Tala Prophecy: The Complete Series

by Tia Silverthorne Bach

  “Why don’t you guys go up to Reagan’s room and hang out for a bit? She needs to rest, and her father and I need to unpack and take care of some things.”

  Aspen, Serena, and Dex led Reagan up to her room. As they hit the top of the stairs, Reagan stopped. The sight of Sam’s open door was more than she could bear. “I can’t go by his room right now. I can’t see his things.”

  Aspen walked down the hall and closed Sam’s door, while Serena and Dex led Reagan the rest of the way to her bedroom. She sat down on her bed.

  “I’m so sorry. I know this must be so hard. Sam was… Well, he was great. It’s so hard to believe he’s gone,” Serena said. Aspen crooked her eyebrow and shot Serena a dirty look, like a warning to change the subject.

  Reagan noted the exchange then closed her eyes. She couldn’t think. Her head was pounding.

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” Aspen asked.

  Not unless you can bring my brother back. Reagan wanted to scream the words, to finally be honest with everyone about what she was thinking. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  Reagan had never been to a funeral, and wished she wasn’t at one now.

  Death hadn’t been much of a factor in her life. Her grandfather, Jed, had passed away when she was too little to remember. Nana had never remarried, saying there wasn’t anyone who could ever fill his shoes.

  Reagan’s dad never talked about his family. There were some distant relatives she never knew, but that was about it. Her parents had made up for in friends and community what they lacked in family.

  Raised Catholic, but one that only attended Mass on Easter and Christmas, Reagan was unfamiliar with the parishioners of St. Louis Catholic church. She’d been baptized, gone through First Communion, and even been confirmed there. But since then, she’d barely attended. Now, she was forced to go there for her brother’s funeral. She might never go again. She believed in God, had never questioned her faith, but didn’t understand why He allowed Sam’s death. It wasn’t fair. Why was she sitting here and he wasn’t? Unable to think about it anymore, she stepped outside.

  People kept coming up to her to express their condolences. They tried to say things to lighten the mood, often cracking jokes or telling funny stories about Sam. She didn’t want to hear anything. There wasn’t even a body. She hung onto the hope that Sam managed to survive somehow—that he was lying in a hospital with amnesia. But she had to accept it—her brother was gone.

  A tap on the shoulder brought her back to reality, “It’s time to come in now. They’re starting.” It was her dad. He looked older. Maybe it was the suit, she could count on one hand the number of times he wore one, but more likely it was the frown lines on his forehead.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Feeling numb, she answered, “No, are you?”

  “No.” He took her hand and led her into the church. When they stepped inside, she saw her mother standing by the front pew. Reagan and her dad walked down the aisle, but certainly not the way she’d imagined it. She thought she’d be in a flowing white dress when her dad walked her down the middle aisle of this church.

  Nana was already seated in the front row. Reagan knelt and made the sign of the cross before entering the pew, her Catholic training second nature. She sat next to Nana and took her hand. Mom settled in next, then Dad. The Mass began.

  The priest started speaking, but Reagan blocked him out. All she could see through her tears was Sam’s face.

  ↄↄↄↄↄ

  “So how are you really doing, dear? I can tell you’re suffering with some headaches,” Nana asked as she sat next to Reagan on the bed. The funeral was over hours ago, and she’d been holed up in her room ever since.

  Reagan was surprised; she thought she’d been hiding it well. But, then she remembered, her mother always said Nana had a sixth sense about things. I wonder what else she can pick up on? “I have, but I’m not telling Mom and Dad. They freak out about everything, and then they try to give me sleeping pills—or worse, pain meds. I don’t like taking them, they make my . . .” Reagan stopped, not wanting to share too much, afraid people would begin to think she was crazy.

  “They make the dreams worse, don’t they?” Nana asked. Her voice had a melodic calming effect better than any medication.

  “How did you know?”

  “Sweetie, I don’t know how much your mom has told you, but do you remember when you were little and burned your hand picking up firecrackers?”

  Images filled Reagan’s mind. Dad had bought her and Sam sparklers and some small firecrackers to celebrate July 4th. They’d had a blast, running around in the dark, lighting up Nana’s yard. It was one of the few times Reagan remembered hanging out at Nana’s house in Georgia. At the end of the fun, Reagan wanted to help her dad clean up the yard from all the blown up pieces and used-up sparklers. When she bent down to pick one up, she grabbed the wrong end. The burn was so intense she could smell her flesh being singed. Screaming, she ran inside.

  “I knew this would happen!” Mom yelled, taking Reagan’s hand and thrusting it under the running water at the sink. “What did I tell you? ‘Somebody’s going to get burned,’ that’s what I said.”

  “Susie, stop. The girl’s in pain.” Nana shooed her daughter away and took Reagan into the next room. “Sweetie, sit down, and focus on me.” Taking Reagan’s hand, Nana started chanting in a voice just above a whisper. Reagan was transfixed, unable to make out what her grandmother was saying.

  Then, the strangest thing happened—the pain was gone. The hand was still bright red and ugly looking, but there was no pain. Reagan couldn’t decide if her grandmother had truly done something, or if the pain was forgotten because of the odd chanting.

  “I remember.”

  “Let’s just say your good old grandmother has a knack for understanding things. It’s a gift; a rare one. I tried to explain it to your mother years back, but she . . . Well, she didn’t understand, and didn’t want to.”

  What is she trying to say? What kind of gift is she talking about? Reagan’s imagination went wild with the possibilities. Maybe she should share some of her dreams with Nana, see if she had some clue what they meant. Just as Reagan was about to open her mouth, her mother walked in.

  “There you guys are,” she said as she joined them on the bed. “What are you two talking about up here?”

  “Not much,” Reagan said. She and Nana exchanged a glance.

  “Come on downstairs and say goodbye to the rest of our guests. Reagan, Dex called to see if he could stop by tonight.”

  “I’ll call him. I need some sleep. It’s been a long day,” Reagan said, knowing the last thing she needed right now was Dex. She’d sent him away right after the funeral, saying she needed to spend time with her family. To make it fair, she sent Serena and Aspen home with him. She wished they could’ve stayed.

  The three women went downstairs and said their goodbyes. After what seemed like an eternity, the last guest left and the front door closed behind them. Nana said she was exhausted and went to the guest room for the night. Reagan started helping her mom in the kitchen. There were lots of dishes from all the food people brought. Dad disappeared into his office, the same thing he’d been doing every day since they got back from Yellowstone.

  “Thanks for helping, Reagan,” Mom said. Barely finished saying the words, she laid down her dish towel, crooked her arm over her face, and started crying. One hand steadied her from falling into the sink.

  Reagan shut off the water and led her mom to a chair. “Mom, please don’t cry.”

  “I just can’t believe he’s gone. A few weeks ago, you guys were fighting over who would dry and who would put away. I was so aggravated. But now . . .”

  I know, now we would give anything to have him back. Reagan wasn’t sure any words would offer comfort, but she knew she should try. “I miss him, too.”

  They hugged for what seemed like hours. Just as they were about to let go, another set of arms enveloped
them and then another. Nana and Dad had joined in. They held on, each of them crying. Mom was the first to pull back. Wiping her tears away, she straightened up and said, “I really should get back to cleaning up.”

  “Why don’t we all pitch in? Then, we can all go to bed and get some sleep. I have to head to into the office early tomorrow.” Dad picked up the scrub brush and got to work.

  “Tomorrow?” Mom asked. Her voice broke at the end of the word.

  “Yes. I’ve been gone three weeks. Fred told me I could take a few more days, but I need to get back.” Dad turned to walk out of the room.

  Mom reached out to stop him. “We need you. Can’t you take just a few more days?”

  “I’ll still be around, just not sitting in this house all day, thinking of him, wishing he was here.”

  “Going to work won’t bring him back.”

  “I need to focus on other things right now, Susie.” The volume of her dad’s voice was increasing.

  “Focus on other things other than your family? Fine. Do what you need to do.”

  “That’s not fair. We’re all handling things differently. You aren’t the one who had to run through the woods, hoping against all odds that you could save him. You aren’t the one who picked the campsite.” Dad threw down the dish towel he’d been holding and walked out of the room. The door to the garage slammed and a car engine started.

  Mom stood, speechless, by the sink, as it continued to fill with water. Reagan reached over and shut it off before it overflowed. Desperate to break the heavy silence, she turned to her grandmother. “Nana, how long are you staying?”

  “I’ll be here until you guys kick me out. I bought a one-way ticket.” Nana walked over and put an arm around her daughter. “I’m not going anywhere until I know your family is okay.”

  ↄↄↄↄↄ

  Darkness. Screaming.

  She flew out of the tent, hoping for a different outcome. This time she wasn’t hit from behind. Instead, the huge animal, darkened by shadows, stared directly at her. Golden eyes blazing, it asked, “Will you join us?”

  ↄↄↄↄↄ

  “. . . the pain must stop.”

  Reagan bolted upright and hit at her ears. She couldn’t bear any more voices in her head.

  The images still running through her mind were intense, and her head was pounding. Reagan wanted to run as fast and far as she could. Bolting out of bed, she ran to her open window and tore off the screen, desperate to get out. In her mind all she saw was the tent and its canvas opening. She had to find Sam. He was out there.

  Something grabbed her from behind, and she spun around. Using all her strength, she kicked at her attacker.

  “Reagan, stop!”

  The voice penetrated her mind and broke through the darkness. Reagan squinted, trying to take in as much of her surroundings as she could in the dark. Light began to filter in, as did the face of the woman nearby. “Nana, is that really you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I heard you rustling around up here, and I came up to try and calm you.”

  “What were you saying? I heard something about pain,” Reagan asked, still trying to get her bearings.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Nana said. She pulled Reagan into an embrace and walked her back over to the bed. Nana never let go as they sat down. “Tell me about the dreams. I want to help.”

  “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

  “Try me.”

  “Ever since the accident, I dream about that night. But lately, the details are changing. I can’t make out the animal, at least I think it’s an animal attacking me, but I keep seeing golden eyes. They haunt me day and night. I can’t shake them.”

  “Hmmm,” Nana said. Reagan felt cold rush over her as Nana let go and walked back over to the open window. “Can you make out anything else?”

  “No, not really,” Reagan said, hesitating to add more. But she had to trust someone with these dreams. “Actually, the thing did say something in my dream last night. It asked me to join them. What does it all mean? Am I going crazy?” Reagan started to bawl. Never much of a crier before, she seemed to produce tears at the drop of a hat these days.

  “There’s so much about this world I don’t want you to know. So much you shouldn’t have to know.” Nana said, picking up the thrown screen and trying to put it back in the window.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re scaring me.”

  Nana’s back was still turned as she fiddled with the screen. “Has anything changed since the accident? Do you feel—”

  “Now, Mom, that’s enough. I won’t have that kind of talk in my house.” Mom entered the room like a soft wind, but her comment had the impact of a hurricane.

  “God, Mom, you scared me.” Reagan couldn’t handle another almost heart attack.

  Her mom walked right past Reagan and over to Nana. “I need you, Mom, but I will not tolerate you putting ideas in Reagan’s head. You know damn well that’s not what I wanted for my kids. If you can’t respect that, then I’ll manage this on my own.”

  Nana looked like she’d been slapped. “I understand.” She walked over to Reagan’s bed and leaned down to give her a kiss. “We’ll talk more about this soon,” Nana whispered.

  Reagan was baffled by the exchange. What happened between her mom and Nana? Reagan wasn’t sure she could handle the answer, but something deep inside told her she needed Nana’s help.

  Still, Reagan didn’t resist when her mom crawled into bed and snuggled in. “I’m here, honey. Let’s both try to get a little more sleep.”

  “Nana was just trying to help.” Reagan felt her mom stiffen.

  “Sometimes the best intentions can still be harmful.” Mom reached over to turn off the lamp. “Come on; now, try to close your eyes. Sleep is the best thing for you right now.”

  Sleep brought dreams, and that wasn’t something Reagan needed.

  An intense smell of meat cooking brought Reagan out of a deep sleep. Fortunately, the dreams stayed away the night before. Reagan’s stomach rumbled, and she realized how hungry she was. Throwing on an old sweatshirt, she made her way downstairs. Nana was cooking bacon and sausage.

  “Smells great. I’m starving,” Reagan said. “Where’s everybody else?”

  “Your mom’s still asleep, and your dad already left. I thought I’d make you a real breakfast this morning.”

  “Normally I skip breakfast, but that smells amazing,” Reagan said, realizing she hadn’t eaten much since the accident. “I’m gonna call into work today and get back on the schedule. Hopefully I still have a job.”

  “Serena told me she called and let them know what happened. She knew how much you liked working there,” Nana said.

  “Oh, that’s great. I was worried.”

  “What’s up with you and this Dex kid?” Nana put a cover over the meat and started beating eggs.

  “I don’t know, Nana. He’s cute, and all my friends wish he was their boyfriend.”

  “Question is, are you glad he’s yours?”

  Nana cut right to the bone. In a few short days, she’d read Reagan like an open book. “I’m confused. There isn’t another boy, so I don’t know what my problem is. He’s good to me, but . . .”

  “You’ll figure it out. Your heart already knows.”

  Slightly irritated at Nana’s insight, Reagan decided to take control of the conversation. “How did you know Papa was the one?”

  “Never doubted it for a second.” Nana’s head shook back and forth for a moment, her eyes dropped to the floor, and she sighed. “He was gone too soon. The pain of losing him is with me every day.”

  “Will the pain of losing Sam always be with me?” Reagan asked. She wanted to believe she could start dwelling on the good times: playing in the sprinklers in the summer, sharing a laugh over some stupid television show, or even chauffeuring him around town. All she had was a huge place around her heart, filled with the pain of his loss.

  “It will. And you’ll start
to remember all the good things.”

  “I wish I’d known Papa better.” Reagan had a few early memories of him. They were faded, like an old photo found in the bottom of a trunk, and she often wondered if they were real memories or just recollections from stories she’d heard about him.

  “Me, too. You would’ve loved him.”

  Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Reagan grabbed a piece of sizzling meat from the frying pan. Bacon never tasted better. She pushed piece after piece into her mouth, grease dribbling down her chin.

  “Whoa, you’re eating as much as one of your Papa’s hound dogs after a big hunting day.”

  Reagan pulled a half-eaten piece of bacon out of her mouth and wiped her chin with the backside of her arm. “Sorry, I’m just starving. I don’t even like bacon.”

  “Sure looks like you do.”

  Looking down at the empty plate, Reagan felt self-conscious. “God, I didn’t realize how much I’d eaten.” Grossed out by the amount of grease now clogging her system, Reagan walked over to the refrigerator to get some bottled water.

  “I can make some more if you need it,” Nana said, spatula still hanging over the hot pan.

  “No, I think I’ve had enough.”

  ↄↄↄↄↄ

  Life began to return to a routine. Nothing would ever be the same without Sam, but they all needed to fill the void with something. Before Reagan knew it, she was headed to work. She was scheduled for a double shift and happy to be busy. A long, steady day kept her mind occupied. When the manager, Tony, closed the doors, she started folding clothes and putting things away.

  He walked up and stood beside her for a few minutes, before finally saying, “Reagan, we’re all so sorry about your brother. Here, we signed this for you.” He handed her a card.

  Too many moments had been charged with awkwardness since her brother’s death. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Reagan was thankful the store was freezing, so she could wear a lightweight cardigan to hide her injured arm and cover her back. Although the scars were faint, she didn’t want customers or her fellow employees looking at her with sadness or worry. Most of the evening, she worked in the back room and was happy to do so.