by Wendy Wang
He watched her get hold of her key fob and press the unlock button. The car chirped two short times, and the headlights blinked. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes narrowing with disgust. He took a step toward her. All the attitude she wielded before melted away and she rushed into the car, locking it with an audible click. Something bloomed inside his chest for the first time in his life, and his lips tugged into a smile.
You made her afraid of you. Fear is good. Fear is better than any drink you’ve ever imbibed. Just imagine how much more powerful it will feel when she's trembling beneath you.
“Power,” he muttered putting a name to the feeling filling his body. He put the phone to his ear again. “You know what Gene. Never mind. I think I’m gonna be all right after all.”
The sun set low in the late March sky and the young African-American girl stood up and stretched her back. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen but her clothes—a tattered brown skirt that skimmed the tops of her shoes and a muslin, sweat-stained blouse — made her appear older. She wore a muslin scarf tied around her head and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
Charlie wasn't sure exactly where she was even though the surroundings seemed familiar. It had to be one of the islands, but she wasn't sure which one from the landscape. An eerie silence filled her senses. There were no sounds from the roads. It reminded her of her Uncle Jack's place on John's Island late at night. The sounds of trucks and cars almost completely stopped that far out and the only sounds were those of a summer night, crickets, katydids, and frogs.
An expanse of freshly tilled earth stretched out in three directions, and she could see workers — mostly African-American — standing up like the girl nearby, finishing up their day from the look of it.
The girl looked in the basket near her feet and frowned. Charlie drew closer, surprised that the girl had not noticed her yet.
This is a dream.
Of course, maybe the girl was trying to show her something. Maybe if she closed her eyes and let herself drift into the girl's head she would know more.
When she opened her eyes, Charlie could see through the girl's eyes, hear her thoughts, and feel what she felt. Her name was Ruth Mathis and mainly what she felt was bone tired. At least until she saw the man approaching. Her daddy. He wiped his hands on his dusty overalls and pushed the wide brim of his soft felt hat up onto his head, revealing his dark weathered face.
“Ruthie?” he said, his tone full of weighty concern. He glanced at the long open trench she'd been tending. Disappointment deepened the lines around his mouth. “You're not finished yet? Your mama will have supper on the table here soon.”
Ruth bent over and picked up the basket for him to look. “Naw sir, I still have another row to plant and cover.”
“Girl,” her father shook his head, frowning. “What am I gonna do with you? You begged me to come out to the fields to help with the planting but you can't keep up? We're on a schedule. These taters have to be in the ground. Buzzy said the almanac is calling for rains to start in April. That's just a few days away. Now if you can't keep up I'm gonna have to send you back to the house to work with your mama.”
“Please don't do that, Daddy,” Ruth pleaded. “I can finish. There's still some daylight left. Please Daddy don't give up on me yet.”
Her father scrubbed his rough chin and eyed his daughter. He held up one finger. “One chance, and it's all on you. You hear me girl?”
“Yes sir,” Ruth said.
“All right then,” her daddy said. “You best get back to work. You don't want to be out this field in the dark.”
“Naw sir,” Ruth said. She reached inside the basket and pulled a seed potato out and dropped it into the shallow. Her basket was still a third full of seed and she needed to hoe dirt to cover them once she finished the task. The others, her father and three brothers, had already finished their planting and were heading toward the road that ran along the back of the property. The sun dipped behind the trees. She picked up her basket and moved a little farther down the row.
“Ruth, you want me to stay with you and help you finish up?” her brother Hal asked. Hal was always looking out for her. Ruth glanced at her father unable to ignore the look of disapproval.
“Naw you go on, get outta here. I promised I'd do it all myself.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure. I just gotta get these two rows covered and I'll be along shortly.”
“All right then,” he said. His wide, round eyes glanced around the field. “You be careful. Y'hear?”
“I will. Now go on.” She shooed him away and headed toward the top of the row with her hoe to cover her seeds.
Twilight cast milky light over the field as she pulled dirt over the last shriveled-looking starter potato. The green shoot budding from the top was the only indication it was alive. She tamped the soil down lightly with the back of her hoe and stepped back to look at the ten rows she'd seeded today. Maybe she moved a little slower than her brother's but it didn't mean she was destined to be confined to housework and cooking for the rest of her life. She picked up the hoe and headed for the dirt road leading home. The darkness fell faster than she expected and even with the stars glowing above she had to rely partly on her memory.
The familiar clip-clopping of horse hooves came up behind her and she moved from the center of the road toward the side so the rider could pass. There was only one man she knew of who would be out this time of evening taking a ride — the youngest Talmadge boy. Although she supposed that at twenty he wasn't much of a boy anymore. Her grip tightened on the hoe resting on her shoulder. He was always polite enough and but there was something about the way he stared, unblinking, as if he could see through her clothes. It always sent a shiver through her when she saw him. She stepped up her pace, hoping he would just pass her by. Her mama was probably close to having supper ready, and she hoped there would be hoecakes. Those were her favorite.
The horse moved up beside her, and his shadow loomed over her. “You're out late aren't you girl?”
“Yes sir,” she said glancing sideways, trying to get a better look at him. From the length of his wavy hair she knew it was him. Aldus Talmadge.
He made a tsking sound and gave his horse a light kick in the ribs. The horse sped up, and he yanked its reigns, making it turn sharply. The large, black beast came to a stop right in front of Ruth. It pawed at the gravel and snorted, making her take a step back.
“It's dangerous out here in the dark. Haven't you heard?” Aldus Talmadge said.
She had heard rumors about two other girls that had gone missing on other farms, but she hadn't paid it much mind. People came and went all the time, looking for something the land couldn't give them.
“Yes sir,” she said, side-stepping the horse. “I best get home. My mama and daddy are prob'ly worried by now.”
He moved the horse forward, blocking her path. The beast champed at the bit, and made a low, warning rumble deep in its throat.
“What's your name girl?”
“My name is Ruth Mathis sir, now please let me pass.” Her calm delivery masked the panic blooming inside her chest.
He pulled the horse's left rein, and the animal shifted its position out of Ruth's path. She kept her eyes straight forward trying to ignore the weight of his gaze as he watched her move beyond him. She shifted the hoe from her shoulder to her side before bolting forward into a run. Her boots crunched against the crushed gravel, competing with the horse's hooves grinding into the crushed gravel and sand of the dirt road behind her.
The rope went around her neck and yanked. For a moment she was weightless, facing the indigo sky before landing hard on her back. All the breath rushed out of her body and she struggled to breathe. He slipped off his horse and kicked the hoe she'd been holding out of her weakened grip.
He leaned over her and even in the shadows she could see his cold, hard eyes staring at her, unwavering.
She clawed at her neck t
rying to loosen the noose, trying to breathe. He pulled tighter on the rope.
“That's it,” he sneered. “You uppity little bitch.”
She coughed and tried to turn on her side, but he pulled the rope tighter and put one knee on her leg. Panic ripped through her body when she realized he wanted her to be afraid. Wanted her helpless and scared and compliant. She gritted her teeth. No matter how powerful he was, she refused to go down without a fight. She struck out, aiming for his face, her fingernails raking across his cheek, drawing blood.
The force of the blow made her vision go dark before white and blue stars blinded her for a moment. He uttered profanities at her for her impudence. Something hot and wet landed on her cheek. The splatter landed in her eye, stinging. She wiped away his stinking, mucus-y spit from her face. He stood up and yanked hard on the rope again. It tightened and lifted her from the ground. Her nails broke to the quick on the thick coil of sisal. She choked, gasping for any little bit of air she could get. The world darkened at the corners of her eyes and then everything went black.
The feel of cool, sandy dirt hitting her face brought her around again. How long had she been out? The darkness pressed in on her and she knew her mama must be worried sick by now. She tried to move, but sharp, burning pain shot through the bottom half of her body. What had he done to her? Another shovel full of dirt struck her in the face choking her. She wiped at her eyes, searching the darkness for the source. The sheer black stretched up what seemed a long way. Trees swayed far above her, and moonlight flickered through the leaves in places. She was in the woods. She sometimes thought she heard crying coming from the thick growth of trees on her way to the fields in the early dawn of morning — but she refused to look, in case she saw a haint looking back at her.
Another shovel full of dirt rained down on her legs this time. His tall broad silhouette loomed above and she thought for a moment he was no man, but the devil himself and he meant to bury her alive.
“Please,” she tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. “Please, sir don’t do this. I promise I won’t tell nobody.”
“You’re right about that,” he said and heaped more dirt on her.
With no choices left, she screamed through the rawness — better to have a sore throat than to be dead. Maybe someone would hear. Maybe her daddy was out looking for her by now. Maybe. He jumped into the hole with her and raised his shovel — Ruth raised her arm to shield herself but flat metal came down hard. Once. Twice. The world swam in grays and blacks. Her mama wouldn’t know what happened to her. Her mama—
Chapter 7
Charlie jerked awake sweating and chilled at the same time. Her hand flew to her neck and head, feeling around, making sure there was no injury. She pushed up on her elbow and glanced around the room. This was her room, and she was alone. It was just a dream. Just a horrible dream.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. The bright red numbers read 12:10 am. She picked up her cell phone and clicked on the text icon. She hesitated for a moment. Would he be up? Would he even answer her? Their history suggested no. But her heart hoped. Her thumbs began to move across the flat keyboard on her smart phone.
Are you awake?
Charlie stared at the screen waiting for the three dots. A few seconds later the phone buzzed in her hand and she yelped, dropping it on belly. Scott's picture appeared. It was one of her favorites of him and Evan at Edisto Beach the last summer before things fell apart. He was grinning, holding up a fish that Evan had caught in the surf, so proud.
“Hello?” she answered.
“You okay?” Scott asked. She could hear gravel in his voice. She had woken him up.
“I had a bad dream.”
He grew quiet, and she heard him sigh softly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No,” she said. “It will just piss you off.”
“Why did you call me then?”
She chuckled. “I didn’t. You called me. I texted you.”
“Oh right,” he said sounding sleepy. “Why don't you try me?”
“It's just about this woman, girl really. On this case I'm working on.”
“Case? What sort of case?” Concern edged into his voice.
She felt almost embarrassed to tell him. “It's this thing Daphne asked me to help with.”
“Your cousin Daphne? Your flaky cousin Daphne?” He emphasized the word flaky, and an irritation flashed through her.
“Daphne is not flaky. She's actually quite successful.”
“Right. Sorry. Successful flaky cousin Daphne.”
“She has her own business, and a very successful hair care vlog.”
“Of course she does. So what exactly does she have you doing?”
“Promise you won't be mad and no laughing at me.”
“By legal decree, I don't think I'm allowed either of those things anymore,” he said, sounding sad. When it was all said and done, both of their hearts had been broken, not just hers. She had to do a better job of remembering that.
“We're investigating a haunted house.” The line grew quiet. Too quiet. “You still there?”
“Yeah. I'm still here,” he grumbled.
“You're mad,” she said softly.
“No I'm not.” The line crackled, and she thought he was rubbing his face with his hand. “It's just—”
“Just what?” She already knew the answer and couldn't blame him for it.
“I divorced you so I wouldn't be woken up in the middle the night because of some dream you had.”
“You and I both know that’s not why we divorced. It would make you really shallow if it was.” She took a deep breath and continued. “You divorced me because you didn't know how to make me happy and you tried really, really hard for a really long time.”
He sighed loudly in her ear. “I still don't how to make you happy Charlie.”
She shrugged. “It was never your job.”
“Char — why are you calling me?”
“I didn't, remember?” she teased.
“Fine. Why did you text me then?”
She raked her fingers through her hair trying to find an answer. “Because I wanted to feel safe for a minute.”
“The dream made you feel unsafe? I've never known you to be afraid of a ghost, Charlie.”
“You say that as if you believe in them.”
“No — I say that as if you believe in them,” he corrected. “Is this thing you’re doing dangerous? Should I be worried about your safety?” The real concern in his voice touched her.
“Not physically. We'll have to see about spiritually and emotionally.”
“Be careful. Okay? Please? I have no right to ask for me, but I do for Evan.”
His request sent a pang of sadness through her. He was worried she might hurt herself again. She had caused so much pain to this man and even though he couldn’t live with her, couldn’t believe in her the way she needed, he would always love her.
She blew out a soft breath. “How is Evan?”
“He’s good. He has big math test tomorrow, and he’s really looking forward to your weekend together.”
“Me too. Give him a kiss for me, okay.”
“I will. Good night Char.”
“Good night Scott and thank you — for listening.” She pressed the red phone button on her screen, ending the call.
A chill skittered over her shoulders and she shivered. There was no form, but the chill was enough for her to recognize an unwelcome spirit. She reached for the stone pendant hanging around her neck and brushed her thumb over it. Closing her eyes, she whispered over and over, “You are not welcome here. This is my safe space. You need to leave.”
A moment later the air in the room felt more breathable and peaceful. After she was sure it was gone, she laid back down with the pendant still between her thumb and forefinger — ready to ward off any more spirits, even in her dreams.
Chapter 8
The main street of Palmetto Point was lined with par
king spaces for the businesses Jason passed on his way to A Touch of Glamour Salon. He slowed the car and read the signs: Duguid’s Pharmacy, the Kitchen Witch Café, a couple of boutique shops that sold women’s clothing, Pralines ‘n Dreams candy store, Condon’s Mercantile and Hardware, Chalmers antiques, Twice as Good Consignments, Hill’s Ice Creamery and Maudie’s Seafood restaurant, before finally seeing the pink orchid-shaped sign for the salon. At this time of day there wasn’t much competition for parking and he pulled into one of the spots in front of the salon.
Through the large front window, he could see only one stylist still working. She was short and slim and had chin length dark brown hair. A bell jingled above his head as he pushed open the door and she glanced at him. Her large blue eyes matched the blue streaks of hair framing her face. She barely looked old enough to drive much less work as a stylist in a successful hair salon.
“Jason?” she chirped, smiling wide.
“Yep, that’s me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I’ll be with you in just a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink while you wait? I’ve got water, soda and wine. Pick your poison.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” He wondered if she had a license to serve liquor on the premises and made a mental note to check.
“Okay, well you’re welcome to take a seat here.” She pointed to the chair next to the one where she was working. “Or you can sit in the waiting area. There are plenty of magazines to look through if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” he said. He took a seat in one of the white leather chairs in the waiting area. Picking up one of the magazines from the modern acrylic coffee table he pretended to read while appraising the long room. It all looked like something out of an upscale magazine. She must have been doing pretty well since her name was on the sign. Maybe he would check her financials as well. See if there was anything shady going on.