“Was he doing any special research? Did anyone even try to look for him?”
Danielle suddenly had visions of him coming home in the middle of the night and crawling unexpectedly into her bed. Just as she began to consider the idea that scenario might not be all too unpleasant, her new acquaintance answered in a matter of fact voice that interrupted the fantasy.
“Oh, how should I know, dear? There are more foreclosures than any of us would like to think about these days, and the bank brought me in to handle this one. It was well over a year before they were forced to sell. By then, everyone had let him go…well, almost everyone.”
She could hear the hesitation at the other end of the line, and quietly reached the conclusion she had enough to think about for the moment.
Deciding to thank the woman for her time and assuring her it wasn’t necessary to rush right over to test the carbon monoxide meter, she hung up the phone and systematically went about the house to make sure the lights were on in every room. The last thing she wanted was any more surprises during her first night in the new place.
Chapter Three
Her arms ached from pulling weeds in the ruined garden. She knew the dirt would have to be turned over again before she planted anything, and this late in the summer there weren’t a lot of options that didn’t include late blooming Mums. It didn’t really matter, of course. The progress she’d made inside the small patch was minimal at best, but she had to occupy herself with something while she gathered her thoughts and worked through the unusual circumstances which overwhelmed her arrival.
“What was this place, a rock quarry?” Danielle muttered to herself as she pulled a fairly large chunk of limestone from the dirt. It flew over her shoulder like all the rest of the obstacles that hindered the glorious advancement of her dream garden.
“Woah, there!” a cheery voice exclaimed from behind, just as she encountered another piece of resistance deep inside the rich, dark soil at her fingertips.
She immediately sprang to her feet, shielding her eyes against the early morning sun in an effort to better see the intruder. Much to her dismay, there were two of them, and she had no trouble imagining they had just fallen off a hay wagon, dressed as they were in their country clothes.
The smaller of the of two stepped out of the sunlight to greet her, and if she could have envisioned a body to go with the voice of Country Bumpkin Realty this woman would have fit the bill perfectly.
“I’m Mary Jane,” she announced proudly as if there was no one else she could be. With a light step, she joined Danielle in the shade of the nearby maple tree. It was quite obvious her companion was more than reluctant to come forward as she lingered in the harsh glare.
“This is my daughter, Anna, of course. I mentioned her to you on the phone yesterday.”
Danielle was about to spout off a snappy comeback that asked what the older woman hadn’t mentioned to her on the phone yesterday, when the shadow of a girl stepped forward to join them.
The young woman’s beauty was striking, but Danielle noticed at once her face was marred with a sullen look of disdain. Her jet black hair framed a lovely and luminous face, though deep brown eyes gazed on her with a type of disrespect that only the truly young could muster.
Even though she knew this girl had no idea who she was, Danielle could not help but be self conscious as she reflexively brushed the dirt from the garden off her ragged jeans. The little tidying up ceremony did not approve her apparent standing in the young woman’s eyes, so she gave it up. After all, she was a worldly woman from the big city. There was no reason a kid from the sticks should make her so uncomfortable.
“After your call yesterday, we wanted to come by to make sure you felt welcome and everything was set up as stated in your contract.” Mary Jane glanced at her daughter from the corner of her eye with a little concern.
“You mentioned on the phone some of the rooms in the house were not as I left them?”
Danielle was now absolutely certain Mary Jane wanted to make sure her commission check felt welcome in her bank account, but she didn’t say so out loud. Despite her initial impression, the country woman seemed honest and friendly to her. That type of demeanor was something she hadn’t encountered much in the city, and she didn’t want to appear too jaded before she knew more of her situation. Before she could respond, Mary Jane frowned openly and urged her daughter forward.
“I baked you this pie,” Anna murmured in a well-rehearsed tone, her eyes downcast.
“I hope you find everything to your liking here, just as Jake and I did.”
The real estate agent gave her daughter an incredulous look as the young woman deposited the warm pie into Danielle’s hastily outstretched arms. Her attitude conveyed as much disregard for Danielle as she had for the gift before she turned to walk back up the hill behind the house without another word.
“I think she likes me,” Danielle said with sarcasm to her remaining visitor, making a mental note not to eat the dessert anytime in the near future.
“I am so sorry about that,” Mary Jane responded and from the flushed look on her face she couldn’t doubt the fact the woman was sincere.
“You know how young people are these days, so full of ideas and just sure their opinion is the only one that could ever be right.”
Danielle actually took a moment to wonder how Anna could possibly form any kind of opinion about her before she had to shake the feeling off. She had been through a lot, and this little sojourn to the country hadn’t done a great deal to improve the unwelcome drama in her life. If things kept going the way they were, she’d have to enroll in acting classes and take the stage.
“So, Anna mentioned someone called Jake?”
She had to admit she was curious about the fact the moody girl seemed to expect her to know who that was, and she was anxious to change the subject.
“Ah, yes; Jacob Steven Wilde, to be exact. He was the professor I mentioned on the phone yesterday evening, but all the young girls around here called him Jake.”
Mary Jane looked over her shoulder again with a slightly nervous gesture after that comment, and Danielle was left wondering just how well Anna did know the late owner of her new house. Despite the realtor’s obliging manner, there was obviously more to the story than even the town gossip was apparently willing to let on.
Danielle shifted her weight in an attempt to balance the pie without getting it all over her shirt, because it was probably filled with arsenic judging from the friendly nature of the young girl who’d prepared it.
“If there isn’t anything else I can do for you at the moment, I’ll just let you get back to your afternoon?” Her surprise guest asked quickly with an uneasy glance up the hill.
It had occurred to Danielle it might be the proper time to complain about the library, the missing note and starving birds, but she really felt like it was a moot point because the house was purchased ‘as is’. And as much as she thought she might be able to develop warm, fuzzy feelings of friendship toward the country den mother, her daughter was another matter. Besides, Anna was out of sight for the moment and far too quiet—two things she didn’t think the petulant teenager ought to be, at least in the vicinity of her new home.
Such a sad thing when the apple falls so far from the tree, Danielle thought to herself as Mary Jane quickly followed in Anna’s footsteps. She briefly sniffed the pie, just in case it might be pumpkin, before she thought better of it.
Danielle gingerly sat the plate down a good distance from her garden and kneeled back at the edge of her interrupted handiwork. She picked up the hand trowel and prepared to clear the rock she’d encountered when her company had arrived. She worked the tip along the surface but couldn’t find the edges. Whatever was down there, it was fairly large, and she was just praying at this point it wasn’t a coffin or something similar.
Danielle gingerly brushed the loose dirt away from the object and was met with a uniform curve, smooth and even to the touch. She slipped the gloves off her hands i
n an effort to better determine the nature of the buried item, and her fingertips tingled as she carefully uncovered the surface of a curious black box. It was slightly domed, about the size of a laptop case, but hard and sturdy as she pulled it free from its hiding place.
A million thoughts ran through her mind at once, visions of the decimated library, the empty showcase room in the basement and the smashed photograph that had been so lovingly framed before it was destroyed. She knew she was probably building up her hopes for nothing, that there could not possibly be anything of value so hastily buried in the back yard of an abandoned estate in the countryside.
Still, her fingers trembled as she pressed the buttons on the front of the casing. Something like this must have a code or locking mechanism, a means to prevent strangers from gaining access.
She heard the spring trigger before the knowledge it was going to open could register in her mind and she realized she had been holding her breath the entire time. She carefully lifted the top of the case, and a mass of black velvet fabric piled up along the bottom dashed her hope.
“Great, it’s a priceless heirloom scarf,” she said with disappointment as she prepared to pull it out. The material was thick to the touch, and she let the backs of her hands run over the supple weave as she brought it out in folds.
Something heavy rolled beneath the fabric, just below her touch and it startled her enough that she nearly dropped scarf back into the case. It felt alive for a moment, liquid and pliable within the depths of the black wrapping, and her heart leapt into her throat.
With the weight of the elusive item in her left hand, she palmed the luxurious fabric aside and stared breathlessly into the extraordinary face of magic and mystery.
Chapter Four
An ethereal glow radiated from the exquisitely crafted silver mask as a wave of cool air swept over her kneeling figure in the garden. Danielle was unable to stop her free hand from reaching for the surface of the stunningly beautiful face, which was clearly feminine in its sculpted perfection.
The moment her fingertips made contact with the impossibly soft metal, time appeared to stop all around her. The birds in the trees ceased their constant serenade, and the branches which held them stilled as if reverent for the moment.
Her thumb caressed the right cheek of the supple surface, while her fingers cradled the other. The mask called to her, longed for her touch and almost without awareness, she lifted the amazing artifact from the velvet and placed it over her face.
The scent of the jungle that night was rich and alive with a thousand heartbeats, all gathered and waiting at her feet. Far below, the fires burned along the procession path as they were lit, one by one, to show her the way of the balance.
She was alone at the top of the pyramid, but her soul was the pinnacle of Shadow Walker magic, and her people relied upon her to find the path for them all. Heavy mist coiled beneath each level with a wicked turbulence, waiting on each step of the altar should she lose her way and dismantle the future for her entire civilization.
She knew without looking that any moment the full moon would rise over the mountain crest at her back, she would sense the soothing silver light fall upon her bare shoulders and feel it creep along the delicate skin of her neck with the gentle kiss of ages.
It was coming. She was aware of it now, and out there, somewhere, he waited with his golden mask…waited just as she to don the mantle for their people. Her own trembling fingers touched the silver mold over her delicate features as it mystically conformed to her facial structure.
“Let me guide you,” a distinctive male voice called to her over the distance, and she had an instant vision of a man, resplendent in his ceremonial garb. It was his eyes that pulled her through the ether of spiritual currents they traversed. His beautiful hazel eyes, so full of light and color and everything she had ever known life could be.
The same eyes she had seen in the photograph the day before…
She startled as the otherworldly thought struck with distant familiarity, and the mask fell from her stunned face just as her body began to plummet to the depths below. She willingly let herself go into the darkness of the unknown… She had not found the way.
* * * *
Danielle snuggled into her comforter a little more and told herself most decidedly she was never drinking that much at an art premier again. It was freezing in the loft, and she shouldered the velvet wrap closely against her face before she realized something was amiss.
It took the night time breeze just a few passes across her pale cheek before she slowly began to remember where she was and what she had done to get there.
That was the most difficult thing about a new tragedy in a person’s life. The first few times you fall asleep, you forget everything that happened, and when you wake to the awareness of the present, all the memories come back to you a little bit at a time. It’s true each day you live through lessens the pain, but there will always be a scar from the experience. Danielle knew that, but she also knew it was up to her to be strong and add that piece to the other markings of her soul—accept it as a part of who she was now.
Sometimes it was easier said than done; especially when you think you might be a little crazy and found yourself sleeping in the tall weeds of your garden in the middle of the night without the ability to recall exactly how the situation came to be.
Her muscles ached all over, and she couldn’t tell if it was from her gardening efforts the day before or from another strange, lingering experience that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
What had she done during the night? Had she dreamed about flying, or was it falling?
She could see the stars through the patches of clouds overhead, but the sky itself was bright from their light, lending the cumulous stragglers a smoky grey quality to their nature.
Danielle stretched out a stiff arm from beneath the velvet cloth and turned to her side to relieve some of the tension pulling on her back against the hard ground. The moment she rolled onto her right hip, the moon broke free from its cover and shone down on her little paradise with the most pure and perfect light.
The mask nestled among the unruly grass blades just a few inches from her face, presumably where it had fallen the very instant she had lost her mind and gone to sleep after a taxing afternoon of gardening and entertaining guests.
If it were possible, the metal appeared smoother, more defined. A blue-silver glow radiated from the surface of the exquisitely sculpted mask. If she hadn’t known any better, she thought she could almost see her own face in the make up of the structure.
With a swift and determined movement, she sat up and regarded the beautiful relic with as much objectivity as possible.
This is where we make or break the bank when we go to our next appointment at the therapist, she told herself in an attempt to reconcile her sanity with the events of the past few days.
I can resolve this logically, she thought, preparing to be completely reasonable with herself.
A professor owned the house before you did and he was well known to be an avid collector of South American artifacts.
You found a South American artifact in your garden.
You probably hit your head on a piece of limestone and fell asleep shortly thereafter.
She had been through a lot lately, and she wasn’t about to give up now. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the black covering over the glowing discovery and picked it up without touching the actual piece. She didn’t feel like she needed to take any more chances with the way things were going, but she felt for certain this was one more part of the puzzle in her new life.
Any ordinary woman would have given up by now, sold her poorly selected house and gone crawling back to the wretched city and the existence she had always known.
Danielle was not an ordinary woman.
This was her house.
This was her life.
With a brisk snap the hard shelled case was closed and the mysterious object safely insi
de. She stood and stretched her legs at the edge of the turned up soil. A stubborn look appeared on her face, and the corners of her mouth tightened.
Danielle took the nearest potted mum, shed its plastic casing, and stuck it in the open ground where the mask had been. After patting the dirt around the base of the roots, she smiled in satisfaction.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she announced firmly to no one in particular. She felt strongly that she ought to let the universe know she would not be dissuaded in her new course and she intended to fulfill her lifelong dream. Magical masks and missing professors aside, this was her garden.
“Yes, I’ll hold,” Danielle pursed her lips together, the now fully reviled two-inch phone cord giving her a yoga lesson as she reached as far as she could to the stove to put the kettle on again. It was blatantly obvious to her at this time why the previous owner made hummingbird nectar. When you’re tied to a little box on the wall, waiting on hold for Miss Kansas Corn to patch you through to the local university, there wasn’t a lot one could do for entertainment besides that.
“Britton Majers, Department of Antiquity,” a male voice answered just as she was nodding off at the counter.
“Oh, damn!” Danielle cursed under her breath as his smooth, English tone came clearly and cleanly over the decrepit phone line. She had to pull herself together and get over the negative reaction to his accent, and she had to do it fast. This was her one chance to get a little outside help, and if she stuttered now, she’d lose it all.
“I have a bit of a unique question, if you have a moment,” she said in her friendliest, most easy going voice. If the truth had to be told, she had used it for the last five departments she had been transferred to, and she was really wondering how long she could hold out at this point.
“I suppose I do have a minute.” He hesitated slightly, so she knew she had his attention for just a few precious seconds if she made it good. No sense beating around the bush, as it were.
Adkins, Kimberly - Through Ancient Eyes (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 3