The Book of Eleanor

by Nat Burns

  the last sigh

  from your lips

  cherry dark

  fruited

  Abandoned

  Love chain broken

  Battered

  Pain numbed

  Ingrained into texture

  Never abandoned

  I placed the book carefully on the small table next to the bed and caressed Oscar Marie as I waited for the promised protection of daylight. I thought about leaving. There was a hotel further inland. It just seemed like running yet again. And suppose it was Mary trapped here somehow? Leaving her when she might be trying to talk to me would be the ultimate betrayal.

  For some odd reason, my thoughts flew to Angie. I wondered at the mystery of her life. She worked two jobs, it seemed, delivering pizzas and teaching special needs kids. I wondered about her family and her relationships, wishing I’d had more opportunity to talk with her while we were in Couscous’s busy kitchen.

  I finally dozed, feeling as though her serene blue gaze protected me.

  I was pondering my chores for the day when a cheery knock sounded on the kitchen door. I nearly jumped out of my skin, of course, but hurried to lift the curtain and peer through the glass top of the door. Maddy stood on the decking outside. Today, her jogging suit was pale pink with white stripes in symmetrical patterns. When I opened the door, the sun shone off her new athletic shoes, blazing up at me.

  “Well, good morning, stranger!” Maddy said. “I just thought I’d drop by and see how our newest resident is settling in.” She handed me a plastic wrapped bundle: a fragrant cinnamon coffee cake, still warm from the oven.

  “Whoa! Thank you!” I was touched by her thoughtfulness. “Come have some with me?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.

  “I actually have dishes now.”

  “Well, I would say that’s progress,” she murmured as she came in and meandered over to the drafting table. “Oh, this must be your cartoon! I can’t believe you sit here and draw this, and it just magically appears in all those magazines and newspapers.”

  “Yep. If it gets there. It’s been slow going this week,” I replied with a weary sigh. I poured coffee into two cups and added them to a serving tray along with sugar, milk, and the coffee cake. I included plates and utensils and carried the tray to the table.

  “Why is that?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Too busy settling in?”

  “No, not exactly.” I sat down and served slices of the cake. I hesitated, but made up my mind quickly. “Let me ask you this: did Ruetta ever say anything about weird things happening here?”

  Maddy prepared her coffee thoughtfully. “Weird? Weird, how?”

  I shrugged, trying to sound more nonchalant than I felt. “Like things moving…weird sounds?”

  “Hmm.” Maddy sat back in her chair. “I don’t remember her saying anything like that. Why do you ask?”

  I debated how much to tell her. I didn’t want to be labeled a lunatic in my first few weeks in my new home. Yet I felt a deep curiosity that I couldn’t shake and I needed to ask questions. “I’ve been hearing some noises during the night.”

  “Oh, that’s probably just being in a new place,” she said, taking a bite of the cake. “Especially here. Tourist towns are notoriously busy, even into the wee hours.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. It’s inside. I’ve seen things move as well. I know it sounds a little crazy…”

  “Well, not crazy, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. What has been happening?”

  How could I summarize the events of the past few nights into something she would easily understand without sounding like I was trying to craft a script for a bad horror movie? I sighed and started sharing some of the things I’d experienced. I tried to keep it light, but I know it all sounded unbelievable. I told her so, shaking my head apologetically.

  “Well, now, if it’s real to you, then that makes it an issue for sure.” She scratched her chin absently. “Have you tried talking to this...ghost?”

  “Well, yeah.” I rose and brought the carafe over to refill our cups. “I’ve tried, but don’t get any sort of answer. It’s all kind of...disconnected, you know?”

  “Sounds like you need a medium.”

  I resumed my seat. “Like with the turban and the crystal ball? I don’t know. Seems too weird.”

  Maddy shrugged. “No weirder than what you are dealing with, I’m thinking.”

  We sat in silence for almost a minute, both of us lost in thought.

  “How does one go about getting a medium?” I asked finally.

  “I was just thinking that myself,” she replied with a short laugh. “I do know of one woman here in The Point, a psychic. The police hire her from time to time.”

  “Really?” I leaned toward her eagerly. “Do you think she would help me get to the bottom of the whole thing?”

  Maddy stood. “It wouldn’t hurt you to ask. All she can say is no and then you’d just be back at square one.”

  “Will you give me her number? I don’t know if I’ll call but…”

  Maddy smiled and fished her car keys out of her pocket, preparing to head out. “Better yet, I’ll tell you where to find her.”

  Angie

  I listened to Grey talk about being haunted and found myself watching her instead. The way her hands moved as she formed words and thoughts, the way her eyes darkened or lightened when she relived the events, and the sweet way her hair parted over her ears when she tucked it back behind them. I was so smitten with her.

  “You’ve been having a horrible time,” I said softly when her story ran down. “Of course I will help you.”

  “So you’ll come stay?”

  “The night?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I could probably just come by and...”

  “Please? I…I will pay you for your time.” Her embarrassment was evident. I sensed her desperation and her fear. “Maybe just the weekend?”

  Agonizing with myself because I would have helped her for free, I thought of the children. I thought of Maria and the feel of a knife at my throat. I suddenly knew I could ask.

  “I’m…I’m expensive,” I said, knowing that my cheeks were growing pink. “But I will guarantee I will get to the bottom of the situation for you. I will take care of it.”

  She eyed me doubtfully. Who could blame her? Those who truly get information by occult means have been irreparably harmed by those using subterfuge and false get-rich-quick schemes for profit. I was not proud of myself, but knew I had to find a new home for the SPICEY kids.

  “And?” she prompted.

  I swallowed hard. “Two thousand dollars.”

  Her eyes widened. I watched her face change, grow hard, and I almost recanted, told her I didn’t mean it. Pride and need stayed my voice, and then it was too late. She stood and slowly placed her napkin on the table, her expression a mask of coolness.

  “Well, I see I’ve made a mistake,” she said with a sigh. She turned and walked out of the restaurant.

  I almost ran after her. I did run to the door, but was waylaid by an influx of regulars coming in for the lunch special. I watched her walk away and my heart was crushed. I worried that I had lost her for good, but I vowed to go to her that evening after work. To explain the situation and beg her forgiveness.

  I left The Fat Mother at one o’clock and taught my usual classes at the SPICEY, but my heart wasn’t in it. I suddenly knew a sense of loss such as I’d never experienced before. How could I have been so stupid as to push away the best thing that had ever happened to me? Pushed it away even before it could have manifested into the positive event I felt it could be.

  After helping load the kids into the van for their ride home, I jumped into my Jeep and drove to work my night shift at the restaurant.

  “Hey, Mama,” I said, walking into the kitchen through the back door. She stood at the dough board, working.

  “Hey, baby.” She glanced at the clock high up on the kitchen wal
l. “You’re early.”

  I grabbed a bowl and helped myself to some of the roasted redskin potatoes still steaming on the warming table. “Yeah, I got a problem and need to get off early, if that’s okay.”

  She was kneading the pizza dough. As I munched potatoes, I watched her. She really was a good cook. Her powerful body just seemed naturally to know the best way to move as she pushed and pulled the large wad of dough. It was a gift. She managed a restaurant well too.

  I studied the kitchen and saw the usual offerings were all ready to go. Huge pots of fragrant sauces simmered on the stove, and warming bins of pasta and the vegetables of the day waited. The pizza sous bins were full of toppings and the dough backups looked good.

  Finishing the kneading, she plopped the dough into one of the waiting bowls, covered it, and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel.

  “Only if you talk to me.” Mama studied me with curiosity, her gaze level and insistent.

  “Grey wants me to check out her new place. She thinks it’s haunted.” I set the potatoes aside, wondering how much Mama would get out of me.

  “Well, that’s fantastic—” She broke off and looked at me again. “And that’s a problem, because...”

  I sighed and leaned against the oven wall. “She offered to pay.”

  “And that’s a problem, because...” she repeated, starting to frown.

  “I told her a couple thousand…”

  “You what? Why on earth…Angela Rose, what were you thinking?”

  “It’s for SPICEY, Mama. To get the money for a down payment.” I hated the whiney tone that had infiltrated my voice.

  “Now, Angie, I told you that would all work out. We’re gonna juggle the money here at the restaurant, call in some favors. I told you I would go to the next council meeting.”

  “Mama, like I said, I am not going to have you fighting my battles for me. I saw Frankee the other day, and she won’t budge and we’re just out of time. We have less than a month now.”

  “That doesn’t make gouging that girl the right thing to do.”

  I groaned and held my head with both hands. “I know, Mama! I know, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Well, you just need to get on over there and tell her you were being a fool.”

  I set my jaw hard. “I plan to, Mama. Tonight after work. That’s why I need to get off a little early.”

  “No problem. I can handle cleanup on my own. Maybe I’ll ask Gail to stay a little later than nine.”

  “Who will be here ’til closing?” I didn’t want Mama in the restaurant alone until eleven at night.

  “Hasty. And I can fit in that Peterson girl. She’s been looking for extra hours.” Mama reached up to the carousel and peered at her next order even as I descended on her in a bear hug.

  Holding her close, I leaned my head back and studied her sweet face. “You is the bestest muvver evah.”

  She blushed and pecked a kiss on the end of my nose. “You and me against the world, baby girl.”

  I held her a moment longer, just because I could. “I have potato breath,” I told her.

  “I know,” she responded deadpan. “We need a Pasta Bolognese on table three.”

  I released her and grabbed an apron. “Consider it done, oh great mother of mine.”

  Grey

  I slammed shut the front door of the Bookmark and looked around carefully to make sure nothing had magically changed while I was away. Finding all as it should be, I went ahead and locked the door, even setting the alarm. I would not be going out again until the strip was finished. No matter how much my elusive ghostie tried to frighten me.

  I knew I was still too angry to work on the strip properly, so I moved behind the coffee counter and began unpacking one of the four coffeemakers I had purchased on my trip into Brownsville. I needed physical labor to deal with my irate mood.

  Imagine her wanting to charge me that outrageous amount just for helping me out by doing her mystical woo-woo thing for me. I value a job well done and would have paid a lot. Five hundred, even a thousand, maybe, but two thousand dollars? That was just too much. I could feel myself seething in anger as I methodically placed items on the counter. I didn’t need her help. I would handle this issue just fine by myself.

  I stopped what I was doing, afraid I would start tossing coffee cups against the far wall, and began pacing to and fro down the middle of the Bookmark. I had actually believed that she was someone special. Someone I could have an interest in once I got over the loss of Mary. I had a sudden image of her with Vetty’s baby. I remembered her with her students on the beach. I felt her warming, firm hug.

  I growled in outrage and opened the door to my apartment. This kind of mental volleyball was getting me nowhere fast. I had a strip due, a time-consuming freehand one, and I simply had to focus on that.

  Oscar Marie opened an eye and watched me from her perch on the back of the sofa. She yawned dramatically and stretched each leg as she made her way down to the floor.

  “I’m glad some of us can sleep,” I told her sarcastically as I perched on my stool.

  Oscar Marie ignored me and slid as gracefully as any runway model across the floor and into the kitchen to nibble daintily at the tidbits in her bowl.

  I studied the strip, trying to psyche myself up into working on it. I picked up a marker and slammed it down again. Angie had some nerve, making me care for her. I cupped my chin in my hand and looked out at the sage-blue water of the bay.

  I saw the island off in the distance. A huge part of me wanted to go there, bury my feet in the sand, and stay the rest of my life. I wanted to let go of responsibility, let go of caring.

  Unfortunately, I did care. About work anyway, and I would not miss this deadline.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted the smaller marker. The next panel was a repeat of the one following it. Suzy sat behind the desk. Mister Marks was in the same chair with his feet on the desk, a cigar in his mouth. They were both talking in this panel. Mister Marks said, Ah, yes, receptionist for that financial firm downtown, and Suzy replied, Yes, sir, that’s the one.

  I sketched carefully, my hands following well-worn paths. I moved Mister Marks’s cigar to his right hand as he punctuated his memory of where she had worked before. I drew a single line denoting smoke from the ash end of the cigar. Suzy lifted the sheet of paper she would be examining in the next panel. Both her feet were on the ground and she was slanted forward.

  Finished with her meal, Oscar Marie decided to join me and leapt up to perch on her observation platform. I gave her a quick scratch around the scruff of her neck.

  Feeling good about what I had accomplished, I began on the preceding panel. Again, I sketched the mundane framework. Suzy was digging in an overlarge handbag in this one. After drawing it in, I quickly sketched the same handbag into the following three panels. Props could make or break a strip. I placed the handbag on the floor against the side of the desk that faced the reader to add some nice visual interest.

  I was denied a raise at my other job, sir. The phrase hovered above Suzy’s head. Mister Marks puffed on his cigar, his cheeks bellowed out a little. His curved fingers appeared to be twirling the cylinder in his mouth.

  The final panel waited. I’m not 100 % sure why you came to Marks & Crocker, Suzy. The text was on the left in this panel, behind the boss’s balding head. I sketched the character carefully, using my ruler to make sure there would be enough room. Suzy looked at Mister Marks as he spoke this time. Her expression was one of pure forbearance, as if she couldn’t believe the man was actually talking to her and wasting her time. I smiled. Yep, that was Suzy.

  At last, the fundamentals were finished. Now all it needed was the overall shading and the walls of the office in the background drawn in. I rose and stretched my arms over my head. I looked around, suddenly feeling as though I were being watched.

  “Mary? Is that you?” I called out.

  I looked at Oscar Marie. She was not reacting so I laughed nervously and chalked the feel
ing up to an overactive imagination. The haunting of the past few days seemed like a dream during normal, calm times.

  Now that I had come to a stopping point, I realized anew how extremely tired I felt. No wonder I imagined new daytime hauntings as well as dealing with the real nighttime phenomena.

  The deck outside beckoned so I pulled open the back door and was inundated with hot ocean wind. I breathed deeply of the salt air, feeling revitalized. I waved to Oscar Marie and stepped outside, shutting the door behind me.

  I stood at the railing a good while, enjoying the poetry of the Laguna Madre, the Mother Lagoon. I had read that Laguna Madre was home to more finfish than any other place on the Texas coast, making it a boon for recreational as well as commercial fishermen. It was saltier than the ocean on the other side of Padre Island due to an almost nonexistent exchange rate.

  All I knew for sure was that the scenery of the self-contained lagoon was incredible. As the time was approaching late afternoon, huge spills of pink, cotton candy clouds sprawled across the horizon. I saw the lowering sun off to my left, and though it was still early, I felt a sense of settling in for the night.

  The shallows of the strip of water separating the island from the mainland were the home ground to a huge assortment of land and waterfowl such as brown and white pelicans, egrets and gulls galore. Ducks were a constant presence in the calm backwaters as well. I loved their little chuckling sounds that carried to me on the wind.

  I took a seat on one of the two Adirondack chairs and relaxed. I stared at the dusky sky and thought about Angie. I felt sad that I would no longer be able to get to know her. If I faced my feelings honestly, my new loneliness, I realized I had been looking forward to cultivating a friendship with her. Or maybe something more. But I also knew that no matter how lonely and misplaced I felt, I had no room in my life for friends who tried to take advantage of me.

  I closed my eyes and pictured her. She was so beautiful and seemed so even-tempered. I remembered her sense of humor and smiled to myself. I was angry with her, true, and understood she was gone from my life as a love interest, but at the same time, all I could see was her smile and the warmth shining from her deep blue eyes.