Marker of Hope

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Marker of Hope Page 6

by Nely Cab


  “I told you, I like to plan ahead.”

  ***

  After Dr. Gunn got the blood culture he needed, we all returned to the house. I opened the Christmas presents Galilea had stocked for me, and slipped into the designer jeans and shirt I found in the boxes.

  It was nearing five o’clock when David and I left Galilea’s house. We pulled into the pathway leading to the estate. He stopped near the remains of Claire’s car, and we headed to it on foot. He pushed the car up to the path, and then surveyed the area. By the looks of it, he still possessed his superhuman strength.

  “You should wait over there by my car,” he told me. “Things might get a little messy.”

  David set his eyes on a tree by the side of the pathway. He pushed his weight into the base of the tree. A vein swelled on his forehead from the force he was using. A minute later, I heard a loud snap, and roots sprang up from under the earth. I watched as the tree crashed down, almost in slow motion, over Claire’s car, bouncing a few times on impact. I walked over to him.

  “Looks believable enough.” David wiped the sweat from his brow as he studied his handy work. “Now, let’s go tell your mother how a tree fell on her car, and we’re having a baby.”

  CHAPTER 9

  As we drove across town, heading to my house, David asked me about my diet. I told him I’d been eating a lot of vegetables and not much of anything else.

  “Have you tried eating raw animal meat to curb your hunger for human flesh?” he asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well,” David said with raised brows, “you may want to try it before I end up being your first kill.”

  “You scared of me?” I teased. “Don’t worry. That won’t happen. With everyone else, I have to restrain myself. Keep myself in check. I try to avoid physical contact unless necessary. But you don’t have the same effect on me. I don’t know what it is, but you’re the only person I don’t want to bite a chunk off.”

  “Good news for me. Bad news for the rest of the world.”

  David parked the car on the curve. I stared at my house from the car window. The demons hadn’t been able to kill me, but I was sure Claire was about to finish the job for them.

  “Hey, you know what? I think we should hold off telling my mom about me being pregnant for a few more days. At least until we tell your parents. Or maybe…” I bit my thumbnail. “I think if we tell them at the same time, we have a better chance of surviving. Drawing up some sort of escape plan would be sensible, too. What do you think?”

  He rubbed a side of the steering wheel with one finger as he considered my suggestion.

  “I can see it now…” He squinted his eyes. “My father would end up insulting your mother and you, and your mother…”

  “Oh, my mom wouldn’t stand for it,” I said. “Someone would end up getting punched in the mouth, and I’m willing to bet my mom would be the one throwing the punches.” I sighed. “Okay. Bad idea. I guess there’s no easy way to do this.”

  “I’m afraid not.” He pursed his lips. “It’s show time.”

  ***

  Claire was in bed lounging in her nightshirt, munching on popcorn and reading a romance novel with a muscular, sweaty guy on the cover.

  “Hey.” She looked up from her book. “How’d the drive go?”

  “It went…a little…um… You know.” I shrugged.

  She looked me up and down. “Were you wearing that shirt when you left?”

  “What?” I glanced at the new shirt. “Oh, this. No, I went over to Galilea’s house. She gave me an early Christmas present. Insisted I wear it.”

  “That was nice of her.” She stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Did you two make up?”

  “Yes.” I tucked my sweaty hands in my back pocket, and rocked on my heels. “Mom, can you come downstairs?”

  “In a minute. Just let me finish reading one more chapter.”

  “A whole chapter? Will it take long? We have company.”

  “Who?” She smiled and cocked her brow. “Is it Eros? That boy has a thing for you. It’s so obvious. He may be a little old for you, though. Don’t you think?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean, it’s…it’s…someone else. Can you just please come downstairs—please? I really, really need you to come downstairs. Now. Please.”

  “Okay?” Claire gave me a peculiar look. “Let me put some pants on, and I’ll be right down.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  I lingered at the door. “Okay.”

  “Yes, okay. Okay?” She set her book on the nightstand. “You’re acting so weird.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said, defensively. “So you’re coming down now?” I asked again, and she frowned at me. “Yes, you are. Right. Okay.” I nodded. “Great. I’ll be downstairs…waiting for you. So… Yeah.”

  I closed the door to Claire’s room and hurried down the stairs to the living room. David was sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees.

  “She’ll be down in a minute.” I took a deep breath as I sat next to him. I looked up at the stairs with apprehension. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “I’m nervous, too.”

  “I said scared.”

  “And just think—we’ll have to do this again tomorrow with my parents.”

  I grunted, and he put an arm around me. I leaned into him.

  “The funny thing is,” he said, “I’m looking forward to it—to telling my parents, and having the world know you’re mine forever.” He pecked my lips. “All mine.” He pecked them again, over and over.

  I’d barely felt the tension leaving my shoulders, when, abruptly, David pulled away from me and stood up.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Martin,” David sounded serene, but his face was glowing in a palette of red hues.

  “Evening, David. I wasn’t expecting to see you in my living room,” Claire glanced at me, “making out with my daughter on my couch.”

  “We weren’t making out,” I said.

  “Whatever.” Claire sat on an armchair, and David took his seat on the couch next to me. “So how’ve you been, David? You haven’t been locked away in your room for over a month, heartbroken over Isis, have you?”

  “Mom!” I widened my eyes.

  “Because she,” Claire bobbed her head at me, “only came out of her room yesterday. And I have to be honest—I’m not too excited about seeing you two together again.”

  “I see,” David said. “Well, I understand you must be concerned Isis may get hurt a second time, but I assure you it won’t happen. She wasn’t the only one who was heartbroken.”

  “I messed things up between David and me,” I told Claire. “I didn’t tell you before.”

  “Yes, well, it’s not like you tell me much of anything these days,” Claire said, which was the same thing Galilea was upset at me for. “So why did you want me to come down here—to applaud and cheer?”

  “No,” David said. “I wanted to speak to you because,” David paused to take a breath, “I’m here to ask for—”

  “For my permission to,” Claire made air quotes with her fingers, “court Isis? If it were up to me, I’d say no—not a chance. But clearly, she’s already made her choice.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. But no, Mrs. Martin, I don’t want your permission to date Isis. I’m here to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  Claire blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I want to marry your daughter, ma’am. I’m asking for your consent to do so.”

  Claire glanced between David and me. She knit her brow, and then focused her attention on me, her head cocked to the right.

  “Are you pregnant?” she asked, and David opened his mouth to answer. “No.” She raised her index finger at him. “I am not talking to you, young man.”

  David nodded and sat hushed beside me.

  “Answer me, Isis.” Claire seethed. “Are. You. Pregnant?”

  I lowered my h
ead, looking up at her through my eyelashes. I nodded.

  Silence—hysterical, reverberating, and furious silence—and a stare that could melt a steel wall met my confession. Endless seconds passed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said when I could no longer sustain the weight of her stare. “I know how disappointed you are.”

  “Do you?” She curled her fist and slammed it on the chair’s arm. “Goddamn it, Isis! I gave you everything necessary to prevent this. How many times did I warn you?” She paused. I didn’t answer. “How many?” she screamed, and I jumped.

  “Please don’t yell at her,” David said.

  Claire eyed David. “You would be wise to refrain from telling me how to talk to my daughter right now.”

  I tugged at David’s hand and shook my head, warning him not to say another word. David pressed his lips together, glanced at Claire, and turned away from her in clear aggravation. Claire stood from the chair, pacing the living room with a hand on her hip. I found out early in life it was better to let her have a few silent minutes to herself. When she was ready, she would speak.

  “You two,” she rubbed her forehead with both hands, “are much too young to understand the responsibilities that come with a child. And marriage?” She forced out a laugh. “No. Mmm-mmm. You’re not even old enough to drink.” She paced some more. “So the logical solution is to fix this.”

  “Fix what?” I said. “There’s no fixing it, Mom. It’s done.”

  “But it can be undone,” Claire said.

  “Are you suggestion we terminate the pregnancy?” David asked.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be a parent at such a young age, David. You don’t understand how your life will change, how complicated…” Her eyes darted around the room, looking at nothing. “Isis should have an abortion.”

  I gasped and stood from the couch, my mouth half open.

  “Absolutely not,” David said sternly.

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” My eyes stung. “Why would you say something so—so awful?”

  “You’re just kids!” Claire threw her hands in the air. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

  “Like me, you mean?” I sniffed, my entire body shaking. “Like I was a mistake, Mom?”

  “Honey, no… That came out wrong. I didn’t mean—”

  “Is that what you were going to do with me—throw me away? Discard me like a piece of trash because I was an inconvenience, a setback in your plans?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  “Then why would you ask her to do it?” David’s voice was loud. Claire stiffened. “This baby is as much a piece of Isis as it is of you. Now, you can dislike me—or hate me—as much you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that the baby is a piece of me too,” he told her, “and I will be damned if I let you or anyone else take either of them away from me.”

  Claire covered her face with her hands. She turned and gave us her back. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. A minute or two passed before she turned to face us. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “I apologize for raising my voice at you,” David said to Claire. “But I won’t apologize for my words.”

  “You don’t have to,” Claire said. “They were the right words to make me snap out of my own mother’s shoes. When I told her I was pregnant with Isis, she was dreadful to me. But I’m not my mother. I don’t want to be like her.” She sniffed. “Please promise me one thing,” she told David. “Don’t you ever, ever break my little girl’s heart again.”

  “I won’t,” David said. “I swear it.”

  “And the same goes for you,” she said to me. “He’s a keeper, Isis. Be good to him.”

  I nodded.

  “Come ‘ere.” Claire held out her arms to me. I walked to her, tears cascading down both our cheeks. She wiped my face and hugged me.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said.

  “No, I’m sorry.” Claire sniffled. “I don’t know what came over me. When I get this crazy, it’s only because I love you with every fiber of my being.” She broke our embrace and looked into my eyes. “And Isis, I’m thankful for every moment you’ve been mine.” She looked at David. “And I don’t hate you, David,” she said. “All I ask is you make her happy.”

  “I intend to,” David said.

  I returned to David’s side, and we sat on the couch. Claire headed for the liquor cabinet.

  “Have you been to see a doctor already?” she asked, walking across the room with a bottle of wine and a glass in her hand.

  “Yes,” I said. “Just this afternoon.”

  “My family has a private doctor.” David pulled out the sonogram print from his shirt pocket. “Isis and the baby will be well taken care of. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Do you want to see it—the baby?” I asked.

  Claire nodded, and David handed her the black-and-white image.

  She smiled a tender sort of smile and ran her finger over the image.

  “Wow.” Claire sniffled again. “I’m going to be a grandma.” After another bout of tears trailed down her cheeks, she handed the image back to David. She poured herself a glass of wine and chugged it, then poured another. At the rate she was going, she was going to end up plastered on the floor.

  “Mom, there’s one more thing,” I said, watching her gulp down the second glass of wine. “I don’t know how to say this…”

  “Please,” she poured a third time, “don’t apologize anymore.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But can I apologize on behalf of the tree that killed your car?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The following morning, the insurance company deemed the car a total loss. They couldn’t understand how a tree could’ve fallen on it. When the police report was taken and I was questioned, I told them I’d stepped out of the car because I felt sick and had avoided being crushed by mere seconds. People went to jail for that sort of thing—lying to the police. Did that make me a felon?

  “This was an act of God,” Claire said, sitting in the backseat of David’s car.

  Nope. It was an act of David’s.

  “You wouldn’t have lived had you been inside the car. I can’t believe a tree just…it dropped right on it. I mean, what are the chances of something like that happening?”

  “Trees do fall, Mrs. Martin,” David said. “All the time, I’m sure.”

  “I guess they do. But on my car? Did you see how the roof was flat as a board?”

  David and I nodded.

  “Isis, there’s no doubt your dad—Hector—is looking out for you. God rest his soul.” She sighed. “He loved you so much.”

  I can’t breathe.

  I felt like I was asphyxiating in a pit filled with dark murky waters of remorse. I lowered the window. No wonder demons were after me. They probably wanted to take me to hell for lying over and over again to my mother.

  “Do you feel sick?” David slowed the car as we passed the fields of sorghum on the way to town. “I can pull over.”

  “No. Keep going. I’m okay.”

  “You sure?” Claire asked. “Maybe your blood sugar is low. With all the commotion you’ve gone through today—my conniption, your near death—and being pregnant, you could faint.”

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Should I stop to get you a drink?” David asked.

  “Oh, that’s a good idea,” Claire said. “Juice. She needs juice.”

  “I don’t need juice,” I said.

  “Orange?” David asked Claire, ignoring me like the speed limit sign.

  “Yes. It’s what I always drank when I was pregnant and felt faint,” Claire said.

  “I’m not faint,” I told her.

  “You know, it doesn’t help that she hardly eats,” Claire continued. “She’s so pale. Look at her, David.”

  “I eat.” Sort of.

  “I noticed it yesterday—the paleness, I mean.” David nodded. “And she’s too thin.”

  “Ugh!
” Claire huffed. “Don’t even get me started. She’s swimming in her clothes.”

  “No, I’m not,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll have our doctor draw her up a well-balanced diet.” He looked at me. “You need to eat better—not just for you, but for the baby.”

  I rested my head back against the seat and sighed, exasperated neither of them would listen to me.

  “Are you okay?” David took my hand. “Do you feel faint again?”

  Again? Had he not been listening to me?

  “She’ll feel better after she’s had some orange juice,” Claire said. “Honey, just stay calm.”

  “For the last time…” I turned to look at my mom. “I’m fine. Okay? I’m fine.”

  “But you said you were faint.” Claire widened her eyes at me.

  “No, Mom. You said I was faint. This whole time, I’ve been telling you there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “So you don’t want any juice?” David asked. I gave him an annoyed stare. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Don’t pay attention to her,” Claire said. “She needs something in her stomach.”

  “For the love of Pete!” I snapped. I turned to look at her. “Are you even listening to me? I. Feel. Fine.”

  Claire held my stare, her mouth partly open.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, before she could scold me. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

  Claire’s stare turned into an open-mouthed gape.

  “Mom?”

  “Something,” she said, reaching for my face, “is so very wrong with your eyes.”

  My eyes? Oh no…no, not again!

  I turned away from her at once. David turned to look at me. His shoulder tensed.

  “Turn around,” Claire ordered. “Look at me.” I heard her unbuckle her safety belt. “Isis…”

  David hit the brakes abruptly. The sudden jerk sent Claire sliding off the backseat. I turned to see if she was okay. She’d landed lopsided on the car floor.

  “Sorry,” David said. “My foot slipped.”

  “Mom, are you okay?” I asked. She grunted in response as she pawed her way up the backseat. She patted down her ruffled hair and looked up. I turned to face the dashboard before she had a chance to catch my gaze.

 

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