I sighed, fighting the urge to cry. My hands tightened around the leather steering wheel hard enough to shift my attention to the pain in my knuckles. The yellow line in the middle of the road rapidly disappeared before me.
I slowed, swerving left down a single-lane road. The car slammed into a pothole, jarring me. “Glad to see some things will never change.” I glanced out, trying to keep it together.
The headlights illuminated a crooked sign. Faith Allen Road was barely legible across the bent green metal. Dust enveloped the car. Rocks jumped at the body, hitting it with pings as I turned down the dirt drive. After rounding a few sharp curves, I came to an abrupt stop once a dark house appeared.
I sat back, chewing on the side of my cheek, and stared. It had aged. No doubt. But everything I loved about this place was still there. The porch swing that we would enjoy ice tea on still swayed gently. The pecan tree that I would play under for hours continued to immaculately stand its ground. The steps where my grandfather taught me to whistle still welcomed people to the door. I licked my lips, remembering his instruction.
My eyes locked on the door. Any moment he would have come out with a shotgun in hand, wondering who was sitting in his drive. His flannel bathrobe would have flapped open to reveal a white T-shirt and plaid pants.
The door remained sealed shut. No one was coming out. Not this time. A spark ignited in the pit of my stomach, and anger festered and clawed its way up my throat. My fists pounded the steering wheel as hot tears cascaded down my cheeks and dropped into the darkness below. The crown of my head rested against the cushion of the expensive leather, silence surrounding me for a split moment. A guttural scream ripped up from my lungs and tore through my throat. Why hadn’t I been here? He’d died alone. With no family here. He’d deserved more than that. He had deserved for me to be with him. He’d saved me from a horrible life, shown me the meaning of true love.
Once the emotional tidal wave passed, I felt hollow. I wasn’t just alone in this car, I was alone in the world. I shifted the car into park, suddenly aware that I had been pressing the brake so hard my foot cramped. Without taking my eyes from the house, I turned the ignition off and opened the door.
The sound of crickets harmonizing floated across the driveway from the woods. I closed my eyes and listened. Suddenly the lyrical comfort silenced. I opened them again and glanced around. I imagined for a second I could see things moving amongst the shadows and swallowed, feeling uneasy.
Hastily, I slammed the door shut and grabbed my bags from the back. With each step I took to the porch, a weight pressed down. I moved a flowerpot over to the side, praying the spare key was still hidden there. Shiny metal caught the moon’s reflection, sending a wave of relief over my body. I fought to control the shaking of my hand as I slid the key into the lock. It turned easily, and the door glided open.
I stepped inside, taking in the emptiness around me. The grandfather clock to the side of the living room fireplace seemed louder than I remembered. Each tick of the minute hand moving caused an involuntary flinch. I dropped my bags and kicked the door closed with the heel of my shoe. Moving toward the dining area, I flicked on a light. My foot booted something across the floor. I tilted my head, taking in the shattered piece of glass.
Going deeper into the house, I entered the kitchen. My steps faltered, and I gasped, raising one hand to my gaping mouth. The room was in pieces. Papers were strewn everywhere, dishes broken, chairs overturned. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the normally tidy space. Signs of struggle were all around me. He struggled to hold onto his last breath, fighting the impending death the heart attack caused. An emotional moan raced free of my throat. I rocked back and forth, hugging my midsection. Tomorrow I would clean this up. He would hate for it to be this way.
A draining weariness washed over me. Somehow, I managed to stand and push my feet through the hallway to the room that I once claimed as mine. Time hadn’t changed anything. It was the same as I remembered it. Pale blue walls were still lined with pictures of my friends. White lights draped across the ceiling that had lit my room once I turned the light off. Shelves full of books, yearbooks, and notebooks. A shoebox full of folded notes. A lipstick imprint on my vanity mirror from when I kissed it before going to prom. I sat on the bed, running a hand over the fluffy comforter. Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my knees dreading what tomorrow held. The arrangements … seeing my grandfather’s lifeless body … I tilted to the side and curled into a ball. The room blurred as tears pooled in my eyes. I bit my lip as they escaped, wetting the fabric beneath my face. I let go and cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I woke to a banging sound. I blinked the sleep away from my sealed lids, struggling to find the source of the noise. I rolled off the bed, barely catching my footing on the floor. I stumbled toward the constant beating, until I stood in front of the door. A dark silhouette, blurry through the arched glass, moved slightly. I pushed my hair back and straightened my clothes before cracking it open. Pressure built in my head as I stared up at a man that was at least six foot tall. He wore a gray dress jacket with a matching fedora. A thick cigar bobbled between his lips.
“Hi there,” I said, locking eyes with him.
The sight of me didn’t seem to surprise him. His face relaxed into a warm smile as smoke curled out and wrapped around his body.
“Piper, I presume?” His voice was rattled.
I nodded, not breaking my guard because he knew my name.
“I was a dear friend of your grandfather from his hometown. My name is Harold Fumel. His body was taken there to prepare for burial and a condolence ceremony.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to register what he’d said. “I assumed he would have wanted to be buried here.” I searched the man’s face for signs of uneasiness but found none.
The man snorted, taking the fedora off and exposing wisps of white hair protruding in all directions. “Heavens no, dear. He wanted to be back where he was just a boy. In fact, I’ve come here to fetch you. We can’t have a service without the granddaughter who owned his heart, now can we?” The man’s monotone voice left no room for argument. “Shall you ride with me?” He paused, turning to look toward the slick BMW sitting in the drive. “Or would you like to follow me in your car?”
I licked my lips, staring at the aged man vacantly. Everything had been taken care of … without me. But somehow none of it seemed right. Why wouldn’t he want to be buried in the place he loved? I shook my head, finally gathering my wits. “I’m sorry, but how did you know my grandfather? I lived with the man for just about my entire life, and he never talked about the place where he grew up.”
“Hell.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“The name of the town is Hell. It’s just a few hours northeast of here, in fact. A small place, but quaint and self-reliable.” He took the cigar out of his mouth and cupped it in his fingers, which looked like bones wrapped in paper. “I grew up with him there. We were best friends.” He paused for a moment. “It wasn’t the best of memories due to family issues that I won’t get into since he never told you of them.”
We stood in silence for a few moments. I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, not sure what to do.
He seemed to notice my apprehension and looked down at the worn leather shoes he wore. “Of course, it’s understandable if you don’t want to go. A death of a loved one is hard.”
“No!”
His eyes shot to mine, and he smiled weakly.
Heat burned at my cheeks. The refusal was louder than I’d intended. “I came here for him. I just need a few moments to get dressed. I got in late last night.”
The man bowed his head, replacing his hat. “I’ll wait in the car. Take whatever time you need. This was an unexpected visit, I know.”
I opened the door wide enough for him to come inside. “Forgive me for being so rude. You’re more than welcome to wait inside.”
Harold eyed beyond the entrance with curiosity for a mo
ment before shaking his head.
“Nonsense. The car is fine.” He turned and descended the steps before I could protest.
I shrugged and pushed the door closed. Within minutes, I was dressed and ready to go. I snatched a breakfast bar from a bowl on the kitchen counter and had it unwrapped and in my mouth before exiting the house.
Harold emerged from his car and rested an arm across the roof. “Will you be riding with me?”
“I’ll follow you.” He nodded, his face devoid of any emotion. He disappeared back into the older-model Chrysler and ignited the engine.
I followed him down the drive and out onto the paved road.
Miles and miles we put behind us, the landscape nothing but farmland. The day began to fade into evening with the sun-hanging overhead beyond a stretch of gray clouds. We rounded a bend in the road, and a sign emerged to the right displayed proudly atop the bank. It was square with an arched top, painted white, with pieces flaking away as if they had blistered in the sun. The word Hell was painted in a faded red color. Buildings splayed along the area beyond the sign, and soon we were driving through the town.
There wasn’t much to it. I felt as if I had stepped out of the twenty-first century and back into time. The world had developed around this place and left it behind. The Chrysler pulled into a parking spot in front of a white building.
I turned the ignition off and reclined my head, staring. My feelings became muddled and for a moment, I considered backing away and leaving. This was it. Before, it had just been words, but there was no finality to it. That would change after I went into this building. A tap on my window caused me to jump and snapped me back to reality. My heart pounded as I grasped the cool handle of the door and pushed it.
“Feeling okay?” Harold asked, holding the door.
I concentrated to keep my voice steady before I spoke.
“Still just a little tired from traveling last night,” I said without looking at him.
A reserved quiet fell over us as he turned, leading the way up the concrete steps into the building. The door creaked open displaying dark-stained wood floors that stretched to the right and left. Each side led to a wide spacious seating area with high vaulted ceilings, which was adorned with elegant oil paintings. Brilliant rays from the afternoon sun spilled across the room like liquid gold from the bay windows that overlooked the park across the road.
A middle-age woman with a warm smile rounded the corner. “Harold!” She extended her hand, taking his. She looked past him, her gaze resting on me. “This must be Piper. I’m Annie.” Her face softened as she approached. “I’m sorry about your grandfather. I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting him, but I’ve heard many great things about him.”
I didn’t know what to say. Anxiety prodded my mind as the only word I could think of tumbled from my mouth without emotion. “Thanks.”
She looked back to Harold as if exchanging an unspoken conversation. She led us to the room on the left and motioned for us to take a seat on the tan loveseat while she plopped down into a chair. I leaned up, glancing at the binder openly displayed across the oak coffee table between us.
“This is all the information regarding the ceremony. Pictures of the flowers he wanted and some that the townspeople have chosen to send.” She pointed to a stack of glossy eight-by-tens before continuing. “We also have the casket, an absolutely beautiful piece, by the way.” Her voice became a haze. I stared at the pictures she’d pushed my way without actually seeing what was on them. It seemed all too elaborate for the man who had raised me. He’d liked simple things. Hated money wasted on items that were unnecessary.
“Can I see him?” I asked, cutting her babbling off.
Worry etched lines in her brow as she settled back against the chair. “The body isn’t ready for you to visit just yet. I can get you in there in the morning if you don’t want to wait until the wake tomorrow night.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying hard to wrap my head around what was happening. “I’m sorry, but as his only family member present, this isn’t happening. The ceremony will be held in Summerland where he lived, and he’ll be buried with my grandmother’s urn. That’s what I always heard him say. I appreciate everything you’ve done, and if you want to transport the flowers, casket, whatever, that’s fine. But his wake and burial will not be here. As far as seeing him, in the morning will be fine.”
Neither said a word. The uncomfortable silence grew so unbearable I could practically feel it pressing against me.
Finally, Annie broke into a plastered smile, leaned forward, and rapped the coffee table between us. “Tomorrow it is then! Anyone want some coffee? I just started brewing a pot when you came in.” She jumped up, her light blue eyes darting between Harold and me.
“None for me. That stuff will have me up for hours,” Harold said, his voice thick with bitterness.
“I’ll take a cup. I’ve got to have something to help me stay awake for the drive back tonight.”
I could feel Harold staring at me without turning in his direction.
“You aren’t staying the night?” he finally asked when I didn’t continue.
I turned to him as Annie swayed adamantly, waiting for my response.
“I have a lot to do at the house.” The broken dishes and trashed kitchen popped into mind, so it wasn’t a complete lie. Although the main reason was that I didn’t want to be here. “I’ll drive back over here in the morning. It’s pretty to find this place, so I don’t think I’ll have a problem.”
Neither of the two said anything. Harold picked up a photo of a floral arrangement and acted as if he were interested while Annie darted into the back. A moment later, I heard glass clinking together and the slam of a cabinet. When she reappeared, she held a silver serving tray with an antique coffee pitcher and two cups. She sat it on the end of the table, careful not to touch the photos she had been so enthusiastic about earlier. Steam seeped from the dainty mug as she poured the hot beverage and handed it to me.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
I didn’t say much else. I let the two of them talk while I only nodded every now and then to seem as if I were interested in what they said. I pulled the last sip of coffee from the cup and placed it down on the table. “Do you have a restroom I can use?”
“Sure. At the end of this hallway, turn right. It’s the last room on the left,” Annie said.
I turned, leaving them behind to continue whatever they were discussing. The deeper I went into the building the darker the area became. I gulped, ordering myself to remain calm. Following the directions she’d given me, I rounded the corner to see light glowing from under the bathroom door. Was someone in there? I stopped, listening for any signs of movement. Silence. For reassurance, I tapped on the thick wood. No one answered. She must leave the light on. I reached for the knob but didn’t touch it. The palm of my hand felt an icy chill wafting up from the metal beneath it. A shadow moved beneath the door, and I sucked in my breath.
“Hello?” I called out. I stood there staring at the warm yellow light coming from the other side of the closed door.
No one answered.
I twisted the knob, ignoring the almost painful contrast of temperature between the metal and my skin. It seemed to float open, revealing an empty room. The air rushed from my lungs that I hadn’t realized I was holding until then. I went to the sink and turned on the cold water. My eyes drooped, becoming heavier. Only getting a few hours of sleep was starting to catch up with me. I needed to hit the road soon, or I would be forced to stay the night here. That thought didn’t sit well with me for some reason. I had experienced an unsettling feeling the second we passed the town sign. I cupped the water, letting it run freely between my fingers before closing my eyes. I splashed it against my face, eagerly waiting for it to dissipate the drowsiness that was clawing at the back of my heavy lids.
I forced my eyes open, blinking the blurriness away as water rolled into them. Movement
made me turn toward the door.
A shadow contrasted against the wood.
Something small, hunched over, and cowering in the corner.
I squeezed my eyes shut and fervently rubbed them. There was nothing there. This room was empty when I came in. I gritted my teeth and opened my eyes, expecting to scream. Nothing was there. I was alone. I looked back to the mirror, the color now drained from my face, leaving it pallid. I needed sleep. There was no other way around it. I shut the water off and vacated the room, giving it one more sweep with my eyes before I walked away.
“Everything okay?” Harold asked when I reentered the area they were still seated in. “You were in there for quite a while.”
“Fine. Fine.” I avoided their stares. “I better hit the road. It’s getting late.”
They both stood. Annie touched my shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze as if trying to comfort me.
I turned in her direction at the entrance. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
She nodded. “Of course. Please be careful. These roads are extremely dangerous at night … with the deer and all.”
“I will.”
A thick blanket of fog covered most of the land, making it difficult to see when I backed the car out. The traffic was sparse on the roads, not that there had been much during the daylight hours when we arrived either. I skimmed the buildings as I passed. Where were all the people? No wonder he wanted to leave this place. Our town wasn’t big, but it had more than this. I gunned the engine as I came to the town sign, anxious to get back.
It was well after 10:00 PM when I made it back to the house. “Shit. Why didn’t I leave a light on?” I silently counted to three and jumped from the car. I took two steps at a time and had the front door open within seconds.
Cleaning the kitchen was my first priority even though I knew I needed to sleep. But sleep could wait. I couldn’t leave his house looking this way. He would have hated it.
Chosen (The Urban Legends Series Book 1) Page 8