Julien, so enthralled by the instant relief, decided not to tempt fate and thwart the inappropriate closeness of her body against his. He looked down at his hands again.
Sarah leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Julien looked at her again, her eyes large and starry.
“Sarah, why do you hurt me all the time?”
Sarah pointed out into the snow, making a sweeping motion across of the landscape.
“I see it. I see the snow.” He stood up and tested his hands again. He moved to the door and held it open, knowing that she would follow. She entered and turned back to wait for his direction. He headed to the kitchen, still in awe of her power.
He took a seat at the table and lit a cigarette before producing his wallet.
He patted the table across from him, encouraging her to sit. She hurried into place.
“Here, look.” He flipped to a photo tucked amid some credit cards. “This is Jessica. Have you seen Jessica, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded, enthusiastic to respond.
“Is Jessica with Arlette?”
Sarah’s lips turned down at the corners and she nodded again.
“Can you help me get to Jessica?”
Sarah became very animated and stepped away from him shaking her head then moving to the window and motioning at the snow.
“Sarah, I have to get to Jessica back. You have to help me find Jessica.”
Sarah turned her back to him and looked out into the darkness. She began to hum.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The earsplitting tin bells of Ed Bale’s alarm clock sounded at precisely 5 a.m. He stumbled out of bed to the dresser, where he kept the clock; purposely too far from the bed to easily hit snooze. Groggy and miserable, he ambled through the hallway in the dark then down to the first floor. In the kitchen, he removed a piece of white bread from a plastic bag and took a bite. He chewed on the dry and tasteless crust, while making a pot of coffee then turned on the television for the morning news.
Reports of heavy snow coming down on the city, he glanced over at the window above the sink. Still dark, he could hardly make out the white, slashing streaks, falling past the glass. He turned back to the television and heard them say—this storm is predicted to be the worst snowfall New York has experienced in two-decades. He flipped on the back porch light to have a better look, revealing more than a foot of accumulating white fluff.
“Aw, Geez, he groaned.
Ed poured himself a cup of coffee, taking what remained of the slice of bread and having a seat at the kitchen table. The news continued their coverage of the storm, mentioning that parts of upstate New York had already received four feet of snow overnight, and with more still to come. He swallowed the last bit of bread and got up. He turned off the television and returned to bed. It was supposed to be his day off and there was no use in making the trip to Kings Hollow today.
The blue jay preened a feather then condensed itself into a tight ball, nestled beneath the struts of the porch roof. Inside, Arlette poured a bowl of cereal for Jessica. The child sat with her feet drawn up on the chair, her chin resting on her knees and her back to Arlette.
Arlette, placed the bowl of Cheerios on the table. She could not ignore the fact that Jessica was the spitting image of Julien, and just as much trouble. She found it difficult to look at her today.
“Turn around Jessica,” Arlette said then forcibly moved the child to face the table.
Jessica wasn’t having it. She quickly returned to her previous position; her back to Arlette.
“I said turn around,” Arlette growled.
Jessica mumbled incoherently beneath her breath.
Carl lowered his paper and reached for a glass of orange juice, “Lettie, if she doesn’t want to eat…? Please, let’s have some peace this morning…” He took a sip and placed the glass back down.
Arlette glared at him, warning him to stay out of it; now, even more adamant to have her way.
Carl returned to his newspaper.
Arlette slid Jessica’s chair back several inches. She physically moved the girl into place again. Jessica’s wide-eyed expression intensified as Arlette tried to force a spoon into her tiny hand. Jessica threw her arm out, accidentally sweeping the bowl of cereal and milk from the table and splattering Arlette in the process.
Jessica looked at the bowl, spinning in place on the ground. It came to a stop, upside-down in a puddle of milk. She looked back at the table, where another puddle was spreading. Milk drizzled off the edge of the table, to the floor; a few Cheerios floated in the stream. She reached out a finger to poke at the bobbing O’s, when, without warning, Arlette grabbed the back of her neck, slamming her cheek down into the puddle. Milk splattered everywhere.
Arlette used all of her weight to hold the child down and as the girl’s hair swam in the spill, she struggled, arms flailing, to break free.
Arlette leaned in close over Jessica’s wriggling body, “If you care at all about your father, you’ll stop misbehaving and do as you’re told.”
Arlette stood up, paused to hold her there for a few lasting seconds then released her. She reached for a dish towel and dried herself off.
Jessica slowly raised her head from the table, stunned and terrified. Milk and tears mingled in streams running down over her flushed cheeks; her hair, swept in sticky clumps, plastered across her forehead and chin. She sat motionless, except for her heaving chest, stifling tears and trying to remain stoic. Droplets of milk dripped from her chin and into her lap as Arlette dabbed the table dry.
“Carl, get something for the floor,” she barked.
Carl sighed, “I told you not to force her,” he murmured.
“What was that?” She glared at him.
Carl returned with a dustpan and mop. He didn’t say another word.
Julien woke on the couch; Sarah’s head in his lap. He didn’t remember falling asleep and had no recollection of the girl curling up beside him, but he was grateful to be in one piece. The fire had died out and he could see the condensation from his warm breath in the cold air. He looked over his shoulder at the glass doors. The wind had blown drifts onto the porch, three feet high against the panes.
“Sarah…wake up.” He slid out from under her as she came to.
Julien lit a cigarette and got a fire going. Sarah disappeared into the kitchen. By the time the fire was blazing he could smell coffee brewing. Sarah returned to look out through the window at the snow. She turned around, searching the room and seemingly in a panic. Julien didn’t know what to make of it. She picked up his jacket from the floor and pulled it on, swimming in the heavy leather.
“Where are you going?” He looked her up and down trying not to laugh.
Sarah pointed beyond the kitchen and he knew she meant the coop.
“You can’t go out there.” He looked down at her bare, spindly legs, poking out from beneath her dress.
Sarah moved to the glass doors and used all of her weight to force them open. A gust of wind took the room as she climbed over the mound.
He went after her, “Sarah, you can’t...” He needed her to remain in his sight. Without Sarah, he might never see Jessica again.
She turned and closed the door between them, leaving him behind.
He went to the kitchen to watch from the window. The smell of brewing coffee made him all the more impatient. Sarah appeared in his view above the sink and he watched her show of determination as she heaved herself, one reaching step at a time, through the waist-high snow. He hurried to locate his cell phone then moved to the mudroom window, not wanting to lose sight of her. He quickly dialed Ed Bale.
“Ed, it is Julien. I am calling to check if there is anything…any news. I am not sleeping very well, up all night and sleeping some, during the days. When you call me back, leave a message; if I do not answer, you will know why.” Julien thought quickly, knowing he should sound more distraught, “Find my little girl, Ed.” He hung up.
He called his other cell pho
ne number and retrieved messages; two were from Matt, which he chose to ignore. He dialed the operator.
“Kings Hollow, New York; Arlette Vandermark,” he waited. “No, the private residence,” he waited again. “Can you try Lind? Doctor Lind….yes, the second one. Thank you.”
Julien dialed the number.
Arlette rinsed the dustpan, dried it off and replaced it in the closet. She turned her attention back to Jessica, still drenched with milk.
“I’m going to get her cleaned up. Can you find out about the roads?”
“A storm like this…roads won’t be clear for days. Route 23, maybe by tonight, but not way up by the Victorian. Billy won’t be able to get the plow up that mountain until the weekend, I’m sure.” He furrowed his brow, “You know this…and that’s if we don’t get some more snow today or tomorrow.”
“Then get Bernie up here with the snowmobiles.”
“Snowmobiles? Where are you going with a snowmobile?” He couldn’t believe his ears.
“No, Carl…where are you going?”
“Oh now, Lettie, please…she doesn’t listen to me like she does you.”
Arlette ignored him and went to Jessica, “Come on,” she said with disgust. She took Jessica’s wrist, but this time, Jessica went willingly.
The phone rang and Carl sighed again. A storm usually meant a day of peace for Carl, but this day was fast becoming anything but peaceful. He went to the phone.
“Carl Lind,” he answered unenthusiastically.
“Lind, I want my daughter,” Julien spoke with an eerie calm, sending a chill down Lind’s spine.
Carl didn’t respond. He should have known Julien would be calling soon.
Julien continued, “Where is she?”
Carl paused to think. This wasn’t his fight.
“I have nothing to do with this.”
Lind’s denial only fueled Julien anger, “Where is she?”
“She’s here,” Carl spoke quietly, glancing back at the hall where Arlette had vanished.
“Where’s here? Where are you?”
“11 Willow Road, off 23…but I would think carefully before you show up here.”
“Why is that? I have your girl. I have Sarah. What can you do without her?”
Lind laughed at Julien’s misguided sense of confidence, “Julien, have you learned nothing?”
“I want my daughter, Doctor Lind.”
“If it were up to me, you could have them both.”
“One call to the police…and now I have your address.”
“Do it Julien. I don’t care. You’d be doing me a favor.” Lind hung up.
Julien removed the battery and put the phone in his pocket. Now he had an address and it was only a matter of the roads being cleared. He could see Sarah far off in the coop. He would do whatever was necessary to keep the girl on his side.
The silence in the house was deafening. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and flipped it open. There were only three left.
Great…
He looked up through the window again, but lost sight of her. The clock ticked above the doorframe and the minutes passed slowly. He gave in and lit one of his last remaining cigarettes. Still no sight of Sarah, he began to worry.
He made his way through the house, out onto the porch then down beside the buried Lexus. He headed for the barn, following Sarah’s beaten path. He reached the pond and flicked his cigarette off to the side. Out of breath, he bent over, hands on his knees, panting.
“Sarah?” he called to her, but she didn’t respond.
“Sarah!” he yelled louder.
Sarah appeared at the side of the coop. She paused, surprised to see him there, and then disappeared again. Seconds later, the barn doors opened and she stepped out into the snow.
Julien stood up at the opposite side of the pond and began trudging through the snow once more. The two met at the center of the bridge. The warm sun had begun to melt the upper layer of snow, forming a crust of ice which crunched beneath his boots.
Sarah took his hand and moved to lead him toward the barn.
“Wait…wait. It is good to be young.” He smiled and leaned back against the railing, still catching his breath. “I want you to do something for me, okay?”
Sarah’s eyes grew bright; always anxious to be useful.
“The bones, Sarah…can you bring me some of the bones?”
Sarah leaned away from him; her eyes narrowed.
“No, no…it is alright. We can play the game, no? Together? There are things we need.”
He looked around stalling and searching for ideas to put her at ease. “The roads! We can clear the roads.”
Sarah turned to look out at the tree line; she eyed him peripherally.
“A path…to the barn. Oh, and cigarettes. I need cigarettes.”
Sarah’s expression flooded with apprehension. She took a slow step closer, looking deep into his eyes.
Julien felt his stomach knot, but before he could react, she slapped her hands against his pockets, on either side of his hips, with a startling force.
Julien jumped, but Sarah held on, keeping her hands in place at his sides. He wasn’t sure what to make of it and as she continued to stare at him, he reached down to pry her hands free. Beneath her palms he felt the rectangular packs of cigarettes, one in each pocket. She lifted her hands away and he reached in, simultaneously retrieving both packs of Lucky Strike and examining them.
Nervous laughter escaped him as he replaced the packs in his pockets. It was so easy for her and regardless of how she used this ability, each sampling of her power increased his fear. He needed to, once again, hold that power in his own hands and Sarah wasn’t ready to trust him with the wishbones.
“Thank you.” He looked back at the house then to the girl, “The snow? A path, maybe?”
Sarah’s intense expression did not change. She was uneasy and Julien thought he caught a glimpse of anger flicker in her eyes.
“What is the matter, Sarah? I thought you will like to be playing the game with me. We don’t have to,” he looked down and kicked at the snow with exaggerated disappointment.
Sarah watched him sulk. She took a step back and Julien looked at her.
“It is not a big deals, Sarah. If you don’t want to clear away the snow, you do not have to.”
Julien turned away from her again. Frustrated, he realized it would take more time to regain her trust and time was not something he could spare. He took a few steps and was ambushed by searing pain in his leg, doubling him over. He grabbed the railing on the bridge, fighting to stay upright.
“Stop!” He held on and cast a cautioning finger in her direction, “Don’t do it, Sarah…” He looked into her eyes, “Make it stop…” He slapped his other hand to the railing, refusing to go down. The pain grew overwhelming and his fury broke way to pleading whimpers.
“Sarah, please…” he choked through gritted teeth, “please make it stop.”
All at once, the pain was gone.
He leaned over the railing, regaining his composure.
“I only wanted to play your game. To clear the snow.”
He stood up feeling a bit less confident in his plan and knowing she knew he was lying.
“You will never let me forget that you are in charge. You confuse me.”
Sarah came closer, standing right beside him; her face void of emotion.
“You like me, you hate me…I don’t know?”
Sarah reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, but Julien swiped her hand away.
Sarah rocked in the snow, twisting her fingers then beating at her forehead with the heel of her hand.
“On the scale of dysfunctional relationships, Sarah, we are taking the cake.” He watched her pound on herself, nervously mumbling and looking anywhere but at him.
“Sarah, you can’t keep hurting me. That is why I get angry with you. At some point, we have to find a way to work together. You know what I want…I want Jessica back. I want the fucking
snow gone. I want to go home.”
Sarah stopped rocking and glared at him.
“No, don’t start this with me again.” He turned away from her, ready to storm back to safety, but stopped dead in his tracks. There, over the landscape before him, the snow was gone, the Lexus vanished, and the Victorian, nowhere to be seen. All of it replaced by his childhood home and his grandparent’s dairy farm in France. Far out in the distance, a herd of cows calmly grazed in the field, and stepping out from around the side of the tiny house, appeared his grand-père.
Julien stood there, motionless at first. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He took a step, then another, leaving the bridge. He watched his grandfather place a milk barrel at the base of the steps. Julien, felt himself choke up. His grandmother stepped out onto the porch and looked to him. She smiled then waved. Julien, in disbelief, slowly brought a hand up, hesitantly returning the wave. His grandfather stepped away from the porch, making his way to Julien.
Julien, confused and unsure, began to sob, begging for his grandfather’s forgiveness.
“Je suis désolé, Papi. Je ne pouvais pas l'arrêter. Je ne pouvais pas l'arrêter. Je suis désolé,” he explain how he could not stop Jérome that day, and that he tried so hard, but had failed.
His grandfather stepped closer and placed his hands on Julien’s shoulders. He smiled at him, looking long into his eyes, then pulled him close, holding him tight. He kissed his grandson’s cheek and held him in his arms. Julien broke down in the old man’s embrace.
“Je suis désolé. I tried to stop him. I tried, Papi…I would have done anything…”
And in an instant, he was gone.
Julien opened his eyes. The landscape surrounding him, once again, blanketed in endless white snow. He wiped at his face and turned back to Sarah. She quickly looked away from him. Julien, having had enough, turned to head back to the house. A perfectly clear path, cut out before him, from the porch to the bridge, and behind them to the barn. He wiped again at his tear streaked face then changed his mind, instead turning back to Sarah. She stood ringing her hands and nervously peering at him from the corner of her eye. He went to her.
WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made Page 12