“No, thanks, I’m good,” I whispered.
“You sure?”
I wanted to scream. Just go away already. “Yeah.”
The group of men were suddenly quiet, a little too quiet. I could feel their stares burning a hole into the side of my face. Stupid bartender, I thought. I turned my head to look at them. They were all turned facing me, Buck Brady in the front. We made eye contact.
He grinned and walked over to me. He slammed a mason jar full of beer onto the counter beside me. “Well, well, look who it is!” he bellowed out.
He was drunk for sure. I supposed he had figured he had had a long, difficult day as well. I turned my head around and tried to look away. Everyone else seemed to be staring at us too. “I can’t believe perfect, little, Christian girl is sitting here having a drink!” Buck yelled, laughing hysterically at himself. The rest of the men were still in place where they had been before, staring at us. “Gentleman, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is none other than Anna James.” He patted me on the back and a snarled laugh escaped from his throat.
I remained silent and perfectly still. If I made a run for it now, would they follow me? I didn’t want to face them outside in the cold. I’d rather be in here in front of witnesses. Buck seemed a little too unstable. I bet he would follow me just to harass me further. I cursed myself for having made the choice to come here. I would have rather faced my family. Something told me this wasn’t going to be pretty. I made eye contact briefly with the bartender who then quickly looked away and made a little more distance between us.
“Need a little pick me up after the day?” Buck asked, still thinking his own words were hilarious for some reason.
“Leave me alone, Buck.”
“Aw, what’s the matter, Anna? Have you come to drink your woes away? Thinking about never seeing your precious Emry Logan again?” I could feel his prodding in my temples as they began to ache. I caught a glimpse of the silent group of men standing behind him just watching. They seemed concerned that I was here. Perhaps they were policemen, too. They probably knew everything. Maybe it had been me they had been discussing when they first came in the door. Maybe they hated Emry like Buck did and hated me too. I decided not to give Buck the pleasure of any sort of answer. Allowing him to have the knowledge that he was getting to me would only make things worse. Give him the satisfaction of having been able to stir up my emotions again, and he’d probably harass me all night then. If I didn’t give him that satisfaction, maybe him and his group of hoodlums would leave.
“I can’t believe it’s been Emry Logan this whole time.” Buck snorted and then threw his hand down on the counter, the beer in his glass shaking as he did so. “He’s sick,” he said, his eyes burning with fury and hatred. “A sick freak.”
It was obvious that Emry’s slamming Buck into a tree had not been overlooked. Buck had been afraid of Emry that night and ran away. He had been a coward, and he knew it.
“He deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life, whatever his life even means,” he mumbled, picking up his drink and chugging down the remainder of its contents. One of the other men from the group came over and filled up Buck’s cup with more beer from a pitcher. He lingered there to listen to what was going on. Buck didn’t even seem to notice that he was there. He continued to point his finger in my face as he talked.
“You have no idea how he’s using you,” Buck went on. “It seriously makes me sick to my stomach to have seen you … kissing him.” He gave a disgusted face like he was about to vomit before picking up his now full glass and taking a few more gulps. “What the hell is the matter with you? I don’t even recognize you.”
“You don’t even know me, Buck,” I told him.
“I grew up with you. I know you. I know your family.” He shook his head. “I try to kiss you and you give me a black eye, but you’ll kiss Emry Logan?” He turned around in a circle as if he were in pain. So there was a little jealousy combined in there with everything else. I had ruined his self esteem that night with the whole he cooked me dinner thing.
“Freak of nature. Right?” He looked to the other guy standing there for reassurance who only nodded, his eyes fixated on me. “And your daddy gets you off the hook, as always.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped. “When has he ever gotten me off the hook before?” I glared at him then. I didn’t care if he was drunk, his assumptions were ludicrous.
He snorted out a chuckle as if I were a hypocrite. “You’re a spoiled brat. It’s almost like you’re an only child in that house with Matthew. I bet you’re glad he is the way he is.”
I stood up just then, fury now pulsating through me as I looked him straight in the eye. “You would sink so low as to bring Matthew into this, you cold-hearted bastard.” His smirk disappeared as if he had realized what he said. He saw the other men looking at him and instantly shook off whatever guilt I had placed on his conscience. “You disgust me.” He spit on the floor. “It’s pathetic how stupid you are. You choose someone like Emry Logan to be with, a monster. You’re clueless.”
“Enlighten me. Please.” “I wasn’t sure at first,” he began. “I thought he had broke my shoulder from that tree, but then, I hadn’t seen him hit me or anything. It was weird. Something that’s never happened before.”
I tried to keep eye contact, afraid he’d lose his train of thought and stop feeding me information if I looked away.
“It’s a good thing I found that witchy woman,” he continued. “She knew what he was, what to do.”
“What witchy woman?” I asked.
He ignored me, speaking even louder. “We couldn’t let his kind continue about in Seneca. No, we had to rid our society of him. He needed to be locked up and for good.”
“You think he’s dangerous?” He snorted. “Of course he’s dangerous! That’s how you like them though, don’t you, Anna? You like the thrill of chance, the ones with all the magical powers. Don’t you worry, we got him rounded up good. We only hunt to capture and never release.”
“You have a big mouth, Mr. Brady.” We both turned toward the sound of the voice. Mrs. Anderson strolled through the door as she carelessly came our way. She wasn’t the least intimidated by the group of intoxicated men beside me. I narrowed my eyes at her. Then I suddenly put the pieces together. Mrs. Anderson was Buck’s “witchy woman.”
“Gather up your things now and be on your way,” she instructed him in a very calm fashion, placing one palm on Buck’s back and guiding him toward the others. Buck looked as though he had instantly sobered up. His eyes looked full of shame now as he said nothing more, just did as he was told and strolled over to the corner of the counter where the others were putting on their winter hats and gloves. I watched in awe at the power she seemed to have over each and every one of them. Was that the same kind of control she had over my father as well? Then one by one they turned and almost formed a line as they walked toward the door without glancing my way again. Mrs. Anderson was the last one in line. She gave me a quick look as she strolled by. Our eyes met for a second. I couldn’t get any kind of read on her. There was no facial expression at all. There was something peculiar about the way she moved and the way she spoke. She was a witchy kind of strange, as Buck had described her. I sat there for a moment, contemplating the words he had used. We only hunt to capture and never release. A modern day witch hunt. Only Mrs. Anderson was the witch and Emry was the one she had made everyone believe was the threat, not her. They listened to her. Did she have some sort of spell over them? I wasn’t so quick to rule it out as I would have been yesterday. Today was a big eye opener for me, a revelation. Things weren’t what they seemed. There was magic and mystery in the world, even if it wasn’t given birth in this world, it still lingered here and walked among us. Seneca, the new Salem. And they weren’t done with my Emry yet.
Chapter 11
I woke up the next morning realizing I had slept in. It was nearly 10:00. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept that late
. The sun illuminated my room as I opened my eyes and winced. I had left the curtains open last night, something I couldn’t ever remember doing before.
I sat up in bed and took a moment to gather my thoughts. What time had I finally had the courage to leave the bar and find my way home last night? I had sat there and thought about Buck and Mrs. Anderson for hours drinking a few more rum and Cokes in the meantime. I remember pulling in front of the house and not seeing a single light on. I remember trying to be careful as to not make any noise when entering the house, and I also recalled how I had tripped over a stray shoe right inside the doorway and making a loud thump as I tumbled to the hardwood floor, but no one came to see what had happened. Everyone had been asleep. I had wondered what my father had told my family of our eventful day in Seneca County Prison. I didn’t know how I should act or what kinds of things Carlin would say to me if she did know.
I sat still and listened. Silence. Had everyone just let me sleep and gone about their day without the slightest curiosity of my well-being or where I had been late last night without even a phone call to tell them I was all right? I jumped out of bed and made my way to the hallway. My hair stunk of cigarette smoke and my mouth stuck together miserably from the aftertaste of the rum.
I took a peek inside my mother’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made and everything tidied up. I tiptoed downstairs. The TV was off, and there was no one in either the dining room or kitchen. The dishes were stacked up on a thick white towel, some still dripping. Everyone was gone for the day, even Matthew. I felt relieved, yet slightly uneasy about the situation. I rubbed my eyes as if to persuade myself that I wasn’t still asleep. This house was rarely empty. I couldn’t help but feel slightly abandoned at the moment.
I took the opportunity to go back upstairs and take a long, hot shower. I needed to get ready for today’s to-do list. I pushed the thoughts of my family to the furthest corners of my mind and brought back the details of what I had decided to do. I had to find out exactly what was going on. Today I would go give Lainey Tritt a little visit.
Pulling my car into the driveway that belonged to the little run-down home, my stomach fluttered with a sensation of anxiety. I wasn’t sure exactly why. Perhaps it was because this was the place that Emry had grown up, where he had spent his time as a child and a teenager, or perhaps it was because it had an eerie appearance to it that made me want to turn around. Was I at the wrong place? No, this was the right house for certain. The mailbox said TRITT in large, handwritten white letters. I pulled my car up to the top of the driveway and turned off the motor. I stepped out into the cold air and let my lungs take a refreshing deep breath as my eyes studied the exterior of the home.
It was small and looked almost unbalanced as the top where the foundation stuck out of the ground on one side didn’t match the opposite side. It was as if the one end was sinking into the ground little by little. It had jagged grayish siding that was peeling off in sections and a roof that also had missing shingles in spots. There was one single window facing this part of the house, and it was closed by pale yellow curtains from the inside. A stray chicken brushed past my foot just then, making me jump. I looked down at it for a moment curiously. I watched as a few other hens came around the corner of the yard to follow that one.
There was an old shed to the far right of the yard. It was falling down and obviously hadn’t been maintained in years. I imagined that there had been animals in there at one time or another. Perhaps cows? Horses? My eyes shifted to large rocks sticking out of the snow and forming a line around the house. I stepped on each one as they led me to the front porch, which was just as broken as the rest of the place. I cautiously stepped up onto the floor of the porch hoping I wouldn’t fall through. The screen door groaned painfully as I pried it open. I searched for a doorbell. There wasn’t one, so I lifted my fist and tapped lightly on the door.
No answer. An old run-down red Ford truck was parked on the other side of the house. It must have been from the 1950s I guessed. I pounded on the door a little louder this time. I backed away as I heard the door being unlocked and opened. A frail, elderly woman with frazzled, long gray hair sticking up every which way possible gave me a blank stare as I stood before her.
“Yes?” she asked, annoyed or angry that I had disturbed her, I wasn’t sure.
“Um, hi,” I said. “Are you Lainey Tritt?”
Her thick eyebrows raised above the large glasses that sat on her nose. “Do I know you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m, uh … a friend of Emry’s, and I wanted to know if you could answer a few questions for me.” “You’ll have to speak up,” she said, pointing to her left ear. “Hard of hearing.”
I sighed, frustrated already. “I know Emry,” I said more clearly and with more volume this time.
“Oh.” She smiled, revealing a row of half-rotted, half-missing front teeth. “Well, come on in.” She stepped back from the door so I could go inside. It was cold and damp in the house, and I realized that Lainey was wearing a heavy coat. She probably is unable to keep a good fire going herself, I thought. The house was a mess and very dirty. A few cats glared at me as I strolled by them, their only movement the flicker of their tails as they eyed me up.
There were a few pictures up on the walls. I glanced at them as I went by. None of them were of Emry as a child as I had hoped to see. They were older pictures, mostly groups of people, and they were in black and white, some of them faded from the sunlight draining them over the years.
“How is he doing?” Lainey asked, taking a seat on an old green recliner at the back of the L-shaped living room. I took a seat on the edge of a matching green couch directly across from her, a cat on either arm rest. “He’s good,” I replied. She had no clue he was in jail I guessed. Emry had said she had dementia.
My eyes shifted to the mess of papers on the floor. That’s when I really took notice of how bad this place smelled. It was a combination of garbage and cat feces. I looked around to see if I could find the exact source of the smell, but there were so many things on the floor that it made it too difficult to pinpoint.
“And how is Candy doing?” she questioned me. “I was glad to see those two marry.” I cringed at the name and also the memory that Lainey was rekindling. She had no idea they were divorced. I decided I might as well just play along. It was amazing that this woman was able to stay here on her own. I only imagined how inefficient she was at cooking and bathing herself as I could tell by her housekeeping that she was mentally not equipped to be living here on her own anymore. Then again, she probably was the type that wanted to stay in her home until she died. A nursing home was probably out of the question for her. I doubted she even went to the doctor’s.
“Candace is good, too.” I realized I had said her full name. I just couldn’t bring myself to call her Candy. It seemed like the kind of name that belonged to a stripper.
Lainey nodded her head approvingly at my brief answers and then looked up at me. “How did you say you knew Emry again?”
“We work together,” I blurted out.
“I don’t remember what you said your name was.”
“Anna. Anna James.”
“Anna James,” she repeated, biting her lower lip and squinting up toward the ceiling as if in deep concentration. “I believe I recall that name. You’re that preacher man’s kid, ain’t ya?” Wow , I thought. I couldn’t believe she would know something like that, let alone remember it. “That’s right. I am.”
Lainey nodded and stared at me in silence.
I looked at the orange and black cat to my right. Its eyes were closed as it slept carelessly on the arm of the hair covered piece of furniture. “You know, Emry has told me so much about you. He said how you adopted him.”
“I did,” she said proudly. “My late husband and me never had any kids. I decided I didn’t want to be alone no more. I went and found myself Emry. A perfect match.” She pressed her lips together and smiled.
I flashed an uneasy smile ba
ck at her. “So was it hard to be a single parent?”
“What was that?”
I swallowed and took a deep breath so I could yell it out at her once more. “I said, was it hard being a single parent?”
“Nah,” she replied. “Emry was a good boy. He never got into much trouble. He never said much. Boys will be boys.” We sat there in silence for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to say to her next.
“You do know what happened to my late husband, don’t you?” she said suddenly. I raised my eyebrows. “No.”
Lainey changed her position in the chair as an odd smirk crossed her lips. “That nasty Earl Connor was sneaking around here again.” I tried very hard to make myself concentrate on what she was saying. I felt so distracted with the way she looked, by knowing this was where Emry lived, by her strange smile directly after mentioning her husband’s death, by the cats. It was exhausting to have to sit here and really focus.
“Who is …?” “He was a looker, that boy,” she quickly interrupted me. “Handsome devil. Black slicked back hair in beautiful waves and dark eyes. All the girls went crazy for him. But me, no, I knew better. That Earl Connor wasn’t getting to me, no, sir. He always comes around, but I told him no, to get on out of here. I would have nothing to do with him. But he wouldn’t have it. No one had told him no before.”
Lainey was speaking so fast now. I was glad she paused so my brain could try to catch up. “So what happened?” She smirked again. “Well, he knew I was a married woman. He knew Larry. They had graduated together and all. But he still didn’t care. He comes around, and I straightened him out and put him in his place good. Well, that must have done it. Earl Connor, he snapped. I came home one day and found Larry hanging from one of those slaughtering hooks out there in that shed.” She lifted her arm to point toward the door. I had already guessed she was referring to the one with the roof caving in that I had noticed on my way in. “The tip of the hook right through his neck. It was awful.”
Strange in Skin Page 17