by Simone Pond
He finally finished his coffee in one last slurp and stood up. “Well, this has not only been delicious, but entertaining. I better be getting back to the station. Thanks for lunch. Always good to see you, Ruth. And Sibyl, maybe some lighter summer reading?”
Aunt Ruthie walked the police chief to the door, and I ducked behind the archway to listen in. I overheard Pike ask if he could take her out sometime for dinner and a movie. I’d never seen Aunt Ruthie light up a room with such bright colors. With far too much enthusiasm, she said she’d be delighted. And though she was thrilled, something wasn’t sitting right with me. From the sound of Vago’s whimpering at the back door, I knew he sensed it, too.
Chapter Nine
Vago
The chief’s scent triggered something in my olfactory senses. Nobody smells that clean. Like a bar of lemon soap that’s been coated in peppermint. Pike had to be hiding something. Under the table, I scratched at Sibyl’s foot, but she kept nudging me away, then tried to distract me with a few slabs of ham; she knew that was my favorite. The conversation grew tense as they touched on the historical landmark subject. One that Aunt Ruthie was adamant about. She had stacks of fliers next to the computer in the guest room and two signs in the front yard with The Park Must Stay! printed in bright red letters. Sibyl and I figured the cause gave her something to do besides dote on us, or her late-night customers at the diner. Unlike Sibyl, Aunt Ruthie actually wanted to be a part of the community.
When the discussion had veered in the dangerous direction of Sibyl’s ability to “see” the future, I had to take some drastic measures and cause a distraction. I hadn’t meant for it to get me banished to the back yard, but hopefully the ruckus had given Sibyl enough time to think up something to get Pike to back down. I didn’t fully trust the man and I wasn’t about to let some charismatic bully get involved. We had received the vision for a reason and it was up to us to follow through. Sibyl and I would check things on our own, then go to someone who exuded an air of trustworthiness instead of smarminess.
I thought Pike would never finish his coffee and get up from the table, but he finally did and Aunt Ruthie walked him to the front door. I could see Sibyl pressed up against the archway, listening to their conversation. After a few tense moments, she backed away, banged into one of the dining room chairs, and rushed to the back door. She ran over to her Adirondack chair and plunked down, then picked up the spare pair of sunglasses she kept outside.
I trotted over and licked her fingers.
“That was not fun. Can you believe Aunt Ruthie almost told him?”
The back door opened. Sibyl closed her eyes, put on the sunglasses, and took a deep breath. Aunt Ruthie pulled over the matching chair and foot stool. I circled the grass and wedged myself between the two, not wanting to miss out on anything.
Aunt Ruthie rubbed behind my ears, which felt like warm trickles of goodness running down my back. I don’t know why that always felt so dang good.
“That was quite a scene you made in there, Vago. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” Aunt Ruthie chirped.
Woof!
“He’s not used to strangers,” Sibyl said in an even tone.
“Chief Pike is hardly a stranger. He keeps our town safe.” Aunt Ruthie paused a moment and studied Sibyl; a sadness settled in her warm blue eyes as she observed her niece. “Are you feeling okay, honey? You’ve been acting strange since you came back from your walk.”
Sibyl kept her head resting on the back of the chair, her eyes closed. “I’m a little overwhelmed is all. A lot to take in for one day. I wasn’t expecting Pike to come inside. And …”
When Sibyl didn’t finish her sentence, Aunt Ruthie filled in the blanks. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Their hands met on the arm of Sibyl’s chair, and they held them there for a moment in silence.
Woof!
“It’s okay. I’d like to keep that secret to ourselves. Everyone in town already thinks I’m a weirdo because I never leave the house. They don’t need to think I’m a conspiracy theorist, too.”
Aunt Ruthie laughed and patted Sibyl’s hand. “Of course, sweetie. But nobody thinks you’re a weirdo. They ask about you all the time. People miss seeing you around.”
Sibyl made a strange sound like her voice was cracking. It was something I’d never heard before. Maybe she missed seeing them, too.
The three of us sat in the noonday sun for a while, listening to the water trickling over the rocks into the pond. The sparrows that had followed Sibyl and me into town were perched on their favorite branch of the large oak tree, singing to us. A perfect summer afternoon without a single worry or care, except for the impending explosion that Sibyl and I would need to stop before Monday.
After a while, the sun had moved across the sky and Aunt Ruthie stood. “I’m going to do the dishes and get cleaned up. I have a meeting with the historical society before my shift.”
Sibyl sat up, reaching for her aunt’s hand and missing. “Can you ask the ladies at the historical society to get city hall to move the meeting date?”
“Oh, Sibby. Not this again.”
Sibyl stood up, tripping over the foot stool. “Wait, I’m serious. That meeting can’t happen at city hall on that day.”
Aunt Ruthie bent down to help Sibyl up. “Look at yourself, dear. Getting yourself in a dither over this nonsense. What is going on? Why are you so dead set on this?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re all I have,” Sibyl told her.
I chuffed, rubbing my wet nose against her calf.
“Oh, honey. You really do need to start listening to some lighter audiobooks. Maybe some Nora Roberts? Now, let’s just drop this subject. Those old betties at the historical society are more stubborn than a pack of mules. They’re determined to have the vote on August 21st and by God, they will.” She stroked Sibyl’s cheek with her usual gentleness, then walked back into the house.
“Can it just hurry up and be midnight already?” Sibyl glared at me like it was my fault that I couldn’t shift for another eight hours.
Sitting back in her chair, she fiddled with her new watch for a minute or two then a voice started coming from the tiny, but surprisingly clear, speakers. She had decided to finish up her most recent library audiobook. One I didn’t care to hear. I barked a few times, but she kept on listening, not understanding what I was trying to communicate. When she didn’t go into the house to get her headphones, I gave up the fight and went through my doggie door.
In the bedroom, I found a patch of sun on the floor and nestled up into a ball and attempted to drift off to sleep. Just as the first moments of sleep were tingling through my body, I jerked around until my limbs locked into place. Another vision was coming on …
Sibyl and I stand outside of city hall while the residents are filing into the building. Groups of corporate muckety-mucks in suits and shiny shoes make their way up the stairs and march into the marble building with purpose. These must be the developers ready to take a stand for their multiplex project. The clock tower’s chimes begin ringing throughout the courtyard.
One, two, three …
Sibyl’s gaze is set across the courtyard toward Aunt Ruthie who is standing underneath the clock tower with a few women from the historical society. Each of the women are holding signs and wearing t-shirts that say The Park Must Stay!
Four, five, six …
Chief Pike struts over to the group of ladies and takes Aunt Ruthie’s hand. He whispers in her ear, trying to pull her away from the women, but she argues with him and returns to her friends.
Seven, eight …
Sibyl shouts, but her words are muffled by the sound of something roaring in the distance. She starts to run forward, but I step in front of her, knocking her to the sidewalk. Aunt Ruthie and the women are the last ones to enter city hall. Pike isn’t with them.
Nine …
After the ninth chime, a stream of motorcycles pours into the town squ
are and rips through the courtyard. They park next to the pillars, and run around shouting. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re angry and in a rush. Sibyl tries to get up, but I knock her down again, then run over to the men to get a closer look. Their black t-shirts say Coastview ain’t for sale! Some officers come outside and enter the courtyard, guns aimed at the men. There are some gunshots. I dart back over to Sibyl and tug on her shirt sleeve. We have to get away from the building. Move! The gang of motorcycles roars off. And just before Sibyl can get to her feet, the explosion erupts, sending chunks of marble and cement into the sky. The boom echoes and ripples through the air like a sonic wave, knocking Sibyl and me back across the street.
“Vago!” Sibyl’s voice came through the back door. She had just received the exact same vision.
I barked a few times so she could find me.
Aunt Ruthie shouted from upstairs, “Everything okay down there?”
“It’s fine. I couldn’t find Vago is all,” Sibyl shouted back, then darted into the guest room, shutting the door behind her.
I ran over to her and rubbed my nose against her calves. She kneeled down, holding my head and burying her face in my fur.
“That was awful. Awful,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “But I saw a couple things I didn’t see last time.”
Woof.
“You too?”
Woof!
She touched the face of her wrist watch. “Another seven hours until you shift. I might crack before then.”
A slight tap at the door startled both of us.
“Sibyl? What are you doing?” Aunt Ruthie opened the door and came in to find us in the middle of the room on the floor.
“Vago and I were playing hide-and-seek,” Sibyl said.
Aunt Ruthie shook her head and helped Sibyl to her feet. “I’m worried about you, honey.”
“I’m fine.”
“I think you’re going stir crazy. Today’s venture outside must’ve piqued your curiosity. Why don’t you come to the historical society meeting with me? It’ll only be an hour. The ladies will be so happy to see you.”
Sibyl stood fixed in place as though the air had been siphoned out of her body. I scratched her leg, encouraging her to take this opportunity. Maybe she could corner one of the old betties and get them to change the meeting date. She moved away, but I kept on scratching at her.
“Stop it, Vago,” she snapped.
“Vago can come too, of course,” Aunt Ruthie said, patting Sibyl’s shoulder.
I barked my highest pitched bark to let her know I meant business. Though she could only see my spirit, she glared down in my direction.
“Will it be crowded?” Sibyl asked.
“Not likely.”
The time it took for Sibyl to make her decision dragged like a broken wheelbarrow through thick mud. But she finally agreed to attend the meeting with her aunt. She also promised not to bring up any talk of changing the meeting date or the location. But we both knew that was a lie.
Chapter Ten
Sibyl
The drive to the historical society meeting took all of two minutes. Aunt Ruthie said her feet couldn’t handle the quarter-mile walk to our town hall, and since I had already made the trip earlier that day, I didn’t argue. The three of us got into her Toyota Camry, drove up the street, and parked in the lot behind Mr. Rosen’s stinky cheese shop.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mr. Rosen said he has some special stilton on sale this week,” I told Aunt Ruthie as she helped me out of the car.
“Do you know how happy this makes me?” she gushed.
“About the stilton?”
“No, sweetie. About you! Getting out and about. Having conversations with people in the community. I’ve been praying for this every night.”
I didn’t say anything to spoil her good spirits because judging from the luster radiating off her body, they were high. I couldn’t let Aunt Ruthie down, but I didn’t have any plans to keep up my citizenship after Vago and I had handled the danger at city hall—the real reason I had been dabbling in the painful social experiment in the first place.
As we walked across the parking lot, Vago sniffed the air. I took a few deep inhales myself, trying to catch whatever he was picking up, but all I could smell was a bouquet of floral fragrances vying for attention—roses, gardenias, and peonies. Those ladies sure loved to douse themselves in perfume. The chatter of women grew louder the closer we got to the building.
Without meaning to, my footsteps slowed until I came to a stop. Was I really walking into the pounding heart of the beast? I’d known these women for years. Bea Pearlman and her cronies would come to the house for tea, campaigning hard and furiously to get my mother on board for their causes. They were stalwarts and die-hards who’d stop at nothing to preserve the integrity of our town. While my mother agreed with their causes, she didn’t need the added pressure to attend their constant meetings. So she used me as an excuse and promised that once I was off to college she’d have more time to join their efforts to ensure Coastview stayed intact.
By the time I had reached high school, I began to dread those Sunday afternoons when Bea Pearlman and the ladies would come by for tea and finger sandwiches. They’d catch me in their web, then grill me with questions until I was charbroiled. They’d want to know every detail of my life—studies, softball, courting, college choices … the list was endless.
I was certain I’d be walking right into another one of their grilling sessions, which would’ve been embarrassing for everyone involved. I didn’t have much to offer as far as updates these days. I’m not sure the list of books I had plowed through over the last year would meet their standards of accomplishments. My responses would only make everyone uncomfortable. They’d probably go into the dangerous territory about how much my parents were missed, which would eventually roll into a barrage of complaints about their failing health.
Standing there in the parking lot, I realized I had made a huge mistake leaving the house to go to the historical society meeting. I would’ve been better off hanging out at home waiting for Vago to shift into his human form rather than walking straight into this buzzing beehive.
“Sibyl, dear, you’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Aunt Ruthie sounded as if winning every social gold medal depended on me stepping into that building as her honored guest. No doubt giving all the honey bees something to buzz about.
“No, no. I just had a memory of something,” I said.
“Do you think you can take these off?” Aunt Ruthie reached for my sunglasses.
I stepped back. “Please. I need them,” I said.
Vago pressed up against my leg, probably to remind me I wasn’t alone. The comfort that came with his presence right by my side gave me enough courage to head into battle. I inhaled, breathing in the warm summer twilight air. I longed to see the golden streaks of light spreading across the sky as the sun was setting over the dark blue ocean just past the hillside. I missed witnessing nature’s glorious generosity. My memories were poor imitations of its grandeur.
Inside the meeting hall, I kept my gaze directed at the floor. I wasn’t ready to deal with an army of talkative busybodies and booming spirits all at once. Aunt Ruthie held my left hand as I clenched Vago’s leash in my right. She stood still for a few moments; I’m sure she was waiting to garner the proper amount of attention from the swarm. The orchestra of banter reached a peak, then abruptly fell into silence.
After a few suffocating moments of stillness, a stream of whispers snaked through the room. And then the click-clack, click-clack of a pair of high heels slapped across the linoleum floor, making a quick approach toward our motley party of three. These women dressed impeccably, never leaving the house with a single hair out of place, or a bag that didn’t precisely match their shoes. I wondered how Aunt Ruthie dealt with that aspect since her idea of dressed up meant a shirt with buttons.
As I looked up, I saw a dazzling, silvery white shine swirling all arou
nd the woman coming our way. Behind her beamed a fireworks display of colorful lights twinkling and flitting. Judging from the spirits, I detected at least thirty to forty women. The group had more than doubled in size, as I’m sure the multiplex debate had increased its members. I returned my focus to the woman quickly approaching.
She stopped just a few feet before me. “Is that Miss Sibyl Forsyth? Well, I see it with my own eyes, but I don’t believe it! Oh, dear. Is that okay to say?” Bea Pearlman’s flustered voice filled my ears. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know how to handle a situation.
“Is that Mrs. Pearlman?” I asked, holding back a slight chuckle.
“Why, yes, dear. It’s me!” She reached out and took my hand from Aunt Ruthie’s and held it tight. Her fingers were thin and bony, but warm against mine.
“Nice to see you,” I said, pausing a moment to let the joke sink in.
Mrs. Pearlman caught my quip and began to laugh. Finally, the tension in the entire hall seemed to split in half and burst into a million sprinkles. Pleasant colors emanated throughout the room and there wasn’t a single sighting of those evil black oily things. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come join us. I’m sure the ladies have many questions.” Mrs. Pearlman tugged my hand.
I remained still and smiled kindly. “Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about preserving the integrity of our town. Aunt Ruthie has kept me abreast of the debate, and I’m here to support the cause. Let’s not let my presence interfere with the goal of tonight’s meeting.”
“Your aunt has been a major supporter of our cause, helping to spread the news and get so many of the younger generation involved in this matter.” She stopped talking, probably to acknowledge Aunt Ruthie because I swear I could hear her gushing under her breath. “But the ladies wouldn’t hear of it. A chance to catch up with Sibyl Forsyth! We still have ten minutes before the meeting commences. Come, let’s get you a cup of tea.”