Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity)

by Anabell Martin

  She reached out of the foggy glass door, grabbed a towel from the rack, and yelled, “Hold on. I’m in here.”

  No one answered.

  She peeked out of the shower and saw that the bathroom door was open a couple of inches.

  “Hello?” She stepped out onto the tiled floor and wrapped the thick towel around her body.

  Silence.

  “I must be imagining things,” she muttered to herself as she wrapped the second towel around her head like a turban. She must not have shut the door entirely and it just opened on its own.

  She dried her body off and paddled tentatively into her room to get dressed. After ensuring that her bedroom door was indeed closed and locked, she went to the bed. She dropped her towel on the floor and reached for her undergarments, but her clothes weren’t there. She looked around, startled. She looked on the floor and under the bed, but they were simply not there. She distinctly remembered laying the clothes right there by her pillow.

  After a few moments of frantic searching, she found the clothes folded and stacked on the dresser. She stopped and thought to herself. She could have sworn that she’d left them on the bed, but she was tired. She must’ve thought that she’d put them on the bed. She shook her head.

  She quickly dressed and brushed through her long, wet hair. She went back to the bathroom to take her contacts out and to brush her teeth. But when she went to the vanity, her contact case wasn’t where she’d left it, either. In its place was Serendipity, the little pony she’d left on the window ledge the day they toured the house. She’d forgotten about the little toy and was startled to see it there. She found the contact case sitting on the back of the toilet – definitely not where she left it. She was certain that someone was playing a trick on her now.

  “Who in the hell?” she whispered. Was her mom doing this? Darby? Was it supposed to be funny? Well it sure as hell wasn't. Just as she was considering stomping downstairs and letting them know just how not funny this was, someone giggled softly in the corner of the room. Lindsey jumped and let out a blood-curdling scream.

  She turned towards the sound, looking around and inside the bath tub, between the toilet and the wall, but there was no one there. She stood in the center of the empty room, her heart pounding fiercely and her breathing uneven.

  “Honey! What’s wrong?” Aimee yelled seconds later as she banged on the locked bedroom door with one hand and jiggled the doorknob with the other. Lindsey quickly let her in, Darby on her heels.

  “Mom, were you just in here?”

  “No, how could I have been? The door was locked. Are you OK? We heard you scream.”

  “Someone opened the door while I was in the shower. And moved my clothes. And my contact case. Nothing is where I left it. And I swear that I just heard someone laugh in the bathroom!”

  “Honey, you’re tired. And look,” she pointed to one of the open windows. “You probably heard some kids outside laughing. See? There’s a boat out on the river. You haven’t slept well the last couple of nights. It’s all catching up with you. Why don’t you take a nap? We can finish unpacking later.”

  Lindsey wasn’t sure whether or not the window had been open before but she was positive about the other things. “I am not imaging things, Mom. I know where I left my things and I know that they were in another spot after I got out of the shower.”

  “I didn't say you were, honey. I just think that you're in dire need of rest and should consider taking a nap.”

  “Yeah. I think I will.”

  Lindsey sat down on her bed, still reeling from everything. Darby patted her on the shoulder then followed Aimee out of the room. The door clicked softly behind them. Lindsey crawled under the covers and into the center of the bed. The sheets were buttery smooth and refreshingly cool against her bare legs and arms. Her face sank down into the feather pillow.

  She was so exhausted that she fell into a deep sleep almost instantly. She was so far gone that she didn’t feel the tug as someone climbed onto the bed, nor the tiny feet as they walked over her and bounced on the bed several times before jumping to the floor with a soft thud on the other side. Nor did she see it run across the room and disappear through the wall.

  Four

  Lindsey woke just before dusk, the film of a strange dream still clinging to her mind like mental morning breath. The dream had seemed so real. In the dimming light filtering in through the window, she was sure she could still smell the smoke in the air, still see the spot on the floor where the thick beads of wax had pooled in gelatinous pearls. As she sat up, the details flooded back crisply instead of filtering away like water through cupped fingers.

  There had been a woman, young, but in a different time. Her hair was short, curled, and set meticulously. Despite the heat in the room, she wore stocking, an A-line dress, and a string of pearls. She had stood against Lindsey’s bedroom wall, a grade school-aged boy in shorts and a tee shirt, clinging to her skirt; his right wrist bore a wrapping as if it had been sprained. In the middle of the dark room, stood two figures cloaked in black, chanting and waving packages that looked like humongous cigarettes.

  Their robes swirled as they turned, sending heavy, perfumed smoke spiraling around the room. Lindsey remembered the unique, piquant scent and how it hung low in the air and how the flickering flames on the fat candles sitting in the middle of the floor had cast eerie shapes on the hanging bed linens, walls, and floor.

  The woman in the corner looked worried and the boy scared as the chanting grew louder.

  “Earth and air, purify to good, blow away evil,” the women sang as they drew in the air with their fuming rolls. “Air and fire, blow away evil, burn away pain. Fire and water, burn away pain, wash away fear. Water and earth, wash away fear, bury all negativity, purify to good.”

  After several tense moments, the women finally faced each other, drew a large shape with the smoke, and stabbed the sticks through the center. They then walked to the middle of the room, pointed the sticks toward the ceiling and said loudly, “As above, so below. So mote it be!" They ended the rite by dropping ashes from the smudge sticks to the floor.

  The walls shook and a tremendous gust of wind blew through the room and out the open windows knocking a kerosene oil lamp from beside the little twin bed against the wall, its chimney smacking the floor in a cascade of shattered glass. Red oil oozed from the upturned base across the floor like blood from a freshly opened wound. The long, white curtains snapped feverishly for a moment and then hung still as death by the window panes. Lindsey had awakened when something else fell in the room, clanking to the floor with a thud.

  Stretching, she grabbed her glasses from the bedside table and peered around the room, her vision now sharp and clear. It looked much different now than it had in the dream. Pushing to dream to the back of her mind, Lindsey walked to the radius head window and took in the view she had of the estuary. A myriad of colors, from a bright, coral pink, to a soft, bluish-purple, streaked the sky as the sun was sinking behind the rippling waters. As she marveled at Mother Nature’s painting, a flock of snowy egrets took flight over the water. She stretched and went downstairs to find her mother.

  Aimee and Darby had unpacked nearly everything and cleared the boxes from the house during Lindsey’s slumber. They also managed to somehow move the large, cherry credenza out of the little building out back and into the foyer of the house. The Tiffany lamp her mom had been excited about earlier now sat on top of it, the soft light glowing through its frosted dome brought the painted hummingbirds to life. Beside it sat a large bowl of potpourri that gave off a mixture of fruity scents as you passed by.

  “Look who's up!” Aimee said from her perch on the sofa where she sat on her feet watching TV. “You missed all the fun. The internet guy came and went. And Owen, that’s Maddie’s and Michelle’s daddy, came over and helped us move some of the large furniture around. Oh, and Darby hung drapes.”

  “The place looks nice, Mom,” Lindsey said, grabbing a large naval orang
e from a bowl on the kitchen counter. She peeled the softball-sized fruit and popped a section into her mouth. “I’m sorry I was no help.”

  “Not a problem, honey. This is a big change for you. Oh, and Maddie called a little while ago. They want to know if you want to hang out and watch the mare with them this evening. They're on baby watch.”

  “Cool. I'll head over there, if that's OK.”

  “Go ahead, sweetheart. It's good that you're making some friends so soon. I’m going to bed shortly anyway. I want to cuddle up with the laptop and do some more research on, well, some stuff. Then I’m going to try to get some shuteye because I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow to fill out paperwork.”

  Outside, the air was still thick and oppressive despite the disappearance of the sun. The large live oaks, squat little palms, and plethora of floral bushes around the property gave Retreat House the feeling of seclusion, but they really were close to town; Lindsey could hear the hum of cars and logging trucks moving on the roads nearby. And the house was only a short walk to the Robbins’ house and their barn. Maddie and Michelle obviously rode through here often as there was a path worn through the foliage making the trek from one house to the other relatively easy to see and bramble free.

  The barn was large and whitewashed. She could see stall windows on the side she was near. Each had a box fan in it pulling in fresh air. As she approached the front of the barn, a large "Welcome" sign hanging over the double doors came into view, its letters fashioned out of old horseshoes. She wasn't sure whether to knock. After a moment of hesitation, she touched her knuckles to the wood. It seemed rude to just barge in, so she knocked on the door before poking her head in.

  The girls were sitting on the concrete floor, legs crossed, outside an open stall door at the other end of the building. They waved for her to come on in but motioned for her to be quiet.

  Lindsey had grown up in rural Indiana and most of her few close friends had lived on working farms, but they had been corn farms without livestock. She had never been a member of any of the student farm groups, either, so she had never really been inside a barn meant for anything but tractors, planting, and harvesting supplies.

  Where she was from, it was mostly corn. Corn, corn, corn. The animal barns that she’d seen from the road had almost all belonged to the area’s Amish residents.

  This didn't look like what she expected one to be like on the inside. To begin with, it was bright. Recessed lights lined the ceiling, making the room shine like a family room. On the white walls hung various hat and coat racks, all made out of horseshoes. There were photos of the girls and their parents astride their horses. Again, the photo frames were made out of used horseshoes. The theme, Lindsey thought, was a little over-the-top.

  There were three, large stall doors on each side of the barn and one large, open room at the opposite end from where Lindsey stood. The floor was a steely grey concrete, but there were outdoor floor mats in front of each stall. She stared down the length of the building into the open room. It looked like a large shower stall – bath supplies littered two long, wood shelves on the wall and a curly hose pipe with sprayer lay on the floor. Several different brushes hung by leather cords from the bottom of the shelves. Long, blue ropes hung from the cross ties on each side of the large stall.

  On the left side of the building were two occupied stalls and one set up as a tack room. Saddles and saddle blankets sat on holders that protruded from the wall, various brackets held bits, reigns, and harnesses. There was a row of black, English-style helmets sitting on a small table. On the right were two more occupied stalls and a supply room stocked with barrels of feeds, pitch forks, a wheelbarrow, and several tools with which Lindsey was unfamiliar.

  “She hasn't gone into labor yet,” Maddie said.

  “I don't think she's going anytime soon, either. Look at how she's eating!” Michelle added.

  Lindsey walked over and looked at the large horse standing in the open stall where the girls sat. Her body was a soft champagne color, but her legs were black, like she was wearing knee socks. Her mane was black, too. Every so often, she would shift her weight from one foot to another, her hooves crunching the hay below them.

  Maddie took half of an apple out of a Tupperware bowl in her lap and held it up to Lindsey. “You want to feed her? Wind Dancer’ll love you forever if you offer her food. She’s more pig lately than horse.”

  Wind Dancer snorted at her owner, but eyed the apple half greedily.

  Lindsey took the fruit and approached the entry to the stall nervously. She held out her hand which shook slightly. Wind Dancer looked at her for a moment with her dark, glossy eyes before taking a step toward her. She reached her long neck towards Lindsey and laid her velveteen nose in Lindsey's palm, taking the apple offering gently from her hand. For a moment the only sounds were that of Wind Dancer crunching the fruit and of hooves shuffling in the other stalls.

  “What’s wrong with her tail?” Lindsey asked, pointing to the bright purple material that completely covered the mare’s tail like an ace bandage on a sprained ankle.

  “It’s vet wrap. You wrap the tail to keep it clean and out of the way during birth.”

  Lindsey fed Wind Dancer another apple half, using her free hand to pet the mare’s soft face and ears. A loud stomp and snort from another stall made Lindsey jump. She turned to see that she was being watched by two other horses on the other side of the barn.

  “Whose horses are those?”

  Maddie got up, brushed her backside off, and pointed to the stall beside Wind Dancer's where the loud noise actually originated. A huge, black horse, with a black mane and tail, looked back at her with curious, coal-black eyes. He was a bit bigger than Wind Dancer, who was huge in her own right.

  “This is Horus – ” Maddie started.

  “Named after the Egyptian god of the sky, son of Isis –” Michelle chimed in.

  “Horus,” Maddie said loudly, drowning out her sister’s interruption, “is Michelle's stallion. And over there,” she pointed across the barn were another large, black horse stood. “That's Dad’s Sampson. He's a little temperamental, but loveable. And that one,” she pointed the stall across from Wind Dancer’s. “That’s Momma's Rosita.”

  Rosita was the smallest of the four. She was a soft grey flecked with white all over. Her mane and tail were both silver-white. She looked out of her stall door timidly. Lindsey grabbed another apple half from Maddie’s bucket and took it over to the little mare.

  “Sampson and Horus are going to get jealous. They'll think you don't like boys,” Michelle teased.

  As she stood there, Lindsey found that the barn had its own combination of sounds and smells that were inviting and comforting. The harmony of hooves shuffling around in the hay, teeth softly crunching on sweet feed and alfalfa, tails swishing to scare away a stray fly, and the occasional snort combined with a hodge-podge of scents – fresh hay, sweet feed, alfalfa, and cut apples intermingled with cedar, horse sweat, and manure – to create an atmosphere of complete contentment. She could see how someone could easily sit in here for hours on end.

  She sat back down on the floor and talked with Maddie and Michelle about the horses, the town, and things to do in nearby Summerville and Charleston. They made all kinds of plans – day tripping to the peninsula to shop at the Open Air market and tour the Battery Park, hitting a water park in North Charleston, going to the beach, and even a Fourth of July cookout complete with fireworks.

  “We’ll definitely have to take you to a Riverdogs baseball game, too. Bill Murray is part owner of the team and makes appearances every now and then.” Michelle said as she combed Horus’ mane.

  “Bill Murray, as in ‘Ghostbusters’?” Lindsey marveled.

  “The very one. He has a house in the Charleston area and spends some time down here. I’ve never seen him, but Mom and Dad did back in December. They were at a College of Charleston basketball game and he was there.”

  “That’s wild! I can’t imagine
running into a celebrity like that.” Lindsey couldn’t wait to tell her mom about their newest, sort-of neighbor.

  The time flew by and before she knew it, Barbara peeked in to say goodnight to the girls. Lindsey figured she needed to get home, too, before it got too late.

  As she walked on the trail she’d followed earlier, she was startled by how bright the night was. Oh, without any street lights, the area was pitch-black, but the moon was huge and bright; the stars sparkled as if winking at her. It had been very dark at night back home, too, but it was different here somehow. The skyline in Bremen was wide open, here there were so many tangled, mossy tree branches overhead and the air was stifling, heavy. Even after dark the heat was brutal. But the scent on the slight breeze was light, mesmerizing; the briny estuary, a close-by Honeysuckle vine, and various flowering bushes mingled together nicely.

  She was lost in thought as she mounted the steps leading up to the front porch and didn’t notice the tiny, dark figure hovering in one of the wooden rockers as she passed by and let herself into the quiet house.

  But it took notice of her.

  Five

  Aimee rushed around the house before her first night at work. She checked and double checked her appearance – making sure her scrubs were perfect, her hair was pulled back just right, her hospital badge hung straight, and that all her tools were in perfect order.

  “Stethoscope? Check. Hemostat? Check. Pens? Check. Watch? Check. Surgical tape, scissors, penlight? Check, check, and check.”