I drop my duffel bag on the concrete slab that houses the metal cylinder on wheels. I breathe in and out, my nerves on edge as I climb the rickety stairs to the oval door. Before I chicken out, I knock on the door and get off the stairs quickly.
Footsteps shake the trailer and the door swings out.
“Yes?” The tall, willowy woman with an elongated face squints. She wears a long flowery orange skirt that reaches her ankles and a pair of brown sandals wrap her feet. Her shirt cuts off at the midriff and silver coin chains hang around her neck, covering her bosom.
“Are you Simza Kepi?” My voice shakes.
Her jaw drops and her expression dulls. She lets out a loud breath. “There’s nothing for you here. Leave.” She slams the door.
Chapter 5
Big rain drops threaten to drown my sorrow. One hits my cheek, mixing with a tear.
“You okay, sweetie?” A soft voice carries in the wind. I turn to see a petite, stout woman smiling at me. Her smile fades. She purses her lips together. “You need a place to stay, don’t you?”
I wipe my tear away and stare at this strange, curious woman. What a uncanny thing to ask, but the duffel bag probably gave away my predicament. “I’ll be okay.”
She looks up at the dark sky and blinks into the heavy, slow drops.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” I think she winks at me since the side of her face scrunches up, but the darkness hides the gesture. “Follow me.” She turns briskly walking from the camper.
“Okay.” She leads me to one of the cabins off in the tree lines.
“I just knew I’d be needing this place ready today. I spent the entire day cleaning it for you.” “Excuse me?” This place gets weirder by the moment.
She giggles, stops, and faces me. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I say the silliest things that make no sense to people. It’s a bad habit.” She reaches her hand out toward me. “I’m Deena. I manage this park.”
I shake her hand. “Alice.”
“Hmm, I didn’t peg you for an Alice.” She turns, walks up the stairs of the first cabin, and unlocks the door.
“How did—”
“How did I know you needed a place to stay?” she asks. “Oh, it’s in the stars. I knew a stranger would come this way today seeking shelter.” She looks up through the pine trees toward the sky. “It’s a gift.”
“I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t know what you charge.” I follow her into the cabin as the rain falls faster, thankful for her gift.
“I think we’ll figure something out. I have a feeling you’ll be here for a little while.” Deena hands me the key. “I put some things in the fridge. I figured you’d be hungry.”
“Umm, thank you.” My eyes narrow. My mind flutters with confusion. “How’d ya—”
“How’d I know you’d need food? Just a hunch. I get them from time-to-time.” Deena’s mouth twists into a half-smile.
“Do you know Simz…Madam Aishe?” I put my duffel bag on the floor and the key on the kitchen counter.
She glances to the ceiling. I follow her gaze. The wooden fan looks like long leaves going slowly in circles. “She’s been here a few months, always pays her rent on time, but I try to stay away. The dead really freak me out.”
“Everything is beginning to freak me out here.”
“Well, you are in the psychic capital, you know.” She grins and walks to the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on you. We can work something out then.”
I nod. She closes the door behind her. I stare at the clean cabin. The kitchen is small with a fridge, sink, a few cabinets, and a stove with a microwave above it. The tiny living room has a sofa, loveseat, coffee table, and a small TV on a wooden stand. I walk further down a hall and see a bedroom with a double bed and dresser. The bed looks freshly made with an extra pillow laid at the end of it.
I’ve officially entered the Twilight Zone.
The early sunrise, mixed with the pine scent through the open window and the birds chirping, makes me want to stay in bed a little longer and enjoy that simple moment of carefree bliss where all my problems don’t exist.
A knock at the door makes the blissful moment evaporate into thin air.
“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Deena’s squeaky voice permeates the cabin space. “I’ve got a treat for you.”
“Coming.” I drag myself out of bed and slip on my sandals. Before opening the door, a whiff of a decadent cinnamon reaches my nostrils. “Oh, that smells good.”
Deena stands in front of the door with a platter of moist rolls. My stomach growls.
“Yes, I baked them fresh. No sense in buying store-bought when you have a recipe this good.” She places the aluminum pan on the stove.
“Thank you.” I take one of the cabin plates out of the cupboard and help myself.
In the daylight, it’s easier to see Deena’s sharp honey eyes and her ash brown spiral curly hair. She’s probably a few inches shorter than my 5’5” stature. Her baby face makes her look younger than I think she may be.
“You’re welcome, Alice.” She smirks and it immediately makes me think she doesn’t believe that’s my name. That’s never happened before.
“Have you always been psychic?”
“Oh, I’m not psychic.” Her face brightens.
“Then how did you know I was coming?” I chomp down on the cinnamon roll and let the warm icing slither down my throat. This is the best I’ve ever had.
The corners of her eyes crinkle. “It’s my intuition. You know we have a lot more senses than the five they teach us about in school.”
“Is that so?”
She leans against the kitchen counter and places her hands on her chin. “Oh yeah. We’ve been taught to suppress what we don’t know or understand, but if you train yourself, you can learn how to use your other senses.”
She seems so sure of herself and honest.
“This is delicious, by the way.” I take another bite.
She nods. “Oh, I know.” She sits up and pats her round belly.
I chuckle.
“So, do you want the grand tour of the place?” she asks.
“Sure.” Her mood lifts my spirits…so positive, happy, and sure of herself. Her energy is contagious.
I grab the key, follow Deena out of the cabin, and lock up. Dad was a stickler for locking the front door and it rubbed off.
“It’s a small campground and it’s off season now, so there’s not a lot of people staying here.” She walks down the path past the pine tree line. “Actually, it’s off season all the time. We are a hidden gem here surrounded by woods. Not a lot of nature left in Florida, especially down south. Too many transplants from up north and such.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Oh, I’ve been here two years now, I guess. Not long.”
Simza’s silver cylinder trailer glistens under the morning sun with moisture. Her truck sits next to it, so I assume she’s home. She’s not going to get rid of me that easily.
“I moved here to get away from the city life and get back in touch with nature.” Deena points toward her trailer. “That really belongs to the owner, but he was nice enough to provide it as housing for the right manager, and that’s me.”
“Where’s the owner?”
“He lives in upstate New York. I’ve only met him once.” She kicks a pine cone off the dirt street that leads to the front of the campground. “One of those rich men who inherited his parents’ fortune. He said he didn’t know what to do with this place. Tried to sell it a few times, but no takers. Not profitable enough, he said.”
The campground is square with woods surrounding it. One dirt road leads toward the street I was dropped off last night. A small building meets the entrance with a fenced-in pool behind it. I hadn’t seen the pool in the darkness last night.
“We have laundry facilities.” Deena points toward the back of the building. “Only two washers and dryers, coin operated, of course.” She shrugs. “The pool i
s well maintained and refreshing on the hot days.”
“Looks nice.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice little place, isn’t it?” I follow her to the front door. She unlocks it. “Here’s the office, which I’m in most of the time, but I always see visitors when they come in since my trailer is not far away.”
“You saw me come in last night?”
“Yeah, I heard the car drive up.” She shuffles some papers. “You don’t need a key or anything to get into the pool area; the fence is always unlocked.”
The small office can’t be more than the size of the cabin I stayed in last night. One cooler sits in a corner stocked with soda, water, and juice. A display of candy, marshmallows, graham crackers and chips hang on the wall next to it.
“This is nice.” I see a price list written on a chalkboard behind the wooden counter.
Plain site/no-electric $20
Site with electric $30
Cabin$45
“It’s cozy to me.” Deena flips on the overhead fluorescent light. “I was thinking you can stay in the cabin for a weekly rate of $150 cash? Is that okay?”
“Really?” I point to the sign. “That’s not even four nights.”
“Well, I said cash, didn’t I?” She grins. “I need to eat too, and the owner doesn’t pay me.”
“I see.” I smile. “You’re skimming off the top.”
“Don’t go telling anyone though. I don’t do this often and not for just anyone. There’s something special about you, Alice.” She twirls her hair and squints her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you yet, but I can tell you need to be here.”
“Well, you’ve convinced me.” I dig in my pocket, and slap down $150 for the first week. “Can I ask you about how to find a job around here?”
She grabs a piece of paper with a map on it from under the counter and circles a spot “Here’s the bus route. It stops in front of the grounds and takes you directly into town. It’s a small town, but it has character. They might have a few places you can look there.”
“What about Cassadaga?” I ask.
“Nah, you won’t find much there, unless you’re a tarot card hack or tea leaf reader. They are more ‘spiritual’ than psychic, really.” She giggles. “Always good for entertainment purposes.”
“They’re not real psychics in the Psychic Capital?”
“They are as real as people need them to be.” Deena follows me to the door and walks outside with me.
“Thank you for this.” I hold up the map and turn to head back to Simza’s trailer. Might as well demand a few answers before I head into town.
“It’s my pleasure.”
I swing my head around and see Deena looking at the clear blue sky, not a cloud covering an inch of it. An old silver Camaro pulls into the campground; its brakes squeak as it slows. Deena looks at the driver intently and then back to the sky. “Better bring an umbrella, Alice. There’s a storm coming.”
Chapter 6
The woman approaches Simza’s trailer, stops short when she spots me, takes out a tomato from her brown paper grocery bag and hurls it at me. It smacks me in the leg and tomato juice stains my jeans. “What the fuck?”
“You’re not going to haunt me, Lyuba. Haunt Simza all you want, but not me.” She takes out another tomato. “What did I do to you? Nothing!”
“Whoa, lady, stop that right now!” I point at her. Thunder erupts from the newly-formed gray clouds above. Her glare remains on me.
Her tense shoulders relax. She lowers the tomato. “You’re not Lyuba, are you?”
“No, I’m not Lyuba.” It dawns on me in that moment when I speak her name…she’s talking about my mother.
The tomato hurler drops it to the ground and inches closer to me. A tear rolls down her cheek. “You look so much like her.”
The clouds break and a calmness overcomes me. “My mother?”
She wraps her arms around me, and mumbles something into my hair.
“Huh?” I pat her back, but I’m not fully committed. And, I wonder why she’s mad enough at my mom to throw tomatoes at her.
“I’m your Aunt Mirela…Lyuba’s sister.” She pulls back, her hands squeeze the sides of my upper arms. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m—”
“I don’t even know your name, chavi.” She releases me.
I flounder. Confusion floods my mind. I don’t know if I should tell her my real name or continue with this new persona. It’s probably best to have her call me Alice since she’s slipped with Simza’s name. “It’s Aaa…Alice.”
“Well, Alice, it’s nice to meet you.” She backs away, still staring at me. “How did you find us?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Did you talk with Simza…your Aunt Simza?” She looks at the trailer and back at me.
“Not exactly. I tried last night, but she wasn’t keen on speaking with me.” A curtain flutters in the corner of my eye and I realize Aunt Simza witnessed our exchange, but doesn’t come outside.
Aunt Mirela wears a solid light baby blue long skirt, with a pretty low-cut black tank top. Her shiny, black sandals have rhinestones on the sides. Her caramel hair and olive skin remind me of my mother.
“She’s become very antisocial in her old age.” She picks up the bag and bangs on the door. “Open up Sim; I know you’re in there.”
“Go away, Mirela; and tell her to go away, too,” Aunt Simza hollers through the door.
“That ‘her’ is your niece, you know.” She bangs on the door again and waits a few moments. “Fine, but you’ll have to show your face sooner or later. You can’t stay fuming at everyone all of the time.”
Hard footfalls stomp away informing us she’s done with the conversation.
“She’ll come around.” Aunt Mirela’s mouth twitches. “She’s mad at me over a trivial matter. Always so stubborn, the old mule.”
“I was given her name.” I pull out the note from my pocket and show it to Aunt Mirela.
“So, that’s what brought you to town. Who gave you this?”
“I honestly have no clue.” A part of me wants to let loose and tell her everything, and ask a million other questions roaming through my head about this family I never knew I had.
“Curious.” She hands the note back to me and studies my face for a moment too long. “Come with me. I’ll cook for you and you can meet your cousins.”
“Cousins?” Flutters erupt from my stomach. My father never mentioned I had aunts or cousins. He told me we were alone.
“Well, are you coming?” Aunt Mirela stands next to the open driver side door.
“Yes.” I rush to the car and wonder what’s in store for me.
The drive to my newly-discovered Aunt’s place took less than 10 minutes. A large oak tree towers over a manufactured home, nestled on at least an acre. No neighbors are in sight, so it appears they value their privacy. Aunt Mirela parks next to a white, older Mercedes in front of their place.
“Your place is nice.”
“It does the job.” She takes out more bags that lay on the backseat.
“Let me help.” I grab one out of her hands.
“Thank you, Alice.” The corner of her mouth turns up. “It’s nice to see someone your age with manners.”
A red truck skids into the yard blowing up dirt and stops on the other side of the Mercedes. A lanky, snub-nosed guy gets out. “Hey, Ma.” He waves and his head turns in our direction. He stares at me. “Hey there to you.” His chin rises and he winks.
“Don’t flirt with your cousin, Emilian.” She smacks him on the side of his head.
His jaw drops. “Cousin? What cousin? We have no cousins.” He raises his arms in the air and follows us inside.
A brawny, midnight-haired man sits on the flowered couch next to a tiny, sparkling amber-eyed girl.
“Did you know we had a cousin?” Emilian asks. “Am I the only fucking clueless person here?”
“Language.” Aunt Mirela slaps him on the head aga
in.
“What are you talking about, moron?” the girl asks.
“This is Emilian, the obnoxious potty mouth. He’s twenty-one, going on eight.” Aunt Mirela rolls her eyes. “This is your cousin Nadya. She’s nineteen, going on forty. And this is Fonso.” She messes his hair.
“Cut it out.” He swats her away.
“He’s twenty-four, going on ninety.”
“Whatever.” Fonso stands.
“This is your cousin, Alice.” She grabs my shoulders from behind pushing me forward into their tiny living room.
“When did we get a cousin?” Fonso asks. “Did Aunt Simza adopt her?”
“Oy. No, Simza didn’t adopt her. She’s Lyuba’s daughter. Lyuba was my younger sister who passed some time ago.” She peers up at the ceiling. “Twenty-two years ago, right?”
I nod.
“Are you serious? We really have a cousin and it’s not another stinkin’ boy?” Nadya bounces on the couch and smiles. “Is this one of your sick jokes?”
“Trust me, I’m as surprised as y’all, but there’s no denying it. She’s the spitting image of her mother, rest her soul.” Aunt Mirela claps her hands together. “Let’s celebrate with a good Roma meal.”
“Roma meal?” I ask.
“Mas.” The two boys say in unison.
“Meat,” Nadya explains. “It’s the ‘American’ Roma vegetable.”
“I see. Can I help?” I ask.
“There’s those polite words again.” Aunt Mirela beams. “Ya’ll can learn a thing or two from your cousin.”
Nadya jumps up, grabs my hand, and leads me to the kitchen. “Let’s wash the vegetables.”
“Boys.” Aunt Mirela’s eyebrows waggle.
“We know.” Fonso heads toward the door. “We start the grill.”
“I love it when we have company, but that rarely happens.” Nadya hands me potatoes out of the fridge. “It’s like a miracle or something…you being our cousin and finding us.” She pauses in mid stance as if a struck with a thought. “How did you find us?”
“She found Simza, who wouldn’t even speak to her, for some reason. If I hadn’t gone over there to make amends, I wouldn’t have seen her.” Aunt Mirela babbles on. “Sorry about the tomato, by the way.”
Lightning Struck (The Roaming Curse Book 1) Page 3