Broken Rules(The Chronicles Of Amber Harris)

by Elle A. Rose

  *

  Christopher tugs at my arm, bringing me back to the present. The humans are standing and moving toward the front of the church. Did I miss something? Gazing around the room, I notice the other guests are up and moving, first stopping in front of Madeline and then making their way to the casket. The casket that is now open. Lance.

  Christopher helps me up. My feet move but I do not want them to. As we near the casket, my eyes are glued on Lance’s stilled body. I understand what people mean by the person laying in the casket looks so peaceful or sleeping. Lance truly looks at peace right now. If it was not for Christopher, I do not think I would be walking. There is so much noise swarming around me. I hear sniffing and crying and people offering kind words. As we near Lance’s widow, I do not think I can face her. I plant my feet on the floor, and two small hands come to rest on my back, pushing me—Olivia’s—and Christopher’s arm is still around my waist pulling me. Swallowing and taking a deep breath through my nose, I know I have no choice. Even if I do not want to do this, my family is committed to making me say my final goodbye.

  Rounding the pew to where Lance’s widow sits weeping, she looks to be as distraught on the outside as I am on the inside. We will be next in line to speak our condolences to the family. A man at the end of the pew holds the hand of a woman. The lady has Lance’s eyes. She must be Lance’s daughter, but she is not crying. It looks more like a strain for her to be sitting in the pew greeting guests as they pass by. On her other side is another lady, she looks older than the first time I saw her, but it has to be Madeline. She is quietly weeping. A little boy clings to Madeline's right arm. He has his face buried in her side. Madeline is gently patting him on his back. His hair has a familiar texture to it—jet black with little curls.

  As we walk past the man and woman sitting on Madeline's left, I give a quick nod. They wear matching wedding bands. This must be her husband. I wonder where Lance's other offspring is. Stopping in front of Madeline, I prepare myself for her reaction. To the reaction of looking at the same face she saw over forty years ago, a face that has not aged. Bending to make eye contact with her, I see the acknowledgment in her eyes. She inhales a sharp breath, which pulls the little boys head up from her side to see what has caught her attention. He looks like a younger version of Lance in some ways. The hair is definitely the same texture, but he has Madeline's gray eyes. Pulling my attention from the boy's face, I give the widow a kind smile. “Hi, Madeline.”

  A shocked look replaces her mourning stare only for a moment as she speaks, “It's you, oh, my. I really didn’t believe him.” Her voice is low, almost inaudible.

  The man behind Isaac clears his throat. We must be taking too long. Giving Madeline another smile, I place my hand on her knee and give a gentle squeeze. “I won’t hold up the line.”

  As I start to straighten, Madeline's hand stretches out to grab my hand. “Are you leaving?”

  “No, I’m just moving out of the way. I’ll be around.” With a small nod, she releases my hand so the line can continue to move. The moment I step away from Madeline, Christopher's arm is back around my waist dragging me towards the stilled body that used to house Lance's soul.

  This is it, the time has finally come for me to say goodbye to my one and only love. Stepping to the front of the casket, the smell I have been trying to avoid is now smacking me in the face. Death. It is not as bad as a body that has laid out in the elements of the outdoors for any amount of time, but it still has a pungent aroma to it. Using my abilities, I block my family and my sense of smell from the odor. This is not the way I want to remember Lance. Glancing down at the stilled form, I see all life is gone. I cannot look at him like this. I understand this is the way life is supposed to be, but this is hard to handle. Lance's skin is drooping off of his bones. He has liver spots on his hands and forehead. His mouth is set with a stern look, the color makeup they chose for his face does not resemble his lovely glowing olive skin-tone, and he looks much skinnier than the last time I saw him. When I dropped my mental wall earlier, I picked up a few guests’ thoughts and believe Lance died of cancer. Bringing my eyes back down to Lance's lifeless body, all the muscles tighten in my own body as I say my final goodbye. ‘Goodbye, my sweetheart. I love you.’ Bending, I kiss him on the lips too quick for any human eye to catch. My body jerks to a rigid-attention and I take Olivia's hand, and Christopher leads us back to our seats.

  As the service comes to an end, we stand and walk out of the church. It started to rain about halfway through the service—quite fitting for a funeral. It is coming down in buckets now. People dash for their cars. Those of us going to the cemetery start to line up behind the hearse. The rain or being wet in general does not really bother my family and me. Although on most days, I would move quickly through it so as not to get my hair wet, today, I do not care. When we reach the car, Christopher opens the backdoor of the rental car for me. Isaac climbs in the driver’s seat and Olivia in the front passenger. As Christopher slips in on his side, Isaac pulls around to join the funeral precession. I watch as the pallbearers load Lance in the back of the hearse, and Madeline and her family climb into the limousine that is first in line behind the hearse.

  The drive to the cemetery is quiet. I do not know if everyone has things on their mind and are in no mood for talking, or if they are worried about upsetting me. That thought makes me feel awful. I do not want my family to feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me. It was bad enough I detached myself from them for as long as I did. They should not have to feel like they need to be careful around me; I will not break. My forehead does not read ‘Fragile, Handle with Care.’ Taking a deep breath and moving my head from against the car window, I face the inside of the vehicle and say, “I want to thank you guys for coming with me. I do not deserve all of this kindness you are offering; nevertheless, I really do appreciate it.” Christopher reaches over and places his hand on mine. Olivia and Isaac both turn and smile, no one utters a word, though. Great they must think I am a few seconds away from losing my calm. Hopefully, they will see soon that I am all right and things can start to go back to normal.

  Getting out of the car and heading for the plot where Lance will be set to rest, I try to avoid all of the worms that are out of the ground squirming as my feet brush past them. We sit under a blue tent and hear the quick words of departure before placing Lance in the ground. It feels as if someone has hit the fast forward button on life. The minister says the final words of goodbye and Lance's what I am assuming to be, his grandson, places a little toy car on the top of the casket. And like that the service is done, the crowd starts to get up and move about. This cannot be. A noise rattles in my chest and I grip the side of the chair for strength.

  “Amber, you’re destroying the chair,” Christopher whispers, as he tries to pry my fingers from the metal grooves I have indented into the seat.

  I let him remove my hands from the chair, save my eyes stay trained on the casket. Around us mourners exchange hugs and kisses, some still cry. Most though, are trying to get out of this nasty weather.

  We sit for a while, my family and I, before their conversation draws my attention. Their exchange rings loudly in my ears. Lance's daughter is arguing with her mother.

  “Mother, don’t be silly, you can’t stand out here until they lower him in the ground. Only God knows how long that’ll take. We have people that’ll be waiting for us back at the house.”

  I do not want to get to close to them, since they are standing right next to the casket, but I cannot help myself. I find that I am drifting closer and closer. My family is still seated in the back.

  “Brenda, I’m not ready to go. The guests will understand. If you feel you need to go back right now, why don’t you and Phil catch a ride with someone to the house?”

  “That’s just stupid, Mother. Why would we find a ride when there is a perfectly fine limousine sitting here waiting for us? You know we don’t have the limousine all day.”

 
; “I’m aware of that, Brenda. I just need a little more time with him.”

  “You’re going to catch your death out here.” She pauses and a smirk slithers onto her face as she says, “Then again, that may work. You can have all the time alone you want with him.”

  Wow, this Brenda is a snot. Before I can stop my movement, I find that I have wedged myself in the middle of their conversation. “If you would like to stay, I can stay with you. I’ll bring you back to your house when you’re ready.” I probably look as shocked as Madeline and Brenda do. I am sure they did not hear or see me approach. Looking from me to her mother, Brenda is about to put up a fight. Madeline stops her before she can say anything.

  “That would be nice, thank you, A-Amber.”

  Without reading Brenda's mind, I believe she is wondering who I am. I start to reach out my hand to introduce myself but Madeline keeps speaking.

  “Brenda, you and Phil take the limousine back to the house and start to greet the guests. I’ll be there shortly. Will you take Dominick with you?”

  Rolling her eyes, Brenda walks away without saying a word. Phil was close enough to hear the conversation and starts to head for the car as well. The little one, Dominick, comes running over to his grandmother and throws his small body on her.

  “Grandma, I want to stay here with you.”

  Carefully prying the child from her, she lifts his head up to look her in the eyes.

  “Go with your Aunt Brenda. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Looking over the boy's shoulder, Madeline calls to her daughter. “Brenda, Dominick is coming, please wait.”

  Brenda stops in her tracks under a big oak tree, and Madeline whispers in the child's ear for him to be a good boy and go with his aunt. As he turns and walks slowly over to his aunt, he hesitates and looks back at the two of us. Madeline raises her hand and makes a shooing motion. Once the boy reaches Brenda, she grabs him by his wrist and jerks him towards the stretched car. I can tell by Madeline’s breath, she is not happy with the scene that just played out.

  As I walk to sit in the chair next to Madeline, my family gets up from their seats. They heard the conversation, I hope they understand. I have not lowered my wall to have a silent four-way conversation with them, but I know they are leaving me to spend time with Lance's widow. Isaac puts the keys in the car as they exit the cemetery. They will most likely be heading back to the hotel to await me. It is still raining out, but getting wet will not bother them, nor will the walk or shall I say run back to the hotel. The hotel is not far from here, maybe twenty miles. They will be there in the next two to three minutes.

  Fourteen minutes and seven seconds have gone by since the last of the guests left us. Besides Madeline, there are three other warm bodies. They are the men that will ensure Lance's body is placed in his final resting place. Madeline and I have not said a word to each other. I do not know about her, but I welcome the silence. I am trying my hardest not to read her mind. I want to know everything about what Lance's life was like, yet, I do not want her to tell me in her own words. I would rather like to relive it through her thoughts. I want to place myself in all of the memories she has: the good, the bad, and the breathtaking.

  Madeline fidgets in her chair. Shifting my sight towards her, I find Madeline staring at me. Her irises are completely dilated, and I wonder what she is thinking. There has to be something interesting running through her mind.

  “You look the same. It's true, vampires don’t age.”

  I am thankful that her voice is no more than a whisper. I do not want the workers to hear what she is saying. Instead of speaking, I nod.

  Her lips quiver just a little before saying, “Can I trust you? Are you safe?”

  Geesh, you would think she was talking to some lost dog walking down the street. Do I really look like I am about to take a chunk out of her leg? “Do you believe Lance would have wanted you to call me if he felt your safety would be in jeopardy by me being around you and your loved ones?” Taking my question into consideration, she turns and gazes at the casket that is now being lowered into the soil.

  “I guess not. I just, well, he was um, telling me about you and some of the things you can do. He said that you’re very powerful.”

  With that statement, Madeline eyes me. I am not sure if the look is to see my reaction to the statement or to size me up. “It’s true, my abilities are stronger than most vampires.” I, too, turn my head and watch as the workers remove the strap that helped lower Lance's body into the ground.

  Without speaking, we both stand and walk over to the full plot. Staring down, I notice small traces of dirt have fallen on the casket. The realization that it is too late and there is nothing I can do for Lance washes over me. All I want to do is climb in the hole and pull open the lid so I can lie down next to him. Right now, I would not mind ending my life, to be able to be in Lance's arms again would be worth saying goodbye to this world. However, he would not want it that way. Madeline's small frame shudders as the cement block is lowered down on top of the man we both love. The bulldozer revs to life and Madeline’s and my body tense from the sound. Without thinking, I have brought my arm up to put around Madeline's shoulders. She does not pull away from my touch, instead she leans her head against me. As the bulldozer fills the grave, Lance’s widow’s body shakes and her tears freely flow. I wonder if this is the first time that she has really let loose. I wish I had tissue or something. I would at least offer a sleeve for her to wipe her face on, but my black dress is strapless. One of the workers walks over with a wad of tissue. It does not smell like it has been used. Reading his mind, I find this happens more often than he would like, so he just carries around tissue just in case. Since he is being kind, I will ignore the fact that he is looking me up and down. You would think that he might have some discretion. Does he not know I am mourning?

  Helping Madeline into the rental car, I spy the keys. As I thought, Isaac left the keys in the ignition. I climb in and start the car and Madeline turns and puts her hand on the window. The heat from her hand steams the window and leaves an outline of her hand against the glass. Heading out of the cemetery, I await her directions—although I do not need them. On the way to the hotel, I mapped out where they live. I would rather not scare her by just pulling up in front of her house—a house that I have never visited before now, but I always dreamt of living in.

  “I don’t live far from here. Thank you for doing this.”

  “It’s not a problem, just tell me which way to go.”

  “Sure, make a left and at the next light, take another left. Um, what happened to the others you came with.”

  Hmm, I was wondering if she was paying attention.

  “They went back to the hotel.”

  “Oh, did you come in separate cars, or did they catch a ride with someone?”

  With that last statement, the color drains from her face. She stares at me with a panic stricken glare. “Don’t worry, all of your guests and family are safe. My family walked back to the hotel. They don’t mind the rain. I’m sure they were under the cover of shelter before most of your guests were out of the cemetery gates.” She sighs in relief, and looks straight ahead.

  “Take the next left and go three streets down and make a right. It’ll be the green house, third down on the left.” With that, she closes her eyes.

  Slowing down and looking for a parking spot on the street, Madeline opens her eyes. I am certain she sees the same thing I do. Her grandson is sitting outside on the side of the house on a swing set dragging his feet in the mud. Madeline reaches for her seat belt. I am worried she will jump out the car so I stop. The moment the car halts, Madeline is out the car, the door barely shuts behind her. The scent of outside hits me, and I realize my family is close by. Looking to my left, wedged between a few trees and a house, I observe them standing in the shadows. As I park the car and climb out to greet them, my ears detect Madeline disagreeing with her grandson. He does not want to go inside with a
ll of those strange people, and Madeline is concerned he is going to get sick sitting outside in the rain with no jacket. Deciding to see if I can help her get the boy inside, I head towards the side gate. Madeline looks up as I near. “Go inside and get warm. I’ll see if I can talk him in as well.” She is tired. She gives in without a fight.

  Lance’s widow starts to turn and walk inside, but stops. “Amber, will you stay?”

  That is a loaded question. Does she mean for the gathering that is going on inside her house or on more of a permanent basis? She must see all the questions flying through my head.

  “Will you stay for a while? I would like to get to know the old Lance as I'm sure you would like to know the Lance I knew and loved.”

  This is something I did not expect her to ask, not something I expected her to offer either. Looking behind me at my family standing in the shadows of the foliage, I know they can hear this conversation. I turn back to look first at the little boy, the one who could be Lance's miniature twin with gray eyes, and then to Madeline, the woman Lance was able to spend his life with. The woman that gave Lance everything I could not. Finally, my sight lands on the house they made their home. “Yes, Madeline I would like to stay for a while.” With that, she turns and heads into the house.

  My attention is drawn back to the little boy being rained on. I kneel to his eye level. Throughout the service he cried, now his eyes are red and puffy. “You know your grandmother is correct, you’re going to become sick if you don’t go in to put dry clothes on.”

  He brings his huge gray eyes up to meet mine. “I miss him already.”

  There is so much emotion in his little voice, so much said in those few words, it is quite shocking. “I know you do, I do too. But you sitting out here isn’t going to change any of that. Your grandmother has a lot on her mind right now. Making her worry about you getting sick should be one less thing for her to concern herself with. How old are you?”

  “Five.”

  Okay, so I am a little off on ages, I figured he was more like two or three.

  “How do you know my granddad?”

  “He and I were friends, many years ago.”

  “Really? You don’t look old like him and grandma.”

  Hmm, this kid seems to be smart for his age. “Well, no we don’t look the same age but don’t you have friends that aren’t the same age as you?” As he ponders the question, a rumble of thunder booms about sixty miles away.

  “My granddad told me that once he was gone, I had to be the man of the house. I'm scared.”

  “Why are you scared?”

  “Well…I don't know how to be the man of the house. I'm not a doctor, I'm not old enough to drive a car, and I don't think I know how to work the lawnmower.”

  Ha, who would have thought that out of all the things that should be running through this kid’s mind and this is what he is thinking? “Well, I’ll be staying for a little while and I think between your grandmother and me, we can help you become the man of the house.” My statement sparks a light in his eyes.

  “Okay!”

  “For starters, how about you go inside and get warm? It’ll be hard for you to be man of the house if you’re sick.”

  This puts a frown on his face. “I don't want to go in there. Aunt Brenda is mean to me.”

  So I was right in my assessment. “Don’t worry about her. I do believe your grandmother is handling it.” As we speak, I hear them talking in one of the upstairs rooms.

  “Okay, I’ll go in. Are you coming in too?”

  “I’ll be in shortly. There’s something I need to take care of first.” He gets up and heads inside. His little legs don’t carry him very quickly. I stand and head back out of the yard over to meet my family. They have heard everything that was said. I really hope this will not be a fight.

  “You’re such a freaking hypocrite, Amber! I cannot believe you’re willing to walk away from us again. But-but when I needed space, when I needed to go away for a while, the first thing you said to me was ‘no’. You came up with all these excuses why I shouldn't go. Hell, you even threw yourself at me to keep me around. And what? And! What? Not even three days after all of that you’re ready to do the same!”

  Somehow, I saw this coming. I am surprised Christopher held all of that in until now. This is nothing like him walking away from the family. “Christopher, please, it’s not like that. You heard what she said. I’ll have the chance to see how Lance lived, what life he made for himself...”

  “No! He didn't make a life for himself, you gave it to him. You gave him the whole damn thing. That boy would’ve been nothing if it wasn't for you.”

  Olivia knows better than to step between Christopher and me in times like this, but still she places her small body between the two of us.

  “Christopher, please calm down, you’re going to draw attention to us.”

  “Do you think I care? Let them come out, they’ll be sorry they did.”

  Isaac edges closer to Christopher, and I am sure Christopher can hear and sense it. I am worried Christopher will turn and swing at Isaac before Isaac has a chance to react.

  “Christopher, look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being selfish the other day. I was worried about losing you. I was worried about you never coming back. Please don’t be upset with me. I love you.” I move closer and slip my hands around his waist. Glancing up to see his red rimmed eyes, I understand where this is coming from, but this is something I must do. “I promise I’ll only be gone a little while this time. I’ll come back, and if by then you’ve changed your mind and want to give the whole relationship thing a go, I’ll still be willing.”

  The red tint in his eyes starts to fade. He bows his head forward so his lips meet my forehead as his arms wrap around me, encasing my body with his. After a few seconds he lets go and backs away.

  “I don’t know why I let you do this to me time and again.” He turns and looks at our parents. “I told you she was more trouble than she's worth. We should have just drank her blood and gone on with our lives. She would have made a good meal and it would have saved me all these years of heartache.”

  Sighing, he takes another step back, and looks out over my head. I believe if he makes eye contact with me, he may change his mind over whatever he is about to say.

  Isaac, who is still in the same spot, shakes his head then gives a small smile. “Go on kiddo, we’ll be home waiting for you. Do you need the car?”

  Shoot, I have not planned this out very well. I do not have a car or clothing. My laptop is still sitting at my house in my office with the book I was reading. I will need to pick up a few things if I am going to be staying for a while. “No, take the car, I'm sure there are shopping centers around and I really don’t need a car to get there.” Reaching into my black clutch, I remove the rental car keys. “If anything, I’ll just rent a new car. I have my ID with me.” With that, we all give a quick grin, none of us have real ID's. I could only imagine what it would say: (Ambrosia) Amber Elizabeth (Wilson) Harris. Birth: August 16, 1782. In bright bold letters it will read: May look younger than age; female will appear to be around the age of eighteen. There would have to be two pictures of me, one of how I look now and one of how I should look—a pile of dust.

  “That’s morbid, Amber.”

  I refocus my eyes and see my family still standing in front of me. Was I projecting my thoughts again? The looks on their faces tell me I was. “Sorry. My mind has been wandering lately.”

  Christopher laughs before saying, “There’s nothing new about that. Remember we’ve heard everything you were thinking the past few days.”

  I am certain if I was still human I would be blushing right now. Taking my time, I glance at each one of my family members. Isaac standing tall—kind of in the background like always—has his shoulder length black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His mud-brown eyes that always seem black to me, meet my gaze, and his lips pull into a semi grin. Olivia, with
ocean-blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, being her typical self, she is planted almost in the middle of some uproar that Christopher and I are having. She is so easy going with us. The dimple in her chin brightens her whole face, even more than the blue eyes. Then there is my loving brother. He is a little shorter than Isaac, but what he lacks in size, he makes up for in attitude. His brilliant green eyes can stop traffic if he called upon their full force. I love to look at all of the freckles on his face. One time while he was asleep, I took a pen and played connect the dots. Even Isaac found it worth it to repair the wall we broke once Christopher woke up and saw what I did. Taking an unneeded long breath, I turn and walk toward the house and into the life my dear sweet Lance used to live.

  3

  Booster Seat?

  It is getting late. Most of the guests from the funeral have left. Gazing around the house, I am thankful the crowd has cleared. I have placed myself on a wooden chair that is set off to the side of the dining room. Outside of a few funny glances, most of the guests have ignored me and carried on as if I am a part of the decor. Brenda has given me most of those looks. I told myself as I entered the house I would not read others’ minds. She has made me rethink my decision numerous times in the short span that I have encountered her glare. I do not understand how someone so awful could have come from Lance. I wish I could say she was adopted but that is not the case. She has Lance's never-ending blue eyes, and Madeline's black curly hair. Too bad she did not get their dispositions as well. I have heard her whisper harsh words to almost everyone who has gotten close to her. Phil, the husband, seems oblivious to it all, poor man. The little boy is stretched out on the loveseat in the living room. He has been asleep for over an hour. I do not know if Madeline has noticed. Since she walked in the door, she has been surrounded by people.

  Brenda is at it again. She is arguing with her mother. Madeline asked her to put Dominick to bed.

  “Why can't you do it? He's filthy! You let him sit outside in that mud and rain. I won’t do it.”

  She speaks of her nephew as if he were an unwanted pet or something. As I recall, she was the one who left him outside. Standing, I walk towards the scene. Most of the guests do not want to be involved as they are slowly grabbing their raincoats and umbrellas and mumbling their goodbyes before heading out into the night.

  “Brenda, he’s a little boy. I have a few more guests here; otherwise, I’d do it. His clothes are clean. He put them on once he came in from the rain. I laid his pajamas on his bed. Can you please take him up?”

  Brenda is not going to be of any help, so I clear my throat as I walk up behind the women. I must be moving too quietly because both women jump a little. “I’ll take him. Which room is his?” I can easily pull the thought out of one of their heads or just follow my nose, but I do not want to draw attention to myself—Brenda is already eyeing me.

  “Thank you, Amber. It’s the second door on the right. And please forgive me. I haven’t been myself, or a good hostess. You can put your things in the first room on the left. It has its own bathroom. Forgive me for not showing you earlier. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

  If I thought I was going to be able to fly under the radar with the daughter before, that all just went out the window. Her heartbeat has quickened and the air is rushing out of her nostrils.

  “Who the hell is she, and why is she staying at the house?”

  Madeline turns her head to look at her daughter. “That’s no way to speak of or to a guest in this house. Amber was a friend of your father’s.”

  Brenda's lips curl into a smirk. “So good ole daddy had a fling and you’re allowing her to stay in this house?”

  She turns to glare at me with a look of detest on her face. “Don't you think you’re a little young for my father? What are you, sixteen or something? Wow, mother, you must’ve gone off the deep end to allow this home-wrecker in your home.” Ha, go figure. Why is that the assumption with me? My coworkers have a rumor going around that I am involved with a married man, and that is why I show no interest in any of the advances the men give me at work. I wonder if this child knows I can snap her neck without moving a finger. No, no, I must not think this way, this is Lance's child.

  These thoughts have made my come back a little slower than I would like, however, Madeline reaches up and slaps Brenda across her right cheek. Thinking quickly, I hold my breath. The blood is rushing to the place where Madeline's hand print lays. I can feel the heat radiating from the spot as Brenda brings her hand to her cheek. I have to say, this has gone over and beyond making my day. It is a good thing I am able to hide emotions, otherwise, it would be quite hard for me to mask the smile that is begging to breach my lips. Those five guests that are still here, grab their belongings to leave. Brenda glares at her husband who is standing in the corner of the room looking like he was the one who was slapped.

  “Come on, Philip we’re leaving. I don't care if we have to stay in a roach motel tonight. I refuse to stay in this house another minute!”

  Giving her mother and me a very dirty look, she and Phil storm towards the door. I take that as my cue to grab the little one and take him upstairs.

  Picking his small frame up, I enjoy the warmth he gives. I do not know if I am holding him correctly, his head seems to be having trouble holding itself up. Heading up the stairs, I hear Madeline giving the final goodbyes. The hallway light comes on. I do not think it is a motion sensor. Silly girl, she must think I need to have the light on to find my way. Opening the little boy’s bedroom door, I find it exciting. He has an obstacle course for me to navigate through. There are little army men lined up in neat straight rows. They are facing off a fleet of miniature race cars. I do not know if either one of the troops know that a band of robots is moving in from the west. Making it to his bed, I do not think I will be changing his clothing. I do not want to hurt him. Madeline is right these are not the same clothes he had on earlier. Laying him on the bed, I pull his slippers off. His little feet were stuffed into some sort of green looking monster with blue plastic eyes stuck on them. I wonder if my human brothers lived during this time, would they have worn something like this. Pulling the covers over his small body, I turn to leave.

  “Can you turn the night light on?”

  Hmm, I thought he was asleep. Searching the room, I find what looks to be a light hiding behind what seems to be a colorful plastic fish. Flicking the switch, the room is automatically illuminated. The boy turns onto his side and starts to breathe deeply. Who knew it could be so easy?

  Heading down the hallway, I hear Madeline sit with a huff. Down the stairs, I find her sitting on the sofa with her head leaning back, eyes closed and tears streaming down her cheeks. I now understand why Lance wanted her to call me. He wanted me to come, in hopes that I would stick around. I think Lance wanted me here to help his widow through this time. The woman seated before me is slowly coming apart at the seams. As I near her, she opens her eyes and gives me an apologetic look. “Is there anything I can get you, Madeline? Tissue, a glass of wine? It’s getting late, I’m sure you’ll need something to help you sleep.”

  “Please call me Maddie. A glass of wine would be nice, sweetie. There are a few bottles on the table.”

  Maddie, hmm, perhaps we are making progress. “Sure thing, I’ll be right back.”

  Returning with the glass of wine in less than two seconds, brings a look of shock to her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “How, how did you do that so quickly?”

  Before I can answer, she shakes her head and reaches for the wine. Turning it upwards, she finishes the full glass with three gulps. Placing the flute on the coffee table, she leans back and closes her eyes again. This is the first time I have really had a chance to view the entire house. All of those warm bodies earlier were too much of a distraction to really take in my surroundings. I have to admit it has a warm homey glow about it. The living room has pale pink walls with a floral border g
oing around the top. Hardwood floors, no rugs, or carpeting of any kind. I spot small scuff marks on the floor, little Dominick must play in here from time to time. There is a matching sofa, loveseat and two recliners, all floral print. I think they are supposed to match the border on the walls, but my eyes detect the subtle differences. From where I sit, I can see the dining room. It is painted a deep green with dark wood trim running along the apex. A china cabinet sits on the left wall and the dining room table that seats eight is placed under a small but elegant chandelier.

  Heavy breathing coming from Madeline-Maddie brings my eyes back to the living room. Both hands are resting in her lap and her foot has come out of her shoe—that leg is sitting at a slant. Her head leans against the backing of the couch, tilting to the side with her mouth hanging slightly open. I should not leave her like that. I have heard of humans complaining of stiff necks after falling asleep on their furniture or just sleeping weird in the bed. I do not remember this from my human life, but I will not give her the chance to have to go through it. Lifting her from the sofa, I head back up the stairs. I am unaware of which room is hers, of which room Lance and she shared. I can still smell Lance's scent in the house. It is not very strong. I wonder when the last time he actually was here.

  Checking each room besides the two she pointed out before, I find the master suite. Against the wall opposite the door sits a queen size bed. The bedspread matches the decor, interesting. I wonder if she paid someone to do the decorations or if she did it all herself. The bed is covered with a navy blue and black striped comforter. There are four pillows at the head of the bed—two blue and two black. My sense of smell detects that she sleeps on the right side of the bed. Lance's scent is much stronger in here. Madeline must keep the door shut. I want so badly to lie down on his side of the bed and inhale his scent until I can no longer smell it. Instead, I place her on the bed, and remove her other shoe. I will bring it down to its mate once I finish in here. Both bedsides have a nightstand. An empty pitcher rests on the small table along with a cup and a lamp. The other night stand has a pair of glasses on it. This brings a smile to my face, thinking about seeing my young, strong Lance with a pair of reading glasses on. I wonder if I had the chance to get old, would I one day have needed to wear glasses.

  Pulling the covers over Madeline’s frail frame, I turn to leave and head back downstairs. Something has been in the back of my mind for a few days. Entering the living room, I retrieve my cellular phone from my handbag. Before coming back to the States none of my family had a cellular phone. Last weekend I made sure they all had one. I even made sure Judy had one. Maybe I will have Christopher or Olivia send it to me. I can always give it to Madeline—it is not like Judy will need it anymore. Hitting ‘Mem 3’ on the key pad, the phone begins to ring. It would have been just as easy for me to find Christopher's mind out there and communicate telepathically but I do not want to disturb him if he is busy.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Christopher, you’re not busy, are you?”

  “Do you really think I would’ve answered if I was? Did you change your mind? Are you ready to come home with us?”

  “No, brother, I’m not coming back with you. I’ve called to ask you a favor.” Knowing my brother, I wager, along with the puff of air that rushes from his lips, he is most likely rolling his eyes too.

  “What do you want, Amber?”

  I can hear the edgy tone in his voice. I have already asked a lot of him and of my whole family so I say, “Don’t worry, brother. I think you may enjoy what I need from you.”

  “I doubt we have the same thought in mind.”

  Now it is my turn to roll my eyes. “Listen, I got some weird vibes from Lisa the other day, and she didn't come into work my last day in the office, before everything happened. I called to talk to her and she wasn’t herself. When you get back to New York will you check in on her, either at work or her house? I’m sure you remember where she lives.”

  “Of course, I know where she lives. What makes you think there’s something wrong? Isn’t it what humans do sometimes? Don't they play hooky from work?”

  “Yes, I’ve thought of that. Yet, that’s not what is worrying me. It’s the way she sounded on the phone when I called her. She just wasn’t being herself.”

  “Fine, I'll check on her, but I'm telling you, you’re nothing but a worrywart when it comes to these humans. What’ll you do if any of these quote-unquote friends you have find out what you really are?”

  “I’m sure you are correct, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Will or will you not check on her?”

  “I said I would.”

  “Thank you, Christopher. I promise I won’t ask anything of you for at least a decade.” “Hmm, I may hold you to that.”

  “I’m sure you will. Christopher?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “Yeah, I'm sure you do.”

  Disconnecting our phone call, relief washes over me. He is right about me being too close to Lisa, or any of these other fragile humans. But Lisa has been one of the nicest humans I have come in contact with. Although, I do not think I had a choice in being her friend. And as for Madeline, I guess it is just a favor I am doing for Lance. I do not fully understand her mourning process, it is not like humans’ long-term memories work as well as a vampires, but I will need to put how I feel aside so I can be here fully for Lance's family. I have never lived in the same quarters with a human, and now I have two warm blooded bodies within a few feet of me. I will need to reign in all of my control to make sure I do not harm them in any way. Standing, I believe it is time to finish my tour of the house. I wonder what kind of car Madeline drives. I may need to head towards the closest rental car place once they open.