Beacon's Spark (Potomac Shadows Book 1)

by Jim Johnson

  I nodded, but kept quiet.

  He added, “And you? How’s my favorite grand-daughter?”

  I smiled. “You know good and well I’m your only grand-daughter, but I’m all right.”

  He opened his other eye, and it joined the first to stare at me with a frank, clear expression. “I don’t know about that. You seem different, Rachel. You’re almost glowing.”

  I leaned away from the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Damn, had something really happened to me, obvious to even Grandpa? I frowned and then shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it, not yet.

  He lifted a hand and rested it on my own. “Are you and Abbie okay?” The look in his eyes softened, which was usually his sure-fire tactic to get me to talk.

  I shook my head and offered a shy smile. “No, Abbie and me are good, really good.”

  He patted my hand. “That’s nice to hear. You two seem happy together.”

  “We are, I think. It’s like you said, most days are good, some days not so good.”

  He smiled, showing off his stained teeth. “Just like any relationship. But you keep at it, and do your part. You two will be together for a long time.”

  I bit my lip, not sure how to respond. Me and Abbie were good together, no lie, and the sex was great and the late night talks together even better, but I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the long-term. As a college dropout, in my mid-twenties and working part time at a job that wasn’t official and didn’t pay benefits, it was hard for me to look toward the long term.

  Not to mention seeing a glowing curtain of light that knocked me back into a wall and then disappeared. I had that to deal with as well, on top of everything else.

  I said, “We’re taking it day by day and mostly living in the moment, Grandpa. No pressure just yet.”

  He patted my hand again and then pulled his hand back to retreat underneath the afghan. “That’s all you can do. Day by day. Do that enough times and suddenly sixty years pass by, and hopefully you’ll still be happy together.”

  He looked clear-eyed when he said it, but the slight catch in his voice told me all I needed to know. He still missed Grannie.

  I glanced out the window and saw that the sky was moving toward dark purple. The sun had all but gone down, and without looking at my phone I was sure I had missed the 5:10 bus and maybe even the 5:30 as well.

  He met my eyes. “You should get on to work. I’ll be all right.” He smiled. “Thanks for stopping by. It really makes my Wednesdays when you come visit.”

  Well, I had that going for me too, I guess. I stood up off the stool and it rolled back a foot or two from me. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “If you see my brother tomorrow, would you ask him to call me? He was supposed to give me my envelope, but he didn’t hang around to wait for me.”

  Grandpa nodded, then nudged his chin toward the single four-drawer dresser set against one of the walls. “I figured he would forget to leave it. Go grab my wallet out of the top drawer. Take what you need. I know you’re good for it.”

  A little lump formed in my throat. I wasn’t so sure about that, but wasn’t going to say as much. Grandpa knew my situation and I wasn’t going to call attention to my status as the black sheep of the family. I had enough guilt of my own to go around; I didn’t need his pity.

  But, I wasn’t so proud that I’d turn down his handout. I walked over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. One side of it was filled with neatly stacked white t-shirts and, more grossly, white tighty-whities.

  On the right side of the drawer was an assortment of odds and ends. His gold watch, a set of silver cufflinks, his wallet, a mish-mosh of loose change, and a tiny gold cross on a delicate gold chain—Grannie’s from her mother. I used to wear it, but...had given it back. I guess I hadn’t felt quite right wearing it with him still around.

  I shifted my focus from the cross to the wallet, and picked it up, appreciating the feel of old, supple leather in my hand. Before cracking it open, I glanced back at him in the bed. “You sure?”

  He lifted a hand underneath the afghan. “Take whatever you need. It’s not like I’m a big spender these days. Room service leaves something to be desired and I only get to go to the drug store once a week for my vices.”

  I smiled, and then focused on cracking open the wallet. I skimmed my fingers past the stack of credit cards and the plastic insert full of photos, and pulled the section open where he kept the paper money. About twenty bills of various denominations stared back up at me, a hall of dead presidents whose names I knew well but didn’t see all that often. Lincoln, Grant, Washington, Hamilton...

  Though I guess that last one wasn’t actually a president…whatever. I ran my fingers over the edge of bills, estimating that there was about a hundred and fifty dollars in there.

  My throat got dry as I stared at the bounty. There was a time where I might have taken all of it and not given it a second thought. I’m not too proud to admit it.

  I glanced at him again. “Is a hundred too much to take?”

  He snorted. I guess he had dozed off and my question had woken him up. In a sleepy mumble, he said, “Take whatever. Told you I know you’re good for it. You’ll be able to pay me back eventually. I have faith in you, Rachel.”

  I stared at him, the wallet forgotten in my hands. The only other person who had told me they had faith in me lately was Abbie, and I figured that was expected given that she was my girlfriend. Figured it was just pillow talk. Hell, I tell her the same thing all the time. I think I meant it when I said it, but I wasn’t so sure about the truth of it when it was aimed back at me.

  Frustrated with myself, I reached into the wallet and peeled off an assortment of twenties and tens and a couple of smaller bills to help with bus fare. I kept it to a hundred, just like I said. I wadded up the bills and shoved them into a jeans pocket, then closed the wallet and placed it back in the drawer among his other baubles.

  My eyes lingered on Grannie’s cross, and then I closed the drawer and pushed it from my view. Why would I want that little thing now? A flash of her face appeared in my mind’s eye, kindly but tired, and I blinked it away, surprised. I hadn’t thought about her in a while.

  I returned to the side of Grandpa’s bed and leaned down and kissed his forehead again.

  “I really appreciate the loan, Grandpa. I promise I’ll pay you back, with interest.”

  He kept his eyes shut but smiled up at me anyway. “I know you will, Rachel. There are good things ahead for you. You just need to see the possibilities.” He scrunched his head back into the pillow underneath him.

  I turned toward the door and fished my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the time. 5:40. Crap! I’d missed the second bus too. I glanced at Grandpa again, and then left his room after whispering goodbye. He’d drifted off to sleep again.

  I pulled the door closed and then dialed a cab for myself. Bonita’s shop was in Del Ray, probably a fifteen-minute drive but nearly an hour’s walk. If I had any hope of making it to work before she closed, I’d need a ride.

  So much for grandpa’s windfall. Figures, given the Wednesday I was having.

  Chapter 6

  THIS WEDNESDAY REALLY HAD IT OUT for me. Not only did I miss all three buses that would have gotten me to work on time, but the ride in the cab through rush hour traffic was so bad that I ended up sprinting into the Bunn in the Oven almost twenty minutes late.

  Bonita was helping a customer over by the nursing tops and another customer was browsing the second-hand maternity clothes. The silly little bell attached to the front door jingled merrily as I entered, announcing my tardiness to the store and the world at large. Betrayed by a stupid piece of metal and plastic.

  Bonita caught my eye and nodded toward the customer in the secondhand section, her expression otherwise unreadable. Was I gonna get fired from my non-job? Given the rest of the day I’d had, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  I tossed my satchel behind the co
unter as I approached the woman with a handful of clothes. She was about my age, and had long blonde hair pulled back into a tail. She had on an athletic top and gray yoga capris, with pink and white trainers and a purple padded form-fitting jacket on over her workout ensemble. I assumed she was a patron of one of the several yoga studios lining Mount Vernon Avenue, the main drag through Del Ray.

  “Can I help you with any of the clothes?” I asked, trying to inject some perkiness into my tired voice. I felt distracted too—no doubt still weirded out from earlier.

  She glanced at me with pretty blue eyes and long lashes. The lack of body fat on her cheeks and neck and her overall appearance of health and wealth pegged her as one of the countless young professionals living in the area. She and her significant other (I’d caught the gleam from the big rock shining off her left ring finger) probably owned one of the crazy condos off Route 1, the big ones that sold in the upper six figures over by the new metro station. Why anyone would buy an almost-million-dollar condo outside D.C. was beyond me, but hey...like Zero Mostel said in The Producers—if you got it, flaunt it, baby.

  She returned my smile, though her eyes didn’t change shape. She was being polite, or about as polite as she’d ever manage talking to some retail wonk like me. I knew the type.

  Hell, had things worked out differently, I might have been that type.

  She said, “I’m looking for some tops that’ll stretch with me, you know?” She gestured vaguely toward her belly, which was, as near as I could tell, tight and flat. If she was pregnant, she was barely along the path.

  I started indicating some options for her. “This stack here comes with elastic waistbands and breathable fabric. Breathable fabric usually means it’ll stretch quite a bit.”

  She nodded, though I got the distinct impression that she wasn’t listening to me. “I want something flattering, you know, that won’t make me look fat.”

  I think I failed to hide the puzzled expression that crinkled my face. She glanced at me and said, “You know, I’ll be pregnant and I don’t want people to look at me and compare me to a beach ball.”

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it as quick as I could, trying to hold off the first comment that came to mind. A little buzz started to sound in my ear. I said, “I don’t think anyone’s going to compare you to...”

  She pushed in and said, “I, just, you know, I don’t want to lose my figure.” She gestured at the clothes in her hand and the tops folded on the table next to us. “I want to wear clothing that’ll make me look the same as I do now.”

  “Why did you get pregnant, then?” The comment was out of my mouth and out into the world before I could rein it in. I could see the storm clouds move in on her face almost immediately.

  Oops.

  “You’re not being very helpful.” Her words were clipped, precise.

  I raised a hand. Oh, this Wednesday wasn’t done with me, not by a long shot. “I’m just saying...if you want to keep your shape and not look fat or like you’re hauling around a beach ball strapped to your belly, a good way to do that is not get pregnant.”

  She dropped the two handfuls of clothes back on the table and focused on me with both arms crossed in front of her chest, her head tilted at an angle, an animated bitch-face clearly creeping into place.

  “I have a right to do what I want with my body, miss, and I should have the right to look thin and lean even while I’m pregnant.”

  She wasn’t exactly yelling at me, but she had lifted her voice beyond a polite customer level and now I was starting to get both embarrassed and annoyed. Neither of which I wanted to feel right about now. Not after the day I’d had.

  I raised both hands in front of me. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re free to do whatever you want.” I paused, then added, “But the odds are real good that your body is going to go through some massive changes, and getting heavier to support that baby is going to be part of them.”

  Her lips tightened up and I could tell I just was not getting through to her. It wasn’t a conversation I was going to either win or lose; I had lost it before even starting.

  She stared at me with her large blue eyes and then nodded, once. “Fine. I guess I’ll just take my business elsewhere if you can’t help me. I’ll tell my other pregnant friends to avoid your store since you won’t sell me some clothing that’ll flatter me when I change.”

  She pushed past me without another word and huffed right out the door, the tinkling bell mocking her as she left. I don’t think she noticed.

  I sighed deeply and then refolded and arranged the clothes she had discarded back onto the table. Bonita stepped over to me as I was finishing up, a confused look on her face.

  “What was that all about?”

  Crap, figures she heard some of it. I thought she had been busy with her customer.

  I shrugged as I placed the last of the newly-folded clothes back on the consignment table. “I don’t know, just an unhappy customer who got mad at me that I didn’t have any clothing suggestions that would make her pregnant ass not look pregnant.”

  Bonita frowned. “Why would she want that?”

  I snorted and waved a hand toward the closed door. “Did you see her? That girl practically lives at the yoga studio. She had less body fat than my middle finger.”

  Which, come to think of it, should have been put to use when the woman had left, but the thought hadn’t occurred to me. Rats.

  Bonita chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry to lose the sales, but I guess some women just aren’t prepared for the changes to come. If she’s in that good of shape now, though, she should be fine after the pregnancy. Women who want to be fit afterwards can do so if they want it.”

  I nodded, barely listening. I was staring at the bookshelf tucked into a corner of the shop, the one that had sticks of incense and crystals and other little New Age-y things on display. I had caught a glimmer of light flashing off one of the crystals.

  Bonita paused and crooked a curious glance my way. “What’s bothering you?”

  I shook my head and then nudged my chin toward the bookcase. “Get in some new shinies?”

  She led the way over to the bookcase, sparing a glance toward the lone customer left in the store, who was busy pawing through the second-hand skirts and dresses hanging from a spinner rack near the plate glass windows facing the street.

  “Got a new shipment in today. Miss Chin dropped them off for consignment. Said she didn’t have a use for them and wanted to see if I could push them off on some customers.”

  I stared at the assortment of new crystals on display, trying to suss out which one had picked up the light. No luck picking it out right off, so I leaned in closer.

  Bonita matched my movement, and glanced at me as I looked more closely at the crystals. “What’s up, Rachel? You don’t normally show such interest in my magical supplies.”

  I shrugged as I studied each of the baubles in turn. Several of them were loose crystals, mostly quartz and amethyst, but two quartz crystals were mounted—one in a sterling silver ring and the other in what looked like a pewter setting that had an eyehole but no chain.

  I indicated that one. “No necklace with that one?”

  Bonita shook her head. “Miss Chin said the chain had broken years ago—didn’t say how or why. I imagine you could either wear it as a necklace or put a watch fob chain on it and drop it in a pocket.”

  I nodded. “Mind if I pick it up?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  I reached out with a tentative hand, and then withdrew it quick. All the hairs on the back of my hand were standing on end, as if there was some sort of static current in the air.

  I took a deep breath, and then reached out and picked up the quartz crystal. I felt a shiver run up my arm and then down my spine.

  There was a sudden flash of blue electric light, similar to what I’d seen in the doorway back at the nursing home. An image of the crystal pendant hanging from a chain and then falling into some tall grass
flashed in my mind, and then was gone in a blink of an eye.

  Chapter 7

  I WHIPPED MY HEAD TOWARD BONITA, my eyes wide and threatening to pop out of my head. The vision had seemed so clear, so real. I thought I caught a whiff of spring grass freshly mowed.

  “What was that?” I failed to keep any panic out of my voice.

  Bonita stared at me as if I had lost my mind. “What was what?”

  I repeated, “What was that?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She indicated the pendant in my hand. “You picked that up, got real pale, and then looked at me as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  I frowned at that. I’d seen another spark of blue energy, the same sort of thing I’d seen in that curtain of light in the stairwell back at Branchwood.

  I carefully placed the pendant back on the bookshelf and self-consciously wiped my hand off on my hoodie.

  Fix the chain.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and took an involuntary step back, away from the bookshelf and the strange pendant. I had no idea where that whisper had come from. “Shut up!”

  Bonita’s eyes and head tracked me as I backed away. “Rachel, what is the problem? I was zenned out before you got here but now you’re starting to freak me out.”

  I backed up until my rear bumped up against one of the clothing racks. I glanced at the clouded crystal sitting on the shelf, then focused on Bonita, thinking fast.

  She was a good friend and a good person, and spent a lot of time helping people in need. She had taken classes on being a midwife and a doula, and had dabbled some in crystal healing and meditation, which is why she sold the incense and the crystals and the other woo-woo stuff in her maternity store. She fit right into the hippie earth mother vibe that ran through a lot of Del Ray. She was just weird enough to probably be chill if I told her the truth.

  Or at least the truth as far as I understood it.