Aunt Rose pulled over, making a U-turn to head back into town. When we arrived at the hardware store, we parted ways. I aimlessly walked the aisles as Aunt Rose explained her toilet problem to the store associate.
“Meredith?” someone from behind me called anxiously. “It’s such a coincidence that I would bump into you here, the hardware store out of all places.”
I turned around and saw two familiar green eyes on a smiling face. “Abby?” I asked, shocked, giving her a once-over. Her look had changed drastically since the last time I had seen her. She was ... beautiful, and much more up-to-date-looking, if that even describes her transformation. She was wearing an emerald-colored sundress, one that I would see a model wearing in a magazine. Her hair was still the same corn-silk blonde, but it was styled as if she had just walked out of a salon. I couldn’t help but look her up and down again, admiring her new clothes and style. Before, she had been so simple and plain-looking. Not that she had overdone it, but suddenly I felt like I paled in comparison, where before I had felt like somewhat of an equal.
“What brings you to the hardware store?” I questioned, trying my best to strike up a conversation in order to distract myself from staring at her amazing makeover.
“I mentioned that we are restoring one of the older estates, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I remember you saying something about that,” I answered, trying hard to maintain eye contact. I still had not forgotten the weirdness between us the evening after the party: the things she and Blake had said to one another and the way they had acted when I had accidently interrupted them.
“Well, I’m just here getting some paint samples for the interior of the house.” She lifted the basket in her arms to show me. It was filled with tiny cans and a handful of small paintbrushes.
“Oh, cool,” I responded, not knowing what else to say.
“Would you—” She started to ask but then shook her head and stared at the ground. “Never mind, I just had a silly idea, but I’m sure you’re too busy.”
“What is it?” I insisted, regretting the words the moment I said them.
“Well, I was going to ask, if you are not too busy of course, if you would help me decide on some paint colors. You know, come over and help me choose the right ones.”
“I don’t think I would be much help. I don’t really have any experience in that department,” I confessed.
“Neither do I. Honestly, this is my first go-around with all of this. And my mom and dad are so outdated, and well, my brother couldn’t care less about what color blue should go on the living room walls. But I’m sure you’re too busy.”
As I looked at her, contemplating how I should answer, I swear that she was purposely making a pouty-face at me.
But then my mind drifted to her brothers blue eyes and my yearning to see him again answered for me. It was a weird feeling, one that I was not sure how to describe. We had not really even spoken to one another, but I felt the need to see him again and maybe prove to him that I wasn’t a head case. Or maybe I wanted to prove it to myself. The few times I had been in his presence, I had practically killed myself by walking out in front of a car, become mute when we were introduced, acted like a crazed person looking for him at Omega’s, and played a klutzy idiot at the library. Yes, I definitely had to prove it to myself that I was not totally losing it.
“Sure, I’ll try my best,” I said. “But I really don’t know if I’ll be much help.”
“Really?” Her face lit up in excitement.
“I’m with my aunt right now, but I could come by—”
“Tomorrow,” she said, cutting me off and finishing my sentence. “That will actually work out perfectly. It will give me more time to prepare; you know, clean up the rooms and put some plastic down,” she rambled happily.
I was not sure why she was so oddly excited; it was just an afternoon of choosing paint colors. Maybe she’s just missing having a friend, I concluded.
“How’s noon?” she questioned, her voice high with excitement.
“Noon is good.” I nodded, already starting to feel a little uneasy about agreeing to it.
“Are you familiar with the estates on the edge of town?”
“Yeah, I know the area,” I answered. Then I realized what I had just agreed to: I had just voluntarily agreed to enter one of the houses that everyone I ever knew avoided like the plague.
“Great. Well, it’s the third house on your left, 12 Estate Lane to be exact. See you tomorrow.” She bounced off happily, and I couldn’t help but think about how much her attitude had majorly transformed as well. It was possibly even a more dramatic change than her physical one. The first day we had met, she had looked at me like I was the nut; all the while it appears she was the one who looked to be insane.
I met Aunt Rose at the register with an uneasy look on my face.
“You feeling okay?” she asked as I approached her.
“Yeah, fine,” I answered automatically, knowing deep down I truly wasn’t.
“Who was that girl you were talking to? Someone from school?”
“Oh, no, that was Abby,” I responded, glancing out the window to see her disappear around the corner. “She and her family are new to town—well, they are only here for the summer. They are restoring one of the houses on Estate Lane,” I explained further.
“That’s nice,” she remarked.
“Yeah, it should be neat to see how it turns out. She wanted some help with paint colors, so I’m going to help her choose tomorrow.”
“That should be fun. You know, your mom always loved those houses. When we were kids she was never scared to go into them like the rest of us,” she said, probably not even realizing what she was actually saying. It was rare for Aunt Rose to speak about my mother. It hurt us both to talk about her as much as it hurt to hear about her.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” I said. Just picturing my mom’s face made my heart ache.
We headed back to the house and ate some leftover lasagna before I retired to my room for the evening. I was not really tired, but I was craving some alone time. The remark Aunt Rose had made about my mother had put me in a depressed mood. I’m sure she didn’t even realize it when she said it, and normally a comment like that wouldn’t stick with me like it did just then; but since I’d spent the past few nights seeing my family in my dreams, I was more sensitive than usual. Especially the dream from the other night, where we were all still happy, made me miss them even more. I lay on my bed and actually wished for another dream like that, wanting it so badly that I began to think about the last day they were alive.
Chapter Eight
It started off like the first nightmare I had had just a few days ago: my sister and I playing hide-and-go-seek in the backyard, totally unaware of the terrible accident that lay ahead. After I had ventured into the woods and Charlotte called after me, my mom had burst out the back door before I could step two feet into the thickness of the trees. She called after me, screaming my name, yelling for me to come back toward the house. The panic in her voice stopped me. I turned around quickly; jumping back toward the grass, back to the boundary line my mom had set and told my sister and I not to cross. When she finally got to me, she took me by the hand and dragged me back toward the house, the entire time scolding me about disobeying her strict orders. I had never heard my mom speak like that, especially not to my sister or me. Her voice was full of anger, panic, and sadness … if a voice could hold all those emotions at once. I remember asking myself as I was being dragged on what the big deal was. It was just the woods, the same woods where my sister and I had gone many times. Why were they suddenly off limits? Why was I being scolded for something that had seemed so trivial before?
Once we were back inside, my mother sent my sister and I up to our rooms while her and my dad continued their hushed conversation in the living room. I remember trying to hold in the tears until I was alone and could hopefully block some of the noise with my pillow. The entire time I was bein
g dragged and scolded, Charlotte followed silently behind us, not saying a word. Before I shut my bedroom door, Charlotte stopped and looked at me with sympathetic eyes, trying to apologize for getting me into trouble; it had been her yelling that had caused my mom to rush out of the house and grab me. But my stare must have been unforgiving, because she continued to her room with the same sorrowful look on her face. After shutting my door, I ran to my bed and leaped onto it, not able to hold back the tears anymore.
It was later that night that my dad had rushed into my bedroom, telling me to get up and get dressed. I remember being confused; it made no sense to me. It took me a few seconds to recall the events that had taken place earlier in the day. Then I remembered: I had gone into the woods, been reprimanded, and then sent to my room. I remembered crying for hours after that, and then I must have fallen asleep. As I sat there trying to get my bearings after my dad woke me, something told me that it was not yet morning. I still felt tired and groggy. I looked down and realized that I was fully clothed, never having changed after being sent to my room. As I got out of bed, I heard my dad giving Charlotte the same instructions that he had given me just seconds before. I stood in the hallway, still dazed and not sure of what was happening. Then Charlotte stumbled out of her bedroom in a confused stupor as well. She too was still dressed in the blue-jean skirt and Disneyland shirt that she had on while playing in the backyard, her favorite purple tennis shoes in hand. I looked down and saw that I had never taken my shoes off. Our eyes met and fear must have crossed both of our faces at the same time. We walked toward one another and held hands, not knowing or fully understanding what all was going on.
My mother called for us to join her downstairs in the kitchen. We walked down the stairs and entered the hallway. I could see my mom hunched over the counter, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She finished and placed the note in the cabinet where we kept our spices. She turned back around and smiled at us, then embraced us in a big hug. It should have been a comforting feeling, but it wasn’t. It just added more to my confusion. I could see the same reaction on Charlotte’s face, too. Then my dad’s voice was behind us, telling us it was time to go.
Time to go? Go where? It was the middle of the night. My mother grabbed each of our hands and walked us outside to the car. Neither Charlotte nor I asked any questions, in fear of what would happen if we did. It did seem like my mother and father were somewhat back to normal. Well, except for the waking-us-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-making-us-get-in-the-car thing. But they acted sweet and loving, the way my sister and I were used to. Those past few weeks they had been distant toward us. They had been much more concerned with having hushed conversations we were never meant to hear. My mother and father joined us in the car, and we began to back out of our driveway. Charlotte put on her shoes, and then we held hands as we drove into the quiet night. That was all I remembered from that night.
The accident happened just a few minutes later on the outside of town. I don’t remember many of the details. In the hospital, the police tried their hardest to get any information out of me as to why we were out driving so late or what made my dad swerve the way he did. But I couldn’t remember anything except the sounds of the tires screeching along the pavement, the glass bursting as our car flipped and went flying through the air, and my family’s screams. That was it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital with Aunt Rose at my side.
Finally, I opened my eyes, not wanting to go any farther down memory lane. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. Even though I could feel them, I had to touch them to really believe they were real. It had been years since I had cried, years since I had shown any type of emotion in that sense. I rolled over and saw that it was close to midnight. It was imperative that I get to bed. Tomorrow I would be going to the Harper’s, and I wanted to be fully alert. I was hoping not to make any more of a fool out of myself than I already had.
After a full night’s rest, I woke early and spent the morning picking which outfit to wear over to the Harpers’. After trying on a few different options, I opted for the most comfortable one, my usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans, realizing that showing up wearing anything else would not go with the purpose of the day: choosing paint colors.
“Well, the butterfly has finally come out of her cocoon,” Jack shouted from the living room as I walked down the stairs.
“Ha, ha.”
“Whatcha been doing up there all morning? I heard you stomping around.”
“Oh, sorry, I was just trying on a few outfits for the day.”
“You? Trying on outfits? I thought all graduation partying was over?” he asked jokingly.
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore his remarks. Apparently, I had woken up with the same sad and cranky mood that I had gone to bed with.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, hoping it would take the focus off of me.
“I’m here to fix the toilet,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Hey, I brought your favorite. They’re in the kitchen.”
“Donuts?” I opened my eyes wide. I turned and headed toward the kitchen. Comfort food sounded perfect right about then.
“Yep, an entire dozen—half glazed, half chocolate.” He followed close behind me. I guess he had been waiting on me to take first dibs.
“So where’s Aunt Rose?” I questioned, lifting the lid off the box, inhaling the sweet smell of sugar and chocolate.
“She’s finishing up getting ready so I can get in there and start working.”
I nodded, my mouth too full of donut to speak.
“Where are you all dressed up to go, anyway?” he asked, raising his left eyebrow in curiosity.
I looked down, inspecting myself and wondering how on earth he got “dressed up” from just jeans and a T-shirt. I swallowed my mouthful before asking, “What are you talking about?” It came out sounding harsher than I’d intended.
“Well, your hair is not in a ponytail and you’re wearing makeup. Wasn’t trying to offend you. You look nice. I was just curious to know where you were headed, that’s all.” He shrugged, clearly regretting that he had even asked.
Guilt washed over me. It was not Jack’s fault that I had spent the last night reliving the worst night of my life. “Actually, I’m helping out the new family that moved into one of the older estates. They’re restoring it and asked for some help in choosing paint colors.” I tried to be conversational, hoping to show him that I really was not out on the attack.
“Oh, yeah. I met the son the other day in town. Blake, is it? Seems like a nice kid. Real polite.”
Polite? Ha. Not from what I’d seen. Even though he had made my heart flutter and just may have been the sole reason for me agreeing to go over there that afternoon, he had been anything but polite to me.
“Well, I better start making my way over there,” I said, grabbing another chocolate donut before heading out. “Thanks for the donuts. Tell Aunt Rose I said bye,” I yelled as I headed toward the door, wanting to get out of there before he could ask me any more questions.
“Sure thing, kid,” he called out just before the door slammed shut.
On the way to the other side of town, I tried to prepare myself for what I was about to do. It was difficult for my mind to process that I had willingly agreed to enter one of the homes I had heard scary stories about my entire life. Of course, the stories had gotten more and more ridiculous with each passing year, but I had to believe that they held some truth, right? Supposedly, those homes had belonged to witches back in the early 1900s, and apparently they were cursed and still housed spirits. Not that I believed in any of that or ever paid too much attention to the gossip, but as I was about to get up close and personal with one of those houses, I began to wonder a little more.
I pulled out my cell phone, checking the time; it was 11:00. There was still an entire hour before I was supposed to be at the Harpers’. There was a reason I had left the house early. A part of me had wanted to visit my family on the way. It would be
a shame not to take advantage of the coincidence. I would be passing right by the cemetery on the way to Estate Lane. But the other part of me didn’t know what a visit would do to me just then. My thoughts from the night before were still too fresh on my mind, and I was not sure if the tears would find their way back out again.
As I walked, I continued to debate whether or not I should make the stop. But the closer I got, the more it occurred to me that it would be best to wait until after the Harpers’. It was foolish to even entertain going there before. Plus, I would have an excuse to leave early—I could tell them I had an errand to run, if an excuse was necessary. I was hoping that the process would be quick, easy, and painless. I mean, how hard could it be to pick out a few paint colors?
I turned onto Shore Drive, and the familiar smell of salt grew stronger and stronger with each step. The cemetery appeared on my left, and as much as I tried to fight it, the sickening pain in the pit of my stomach came with it. A few deep breaths and my continued march right past the gates helped ease the pain, and it nearly disappeared as I approached Estate Lane. As I turned the corner, I bumped into someone. It felt like bumping into a large object, something similar to a brick wall, which stopped me and pushed me backwards. I stumbled back, thinking it was just a matter of seconds before my head hit the concrete, when a hand reached for me and pulled me back up to a standing position.
I gasped, shocked at the person I saw in front of me. He towered over me, standing at least six feet tall.
“Sorry,” I muttered, hoping the words actually made it out of my mouth that time.
“No, my fault. I should watch where I am going,” Blake spoke in a soft, deep voice as his eyes found mine.
Oh, no, it’s happening again … I’m speechless, I thought. Please no, not again. I almost screamed out loud. Speak, all you have to do is open your mouth and let the words out!
But before I could convince myself to speak, he began. “Were you on your way to my house?”
I nodded and smiled, apparently still having the issue thinking of something to say.
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