by Karina Halle
Page 24
“Some of us are terrible; some of us are good. What went on in that lighthouse must have been the height of all that plagues us. Like I said, I don’t think it’s haunted but I think there’s been some sort of curse, some evil, on that place all along. It’s just waiting for another person to take in. ”
He looked at me sternly, perhaps with a bit of fear in his eyes. I understood what he was saying. I felt what he was saying. Haunted by Old Roddy or cursed by some demon, I knew there was something in that place that so desperately wanted me. And the most disturbing thing of all was that I kind of wanted it, too.
“And so what happened after?” I asked. I needed to ignore my feelings. “I mean, did you board it all up? Was it open when you first moved here?”
“I didn’t know what we were buying when we first moved here. I hadn’t heard any of the tales and neither had Paula (his ex) but I knew deep, deep down there was something terrible about that place. I only stepped foot in it once and that was the first time we all went to explore it. I think Matthew found part of a jawbone from some sort of animal in one of the rooms. The place just felt too unsettled and dangerous, not to mention how weak the structures felt on the second floor. And really, what was the point of having your own defunct lighthouse? It made no sense to me. So, we had it boarded up and pretty much forgot about it. Until last week. ”
My lip wiggled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. ”
“Don’t worry, Perry. I’m just glad nothing happened to you. ”
He watched me intently as if he was trying to suss out whether something had happened to me or not.
“No,” I said slowly, “I guess nothing really did happen to me. But since you think the lighthouse is evil, a lot of the. . . . feelings. . . . I had about the place would back that up. ”
He patted my hand. “And I’m glad you’re not going back in there. ”
I smiled at him. I felt happy for getting to know my uncle better. Maybe this weekend wasn’t such a waste after all.
“Though I must say,” he started, “I thought last night he—”
Before he could finish that thought, there was a loud knock at the door. I jumped in my seat, the coffee finally giving my heart a boost. Al got up and opened the front door.
“Good morning, sir. I’ve come for the lady. ” Dex was at the door, feigning importance. He had a cap on his head and tipped it jauntily.
“Come in, Dex. ” Al ushered him inside and closed the door.
Dex walked over to me with a smile on his face. It also gave my heart a jolt.
“Good morning. Care for some breakfast before we go?” he asked.
“Um, oh, sure. ” I eyed the clock on the wall.
“Sorry for just dropping by. ” He looked at both of us. “I tried calling your cell a few times and I texted you, but there was either no answer or I kept getting the wrong number. ”
His voice lowered over that last part. I studied his face. His grin faltered slightly. Was he lying? No one had called or texted me at all that morning. I got out my iPhone just in case and looked it over. Nope. Nothing.
“Anyway,” Dex continued, looking at Al. “I’m afraid I’ve got to steal away your niece now. I’ve still got to make it up to Seattle for tonight. ”
“Be my guest. I’m sorry you guys are walking away empty-handed, but I suppose these things always happen for a reason. ”
“I believe that very much, Uncle Al,” Dex said. He looked at me. “Will it take you long to pack?”
I slammed the last bit of coffee down. I hated having to rush. I got up and picked up my bag. “All ready to go. ”
He gave me the thumbs up sign, then promptly turned on his heel and walked out of the house.
I looked at Al and rolled my eyes by way of explaining his actions. Which I couldn’t. So I hugged him goodbye and thanked him for everything, then scuttled outside after Dex.
The SUV was running in the driveway; the steam rising up from its tailpipe gave it a warm, welcome look in the morning downpour.
Though it was only a few yards, I was fairly soaked when I swung the door open and jumped inside.
Dex put his hand on the gearshift and gave me the once over.
“Were you even alive in the nineties? Because it looks like that decade chewed you up and spit you out again,” he said mockingly.
He put the car in reverse and sped the car out of the driveway.
“I was born in 1988, for your information. Can’t you count?” I spat back at him. I was not in the mood for teasing of any sort.
He turned to me with an excited leer. I could tell he was in the mood for teasing.
“You’re only a child of the nineties if you had your teenage years during that decade. I mean look at you, all Doc Martens and Converse and leggings. ”
“You’re the one with the eyebrow ring,” I shot back. “I think it’s better to emulate a time period you haven’t properly lived through. Otherwise, you’re just holding on to the past. ”
He laughed. “I have no past to hold on to. ”
He flipped his MP3 player on. To my surprise, Billy Joel came on. “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant,” to be precise.
Dex began to sing along.
Here was the infamous voice of Declan Foray. It was smoother, deeper, and more powerful than Joel’s. It seemed to float over the words, vibrating with rich tones. It was gorgeous, hypnotic. . . . and so out of place.
He continued to sing until he noticed me staring at him. I must have looked very confused.
Dex turned down the volume. “I do this in the mornings. So where did you want to eat? I saw this great stereotypical diner in town that must serve the blackest coffee this side of the divide. ”
“Sure, sounds good,” I said as he went straight back into song, snapping his fingers and wiggling in his seat.
He did this every morning? I looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty a. m. Where on earth did he get the energy to put on a musical at this hour?
I wasn’t complaining, though; it was fascinating to listen to and to watch, once I got past the weirdness of this spontaneous and strange direction. I didn’t think it was possible to outshine Billy Joel, but Dex was doing so as he was speeding down the coastal highway toward Tillamook.
He smiled and sang to me, it seemed.
My heart skipped a beat again. Did he know the quickest way to charm the pants off of me was to sing to me?
“I didn’t know you could sing,” I lied.
“No?” he eyed me suspiciously. “I suppose there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, kiddo. But you will. . . in due time. ”
Right, I thought sarcastically. I knew that after this weekend there wasn’t going to be any more time for us.
A short while later, and after a couple more Billy Joel songs, which Dex unfortunately did not sing his way through, we pulled up next to the diner in Tillamook.
Dex was right about it looking stereotypical. It had a seventies orange awning with God-awful faded font on top: Tilly’s Diner. Painted on the dark, tinted windows were images of coffee cups, bacon, and eggs done up in that pebbly glass paint, peeling at the corners. I couldn’t tell from the outside if it was even open; looking down the foggy, rain-logged street I couldn’t imagine anyone actually being alive in this town, let alone having breakfast.
As we entered the diner, the smell of fat and griddled meats hit my nostrils. The door chimed loudly and echoed across the restaurant. There were a few patrons surprisingly, but not surprisingly they were ragged-looking seniors. We made our way to a table in the corner, which was covered by a green plastic tablecloth. The light was dim and terribly unflattering.
“This is charming,” I said, sliding in the padded booth across from Dex.
“It is, isn’t it?” he said, without a trace of sarcasm.
A rotund waitress came by. She had thick glasses, a bulbous red nose, and seemed to lack a chin. I couldn’t look at h
er face too long without feeling nauseous, so I looked at her nametag: Nancy.
Nancy tossed two laminated menus across the table at us with a hint of contempt. I smiled uneasily at her, and she did not return the sentiment. She turned her attention to Dex.
He flashed her his sly joker smile.
“Good morning, Nancy. How are you on this gorgeous day?” Once again it was spoken with utmost sincerity.
Nancy looked at him suspiciously. “Tilly’s big plate breakfast is on special today. Want coffee?”
“We both do, yes, please,” Dex said, not even bothering to see if I agreed. I guess he knew that much about me so far. I knew he could sing. He knew I liked coffee. We were like old pals.
Nancy left without acknowledging the order.
Dex looked down at the menu and wiggled his brows. “I think she likes me. ”
“You would think that,” I said somewhat viciously. I couldn’t help myself.
Dex put the menu down and looked up at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Are you OK?”
He made me uncomfortable. I regretted saying anything and fidgeted in my seat. I turned my attention to the menu.
“I’m fine. ”
“Don’t shit a bullshitter,” he said angrily.
Now, it was my time to be surprised. His eyes looked almost venomous. I was even more uncomfortable now.
Thankfully, Nancy chose that moment to come by and slam two cups of coffee on the table, the dark drops spilling over the edges. “Well?” She looked at us, cocking her brow.
“We’ll both have the special,” Dex said, without taking his contemptuous eyes off of my face. I looked up at Nancy and gave her an apologetic look, but she took no notice. Merely sighed and snatched the menus up off the table.
I didn’t even want the big plate special, or whatever it was, but something told me it wasn’t a good time to bring that up. I sucked on my lower lip and gradually brought my eyes to meet his again.
“Remember when you told me I should let you know when you’re creeping me out?” I reminded him. “This is one of those times. ”
He held my gaze for a few seconds more before leaning back in the booth and running his hand through his hair. “This is also the time you tell me what happened to you last night. ”
Ah. A light went on in my head. Now I knew one thing that made Dex tick—when he didn’t know something. No wonder he was so intent on trying to read my thoughts. If he didn’t know everything that was going on, it drove him nuts. He must be one of those boyfriends who constantly ask you what you’re thinking. It probably drove his girlfriend up the wall.
“OK, then. I’ll tell you from start to finish. Just keep an open mind, refrain from thinking I am crazy or delusional, though I may very well be, and don’t say anything until I am done. ”
His dark eyes lightened up a smidge. “I promise. ”
I sighed, took a long gulp of the terrible black coffee for strength, and told Dex everything, starting with my dreams, what I made up on the beach, about what Uncle Al told me, and what I saw last night. When I was done, the platters arrived on our table and I was suddenly ravenous from talking excitedly for so long.
I shoved a greasy slice of Canadian bacon into my mouth and said, “And now you know everything that I know. Which is nothing. Happy?”