Shane missed the caseworker. She was nice and actually made his mom take pretty good care of them. His mom had a bit of a breakdown after his father went away. It took a while for her to get on her feet. Some would argue that she never had.
When Shane got his foot on the bottom wooden step toward the second story, his mother yelled at him from the kitchen. Through the entryway, he could see that she hadn't moved from the table. She was still slumped over with her head in her hand, rubbing her forehead with her palm. Such a miserable life.
"I need to go away for a few days."
Of all the luck.
"Seriously?" He tried not to sound so eager, but it would be so much easier to take care of Lizzie without his mom there. Lizzie could even roam the house during the day when she learned to walk and not be cooped up in his room. Cheyenne rarely stayed at home during the day anyway, and at night… well, he'd think of something.
"Yeah. It's a thing for work. Like a business trip, I guess."
That didn't sound right. "You work for a factory on the line. Why would they want you, of all people, to go on a business trip? You aren't the type."
Shane hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, but it was written all over her face that he had. He rarely felt bad for the things he said to his mom. Normally, she deserved them, but she looked pretty pitiful, sitting there liked a whipped puppy. "I don't know. The boss said I was meeting production and did the best job on the line."
"Your male boss?"
"Yeah, but…"
Of course it was. "Mom, the only thing the guy wants you for at the 'business trip' is to be all up in yours."
That's when she got defensive. "No, it's not, Shane! He's a married man, and so am I."
Shane tried to ignore the fact that she called herself a married man. "Stop and smell the twenty-first century. He's not taking you because of your awesome work ethic."
Stacy stood. Her shoulder-length hair fell in twigs from the loosened ponytail. "Stop it right there, young man. I work very hard for you. So hard so you and your sister can have the life you have."
"And what a wonderful life it is," he said bitterly. Part of him kept yelling at his mouth to shut up and give it a rest, but the other part couldn't help it. It wasn't like his mom had ever been Supermom.
"I give you everything you need. I wish I could give you more… and maybe I can if this works out for me." She didn't sound mad which surprised Shane. In fact, she sounded hopeful. He hadn't heard her sound like that in a long time. "This business trip is my time to shine. To prove to my boss that I can make it on the corporate side as well as the physical labor part. This could lead to my big break, Shane. Isn't that exciting?"
Yeah… he guessed he could see her point. It would be exciting and it would, most of all, get her out of the house for a while. "How long?" he said in his normal huff. No sense in letting her know he was glad to see her leave.
"I'm supposed to leave tomorrow night if I can clear it with my other job, but I can always cancel. If you don't think it's a good idea…"
"No!" he yelled before he caught himself. Two seconds into this and he was already ready to squeal. Shane regained his composure and bit his tongue to get that pained expression that worked so well on his mother. The opportunity was perfect to get her out of the house and he wouldn't lose it by being weird. "I mean, yeah, I understand it now. I know why it's important to you. I think you should go. Cheyenne and I will hold down the fort."
Stacy cocked her head to the side. "That's what I'm afraid of."
****
Lizzie blew out a deep breath and concentrated very hard on her toes. She couldn't see them under the covers, but figured they were still there. It had been so long since she'd moved them, she wasn
't positive she still could even if she tried really hard. Funny how she hadn't even thought about moving in so long.
When she first woke up in Hell, she screamed, beat the top of the box, and tried her best to escape. She kicked and clawed, smelling her own blood from her fingertips. She couldn't breathe, but found she didn't have to. It didn't matter if she let her lungs go up or collapse at all. Eventually, she stopped the charade and stopped moving altogether. Her mind wandered in those hours — days — years — it seemed of solitude, thinking about Daniel and wondering if he made it to Heaven. She had wanted to go to Heaven. That was why she'd did what she did. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way for her — and she had no idea why.
"Move," she ordered her toes, concentrating very hard on making them wiggle. A wiggly toe would lead to a moving foot, and then a leg, and soon she could walk. She wasn't sure where she'd walk, but anywhere was better than with Shane. It wasn't proper to be at his home unchaperoned — not that her mother would know that she was with him. The thought of her mother being dead hurt. Lizzie wondered how long she'd lived and if she'd had a good life.
"Any luck?"
The bass voice coming from the door nearly scared the wits out of her if she had any left. It embarrassed her to no end for Shane to see her helpless as she was. For some reason she couldn't explain, she wanted him to like her. In her living days, most people had.
She couldn't deny he was attractive. His hair was longer and curlier than she had ever seen on any other man. Must be the style in the new century. He had the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever looked into and if she looked very closely, she could see the kindness in them.
She still didn't like being alone with him very much though. It felt like she was cheating on Daniel in some way, though that was silly. Daniel had been gone a long time.
Of course, so had she.
"Don't be embarrassed on my account," Shane said as he closed the door behind them. "Nothing I haven't seen before."
Oh Heavens. The boy was a man. Lizzie didn't know how she felt about that. It certainly made her feel more uncomfortable being on his bed. She had never been intimate with a man. And to her knowledge, Daniel had never been with a woman.