Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price)

by EJ Valson

  I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, or even what I wanted to see. I assumed I would only get another glimpse of the Jeep in the driveway. I was more than surprised, then, to see Elizabeth and Azura on the front porch of the Asch home, along with another woman in a grey blazer who had her back to me. They were in what looked like a pretty heated argument about something.

  Elizabeth’s face, from what I could tell from a distance, was set hard in a frown. Her arms were crossed. It was Azura’s expression that baffled me, though. Her face was desperate – searching. I’d never seen anything so uncertain in her features before.

  The woman in the grey blazer had her arms flailing wildly while the other two watched.

  I leaned more heavily on the window sill, trying to get a better view of the woman whose face I couldn’t see. Whoever it was, they were very worked up about something.

  She gestured forcefully to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth blushed. She had been scolded for something. Azura’s face was still violently searching, I had never seen her look so unsure before. So helpless.

  The woman turned to her, throwing her hands into Azura’s face, which made her step backward in surprise. I squinted harder and leaned closer to the window.

  Azura started to speak, using her hands, which was also unlike her. She was trying desperately to get the woman in the blazer to understand something. The woman only crossed her arms tightly and began tapping her foot. Her stance now mirrored Elizabeth’s, who was obviously on the same side of this argument.

  Just as I began talking myself away from the window, severely worried that one of them might see me, the woman in the blazer threw her arms up in a heady convulsion and then thrust a finger across the street behind her without looking. She jutted the same finger right into Azura’s face, then back across the street – pointing undeniably at my house. She never seemed to ease up on the yelling, and Azura simply rolled her eyes in exhaustion.

  All I could do was blink. Slowly. It seemed like I was forgetting how to breathe a lot lately, so I just decided to keep blinking.

  Why was she pointing at my house? Surely – surely – they weren’t talking about me? It wasn’t possible.

  Again, the woman jabbed her arm out behind her in my direction. This time her palm was open as she waved it up and down. They were arguing about me . . . or my house. I swallowed the lump in my throat just as Azura rolled her eyes in defeat and turned toward the Jeep.

  At the same time, Elizabeth characteristically flung her hair over her shoulder. When she did, her hard eyes drew up to the window – the window I was watching from. Her features, which were already set in anger from her part in the argument, were suddenly ablaze.

  I felt like I was shrinking inside, like I wished I could be anywhere else in the world rather than the other side of that window. The same fear from the restaurant wine glass incident, the same confusion from seeing Danna act like Super Woman, the same sense that I didn’t belong here like I felt at the beginning of school – all those feelings came to a head in an instant. In a glare – Elizabeth’s glare.

  I watched her mouth something slowly, deliberately, harshly, to the other two. Azura stopped and peered around the front of the Jeep, her eyes wider than I had ever seen them. The woman in the grey blazer swung her head around to look up at me as well, and I felt all the blood drain from my face. It was Charlotte.

  I couldn’t understand the look she was giving me. In one instant, it looked as though she was filled with sorrow, then as if she were warning me about something. But not once in the long moment that we stared at each other, her from the porch and me from the window, did she look angry.

  Azura barked something at her and she turned to climb into the Jeep’s passenger seat. The filthy vehicle pulled quickly out of the driveway and made its way down the street and out of sight.

  Elizabeth raised one eyebrow at me and walked into her house, arms still crossed. I turned around and sunk down onto Violet’s bed, trying to decide which feeling to go with.

  Why were they arguing?

  Why were they arguing about me?

  I hadn’t done anything but try to stay out of other people’s business all year long! What could I possibly have done to make anyone that angry? I knew Elizabeth didn’t like me, and Azura never ceased to amaze me – but Charlotte? Why was she looking at me that way? Was she defending me – or had I really committed some crime I wasn’t aware of and she had been protecting me?

  I put my hand to my cheeks and realized that they were wet. Very wet. After wiping my eyes with one of Vy’s pillow cases, I laid down on the bed and buried my face in her stuffed animals. After what seemed like an eternity of sobbing into a pile of bears and cats, I finally relaxed enough to attempt breathing evenly. I didn’t hear John come in the room, so it startled me when his warm voice was suddenly at my ear.

  “Erin – sweetie . . . What’s wrong?” He was picking up my head gently and trying to turn my face toward him.

  “Honey, why are you crying? Are you alright?” He twisted my head so that our eyes met, and I could see – just barely through my swollen eyes – that he was worried. I must have cried harder than I thought. My face felt terrible, and obviously looked terrible, too.

  “I just . . .” I wasn’t sure what I was, so I fibbed. “I just don’t feel well.”

  I managed to get my head free from his grasp and buried it again in the pile of stuffed animals.

  “You seemed fine earlier,” John prodded, feeling my neck for a fever. I was a horrible person for lying, but I just didn’t have the energy for any other explanation.

  “Do you want me to call you in sick and take Violet to school?” He was stroking my back, probably realizing that I wasn’t sick at all and wondering what was really going on. “You haven’t missed a day yet . . . I’m sure they could get along fine without you just once?”

  I nodded without looking at him.

  “Alright.” Judging by the tone of his voice, he was clearly unsure of my sanity. Surely I could blame my breakdown on hormones or something later.

  “Can I get you anything?” He added.

  My curlers pulled as I shook my head, and one of them got caught on a bear. John untangled it from the bear’s scarf for me and kissed me on the back.

  “I’ll come check on you before we leave,” he whispered, then disappeared.

  I turned to get some fresh air and rubbed my eyes, which were very sore.

  “Here you go,” a voice offered from above me. I rolled fully onto my side as John was throwing a blanket out over me.

  The next thing I knew, Violet was at my side whispering as softly as she could.

  “Dear God, please make Mommy feel better. Amen.”

  I rolled over.

  “Thank you, sweetie.” My teary smile was met with a tiny kiss and she patted my cheek.

  “I’ll let you know how Polar Express Day goes,” she chimed. Sometimes she was so sweet it made me ache inside.

  “Have a great day. I’ll see you after school.”

  “Kay.” And she ran downstairs.

  As soon as I heard the front door shut, I rolled out from under the covers and went to my room. In the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of what had made John so worried. One half of my hair was still rolled neatly in curlers, while the other side looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. And to top off my look, my face was swollen and splotchy, which always happened when I cried. Why couldn’t I cry gracefully like the people in movies? I didn’t look sad, I looked like the un-dead.

  The cold water I washed my face with, as well as the concealer and mascara I spotted on quickly, did wonders for my complexion. And as for my hair, by the time I got it all brushed out, it actually didn’t look half bad. Pity, I thought. Maybe I would try again next week to curl it.

  When John came back upstairs after dropping Violet off at school, he found me propped up in our bed watching television. He had a glass of ice water and some medicine with him.

  “I thought you might be wo
rking on a headache with all that crying,” he said as he dropped the two small caplets into my hand. He tucked my hair behind my ear as I forced them down. I was horrible at taking grown-up medicine, and it always made me feel silly that I nearly choked every time I had to take something.

  “You look pretty,” he grinned. “Too bad I’m the only one who gets to see you today.”

  “Too bad,” I smiled.

  A few minutes later, I had convinced him to go in to work and not worry about me. He agreed only after I promised to answer the phone at lunchtime so he could check on me.

  After he left, I was quickly consumed by the quietness of the house. I really didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts this morning, or I would end up spending the whole day in tears.

  The worst part was that I knew I had to go to work tomorrow, I couldn’t just hide at home until Christmas break like I wanted to. Though the idea of faking a horrible stomach flu was tempting – that sort of thing floats around the school all the time – Violet would probably rat me out if I wasn’t throwing up or acting sick.

  Laundry and chores would more than likely be enough to keep me busy for the day, so I made my way downstairs to get started. And I decided I would not, under any circumstance, think about Charlotte, Azura, or Elizabeth. If they refused to tell me what was going on, why they were inexplicably upset with me – with me! – then there was simply no need to worry about it all day.

  I grabbed the sock basket off the top of the dryer and tucked it under my arm. Then I swiped a bottle of water from the fridge and made myself comfortable on the couch. Comfortable for a long day of mindlessly catching up on chores.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  TWELVE

  “You look nice.”

  I had never heard anyone’s voice sound so apologetic and wistful in three ordinary words. Despite that, I did something I have never dreamed of doing. I shut the door in Charlotte’s face.

  I immediately felt like it was the wrong reaction, but it was a strong reaction, and that’s what I was going for – so I went with it. It was either shut the door or burst into tears, and I had done enough crying for one morning.

  Of course, now that left me standing there with my hand on the doorknob for what seemed like forever, feeling horrible for being so brazen. I thought about opening it to see if she was still standing there, but I wanted her to know how upset I was. And how very confused I was.

  After all, I had finally talked myself out of believing that I didn’t fit in here . . . finally let myself be comfortable at school and ignore the hushed conversations that seemed to follow me everywhere . . . finally relaxed a little and tried not to be paranoid that no one liked me . . . and now this. It was just too much for me to take in this morning. I hadn’t even had time to forget about the argument yet, and here was Charlotte – wanting to come in and tell me that everything was fine, that I was worked up about nothing, or that I had misread what I saw.

  The faintest knock came from the other side of the door. I sighed deeply, and then sighed again, trying not to cry. I cry when I’m sad, and I cry when I’m angry, I cry when I’m embarrassed— it wouldn’t be easy to keep it together. I let the door swing open but didn’t move to let her in, instead crossing my arms and leaning on the door frame.

  “I’m not an idiot, Charlie. I know what I saw.”

  She swallowed and searched for the right words.

  “I know,” she managed, finally.

  We stood there for a long moment, not saying anything. I figured she was weighing her side of the conversation, trying to decide how evasive to be.

  “Can I come in Er-bear—"

  “Don’t,” I said flatly.

  She looked hurt, and I tried not to care.

  “Erin, honey. We need to talk.” Her eyes burned with some unplaceable emotion. “Can I come in? Please?”

  I moved aside and nodded toward the table. She took a seat quietly and watched me reluctantly pour two cups of coffee. I put one in front of her and sat down. She was so hard to stay upset with, sitting there looking like a scolded puppy. I could tell she was about to lose it as well, so I dropped my attempts to be cross and hateful and slumped my shoulders.

  “What is it, Charlie?” I searched her eyes. “What did I do?”

  Obviously she never realized that I might be thinking I had done something wrong. She looked completely surprised.

  “Oh, Erin! You haven’t done anything!” That burst of enlightenment seemed to be all she was capable of for the moment.

  So I sat and waited.

  Charlotte spent eighteen minutes doing nothing but opening and closing her mouth in feeble attempts to form words. I know it was eighteen minutes because I spent most of that time staring at the clock on the microwave. I found it difficult to look directly at her because, her face was so pained— she was trying to explain what was very obviously the unexplainable.

  Eventually I took the cue of empty mugs to break the silence. I grabbed two waters from the refrigerator and sat them down loudly on the table.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Oh, Erin,” she said again. Except this time she was very nearly crying. “I just don’t know where to begin.” She sounded exhausted, and began rubbing the bridge of her nose.

  “Well, try anywhere,” I insisted as I twisted the cap off of my bottle. “Letting me know I’m not in trouble would be a start.”

  She grabbed her water and started opening and closing it while she looked at me.

  “This is much bigger than you, Erin. Bigger than me. Of course you’re not in trouble.” She looked down. “Well, not trouble in the way you’re thinking.” And she looked up at me like her cryptic speak should mean something to me.

  “Cut the crap, Charlie – just tell me already!” I had grown tired of playing these games all year; I certainly didn’t have the energy for them now.

  Charlotte looked out the back window, then back at me.

  “It’s Azura,” she began, looking defeated.

  “Yessss—" The sarcasm came easily. Of course it was Azura. But what.

  “Well, she’s not really . . . from here.” She paused. I could tell she had made up her mind to be honest with me – finally – so I gave her room to think about what she wanted to say without getting impatient.

  “She’s a good woman. Probably one of the best you’ll ever know. But she doesn’t really belong here.” She had a look on her face like this little tid-bit of information might mean something to me. When she didn’t get the response she was after, she went on.

  “Several, several years ago, not long after you moved away to start your family . . . and after I started working at the school, I met Azura. She came in with a very good résumé, excellent written recommendations that couldn’t be ignored, and a desire to start her life over in a new place. She was quite agreeable, and I took to liking her right away. Hopefully she had the same effect on you?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, no one really knew anything about her, obviously – she was new in town. New in state, actually. She’s from Arizona or someplace, at least that’s what she told me.” Charlotte looked out the back window again, but I was too busy listening to be distracted. I was finally going to get some answers. “So she took to creating her new identity.”

  This was going to be good, I could tell. I felt like I needed popcorn.

  “Up until this year, we all knew the Azura that you are familiar with now.”