Or was it a premonition of things to come--like history repeating itself?
Peyton cut on the light and immediately gazed at her Sleep-T, as though expecting to find a giant hole where her stepfather had shot her, blood gushing out uncontrollably. Instead, she only saw the yellow cotton fabric.
She breathed a sigh of relief, but still had an uneasy feeling. What if her mother really had been shot to death? And Bryant's father, too?
If so, then Vance could be out there in the bay--a victim of suicide following his killing spree.
Or still in the house, looking for me!
As ridiculous as it all seemed now that Peyton was wide awake and apparently no worse the wear, she had to be sure. She got up and walked to the door. Peeking out, as if afraid someone might be waiting on the other side, she saw no one.
She padded down the hallway, careful to avoid the known squeaky spots till she came to her parents' closed bedroom door. She listened, trying to determine if there was any sign of distress or activity. All was quiet, which was just as alarming.
Normally she would have knocked on the door before entering, but this time Peyton took her chances, twisting the knob.
The light from the hall streamed across the room, cutting through the darkness enough to allow her to see the bed. Peyton's stepfather was cuddling her mother peacefully beneath the covers. There was no sign of foul play. Peyton even looked in the direction where Luke had gone down after being shot, and saw no one and no blood staining the floor from his massive chest wound.
Peyton heard a noise and jumped, before she realized it was just her mother and Vance turning over, as if on cue, to let her know they were fine. She closed the door quietly.
Peyton went back to bed, not sure she would be able to sleep.
Guess I was spooked more than I realized after Caitlyn's cryptic words to Lily's grandmother.
She recalled Frances Kramer also saying, "Ghosts are usually harmless in their ability to actually hurt people in the living world."
So what am I worried about? Byron St. Claire can no more hurt me, my mother, stepfather, or even Luke any more than Vance could, in spite of his occasional weirdness and changing appearance.
It was times like this when Peyton wished her father was still alive to provide much needed comfort when she'd had a bad dream. But he wasn't alive. He was gone and couldn't help her.
After lying awake for a while wondering if Caitlyn or any other ghosts would once again appear before her, Peyton finally drifted off to sleep. But before she did, she prayed that there would be no repeat of her nightmare of unimaginable horror.
* * *
Caitlyn stood over the bed watching as Peyton fell asleep. It was bound to be a restless night of tossing and turning, much like when Peyton had experienced the all too real events in her dream. Caitlyn wished there was another way to go about this, but there wasn't. Time was running out and lives were at stake.
And the worst was yet to come...
Caitlyn tried to touch Peyton's cheek. Her face twitched, as if being tickled by a feather.
Soon it will be all over, Peyton, Caitlyn promised. One way or the other. Only then would she know if peace would come her way at long last or if she would continue to be caught in her father's cycle of anger and hatred.
Caitlyn could feel someone's presence. Turning around, fearing the worst, she saw her mother. She was smiling, masking her misery. She extended her hand and, after a moment or two, Caitlyn held it.
Both turned to look at Peyton, as if seeing her for the final time. Then they gazed at each other.
Through her mind, Caitlyn heard her mother say, "Have faith, dear. Everything will be just fine. You'll see."
Caitlyn wanted to believe that with all her heart. But seeing the unease in mother's face, it was clear she didn't even trust her own words. Not when they both knew there was someone powerful standing in the way of any happiness and freedom they might enjoy.
Caitlyn saw Peyton as an ally who just might be strong enough to thwart her father's evil intentions--with Caitlyn's help.
Goodbye, Peyton, just in case things go wrong and we never see each other again.
The mother and daughter vanished into thin air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Peyton was up bright and early for her first day of school in Shadow Bay. Instead of thinking about classes, books, making new friends, and her boyfriend Bryant, her thoughts were more on infidelity, murder, and suicide. In spite of her best efforts, Peyton couldn't shake the nightmare she had last night and the feeling that there was more to it than just another bad dream.
Am I just looking for trouble where there is none?
She had mixed feelings about the absence of Caitlyn's ghost lately. Had she seen the last of Caitlyn St. Claire? Maybe she would rather make her presence known only to Frances Kramer from this point on, now that the two best friends had sort of reunited.
Or was Caitlyn holding back for some reason--waiting for some dramatic moment to reappear?
Peyton tried not to think about that possibility, even if a small part of her wouldn't mind seeing Caitlyn one last time, if only to say goodbye. Other than that, Peyton knew it wasn't very healthy to have an ongoing relationship with a fifty-year-old ghost who hadn't gotten past age sixteen. Better to focus on friends who could at least talk back to her with real words, other than in dreams and carved out messages on the wall.
Peyton found her mother in the kitchen making waffles.
"Good morning, honey," Melody said cheerfully. "You look nice."
"Thanks." She had put on new clothes, but nothing that would attract too much attention at school other than from Bryant.
"Have a seat. Waffles are just about ready."
"I'm not really hungry," Peyton said. "I've got butterflies in my stomach, with school starting and all."
Her mother's brow creased. "You have to eat, especially to begin your school day."
Peyton relented. "Okay, maybe just half a waffle," she said, filling a glass with orange juice. "So where's Vance anyway?" She hadn't passed him on the way down.
"He had to go to work early," Melody said, sounding disappointed. "Looks like it's just you and me."
"Just like when dad died."
Peyton wondered if they would have been better off on their own without Vance in the picture. At least she wouldn't have dreamt about him killing them.
"Your father didn't have a choice in the matter, honey," her mother said. "And neither did we."
"I know." Peyton sipped orange juice. That didn't make her feel any better about it. "Do you think dad's really watching over us?"
"Of course he is. Your father's spirit didn't die with him." Melody looked at her curiously. "Where's this coming from, Peyton?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Nowhere, really. I just wish things could go back to the way they were before--"
"That's not possible. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. We just have to make the best of the life we're given and try not to regret too much the things we have little to no control over."
Peyton was frustrated that she had so little say in the things most important to her. Like where she lived, whether or not she should have a stepfather, and dreams that freaked her out.
Even what would become of her and Bryant was pretty much something that she couldn't control or predict.
Several minutes of silence passed before Peyton decided to clear something up once and for all that had been on her mind since she woke up the second time around this morning.
"Is there anything going on between you and Luke?" she asked her mother.
Melody sipped coffee and asked innocently, "Anything like what?"
Peyton sighed, locking eyes with her mother. "Are you and Bry's dad having an affair or not?"
"What--?" Her mother's face flushed. "No, of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?"
Maybe because I saw Vance shoot Luke and you, just like Byron St. Claire shot Caitlyn's mother a
nd her caretaker lover.
"Because I've seen the way you two flirt with each other, Mom. Vance isn't stupid, you know."
"Neither am I, Peyton!" Melody said sharply. "Grownups flirt. And so do teenagers. There's no harm in that. I would never cross the line. I love Vance, just as I loved your father. I have no interest in adultery."
Peyton suddenly felt foolish. I have no proof of anything going on between her and Luke, unless I count the implied scenario in my dream with the hatred in Vance's eyes that resulted in his murderous rampage.
But in the real world, in spite of her stepfather's recent strange behavior, Peyton had never known Vance to be violent toward her mother.
So why am I freaking out?
Peyton met her mother's disappointed eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," she uttered lamely. "I just had some weird thoughts."
Melody sipped her coffee. "Did you have another bad dream?"
"Yeah," Peyton admitted, losing what little appetite she had.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." She frowned. "You want to tell me about it?"
Peyton hesitated. "I'm not sure it's something you want to hear."
Melody tilted her face. "Did it involve me...and Luke?"
"Sort of--"
"Oh dear."
Peyton replayed the entire dream to her mother, concluding with her unwanted dip in the bay.
"That's horrible," her mother gasped. "But no matter how real it seemed, it was still a dream, Peyton. Just like the other ones."
Peyton understood that, though there was obviously some connection between her dreams and Caitlyn's history. It was as if Caitlyn was purposely getting into her head to make an ominous plea for help. Peyton wasn't sure there was anything else she could do.
"I just want the bad dreams to end once and for all," she said.
Melody's expression was sympathetic. "Maybe they will now with school starting to get your mind on other things."
Peyton wanted to believe that with all her heart. Even if she still had reservations about it. She got up from her partially finished breakfast. "I have to go, Mom. Can't be late on the first day."
Her mother stood. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?"
"No, Bry's driving me...us," she said.
"All right. Well, try to have fun on your first day."
"I'll try," Peyton promised. Being with Bryant was a good first step.
She kissed her mother on the cheek, ran upstairs and grabbed her backpack, and was out the door. Bryant was already waiting for Peyton in his car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Nervous?" Bryant asked Peyton during the drive. "You know, first day jitters."
Peyton smiled. "I suppose, just a little."
"Well, don't be. Everyone else is in the same boat at the start of the new school year, so you'll fit right in."
That was comforting, except for one thing. "What's going to happen with us?"
He looked at her. "What do you want to happen?"
She colored. "That's just it. I don't want anything to change." At least not where it concerned them being a couple.
"Why should it?"
"I meant with your being a senior and me just a junior," Peyton said defensively. "I know how these things work--at least in my old school, where it was pretty much not cool to date below you...at least not in public."
Bryant chuckled and took her hand. "This isn't San Diego. I like you and I'm not ashamed to go out with you. If you think I plan to ditch you for a senior girl, forget it. Satisfied?"
Peyton beamed, squeezing his hand. "For now."
"So does that mean you have no plans to check out those junior guys who'll probably trip over one another to have a shot at the new attractive California girl in school?"
"What do you think?" She batted her lashes at him theatrically.
"Here's what I think..." Bryant said, stopping at a red light. He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth long enough for Peyton to become breathless. "That answer your question?"
She touched her lips, which were still tingling. "Does it answer yours?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then it answers mine, too."
Peyton kept holding his hand and wished she never had to let it go at school or anywhere else.
In the back of her mind, Peyton still had the unsettling thought of Bryant's father and her mother somehow carrying on behind her stepfather's back, with disastrous results.
* * *
By the time Peyton was dropped off at home that afternoon, she had found the experience of going to a new school not so bad after all. It was only the first day, but Peyton already felt comfortable and the classes did not seem too overwhelming. She missed having Erica around. And Lily, too, who had gone back to Atlanta yesterday with plans to visit Shadow Bay during Christmas break.
But she did have Bryant, who was more than Peyton could ask for as a boyfriend. He had just given her a nice goodbye kiss. Earlier, he'd introduced her to his friends at school and made it clear they were an item. She looked forward to spending more time with him without having to deal with ghosts and goblins.
Peyton saw her stepfather's car in the driveway. She suspected Vance had gotten home sooner than usual because he had gone to work so early that morning.
She went inside, tossing her backpack on the floor. The TV was on in the living room, but no one was watching it. She was about to head for the kitchen, but saw the light on in the study and took a detour.
The first thing Peyton saw in the study was a shotgun. It was leaning up against the bookcase, as if on display. What was it doing there? She picked the gun up, studying it. She didn't know anything about guns, but it looked in pretty good condition and very old.
Peyton's heart lurched as she realized the shotgun looked very much like the one in her dreams, first used by Byron St. Claire and then by Vance...to kill--
Peyton panicked. Vance had used the shotgun to murder her mother. Now he intended to kill her to keep silent. She imagined that he had shot Luke, too.
"Be careful with that, girl!" the voice warned from behind her. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Turning around, Peyton looked with terrified eyes into the face of her stepfather. She took a step backwards, the shotgun still in hand.
"What did you do to my mother?"
"What do you mean?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you shoot her with this?"
Vance chuckled mirthlessly. "Are you out of your mind? What on earth makes you think I'd shoot Melody with that old shotgun?"
Peyton tried to gauge whether he was serious or merely trying to lull her into a false sense of security. She looked at the shotgun again, her sweaty palms clinging to the wood.
"Because I had a premonition that you would," she blurted out, realizing how foolish it probably sounded.
Vance pressed his lips tightly together. "Well, your premonition is wrong! The shotgun isn't even loaded and probably hasn't been fired in years, if not decades. I picked it up at a gun show this afternoon."
Peyton held his gaze suspiciously. She didn't know he was interested in guns. What else did she not know about him?
Or had he somehow come under the spell of Byron St. Claire?
"What for?" she demanded.
"If you must know, it's for an advertising campaign," Vance said succinctly. "I resent the suggestion that I bought it to, well, commit a crime against someone I happen to love dearly."
Peyton was far from convinced. She sighed, never taking her eyes off him.
"Where's my mother?"
"Last I knew she was in the kitchen." Vance approached her, extending his arms. "I'll take that--"
Peyton debated whether or not to give him the shotgun. For all she knew, he would take it and shoot her.
What should I do? What if he's a killer?
Fearing he would not let her by if she tried to make a run for it, Peyton tossed the shotgun to the floor several feet away.
"Oops, guess it just slipped out of my
hands," she said insolently.
Vance glared at her and went for the shotgun, allowing Peyton to race out of the study.
She ran to the kitchen, praying that her mother was in there, alive and well. But all Peyton saw was a couple of pots on the stove with food cooking. Her pulse quickened. She was sure her mother had been the victim of foul play.
And that Vance was the perpetrator.
Nearly overcome with fear, Peyton bolted into the hall. She saw her stepfather approaching from the study at a rapid pace.
She mounted the stairs, screaming, "Mom, are you up there? Did he hurt you--? Mom--!"
Peyton could hear Vance's heavy steps coming after her and actually feared he might shoot her in the back. She rushed to the master bedroom, afraid of what she might find.
"Mom--!" she called out again to no response.
It was only when Peyton entered the bedroom--envisioning her mother's bullet-riddled body spread across a bloody bedspread as a corpse--that she almost bowled her over.
Melody grabbed her shoulders, keeping them both from falling. "Peyton, calm down. What's gotten into you?"
Peyton had to catch her breath. So she wasn't dead or shot. Maybe Vance hadn't gotten around to carrying out his plan yet. "Did he try to hurt you?"
"Who, honey?"
Peyton turned and saw her stepfather filling the doorway.
Vance stepped in, holding the shotgun. Peyton immediately cuddled her mother protectively.
"Him--" she said.
Vance cocked a brow. "She freaked out, thinking I planned to use this old relic to shoot you."
"What--?" Melody eyed her daughter.
"She claimed it was a premonition or something," he said. "I tried to tell her that was plain crazy, but she wouldn't listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. I'll go put this away and check on the food. Hopefully it hasn't burned."
A shadow of bewilderment crossed Melody's face. "Oh, Peyton, why would you think such a thing?" She paused. "Does it have something to do with your latest dream?"
Peyton waited till Vance was downstairs before saying anything, not even sure what to believe herself at this point.
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