After a few minutes, the feeling subsides and I’m breathing easier. I decide to take a hot bath and try to relax. I fill the tub with eucalyptus and vanilla-scented bubbles. Submerging myself, the water is hot to my sensitive skin at first, but I quickly get used to it.
I soak in the steamy water till my fingers wrinkle. Getting out, I grab a big towel and go to find the warmest pajama’s I own.
The weather is really nasty. I can hear the tapping of rain or sleet against the windows as the wind drives it sideways. I venture out on the balcony to look at the ocean–it’s just starting to get dark out and it’s freezing; I can see my breath in puffs. Toby wants no part of the stormy conditions and is hiding in my closet.
I watch as angry waves pound the shoreline and the wind howls like it’s screaming. Every so often the wind switches directions pelting my face with icy rain.
I go back into the house and turn on the heat. I try to coax Toby out from the closet, but fail. “You big chicken,” I tease him. “It’s all right, big boy,” I try to soothe him, but he stays put.
Still a little rattled from the dream, I’m getting chills up my back and I go take a Valium. It’s the last one, but I know my other prescriptions are downstairs on the kitchen counter where Celine left them.
Deciding something hot to drink will help with the chills, I make my way downstairs. Halfway there, the power goes out. I freeze in place holding the railing, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
“Just great!” I mutter to the dark, empty house. Carefully navigating the stairs, I go to the kitchen. Instead of the microwave, I’m going to have to put water on the gas stove to boil. While I wait, I light the fireplace and some candles. I find a flashlight in one of the kitchen drawers–to my surprise it actually works.
I eye my medications and think that a sleeping pill combined with the Valium I took should get me through this wretched night.
I gulp the pill down, then return to the stove and pour the boiling water into a mug containing a ginger spice tea bag.
The fragrance is wonderful. I sip my tea by the fire listening to the howling storm. The warmth of the fire and tea just don’t take away the chill that keeps tingling up my spine.
A loud knock at the front door paralyzes me. Who the hell would be here? Who would come out in this weather?
My stomach rolls and more chills race up my body along with a panicky sweat. This can’t be anything good.
More knocking.
A hundred things go through my head at once, making it hard to concentrate. Slowly I make my way to the door. I hear Toby growling from somewhere up above me.
Knock. Knock. Knock….
I hold my breath. Dear God, please don’t let it bad news about Sal. I glance through the little glass but it is too dark to see who is there.
I grab the handle and slowly pull open the door.
CHAPTER 27
He was relieved when the pilot landed in Jacksonville airport. All he could think of was getting home to Gracie. He called for a cab and was on his way–an hour or so and he’d be holding her in his arms.
He was a man of action, but not one who didn’t understand instinct. How often had it helped save him–or one of his team–on a mission? Try as he did, his instinct was screaming that something was wrong at home. What if Gracie’s premonition was about her, instead of him? He would die if anything happened to her…
“This is one wicked storm!” The cab driver mentioned to Sal, pulling him out of his darkening thoughts. “The power’s been out for a while–the northern part of the state is really getting hit!”
“Yes,” Sal agreed. “I was up in the plane and almost couldn’t land.” He tapped at his cell to call Gracie – shit right to voice mail. He tried Pop–he’s not answering either? Sal left a message:
Pop, it’s Sal. I’m home. I just landed. I’m in a taxi headed home. Where is Gracie? Where are you?
He hit the end button and glanced out the window at the storm. His uneasiness was growing. Lord, if Gracie was dealing with anything like this, no wonder she was scared out of her mind. He could barely sit still.
“Hey buddy! He nearly shouts to the driver, “I know the conditions are bad, but can you hurry?”
“I’ll do what I can –we’ve had some sleet–the roads are slick.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He thought better of it. “I just want to get home– just be careful.”
“I don’t blame ya, you’re worried ‘bout the family. I’ll get ya there–the good news is, not many people out tonight so the roads are kinda bare.”
“Thanks, I…uh..I’ve been away… two months, for work. I can’t get in touch with anyone.”
“Well then it’ll be a nice surprise for them. I’m sure they’re fine, just the storm messin’ with the signals.”
Sal sat back and tried to relax. I hope he is right about the storm. He told himself Gracie and Pop were fine. But it felt like a lie. Please, God….
* * *
“Well you gonna just stand there? Let me in!”
I stand there staring at Camille James in my doorway. “Camille? What are you doing here?” I ask flatly. Of course I’m relieved it isn’t some big Marine with bad news, but I’m so damned tired.
She saunters in as if she owns the place. I almost laugh–she just about does. She eyes me up and down.
“What’s the matter Gracie? Are you sick? You don’t look so good,” she says with a tight smile.
“What do you want, Camille?” I ask, exhausted by her already. “I’m in no mood for company or your shit.”
“I wanted to drop by to have a little girl talk.”
We both hear growling from the top of the stairs and Camille follows the sound with her eyes.
“Where’s that mutt of yours?”
“Upstairs–he doesn’t like storms, or you. So….why are you here?” I snap.
“Girl talk. I heard Sal’s away on some adventure and you are completely heart broken. Close to a complete nervous breakdown if the rumors are to be believed.”
Bitch. “He’s on a mission, Camille. Sal’s with the military. Why are you really here? Where’s Richard?” I question, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Richard’s away too, on business. Boston, I believe this time. I thought I’d stop by and talk about some things.”
“What could we have to talk about?” I shrug my shoulders turning to go back by the fire where it’s warm. I pick up my tea which is now cold and walk back to the kitchen to reheat some water. I place my cold mug on the counter and Camille takes a seat.
“Would you like some tea, Camille?”
“Okay,” she answers.
I retrieve the pot, fill it with more water and return it to the stove. Grabbing a clean mug for Camille, I toss in a tea bag. As I wait in my candle-lit kitchen for the water to boil, I can feel Camille’s eyes on me, searing the back of my head. I’m getting annoyed.
In a few minutes the water is ready and I fill her mug, and place it and some sugar in front of her. Then poured what was left of the hot, bubbly water into my mug to re-heat it.
I take little sips at first, blowing the steam. Camille’s watching me. “So..? I huff, looking at her with my eyebrows raised.
She eyes my pill bottles. “What’s all this?”
“None of your business,” I say politely, moving them to another space. She sips her tea and looks at me with her head cocked. “You miss him that much you have trouble sleeping?”
“If you must know–yes. I miss him that much.”
“Valium too, I see. Your just having a bad time, aren’t you Gracie? Bless your heart..”
I drink my tea in bigger gulps, wishing it was wine. I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Camille, what do you want?”
“I came to tell you a little story, Gracie. A story that no one knows–not even Richard.”
“Really? How did I luck out for story time with Camille?” I ask sarcastically.
“Well…first, let me tell you about a young
girl who used to clean houses for a living. She was a single mom, trying to make ends meet. One day she got a job cleaning a huge house–the money was almost three times what she charged for an average house. And she got to bring her daughter with her while she cleaned.
Her little girl loved to go–she would play and pretend she was the princess of the big house. The owners that lived there liked her so much they let her do almost anything she wanted, and the lady of the house gave her clothes to play in and sometimes played with her.
One day the lady of the house saw the little girl looking at some pictures of a young man. “Who is that?” the young girl asked.
“Oh, that’s my son,” she answered. “He is away at boarding school.”
“Is he the prince?” the child asked.
“Yes sweetie, you could say that. He’s the prince of the house.” They giggled together.
“Some day,” the girl said, “he will come and take me away!”
“Oh?” the lady said, “yes I suppose the prince will someday need a princess.”
Listening to Camille’s weird story, the effects of the medication start to kick in. I yawn. It figures, I’m finally tired enough to really sleep and Camille the storyteller is here.
“Camille,” I interrupt her. “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m very tired and I haven’t been feeling good. I really need you to go so I can go to sleep.”
She waits a minute and sips her tea. I’ve finished mine and put the empty mug down on the coffee table.
“But I’ve not finished my tea, Gracie, and I really need you to hear the rest of my story.”
I bunch my eyebrows together and sit back. “Fine,” I say on an exhale.
Camille stands up. “Let me speed ahead a little bit for you. Months later, the little girl hears the lady of the house arguing with her husband. She hears words like whore and slut, white trash.
Not sure what was going on, she just knew the lady of the house didn’t want to play and was very upset. The little girl’s mother was very nervous and fidgety and kept telling her to go outside and mind her business. So she did.
About a week after that, the man of the house came by the child and mother’s little trailer. He gave the woman an envelope with some money. A long black car came and took them to a doctor’s office. The little girl never seen a car like that let alone been in one. She was excited for the ride, but her momma was crying and she didn’t know why?
The big long car dropped off her mother and she was told to wait with the driver and be a good girl. She did what was asked. She shyly looked at the big man behind the steering wheel.
“It’s all right,” he said, “I’m a policeman too. You’re safe with me. Don’t worry, you momma is fine. We’ll come-a-back and-a-pick her up in few hours, si?”
Camille’s last sentence stops me in mid yawn. I look at her–she’s getting fuzzy. “Are you trying to talk with an Italian accent? I slur.
She smiled an evil smirk. “Yes, the driver told me his name was Tony. I believe that’s short for Antonio.”
Suddenly, all that dread makes sense. I feel panic but the sleeping pill and valium are masking it. I know this is really bad–and I don’t have the strength to do anything about it. I try to stand but my legs are like rubber. Shit, I thought the doctor said the pills were mild…
“Camille–what are you talking about? Tony? My Antonio? Sal’s father?”
“That’s the one, Gracie. Let me get to the point before you pass out. When I was a little girl, my mother was the cleaning lady for the Boumont’s. Mr. Boumont and my mother had an affair and she got pregnant. Mrs. Boumont found out and was not pleased. My mother thought that for sure he was going to leave his wife and marry her. But he showed up at our door with money and a ride to a clinic. Antonio was new to the family as the Boumont’s driver and security.”
I try again to stand, but fail.
“What’s the matter, Gracie? Someone dope your tea?”
I point at her and it takes a lot of energy. “You…you put something in my tea! Why?”
“Oh Gracie, I’m not done with my story.”
I have no way to throw her out. I sit like a lump, listening to her story unfold like a nightmare.
“Now, let me see where was I… Oh, yes, Mr. Boumont, err, Jonathan gave my mother money to abort the pregnancy. Luann, Mrs. Boumont of course, found out and was livid – fired my mother.
When mom was done at the clinic, Antonio picked her up and drove us back home. My mother slept and cried for days She tried to call Jonathan but he avoided her.
One day Antonio pulled up to our little trailer, and presented my mother with a gift box. She asked him what it was–but Tony didn’t know–he was handed the little gift to bring to her. Momma took the gift and thanked Tony for bringing it by. There was a note attached. My mother cried, then opened the box. Inside was a diamond necklace. The one you now have! I want it back, Gracie and I am returning it to my mother.”
“My necklace? Why would?.. Luann gave that to me. How… Camille, please… I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Gracie, I don’t know how, but Luann found out about the diamonds. She was very intelligent and strong willed–she came by about a month or two after my mother received her gift. She told my mother she knew Jonathan gave her a necklace and he had no right to do so. She came to get it back and if she didn’t hand it over, she would call child welfare services on us.
“My mother could not compete with Luann Boumont and tearfully gave her the necklace. That necklace may not have cost very much, but it was something nice–something from him. Momma didn’t have anything.
“After a year or so and we were forgotten in the Boumont’s life–my mother went scitzo. I blamed the Boumonts for her health. So Gracie, long story short, that drove me to get all the help and education I could. They were going to pay for hurting us. I felt some relief when they both passed away. Even poor Tony got himself shot in an accident. Seriously, how lucky was I? The Boumonts were gone!”
She sips at her tea and then looks at me as though we’re the best of friends. The dread…the warnings…
“Then Richard inherited it all, but, he came back with you, and you had my mother’s necklace. Things were so easy, you and Richard grew apart. Truly, I think the Boumont men just can’t keep their dicks in their pants. Meanwhile, I maneuvered my way into the business, then into Richard’s life. You know? I will agree on one thing with you–he is an asshole.”
“You’re the one,” I say panting, slurring my words. “You…embezzled the money!” I suck in air in surprise. “And you… broke into my house? Did you hire that guy with the gun? You’re just as insane as your mother!”
“It was all going so easy, Gracie. Then, Tony’s son shows up, like a knight in shining armor, for Christ sakes. Loads you down with security, takes out the guy I hired to get the necklace…”
“That guy was a killer Camille! He would have shot up the place and killed me! Or anyone! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
As though I’d said nothing, she puts down her mug and looks at me. “Where’s the necklace Gracie.” Her eyes are dark and cold.
“I’m not giving you anything….” I stammer. I use all my might to stand. “YOU CRAZY BITCH! GET OUT!” I yell, but stumble forward. Camille grabs my arm. I try to yell for Toby, but she slaps a hand across my mouth.
“I think you need some air, Gracie. You took too many sleeping pills–a nice walk down at the beach is exactly what you need.”
I try to fight her, but I can’t control my limbs. I feel like a puppet with no strings…she’s got my arm in a death grip.
“Don’t fight me, Gracie, and don’t call that mutt of yours! I have a gun and I’d be delighted to shoot him. Come on–easy does it–lets go get some air.”
She opens the door and the stormy wind yanks it out of her hand, slamming it against the house. She drags me out through the screen and over to the wooden bridge, the whole time asking
me where I keep the necklace.
I don’t tell her a thing–I’m dead, and maybe Toby too, whether I tell her or not. With me and Toby gone, she’d have all the time in the world to ransack the house, looking for it. .
Passing by Pop’s house, I try to scream but she grabs me by the throat and I almost go to my knees.
The wind is roaring and the ocean is dark, mean, choppy. Big waves smash on to the beach–it’s so cold my teeth are chattering. Or maybe that’s fear.
“Poor, poor, Gracie. So sad she couldn’t go on,” Camille mutters.
* * *
Opening his eyes, Tony realized he’d fallen asleep when the power went out. The sound of the T.V. woke him up, along with that annoying buzz from his cell phone.
He tapped at the cell and it lit up: three missed calls and a message from Sal! He touched the screen and called him back.
“POP?!”
“Yes! Son, Where are you?”
“Pop, I’m in a taxi–I’m almost home. I’ve been trying to call Gracie–she’s not answering–something’s wrong. I can’t get through!”
“Son, calm-a-down. The power just came back on. When was the last time you tried?”
“A few minutes ago– it goes right to voice mail. I think her cell might be dead–I don’t understand.”
“Son, I need to warn you. Gracie has been very depressed since you left. I have barely seen her. Celine called and told me it’s not good–she wants to take her to the hospital. She’s been that distraught.”
Whoof, whoof.
“Son, hold on a minute. I think Toby is at my door barking – he’s scratching like crazy.”
“What? Pop? Hello?”
Tony wheeled over to the door, opened it and there was Toby, barking and jumping, running in a circle.
“POP TALK TO ME!” Sal yelled.
Tony glanced over at Gracie’s–the door was open and banging against the house.
“Yeah son, Gracie’s back door is open. Toby got out and came here–he’s barking and wanting me to follow. I think something is-a-wrong! How far away are you?”
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