Granna.
That was her smell.
“Granna is that you?” I called out eagerly.
There was no reply.
I cried out again, “Granna please, if you’re here let me know.” No sound came; all I heard was the muffled sound of my own breathing.
I grabbed the flashlight from Tristan and swung the light around the room.
No it couldn’t be. I ran over to the wall.
Tristan’s painting had vanished.
“I don’t understand,” I stammered. “It’s all gone, no Granna, no blood, no sign of struggle. And then there’s this.” I pointed the flashlight at the empty wall where the painting had been.
“What is it Emma?”
“The painting. Your painting of me. It’s disappeared.”
Tristan looked at me, dumbfounded.
Then a light dawned on me. “Oh my God, Tristan! Do you know what this means? Granna must have read my letter! She must have decided to heed my warning. She’s alive!”
I raced out of the room and back up and out of the darkness.
“Emma, wait! Remember I already searched the house, she’s not here!” Tristan yelped behind me.
“It doesn’t matter Tristan! I just need proof that she’s still here!”
I came out of the tunnel, stood up, brushed the dirt off Tristan’s sweats and retraced my steps back to the main part of the house. I knew where I was going, back to Granna’s bedroom. The sun now shone and filtered through the windows, casting a warm light against the walls. It was a welcome relief after all that rain and the damp underground. I strode across the room and sat myself down on Granna’s vanity chair. I caught my reflection in the mirror. What a fright. My face was tear-stained and smudged with dirt and my hair frizzed out as if I’d been electrocuted. I grabbed a tissue from the box and did my best to wipe my face; I reached out for Granna’s hairbrush to tame my unruly mane. My hand swiped empty air. Where could it be? I knew it had been there this morning. I checked under the vanity.
Nothing.
I pulled open the drawer; a matchbook from Leslie’s restaurant, bobby pins, and other odds and ends. No brush.
Tristan finally caught up with me. He looked at me quizzically. I suddenly realized how I must have looked. He probably thought I was crazy. And he was possibly right. It was preposterous to think Granna was alive. She wasn’t here; I would feel her around me if she was. Wouldn’t I sense she was alive? But where was the body? It was all so frustrating.
“Look Tristan, I’ve obviously made a mistake. Why don’t you just go on home? I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I can stay a little while if you like.”
“No really, I’ll be fine, I was just wishing is all,” I said wistfully.
“Right then, I’ll call you. I’ll see myself out?”
“Sure. And thanks Tristan.”
“Aye anytime Emma, anytime.”
Once he was gone I turned and looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror. Things hadn’t improved much.
Giving up on the hair, I decided to take a shower. I rose and padded down the hallway to my room. I stopped short in the doorway. Where was my quilt? I had just purchased it for a steal at Target and was super proud of what a bargain it was. In its place lay a different quilt. Equally as nice…only I didn’t remember buying it. I took a few steps into the room. My heart beat faster. Things were not where I had left them. I ran to the closet; unfamiliar clothes hung on the racks. Panicked, I raced downstairs into the kitchen. In the window bright yellow curtains billowed in the breeze. Where were the old ones?
I ran to the wall where we always kept the calendar.
My heart stopped. It wasn’t possible.
September 2010.
How could it be 2010? I wasn’t even in the right month.
I tried to think, stay rational. I must have time traveled, but when and how? I hadn’t tried to do it. I sat down at the kitchen table and thought back. It explained so much. Granna’s body was no longer here because four years had passed since the night of her death. It also explained Tristan and his house…why I had never seen him around, and why his house was not on the beach. And why I had been wearing a strange blue dress I hadn’t even recognized.
My heart sank. My only friend was somewhere in the future. I wished I could go and tell him I wasn’t meant to be here…that I was from the past.
Oh great, that sounded really normal. Even if he were cool with the time thing, that’s the sort of confession that would definitely place me on his weirdo meter for life. Oh yeah, I was one sexy lady. So that was a bad idea. On to Plan B. I needed to find my way home. But how? I had no idea how I’d even landed here. I mulled over the events of the previous day.
I must have triggered something when I hit my head trying to escape Thomas, or whoever he was.
I had created a time portal before when I went to visit Granna, I could do it again couldn’t I? Wait a minute…Granna.
I raced back upstairs and burst back into her room. I scrutinized my surroundings. Everything was the same.
Exactly the same.
If four years had passed, then I should know if she’d read my letter! Did she save herself? Hope returned to me anew. I crossed to the closet. It was empty except for her favorite sweater and a navy blue knitted scarf. My shoulders slumped, she hadn’t heeded my warning. Disappointed, I shuffled out and returned to my own bedroom.
Granna’s brush lay on the vanity.
Of course. I had always wanted that brush.
The house echoed, desolate and empty.
64
Emma, September 2010
I sat alone on the front porch. I could feel the passages of time whispering my name across the vast sea.
“Emma, Emma, come to us,” they called softly. It was time to return and start anew. I could do this.
I closed my eyes, allowing the sound of the ocean surf to soothe me like a lullaby. Suffused with gratitude for all the love I’d been given, I allowed myself to let go and descend. Love was all I could think of to make myself travel, so here on Granna’s porch I filled myself with her memory, picturing where I wanted to go. I submerged my entire being with love. And then just like that I pixilated and plunged back into the past through the portal.
65
Emma Diamond, July 2006
My head throbbed as if someone was pounding a knife into my skull. I felt someone watching me. I opened my eyes. The sun’s rays rushed in, making them water. Ouch! I had to get this travel thing under better control.
There was no one watching me. Tristan was not waiting in the rain for me. There was no rain. There was no one there to save me this time. I lay still for a minute, trying to regain my energy. Eventually, I staggered to my feet and began walking in the direction of Tristan’s house, or at least where it would stand in four years’ time.
To my surprise, a small wooden frame was being erected. A few days ago, there had been nothing. Someone was building. My heart gave a little leap of hope. Would he move in soon? Was it him?
I returned home, feeling a lot more optimistic.
I looked around Granna’s cozy kitchen; if I’d calculated properly, I should be back in the present. I looked at the calendar on the wall. July 2006. Well at least I’d been able to get the time right.
I still faced the ordeal of what to do with Granna’s body. I shuddered, dreading what lay ahead. I reached out for the table to steady myself. Time to face the music, I thought sadly. I headed up to the office and down to the passageway to where I’d left Granna. It seemed like it had been so long, but in essence, only hours had passed. Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks as I passed the threshold into that room.
My heart stopped.
The place was empty save for the painting that hung on the wall and the strange ornate table and chairs.
A small piece of me exulted. If the painting was back, maybe Granna would be too. If she wasn’t here maybe she wasn’t dead.
Who was I kiddin
g? She’d died in my arms, nothing would bring her back. I had to stop believing she was alive. The year on the calendar changed nothing. I had to be brave. I had to face what was in front of me. Every breath took me one step closer to the reality I didn’t want to accept. I didn’t want to be Soul of the Sun. I wanted to be Emma Diamond. No more sacrifice.
I fell to my knees and wept like a child.
It was all too real.
66
Tristan Keenan, April 2009
There was a full moon but it didn’t hold its usual luminosity. Maybe that was because the ghost that sat beside me on the covered patio was emanating a cloud of frigid ice. I shook off the cold and glanced around. Anyone strolling by would think I was hallucinating, talking to thin air. Oh well, that’s just the way it was. I always fell into the eccentric category.
I had been sitting with this vibrant, interesting woman for over an hour and I felt like I had known her my entire life. I wish I had. She looked so serene sitting there, with her leg crossed over her knee, and her hands placed neatly in front of her. She was reminiscing back on her life, which unfortunately had a tragic ending.
Her heart no longer beat in her chest but her laughter was definitely infectious. The colorful bangles she wore on her wrist clamored together as she told me her story. The jewelry matched her painted red lips. I learned she never left home without a little bit of color on her lips, and thank goodness she didn’t because otherwise she would have been heading to the afterlife without it. It was always red for luck.
She was fascinating, not to mention the first ghost that had taken any interest in me. I was intrigued beyond my wildest imagination. Despite her kooky ideas, I was pulled in by her aura and the strange fragrance of peppermint and sea salt.
I couldn’t say what led me to this; life was certainly full of surprises. Here I sat, listening to a ghost named Margaret relate her tale, as though it were all perfectly normal. She spoke directly to my mind; uttering no audible sound. Only I was speaking aloud, nothing strange about that, I’m sure.
“…You came along and changed everything Tristan,” she said. “I know you’re confused, I can explain your dreams, but I thought it would be best if I came here directly,” she paused, sizing me up with her sharp eyes before she continued. “In a way, you are my unfinished business. I need your promise that you will do exactly as I ask or…” she hesitated nervously, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to go into the light.”
I stared at her in amazement. “Just a minute now, we’ve only just met, how can I be the one preventing you from going into the light? And let’s get clear here—what dreams are you talking about?”
“Tristan, my granddaughter’s face has been haunting you for many years.”
I was puzzled. I didn’t know this woman. Had I met her granddaughter? Was it possible she was the lass on the cliff? How would I know if I’d never seen her face?
“Who’s your granddaughter?” I asked.
“Her name’s Emma Diamond.”
I racked my brain for any recognition. “Nope, sorry doesn’t ring any bells. Hey, maybe you have the wrong fellow?” I didn’t want her to be right. If Emma was the girl in my paintings it meant I had to face up to what had been haunting me all these years. It was petrifying.
“I have never been so sure about anything. If you weren’t the right man Tristan, why on earth would I be sitting here with you? Emma has already travelled to the future and met you. Your future self failed to remember most of our conversation here today. That is why I’m back. It seems most of your memories were blocked, probably your innate self-protection at work. You remembered bits and pieces but it was not enough. You play an integral part in overcoming the darkness and I need you to face your fears and remember what I am about to tell you—every detail.”
Ah, and there it was. Despite her crazy talk; I felt I would do anything for this ghost woman, regardless if it seemed like nonsense or not. There was something about her. A strange ache crept in for a grandmother I’d never had the privilege of knowing. It hit me in the gut. There was a familiarity I couldn’t look away from.
“Emma Diamond lives in my old house over that way.” Margaret waved a delicate hand in front of her face pointing vaguely south. She pondered this for a moment, and then corrected herself. “I suppose it’s her place now. Anyway, she’s alone and feels burdened with a gift that she thinks no one will accept or understand, and she’s probably right. Emma needs you Tristan, and I think you need her just as much.” She gave me a firm, grandmotherly gaze. “I’d like you to meet her.”
I leaned back and bellowed with laughter, though the truth was I was just trying to cover up what I didn’t fully understand.
“Come on Margaret, what am I supposed to do? Ring her doorbell and say ‘Hello, I’m Tristan, oh and by the way, I’ve been sent by your long lost Granny?’”
Margaret gave me an exasperated look. “Of course not, you foolish young man. Besides, Emma’s guard is up more than ever. At the moment, she’s wary of anyone she doesn’t know. No, I’ll decide when it’s time for you to meet her.” Her eyes twinkled, “Just consider it divine intervention; everything will be taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing. But when I give the signal, I want you to go to her. Oh, and of course you’re going to have to move to Charleston. It was one of the few details your future self was able to remember. It was how Emma found you the first time.”
I held up my hand for her to stop. “Wait just a minute,” I sputtered. “Who said anything about moving? Bloody hell! This is ridiculous. Did you ever think I have my own life, plus a job here in Myrtle Beach? I don’t have time to go chasing after this Emma woman.”
I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Nobody knew why I came to South Carolina. Was this woman the key to what was going on with me and the woman I painted? I wasn’t about to give myself up just yet.
Margaret gave me another stern look. She rose up, her body turning a vaporous pink. She hovered above me and stretched out a gauzy hand, placing it directly over my heart. The cold penetrated, making my body ache.
This time, she spoke gently. “Tristan, if you want your nightmares to cease, if you wish to paint again just because you can and not because you feel like you will go mad if you don’t, then you will listen to me. I have a sister Abby, she passed away long ago. When I died she came to me with this, she’s the one with this message. It was decided you’re the only person that can accept Emma’s gifts. She’s been doing her best to relay information to you via the paintings in the hope that one day you would be able to help Emma.”
Margaret’s voice was pleading. “Please love; please say you will help Emma Diamond.”
“God Almighty, you mean to say it’s your family that’s been torturing me with painting this girl? And now you want my help?”
“You just don’t know how important this is Tristan. Let me say this, when all this is resolved you’ll have peace once and for all. No more painting my granddaughter.”
I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, a twinge that told me what she was telling me was vital. The thought of peace and not painting like a mad man was deliciously tempting. I’d been tortured for so long.
“What’s the catch? Obviously you want more from me than to be friends with her. Be straight with me Margaret.” My voice was terse. I didn’t want to play games.
Margaret gave me a satisfied smile and she floated back to her seat, gloating as if she had won some kind of battle. She became more solid and less transparent as she settled herself down beside me.
“Let me tell you about Diamond, about what she can do and what you will be able to do together,” she said eagerly. “Then you will understand what you will be to one another.”
“All right. You have five minutes,” I said looking at my watch. “I have to get back to work at the restaurant.”
Margaret clapped her hands in glee, her bracelets jangling in harmony as if they shared her good cheer.
“Tristan, I think
it would be best and easier for all of us if I started at the beginning.”
I stared at her, puzzled, but either she didn’t notice, or chose to ignore me. I was fairly certain it was the latter. She chattered on excitedly.
“You know it’s not just in this lifetime that you have been connected to my granddaughter, you have been together playing different roles throughout the centuries. But this is the first time there has been the possibility of true happiness. A union between the two of you would mean the saving of many souls. But be warned, there is a demonic force in the world that have made it their business to insure you never unite. There is the potential to hold great power over the universe. They want this power and will stop at nothing to obtain it. There is a legend in the cosmos that if you two unite and bear children, those babes would be mystical prodigies, more powerful than anyone yet seen on earth. They would inherit all the abilities you both possess, plus many, many more.”
Margaret shifted to look me in the eye before she continued. “Your offspring will lift the veil of illusion between this world and the afterlife. The awareness of who we are and why we are really here on earth would put an end to religious wars. The skills they will hold will allow the human race to advance and improve our understanding of the cosmos. Millions of souls, trapped between heaven and earth, will be freed from their bondage.”
Margaret placed a cold hand over mine and I shivered. “I’m afraid there is a caveat, Tristan. The underworld of evil is desperate to prevent this from happening. That is why my sister Abby and I have been chosen to assist you. We will be guiding you both every step of the way. If you choose to ignore us, and go your separate ways, you will not fulfill your destiny and Diamond will continue to haunt your dreams for centuries. For she will never have the children she was born to bear and it will create a void in the universe. On a soul level, she will be aware that she could have prevented the annihilation of the visible world, and this will torment her for eons.”
I leaned back in my chair, speechless. Surely, this was madness, the ramblings of an old ghost. And yet, looking at her solemn face, so help me God, I believed her. She knew too much, and what she was saying explained why I had such a pull to come to South Carolina. Maybe it was time to face the real reason I came to the states.
The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty) Page 22