Protect Her: Part 6

by Ivy Sinclair

  I thought about the first time that I met him. As the road stretched out ahead of me, those memories invaded my mind.

  I stayed in the hospital as long as I could after the accident that left me with head trauma so severe that all of my memories were lost. The hospital had no idea what to do with me. I had no name or money or idea of what to do.

  On a whim, I called a number on an ad in the newspaper for a florist position on Calamata Island. One of the nurses told me that it was a place for tourists because of all the cemeteries, but if you could settle your mind on that, it was quiet and secluded. That appealed to me on a base level that I didn’t understand then. With no identity or known skills, I called the number and the man who answered not only offered me a job, but a place to stay as well.

  The same nurse brought me some of her old clothes so that I had a small bag in tow when I followed her directions to the downtown dock. There was a ferry there that ran three times a day over to Calamata Island. I was scared as I walked. The only thing I could do was put one foot in front of the other. I felt like weeping inside, but I kept my face calm.

  I remember seeing a tall, sandy-haired man wearing glasses standing on the pier, and his face lit up when he saw me. He gave me a big wave. With his three-button collared polo shirt and khakis, he reminded me of a college professor. That led me to wonder if I had ever gone to college that I thought that, and suddenly I was miserable again.

  “Paige? Paige Matthews?” He approached me with a warm smile. Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Christopher Keller. I knew you right away. The news segment didn’t do you justice though. You’re much prettier in person.”

  I shyly shook his hand. He was handsome, and I was flattered that he thought that I was pretty. My other hand consciously ran over my hair to smooth it down. It was windy next to the water.

  God, I was pathetic. I hoped that I was a way cooler person with my memories. I wondered if I had ever dated a handsome man like him. Then I wondered if I had a boyfriend or husband out there somewhere. Was I betraying someone else by being pleased to have the attention of this man?

  There had to have been something about my expression that gave away my tumultuous emotions, because suddenly he was next to me with a concerned look on his face. “I’m sorry. That was a really lame thing to say. You’ve been through such an ordeal, and I’m joking about your appearance. You’re probably just glad to be alive.”

  That comment made me self-conscious about the row of neat stitches that I knew were hidden by my long hair. It was a painful and apparently permanent reminder that life had tossed me a curveball. I willed my hands to stay at my sides and not touch that puckered ridge of skin and draw attention to it.

  “I am. Most days,” I said honestly. “Not being able to remember anything about who I am or where I came from though is pretty…rough.”

  “I’m glad that you called about my ad. It’s kind of my thing to help people in need. You’re welcome on Calamata Island as long as you want to remain there.”

  It was an odd thing to say, but so many things about my life were odd at that point that I quickly brushed it off. As my wits seemed to come back, I looked around at the dock and the small crowd milling about clearly waiting for the ferry. “I thought that I was going to meet you on the Calamata end?”

  Christopher blushed. I thought that was sweet. I was the one who I expected to be flustered in this situation. “I kept thinking that if I was someone who had just been through a horrible ordeal, and I was going to be going off to a new place to meet a strange guy and start a new life, I’d be really anxious and freaked out. If that were me, I’d like to see a friendly face sooner rather than later. Otherwise, I’d probably talk myself out of going at all.”

  It was as if he had read my mind. “Yeah, but in that situation, my situation, I don’t have anywhere else to go. The hospital has been patient with me. I’ve worked with one of the counselors to determine that I obviously have at least a high school education. I remember history, math, and language stuff. I just don’t remember who I am or anything about my past. So I have the capability to be gainfully employed and, in theory, take care of myself. They only let sick people stay in hospitals. Fancy that.” I had found that humor was the easiest way to cope with my strange situation.

  “I’m sure you’ll remember eventually,” he said gently. His eyes were soft and sympathetic, and I felt myself warming to him even more. “In the meantime, it’s important that you feel safe and well-taken care of.”

  I frowned. Something about the idea of being taken care of by someone else felt wrong. I was a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself.

  “What did I say?” he asked.

  I flushed and forced a smile on my face. I couldn’t afford to alienate the only person in the world who was willing to take me in. “Nothing. I just have this sense that I was very independent. Before.”

  “Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “This is a job offer. You’ll be working for me in my shop, and I have a room for rent for which I’m willing to forgo the normal security deposit due to your extenuating circumstances. This isn’t charity. It’s simply a helping hand.”

  Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. I looked down at the small bag in my hand. It was all of my worldly possessions. I felt so small and alone.

  “C’mon. Let’s get on the ferry, and I’ll tell you all about Calamata Island.” He took my elbow and guided me down the dock toward the boat. I felt a slight tightening in my chest even as I looked out at the vast body of water in front of me. I could barely make out the lines of the landscape of the island across the bay. It seemed as if it were a million miles away.

  As we approached the walkway onto the ferry, my feet slowed until they finally stopped. He turned to me in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

  I dropped my bag and put the palms of my hands on my thighs as I bent over slightly trying to catch my breath. “Water,” I wheezed.

  He dropped to his knees in front of me and took me by my shoulders. “Paige. Listen to me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re going to get on the ferry, and you’ll listen as I tell you a story. When it’s done, we’ll be there. If you just focus on me and my voice, I’ll get you through it. Okay?”

  It never occurred to me that the sight of the bay, where I almost drowned, would have caused a panic attack. But it made sense. Somewhere buried below its waters were my memories and what happened to me. I got the sense those weren’t good ones. How could they be when it was clear I had been attacked and dumped into the bay’s murky waters?

  I stared into his brown eyes. I didn’t know why, but I trusted him. I had just met him, but I felt waves of calm seeming to pour off of his still form. My mind cleared then, and I felt the invisible binds around my chest loosen. “Okay.”

  He smiled, and it lit up his face in a kind of white radiance. “You’ll be just fine, Paige. Trust me.”

  He took my hands and led me onto the boat. He walked backward so that the whole time I didn’t have to look away from his eyes. I’m sure we looked like quite the pair and drew more than our fair share of attention, but I didn’t care. Benjamin was going to get me across the water. He’d make sure I was safe. I trusted him.

  He found us a seat inside the cabin on the first deck. We sat as far away from the windows as possible which I appreciated.

  “What do you know about Calamata Island?” he asked.

  “Not a lot,” I admitted. “The nurses told me that it was a kind of tourist attraction. A lot of people come here just to visit the island. It has the most cemeteries per square foot than any other place in the country.”

  “That’s true,” Christopher said.

  “I think that’s weird, and a little creepy.” In truth, it was more than a little creepy. I was planning to make my home for the next who knew how long in the company of over a million dead people. Of course, that might say more about me than anything else.

  “I find it comforting,” Christopher said. T
he surprise must have shown on my face because he chuckled. “Think about all the history that exists there. If you visit each of the cemeteries, you’ll find that each has its own personality. That means that the people who chose to spend their eternities there have a reason for wanting to be buried in that particular cemetery. Since my shop provides the flowers for almost every funeral on Calamata and the surrounding area, you’ll get to hear all those stories. You’ll hear about lives that were full of love and joy and family. People are usually very kind to their dead, and it’s the time that you remember the best parts of the people that you love.”

  “That’s a really nice way to look at it,” I said. I was feeling much better. I still avoided looking out the windows, but I was aware that the boat had started to move. I tried not to think about it. “So what’s the deal with all the cemeteries? Why build them all on some obscure island in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Why not?” Christopher said with a smile. “Hundreds of years ago, the Hopekee Indians settled a small village on the beach of the island. They were intrigued by the lush foliage and sandy beaches on one side and then the winding tunnels of caves that ran for miles and miles on the other. They named it Calamata which in their language means “secret paradise.”

  “Really?” I wondered if he was pulling my leg.

  “No joke,” he replied. “To them, this was a place where one could find eternal happiness and would never have to leave. Since the living always do need to leave for one reason or another, they decided that this was an ideal resting place for their dead. So the oldest cemetery on the island is actually theirs.”

  “So some Indians thought it was a cool place to reach the afterlife.”

  “Oh, it was more than that,” Christopher said. “The Hopekee believed that there was a gateway to Heaven on the island because it was so beautiful. To them, it was as close as they could ever hope to be there while here on earth. Eventually, their love of the island and the legend of the gateway drew other tribes and the first colonists to the island as they made their way to this coast.”

  “It’s a very romantic idea,” I said. “Still, it has to be a pain in the ass getting all of those bodies over here.”

  Christopher shrugged. “Funerals are big business on Calamata. It’s the biggest business in this region. The tourists came later. We’ve got it all pretty well down pat.”

  “So why did you come here?” I found that I was curious about my new friend.

  “Me? Oh, that’s a really boring story,” he said waving his hand in the air dismissively.

  “No, really. Tell me,” I said, lightly hitting his arm. “Was it a girl?”

  He blinked as if I said the most insane thing he could think of, but he covered the expression quickly. “More like a calling, I guess. It was time for me to get away from the rat race. I had the chance to come here and take over the family business. Someone had to watch over it, and we all agreed that it was best that it was me. I’ve been here ever since.”

  “It sounds like you like it here at least,” I said. I felt as if I had intruded on a topic that appeared to be off-limits.

  “I practically grew up here,” Christopher said. “I have many fond memories of the island and of the people that I’ve met there. Well, look at that.” He stood and pointed out the window.

  I realized that we were at the dock on Calamata Island. All other thoughts of asking Christopher about his past faded from my mind as I took in my first breathtaking views of my new home.

  Of course, his name wasn’t Christopher. In the three years that I knew him, Benjamin was always guarded about the topic of his family. Of course, it was obvious to me now why that would be. But if he spent as much time on the island as he said he had, he knew it inside and out like the back of his hand. When he told me that he had moved there to look after the family business, it wasn’t the flower shop that he was referring to. It was safeguarding the relic and keeping it out of demon hands.

  I thought about what he told me about Calamata’s history. His words kept turning over and over in my mind. There was something in them that was important to me now. I could feel it. I just couldn’t tell which part or why.

  I heard Riley and Klein murmuring behind me. I looked at the GPS. We still had another sixteen hours to go before we hit the coast, and I’d be looking at the ferry to take me to Calamata Island once again. But there was a feeling of dread in my stomach. My home was different now, if it had ever truly been my home at all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN – RILEY

  Klein printed out several pages from his searches and handed them to me. “This is it. This is all I’ve got.”

  I did a quick scan of each of the printed photographs in front of me. “Yes, these are definitely Eva likenesses based on what we saw in Fernando’s files, but none of these match the vase we found.”

  “At this point, I’m not surprised that no one has figured out that Eva was a deity at all,” Klein said. “I’ve done a lot of research on the whole angel and demon hierarchy thing since I figured out that whole realm existed back when I started working for you. It’s been part of the job, and I have never heard of a Goddess Eva before you told me about her.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said looking at the pictures again. “That’s been something that has always bothered me about this mess too.”

  “If I were to guess, any reference to Eva or the Protector has been systematically wiped out. Fernando’s files probably were the closest thing we had to a complete story of who she was and where this guy would have been buried. If he is, in fact, dead, which is another big assumption on your part.” Klein pointed to the muscular figure of the Protector in the original photo that he lifted from Fernando’s files. “He looks pretty indestructible to me.”

  “Every being has a weakness. He’s dead. I’m certain of it. But the question I’m asking is what’s so important about the Eva myth that it needs to be hidden?” I asked.

  “I guess that’s the million dollar question,” Klein replied. “I’m not sure where else to look.”

  “There has to be something that we are missing,” I said. I leaned back in my chair. Focusing on the search had been a nice distraction from thinking about my mother’s haunted eyes, or the fact that the demon infecting my sister’s body had openly mocked me. The whole situation made me feel helpless. I hated that feeling almost as much as I hated Bruno Proctor.

  “I don’t think so,” Klein said. “Even if we still had Fernando’s files, I don’t think we’d find the answer there. I looked through all of them. I’ve done a scan of every major archeological artifact going back twelve hundred years just to be safe on the timeline of when we think all of that went down. There’s nothing. Barely a blip on the historical radar, and what’s been recorded that still exists is what you are looking at.” Klein’s mouth set in a thin line. “You aren’t going to like me saying this, but I think we need to forget about this.”

  “No,” I said stubbornly. “It’s here. We’re missing it. Go over what we know again. It’s there.”

  Klein sighed. “The only specificity we have is that the rumor saying he disappeared while Eva was visiting the indigenous people of one of the Northwest Pacific tribes. That leaves about five different major tribes, and dozens of smaller offshoots of those tribes to research going back at least a thousand years. It’s basically like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

  The van jerked to the side, and Klein and I both had to grab the edges of the table to steady ourselves. The van rolled to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” I called up to Paige. She turned in her seat and looked at us with wide eyes. I was already making my way toward her trying to see out the windshield to find out why she stopped. It had to be important considering she was up out of her seat and met me halfway.

  “I was just thinking about something that Benjamin told me the day we met. It had to do with the history of Calamata Island. He told me that it was originally settled by the Hopekee Indians and that it was one o
f their most sacred burial grounds.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Klein said. “You think he’s buried there?”

  Paige’s forehead wrinkled. “No. The timing is wrong. He said that they started using the land there only a couple of hundred years ago. But do you think there might be a connection?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said. “This has all been intertwined since the beginning. We’re just starting to see how the individual threads weave together now. This is the solidest lead we have, so it’s worth checking out. Klein…”

  Klein had already turned toward his computer terminal tapping something on the keys. “Yeah, yeah. I’m already on it. Give me a minute.”

  I nodded. I looked back at Paige and saw the circles under her eyes. She watched me warily. I knew that I had reacted poorly earlier toward her after the confrontation with Proctor. She’d just been trying to help me deal with the fact that the last five years of my life were a lie. It hit me then that she was probably one of the best-suited people in the world to empathize with my predicament. It was slightly different, but she spent three years being lied to by the person who was supposed to be her best friend. I hadn’t fully appreciated that before.

  I gestured back toward the front seats. “Let’s give the genius some space to work his magic.”

  She sat back down, but put her forearms on her thighs and leaned forward. I felt waves of anxiousness coming from her. I was definitely part of that. I sat down in the passenger seat. “That was a great piece of information. Thanks.”

  She looked at me then. “I just wish I knew what else he’s told me over the years that would be relevant now. Looking back, I can see that he inferred something else in almost everything he said to me. Of course, there was no way that I could have known that.”