Shelly nodded, not sure what to say, trying to understand Patti’s way of thinking. It sounded so foreign to her; just the opposite of the way things had been in her home. The older she got, the meaner Father was, and the more childlike Mother became. The only one who seemed to mature was her, and there were still days when all she wanted to do was curl up in the bottom of her sheets with her flashlight, hiding away from the world, her breath making the air moist around her face until she thought she might suffocate. Even then, she wouldn’t un-burrow. She’d just stick an arm out from under the covers and open up an air tunnel long enough to replenish her supply. Sometimes she still did it, usually on those days when Father came home in her dreams, reminding her that she was still a nothing.
Her armpits prickled and pressure built behind her eyes when she thought too long about Father, and she made a concerted effort to move the conversation along. “I think, in some ways, even sadder are the stories about children whose parents hurt them unintentionally. Not only are they devastated by whatever accident has happened, but then they have to endure the police investigation and Child Protective Services.” She took a small bite of eggs before continuing; they really were good. “Years ago, I worked on the chart of this child who’d been burned by liquid drain cleaner. Her father had poured it in the tub and closed the bathroom door so it could sit for the allotted period of time, but the toddler got the door open somehow. They discovered her just as she was leaning over the tub, so they thought she was okay until she started screaming. What they hadn’t realized until it was too late, was that she’d pulled the shower curtain up and over the lip of the tub, then leaned against it. The cleaner on the curtain soaked into the front of her shirt and started burning her little belly. To make matters worse, the panicking mom peeled the shirt off up over her head without thinking, and the stuff spread to the little girl’s face and eyes. Because of the pattern of the burns, there was a criminal investigation, photos were taken, CPS was called in, and the couple was held under surveillance in the hospital until everyone accepted their story as truth. The doctor I transcribed for followed-up with the little girl’s burns for weeks.”
“What a terrible ordeal.” Patti leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for those poor parents.”
Willow stood abruptly, reaching for Patti’s empty plate. Her eyes glistened in her pale face, the flush from cooking completely gone. “Are you finished or would you like some more eggs? There are more muffins, too, but we ate all the bacon on the first round.”
“Oh.” Patti sat up, clearly surprised by Willow’s behavior. “I’m sorry, Willow. Did we say something to upset you?”
“No, of course not!” But Willow’s eyes were too bright, too wide, and Shelly wasn’t fooled. “Just getting seconds for myself and thought you might want some, too. What about you, Shelly?”
Shelly glanced down at her plate. It still held almost her full serving of uneaten eggs, a strip of bacon, and half her muffin; she’d been too busy talking to eat. She drew her plate closer to her instinctively.
“I’m good for now,” she stated slowly, wondering what had gotten into Willow.
She and Patti sat in silence while the red-haired woman bustled around the kitchen, refilling her teacup, and scooping the last of the eggs onto her plate before returning to the table. Shelly felt somehow responsible for the rift in the conversation. She had to say something.
“Willow, I haven’t really thanked you for helping me this morning. What made you come back by my place after I was so…rude to you?”
“Oh, Shelly. You had to ask.” Willow smiled again, all traces of withdrawal gone from her face. “I was hoping you’d already left for work and I could sneak over and leave you an ‘I’m sorry’ note. I felt so terribly about barging in on you and making you late, and I didn’t want our relationship starting off on the wrong foot.” She laughed, her loud guffaw not irritating the way it was that morning, and pointed at Shelly’s elevated leg. “Now look at you! Talk about starting off on the wrong foot!”
Chapter 5
After exchanging phone numbers, Patti promised to check in with her before she and Richard went to bed, then again when she got up in the morning. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all—and I mean, anything at all, Shelly—in the middle of the night, you hear?” Patti patted her cheek. “I mean it.”
From her comfortable position on the sofa, she watched them go. Her knee was propped up on a stack of pillows and Willow had made her an elderberry leaf poultice.
“It’s a slight irritant that will stimulate circulation to the area, helping the body absorb and distribute the pooled blood that makes the bruise. All that increased blood flow also encourages healing to damaged tissue. So use the ice until you need a break, then spread some of this on a wet washcloth, heat it up in the microwave—not too hot, mind you—and put it over the bruised area. It really does wonders, I’m telling you.” She must have seen the skepticism in Shelly’s eyes. “You’ll see. My mom taught me this. I’ve used it my whole life. It works.”
Willow let the cats out of the bedroom, leaned over to hug Shelly briefly, then pulled the front door closed behind her and Patti.
“You still smell like jasmine, Willow.” She spoke into the aromatic stillness they left behind.
Shelly was alone again. She stroked Mr. Tibbles from the tufts of his ears to the tip of his tail. She poked at Digits with her good foot; she’d finally taken herself out of her self-imposed exile and was threading her way around the legs of the coffee table. Molly Mia jumped up on the back of the couch cushions and walked along them until she got to her favorite spot, then curled into a ball, her tail twitching every so often against Shelly’s shoulder. Twinky-Dink still hadn’t come out of the bedroom.
Not only was she alone, but she was suddenly very, very lonely.
It had been so nice just to sit and visit with the other two women. Sure, there were those few awkward moments in the conversation, but in some ways, it made Shelly feel better to know that Patti and Willow weren’t already best friends, that they were still getting to know each other, too. It made her feel more like she was on equal footing with them. And what a strange feeling that was. Equal footing? Had she ever felt like she was playing on the same level as anyone else? Tonight, with those two very different women, she’d felt like she belonged.
She wanted to feel that way again. “I suppose we could change our sleeping schedule, couldn’t we?” she asked out loud, for the first time feeling slightly foolish talking to her cats as though they cared what she said. “Do you think we could learn to sleep at night and work and play during the day like normal people?” The thought made her scalp tingle a little. She’d never slept well at night, so adjusting to the cats’ nocturnal schedules hadn’t been a stretch. Going back to ‘normal people’ schedules might be easier said than done, but if it meant holding on to that feeling of belonging, she’d make it happen. Besides, with Father gone, there was no reason to fear sleeping at night.
She laid her head back on the sofa cushions behind her, bumping against Molly Mia. Her hand rested on the open pages of the book she’d been reading for the last hour or more. But her lack of sleep was catching up with her, and she was just getting ready to reach over and turn off the lamp on the end table beside her when she heard his footsteps outside. Father.
No, not Father. Her thoughts had been focused on him so much over the last several hours, that his name was the first one to pop into her head. But if not Father, then it had to be Shadowman. And suddenly, the existence of Shadowman mattered to her, because Willow Goodhope and Patti Davis and her husband, Richard, mattered to her. Because Joe Sanderson, and heart-rock Kathy mattered to her.
“What should I do, Mr. Tibble?” Should she raise the alarm? Call Patti and Richard? They were most certainly already in bed. And what could they do, what with Richard’s limitations? But shouldn’t she at least warn Willow? On th
e other hand, what if he had nothing to do with Willow at all? What if Kathy really was a crackhead and he was her dealer? If that was the case, Shelly needed to call Eddie, the manager.
The clock on the wall said it was nearly 10:45 pm. She knew she’d probably wake him up, but it had to be done. Picking up her phone, she dialed the man’s number. When his gruff voice answered so abruptly, she almost panicked and hung up.
“Hello? Who is this?” Eddie didn’t sound amused by her continued silence. She had to get it out before her throat closed up.
“It’s me, Eddie. Shelly, over in Space #8. There’s a strange man walking along the driveway back here. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him, and it’s always after dark.”
“What? A man?” Eddie sounded really grumpy now. “He’s probably visiting Kathy. Or the new girl in Space #12. I’m sure it’s all okay, Shelly.”
He was going to hang up and do nothing. She had to stop him. “No! No, Eddie. It’s not okay. He shouldn’t be here. He’s being sneaky and he’s not visiting anyone. He’s just wandering around back here.”
The line was so quiet, she was certain he’d already hung up, but then she heard him sigh, letting out his breath so his lips made a quiet raspberry sound. “Fine. I’ll come check it out. But if he’s a friend of Kathy’s, you owe me.”
“Wait. I owe you? I owe you what?” No. This was not Father. She didn’t owe Eddie anything except space rental. Her trailer was paid for, free and clear.
“It’s a saying, Shelly. Relax. I’m going after your boogie man now.” Then he did hang up.
A few minutes later, she heard Eddie clomping along over the bridge and past her home, his footsteps big and bold on the gravel. There was no way Shadowman could miss the fact that he was being followed.
It wasn’t long before she heard Eddie’s footsteps coming back. Through the narrow slits between the blinds, she could see the beam of his flashlight cutting swatches of light in the darkness outside. She panicked momentarily, thinking he might stop at her place, but he just kept walking, back across the little bridge to the front of the property where his own trailer sat just on the other side of the bridge. Had he found Shadowman?
Her phone rang. Eddie’s voice was still raspy, but he sounded more alert. “Well, Shelly, I think I saw your boogie man. I was almost to the laundry shed when I saw a guy cross the bridge over there. I followed him, and he left the property by going past Doc’s place and out onto the street. He knew I was on to him. I don’t think he’ll be back, but I’ll be watching for him now. And I’ll let Doc know, too. He’s a light sleeper and pays close attention to what goes on here.” He paused briefly, and Shelly wondered if he expected her to say something. “Can you tell me anything more about him? Do you know what he looks like?”
“No. Just that he always comes around between ten and midnight. And, at least the times I’ve noticed him, he’s come over the bridge on foot, so he must be passing your place, too. I didn’t worry about it at first, thinking he might be someone’s friend, like you said, but now I don’t know. He’s slow, too, like he’s being careful. And he sticks to the shadows. He never seems to stay very long, either. It’s almost as though he’s just checking on something. Or someone. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for letting me know.” He cleared his throat, then tried to sound reassuring. “We’ll watch for him. Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she returned the phone to its cradle.
In the stillness that followed, a smile began to tug at her mouth. She’d done it. She’d reached out to her new friends. They may never know it, and she wasn’t about to tell them about Shadowman—she didn’t want to frighten them needlessly—but she’d taken the initiative, and the first step of contributing to these new relationships. They all needed each other, this odd, mismatched collection of people at The Coach House Trailer Park. She’d fooled no one but herself into believing that she could take care of herself, that she was better off alone, that she was complete in her own little world.
No, it was time to open her doors and let others into her life. It was time to release Mother and the guilt she felt every time she thought of the pitiful life the woman had led. It was time to refuse Father entrance into her sanctuary, once and for all.
“Get out,” she whispered, softly, tentatively.
“Get out.” Her voice grew. “Get out!”
Something terrible and wild surged up inside of her, and she wanted to stand up, to run, to tear at her skin to let it out. She could do none of that, not with her banged-up knee, so she grabbed a pillow and held it to her face.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” She screamed it over and over, not three times, but a hundred times or more, until her voice grew hoarse, and the pillow moist with her harsh breath and debriding tears. When she finally let it fall to the floor at her feet, her hands flopped limply on the sofa beside her, and she rested her head back against Molly Mia again, eyes closed in release. “This is my house, my home, my sanctuary. You, Father, are no longer welcome here.”
The blinds at the back door clattered lightly. “Come here, Digits,” she called. “Mommy loves you. I’m not angry.” Then she laughed out loud. “I’m not angry anymore.”
Digits, the cat with only three toes on her front left foot, stood up and stretched, then headed for the kitchen in search of something more entertaining than Shelly. She’d been curled up on the floor at Shelly’s feet for some time. Molly Mia followed suit, leaving her perch on the back of the sofa to follow her friend. Mr. Tibbles stayed in her lap, not even lifting his head during Shelly’s tirade.
“Twinky-Dink? Is that you back there?” She turned to look over her shoulder at the slider, the plastic strips still stirring slightly, then down the hall toward the open door of her bedroom. The timid little cat was on the bed, playing with one of the catnip mice Kathy had left on her doorstep back in January.
“Father?” She sat up straighter and listened. The blinds stilled and there was nothing. Her heart didn’t race. Her scalp didn’t tingle. Her breathing stayed slow and steady.
Sanctuary.
“Goodbye, Father,” she whispered. “Peace, Mother.”
She couldn’t wait for the shadows of this night to fade into morning, knowing that Willow and Patti would be a part of the new day.
Of her new day.
MAY ENCHANTMENT
Chapter 1
The man had not been back. He assured her of it repeatedly.
She was crying anyway. She was trying not to, he could tell, but the tears still leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Well, shoot. What was he supposed to do now? Wait for her to get a hold of herself? Or just keep talking like he didn’t notice?
“Go on,” she urged, as though reading his mind.
“He just walked on out of here and disappeared into the night. I’ve been watching for him since, and so has Doc, but we haven’t seen anything suspicious around here for weeks now.” Eddie reached up with both hands, and roughly curled the bill of his Flying J baseball cap, settling it more firmly on his head. “Look, I didn’t tell you this to get you all nervous and worked up. I wasn’t even going to say anything, because people tend to start acting paranoid about every rustle in the bushes they hear outside their windows at night, but I figure you and the other girls back here ought to know, just so you keep your doors locked and have your antennas up.” He knew he sounded cranky, but she was making him nervous, making him jabber away like a little schoolgirl. If she’d got all freaked out and scared, the way Myra did, he’d have been better equipped, but Willow Goodhope’s teary-eyed stare made him squirm.
He cleared his throat to steady his nerves, and opened his mouth to speak, then he paused, catching a whiff of some-thing familiar in the air, like woodshop and mineral oil. Nah, couldn’t be. There was nothing but flowers everywhere he turned. “So anyway, I still have to go talk to Kathy. You going to be all right?”
“Th
ank you for letting me know, Eddie. Yes. I’ll be fine.” They stood at her front door, beneath the hand-painted sign that read Elderberry Croft. He shuffled his weight back and forth over his feet, not knowing what to do with his hands. He took a step backward, and bumped up against a potted plant.
“Dang it!” He reached down quickly to right the pot before it toppled over. Getting to Willow’s front door was an obstacle course for a big man like himself, and he preferred to catch her when she was outside already. Today, though, after walking by her place three different times, he’d finally sucked it up, and braved the gauntlet of her crowded patio. Nothing about this visit was easy, and he quickly made his way off the front stoop before he had any other mishaps.
“Eddie?”
He paused just past the steps, but when she didn’t continue, he wondered if he’d just imagined it. Well, he couldn’t stand there all day. “Did you need something else?”
“Did you see him? His face?” Her voice sounded tight, uncertain. “Do you know what he looks like?”
Eddie shook his head. “Nope. I only caught a glimpse of him from a distance. And it was at night. He was tall, but I could tell he wasn’t a big guy. Maybe a little shorter than I am.” He took off his hat and scratched the top of his head. “But you might want to ask Shelly, over in Space #8, about him. She noticed him first.” He returned the cap to his head, and glancing over at the little stream dividing the front of The Coach House Trailer Park from the back of the property, he paused, remembering something.
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