by Aiden James
While waiting for Miriam to join him in the parking lot adjacent to St. Anthony’s ER, he remembered he still had the ruby safely secured inside his wallet. He took it out and held it up to the sun, disregarding the fact some miscreant might accost him and take it. Even now as he reflected on what happened, his imprudence surprised him. He recalled feeling a strange calm take over his being, only interrupted by Miriam’s hurried approach and urgings for him to jump inside the BMW so they could get going. That seemed strange, too…like her only worry was to get the heck out of a rough neighborhood, scarcely noticing the shiny red gemstone he held toward the sky.
The most remarkable thing about this experience, though, came from what he saw inside the ruby. He could’ve sworn the cloudiness moved, but it stopped when he tried to get a closer look….
“Auntie, I’ve been meaning to ask you some questions about the ruby,” said David. “Would you mind if we talk about it?”
“What sort of questions do you have?” Her smile faded, and she seemed to tense up where she sat.
“Just general stuff,” he assured her, softening his voice. “Really, it’s just a couple of questions. I promise to make this as painless as possible.” He smiled tenderly, hoping she would relax.
“I guess it’ll be all right,’ she said, grimacing as if the mere thought of the jewel induced more arthritic pain. “I sort of wish it’d stayed lost, or that I had the dumb sense to leave it and the others in the bank’s safety deposit box for ya’ll to claim later.”
She steadied her cocoa mug on her lap, absently kneading her left arm with her right hand.
“I can see why you’d think that, Auntie,” he agreed, frowning slightly while he watched her massage her sudden soreness. “And I certainly don’t wish to open old wounds. If what I’m about to ask you doesn’t sit well for any reason, I’ll respect your right to decline an answer.”
“All right.”
“The five gemstones have been in the family for nearly a hundred years...correct?”
“Yes.”
“Has there been anything strange or unusual concerning them down through the years?” He tried to remain casual while observing her reaction.
“Do you mean ‘anything strange’ like what happened this past weekend and again on Christmas Day?”
He didn’t expect her straightforward reply. “Yes,” he said, sitting up straight in the loveseat, hoping for more definitive answers than he originally believed possible.
Ruth nodded knowingly. A wan smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“It’s been said that ever since Grandpa Will came into possession of the jewels, our family’s been cursed.” She set her mug upon a ceramic coaster on the coffee table before continuing. “Uncle Zach once told my pa and his sisters that they were stolen from a sacred location in the Smoky Mountains. And, truth be told, we’ve had our share of bad luck down through the years.”
“What kind of unlucky things have happened, especially prior to when I came along, if you don’t mind my asking, Auntie?” David’s curiosity piqued, he silently prayed she wouldn’t clam up like she often did with him.
“Just a few odd things now and then…. The frequency has varied throughout the years, and the ‘events’ haven’t been as bad as they used to be, before you were born,” she replied, clearing her throat while repositioning herself on the sofa. “But our house in Chattanooga would be visited by something… something cold and mean—even meaner than Grandpa Will. I often thought he had something to do with it all, like whatever the thing was came to the house on his account. After he died, I figured we’d be free…. But, the visitations were just as frightful as they’d been when he was alive.
“Often someone would get hurt. Or, some heirloom, like Grandma Bev’s bone china serving plate, would fly across a room and smash against a wall. We learned to stay clear of the cold presence that would move through the darkened halls of our old house late at night, and even during the day sometimes.”
She paused to take another sip of cocoa, while David and Miriam waited patiently for her to continue.
“Grandpa used to laugh at us when he was alive, telling Pa, Momma, your daddy, and our older brother, Marvin, that we were a bunch of fools for being frightened by a harmless phantom—especially one that wasn’t around on a daily basis.” Ruth chuckled sadly as she reminisced.
“So, could Great Grandpa Will see or hear the spirit’s presence?” David remembered the cold spots and creaking footsteps going up and down the stairs, but he always assumed it was just an old drafty house and his family members didn’t sleep so well, being up and about at odd hours of the night. He figured crashing plates and such were merely byproducts of the dysfunctional family he grew up in.
“I’m sure he could hear and see it,” she said. “I recall a number of occasions when Bobby and I caught him talking and hissing at something. Neither of us could discern anything around him, other than the air around us turning quite chilly.”
“I take it that you and Dad had some experiences, too, then,” said David, his voice hushed.
Waiting for her to share some of those encounters, the phone rang. It sounded more shrill than usual, which startled both him and Miriam. He got up from the loveseat to find out who called.
“It’s John,” he announced, as soon as he recognized John’s home number from the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.
He immediately picked up the receiver and brought it close to his ear. Greeted by a loud crackle, it forced him to pull the phone away from his face. As he did, the noise faded, replaced by the sound of a woman crying.
“John?” he asked, tentative, once he brought the handset close to his ear again.
“He’s in jail, David!” the voice sobbed. “Two deputies arrested him tonight and took him away—he didn’t kill anyone!!”
“What??... Is that you, Evelyn?”
Miriam got up from the loveseat and ran over to him. He mouthed to her that John had been arrested.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered, moving closer. She tilted her head to where she could hear most of what he listened to.
“David, are you there??” Evelyn sounded panicked, and her voice resounded loud enough for Ruth to hear it clearly from the sofa. “They say he killed three men, including Dr. Pollack from the University…. I-I don’t know what to do! I’m so scared!!”
“Evelyn…where did they take him to?” he asked, trying to sound calm but fighting his own growing apprehension. “Was it to a local jail or did they take him someplace else, like Knoxville?”
“They took him to the jail in Sevierville,” she replied, pausing as if distracted by something going on inside John’s cabin. David heard what sounded like a huge windstorm going on somewhere near her. “‘He Who Cannot Rest’, Teutates, is back…. David, please find a way to come here! You’re the only real friend Grandpa has—he needs you!! Please, hurry!!!”
“I’ll see what I can do, Evelyn—I promise I will!” He looked over at Miriam, who nodded her affirmation to his words. “I’ll need a little time to get everything arranged. I’ll call you back in the morning—”
“No—just come, David!” she interrupted him, her voice trembling to the point a hysterical outburst was eminent. “I’m begging you!! Will you please find a way to get here right away—definitely by tomorrow?? Please???”
“All right….Yes,” he replied, sighing as he relented to her pleas, after looking again at Miriam, whose countenance reflected a curious mixture of worry and suspicion. “I’ll call you back as soon as….”
The line suddenly went dead.
“As soon as what?” Miriam asked, taking the receiver from him and verifying the steady dial tone. A slight crackle accompanied it.
“As soon as,” his voice weak, he wondered why she eyed him so.
“We cancel our arrangements to go up in the mountains tomorrow, I believe.” said Ruth, finishing his sentence. She eyed them both, thoughtful, and stood up from the sofa. Her expression very worried,
she approached where they stood by the telephone, looking surprised and taken aback by her forthright remark.
“I believe ya’ll have got some important, unfinished business to take care of,” she continued. “So, it’s back to Tennessee a bit earlier than we originally planned…don’t you know.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Evelyn shuddered as she pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. For the moment, she stood in the middle of the living room of her grandfather’s cabin, facing an intense blaze from the fireplace. Despite the heat, she shivered, as if a glacial breeze embraced her instead.
The mere thought of her grandfather spending the night in the isolated confines of the Sevier County Jail seized her heart. Even worse when she considered Hanna’s fate. Missing now for almost two days, Evelyn hoped to resume her search in the morning.
“It’s all right, boy… Grandpa’s going to be okay,” she assured Shawn, who whined, anxious. Curled up next to her feet, he lifted his chin in an effort to coax her to scratch him in the area that gave him the most pleasure, beneath his jaw and just above his chest.
She relented and sat down next to him, stroking his sweet spot until he got up and trotted over to John’s recliner. He picked up the furry chew-toy that Hanna bought him for Christmas and carried it over to her in his mouth, nudging her with his nose in an effort to entice her to try and take it from him.
“So you want to play a little tug-of-war, Shawnnie?” She raised the pitch of her voice to indulge him further.
Shawn barked in response and then twice more when she pretended to change her mind and not play after all. Eager for distraction, his tail wagged fiercely when she tried to grab the toy from his mouth. For much of the next half hour they wrestled together on John’s prized black bear rug that lay directly in front of the fireplace. A badly needed diversion for her, too, they played like this until the kuku clock on the mantle announced midnight had arrived.
Evelyn leaned back on her elbows, casually listening to the clock’s chime as it counted the hour. But then she raised herself up straight, listening closely to what at first she thought was another sound coming from the clock.
“Sh-h-h!” she told Shawn, once he began to whine again when she wouldn’t resume their most recent game of tug-of-war. His ears perked up and he looked up toward the large picture window in the loft above them. A low growl emerged from his throat.
Evelyn’s eyes followed his gaze, and her heart skipped until she realized the heavy draperies were still drawn shut from when she and John secured the house last evening, following Hanna’s disappearance in the wee hours after Christmas. A gentle gust of wind caressed the cabin from outside, and the curtains on both floors billowed softly, as if the breeze somehow seeped inside her refuge.
She stood up and moved through the main floor at a frenetic pace, making sure every window and door was locked and all the curtains closed tight. She then raced up the narrow staircase that led to the loft, releasing a relieved sigh once she verified both the window and its thick drapes were fully secure. She turned to head back downstairs, and that’s when she heard the whisper.
Low at first, she found it difficult to make out the words. But as she listened to the voice emanating from the other side of the drapes, she deciphered most of the words…her native Cherokee.
“Ulisgolvtanv Ayu Hawinaditlv.”
The whisper genderless, breathy, it echoed slightly. The resultant timbre made it hard for her to determine exactly where the voice came from outside the cabin. Perhaps it came from somewhere inside—maybe lurking next to the window behind the heavy drapes.
After her initial gasp, she stepped back up to the window, cautious. At first tempted to open the draperies and peer outside, she changed her mind, but leaving her hand poised to pull them back.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
Silence. But then the voice repeated the phrase, only this time the request to gain access inside the cabin was sterner and somewhat menacing. While she tried to decide how best to respond to the whisperer, a deep groan filled the air around her, sending an unsettling shiver through her entire being. The sound echoed across the cabin’s tall ceiling, moving from the front to the back of the building.
“Anagisdi utsatina!” said Evelyn evenly; responding in the native tongue of her forefathers, hoping her nervousness didn’t hinder her request for whatever presence was here to ‘go away’.
A mirthless chuckle resounded from just outside the window. Shawn launched into a barking tirade directed at the front door. Evelyn scrambled downstairs, in time to catch a large shadow moving away from the door and out of her direct view. She feared the shadow might be caused by something, or someone else, inside the cabin, but then heard the sound of heavy feet stepping down from the front porch as she moved over to the front door. She pulled back the curtain to the front window next to the door, peering outside. A slight indentation in the shoveled snow bank that John had left along the far edge of the porch provided the only evidence anyone had been there recently.
She checked the front door’s lock and deadbolt to make sure they remained secure, while Shawn turned his attention to the back door. This time, his tail pointed downward as he bared his teeth at some unseen menace, snarling protectively, but for now restraining his barks. Evelyn moved quietly over to the door, closing her eyes and chanting a Cherokee incantation to protect her and Shawn.
Everything outside grew very still, as if nature itself heeded her entreaty for peace and protection. The wind ceased to embrace the cabin, and a slight depression of cold air that had steadily descended from the ceiling now dissipated, allowing the warmth from the fire to radiate beyond the living room.
“Come here, boy…come here,” she called to Shawn, once she returned to the living room.
She patted her thigh until he turned away from the back door and trotted over to her. He glanced several times at the door before sitting down next to her.
“It’s all right, Shawn…. Everything’s going to be okay, baby. Whatever was here is gone now.”
Shawn looked up into her face and then glanced toward the back door again. After a slight whine, he laid down on the living room floor next to where she stood, his snout resting on her feet. Meanwhile, she looked around warily, expecting something else to happen despite her positive reassurances.
For several minutes she waited. All remained peaceful. She moved through the main floor of the cabin, checking again to make sure the place remained secure. She paused to straighten her grandfather’s largest dream catcher and climbed up to the loft. After making sure again that the drapes were pulled tight across the large picture window, she headed back downstairs.
She sat down in her grandfather’s recliner, and Shawn leapt up to where his upper body rested in her lap. He brought his face close to hers, breathing rapidly with his tongue out, as if he had an urgent warning he wished to relate quietly to her. She turned down the TV in order to determine what he now worried about. She shared his acute nervousness; yet, all remained calm and still inside the cabin…until three light taps resounded from the back door. The taps came from outside, as if someone lightly rapped their knuckles upon the door’s curtained window.
She couldn’t be sure, but Evelyn thought she glimpsed the shadowed outline of someone’s head as they tried to peer through a slight crease in the curtain. Enough to get her up out of the chair, she uttered another quiet prayer and took a few tentative steps toward the door.
“No need to fear. Everything’s all right, dearie,” said a woman’s voice from the back porch. “It’s Grandma Suzanne.”
The voice sounded warm and comforting, filled with assurance and definitely one belonging to an older woman. Also uncannily familiar, and in Evelyn’s mind it did closely resemble her dear grandmother’s voice—both in timbre and manner. But something else about it seemed as foreign as the other qualities recognizable. Something that made her hesitate.
She moved two steps closer to the door, lifting her fee
t to avoid creaks that would normally arise from the pine floor.
“That’s it, dearie… come on over and open the door so we can visit,” said the owner of the voice, maintaining a cheerful, caring tone.
It sounded so much like Grandma Suzanne. Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but caution again gave her reason to pause. This time she stopped moving as well. All of her senses—both physical and spiritual were fully heightened.
“Ah-h, my dearest Evelyn…. Why do you doubt me?”
The voice sounded amused, which reminded her of the impishness so characteristic of Grandma Suzanne. One of the things she sometimes thought about, whenever she would reminisce about her grandmother—especially here in this cabin, where she spent most of her formative years when her mom was busy chasing whatever boyfriend she had at the moment. Evelyn’s father died in a motorcycle accident when she was five, although her mother hardly grieved. Evelyn and Hanna lived with their grandparents until Joanna, their mother, decided to resume her parenting duties when her kids became teenagers.
“Speak to me, dearie. Our reunion can only last so long, before I’ll need to leave again.”
“I-I’m coming,” said Evelyn, nervous.
She approached the door, close enough to see the silhouette of her grandmother. She could see the outline of her facial features, curly hair, and even the long charcoal gray coat she favored.
“Do you wish for me to catch my death of cold, Evelyn?” the woman chided her, playful, again engendering cherished memories from her childhood. “Let me in, dear.”
Evelyn reached for the doorknob. Expecting it to be at least as tepid as the last time she touched it, it surprised her that the metal knob had turned very cold—perhaps as frigid as its partner on the other side of the door in the early morning chill. She withdrew her hand and stepped back from the door.
“Grandma Suzanne…I loved you as much as I’ve loved anyone else on this earth. I still do love you,” she said to the person standing just a few feet away, separated only by the glass and wood of the back door. “But, you’re dead. You should return to the holy land near the Three Blood Rivers, and wait for Grandpa to join you and our ancestors. It’s what The Great Spirit wants—“