by J A Campbell
Whatever medicine the doctors had given her parents for her, it was good, and kept her mostly asleep, either in her bed, on the couch, or out in the hammock. She’d wake up long enough to change locations, and then slip off into dreamless sleep.
After a couple of days, they lessened her dosage and started allowing visitors. Abby and Derek came together.
She met them out in her backyard by the pond.
“Derek, the roses were beautiful. Thank you.” Elise had hung up the roses to dry that morning to save as a memory.
He blushed and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to go together, but I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Yes. Abby, how are you?” She thought she should say something more, but the mental fog prevented her from figuring out what.
She smiled. “I’m supposed to be asking you that, silly.”
Elise smiled and her friends joined her in the shade of one of the big oaks. They talked about nothing for a short time and then Elise’s mother made them leave so she could get more rest.
It was nice to see her friends, and she was anxious to go back to school, but she had a doctor’s appointment with Doctor Vlasic in the morning, and then they’d see about getting her back to school on Monday.
“Can you describe what you saw?”
Elise shifted on the soft chair. She sat in a room that reminded her of a comfortable living room instead of a doctor’s office. Doctor Vlasic was an older woman with steel gray hair and wrinkles in her tanned skin, but her eyes were sharp and her smile had been kind when she’d first introduced herself.
“I, well, I was folding flowers for the dance. I heard someone scream, and I looked up and there were all these ghosts, or skeletons or whatever. I shouted at them to leave everyone alone, and then they attacked me. I ran, apparently into a bank of lockers.” She tried to smile, but she couldn’t quite manage.
“Ghosts? Are you certain?”
Elise shrugged. “I’m not the only one who saw them.”
“Have you seen these ghosts before?”
Elise didn’t want to admit that she had, but Doctor Vlasic was trying to help her, so she thought it would be all right.
“A few times. This is the first time other people have seen them.”
Doctor Vlasic made a quick note before continuing the questions.
Elise did her best to answer, though she felt like an insect under a microscope. It wasn’t Doctor Vlasic’s fault. She was nice enough, she just wasn’t used to talking about these things so much, and she didn’t think anyone else normally had these problems. She knew it was hard to be a teenager, but this was a little extreme.
After a while, Doctor Vlasic took her mom aside out of earshot.
Elise really wanted to hear what they said though, so, without looking directly at them, she focused on the soft sounds of their words. “...some sort of episode. It could be an isolated incident or something that will go away when she gets a little older, or it could be permanent. I’ve got some drugs that will help, but we’ll need to keep her under careful observation, just in case.”
“But the other kids saw the ghosts, too.” Her mom sounded worried.
The doctor didn’t answer for a moment, before she shrugged. “I don’t have a good answer for that. It does seem apparent that your daughter is the focus of the visions, and it is possible the other students were merely caught up in her fear. Regardless, I believe she needs treatment. We will try some different combinations of medications and therapy to see what works, when you bring her back next week. I want her to try these drugs in the meantime and see if they help.”
Drugs? Elise didn’t want to take drugs, but she didn’t want the ghosts to come back either. Maybe, if the drugs would help, it would be okay. She pulled her focus inward and their voices faded back to a quiet murmur. Overhearing distant conversations was something she’d always been able to do, though she’d never told anyone.
“Elise, I’m going to give you some pills to take. They should help you stay focused on your schoolwork and hopefully will keep the ghosts at bay. If you have any problems, please call me and I look forward to seeing you next week.”
“Thank you, Doctor Vlasic.” Elise felt weird as the doctor shook her hand. Hand shaking was something adults did. She followed as her mom led her from the office.
“Are you ready to go back to school, honey?” Her mom asked when they reached the car.
Elise glanced up at her mom before opening the car door. “Yeah, I am.”
The drugs made Elise feel fuzzy, but at least she hadn’t felt the force building behind her eyes. Though, honestly, she wasn’t sure if it was because she felt too unfocused to feel it, or if it was really gone. Hopefully, it was gone.
She turned and waved at her mom as she pulled away from the curb. Then, squaring her shoulders and feeling a little nervous, she walked down the front walk toward the ivy covered brick school.
Hesitating as she put her hand on the door, she took one more calming breath and hardened her resolve. She could do this. She could be normal, like everyone else, and there would be no ghosts. Elise pushed the door open and entered the main hallway.
Most students were already in homeroom. Though she’d protested that it wasn’t necessary, her mother had dropped her off a little late so she wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos of all the students arriving. Hurrying quickly to her locker, she stopped when she saw the letters taped to it. Get well cards, another rose, only slightly wilted, and a few sticky notes with kind words waited for her.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought to maintain the fuzzy feeling the drugs gave her so she wouldn’t have to deal with her feelings. She didn’t want to cry, but she was so touched by the gesture. Carefully, Elise took off all the notes and cards, intending to read every one. She opened her locker, quickly gathered the books she needed and tucked the rose into her backpack. Her classmates were the best.
Once she had her things, she rushed to homeroom. She wanted at least a few minutes there before she had to go to her first class.
The other kids in her homeroom class talked softly or watched the student news up on the TV screen. They all fell silent when she walked in.
Not sure what to do, Elise hesitated.
“Elise, welcome back,” Mrs. Murphy, her homeroom teacher said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Murphy, it’s good to be here.”
That seemed to be the signal for the rest of the students and they called greetings and barraged her with questions, but she didn’t mind. Shadows flickered at the edge of her vision, but she ignored them, basking in the welcome from her fellow students. They were all happy to see her, and that made everything all right.
Deciding to leave was easy. Knowing where to go was a whole ‘nother matter.
Harmony sat in her fully-packed brand-new Beetle parked near Zilker Park on a quiet residential side road, wishing for a clue. One thing, she better decide fast. Austin’s rush hour was about to start. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in gridlock—like the cartoon fish said, just keep swimming. She could determine her final destination after she got away from the endless miles of cars that was Austin traffic from about 3:30 PM to almost 7:00—sometimes later.
She pulled out her cell phone and picked a contact: Maxwell and Sophia Hendricks, Boston, Massachusetts. She’d added her grandparents’ information into her phone, just in case, when she’d discovered it among her mother’s things. Her mom was notorious for disappearing for days on end and then returning like nothing was wrong. While her mom’s Bohemian friends would probably let her crash with them for awhile, Harmony knew she needed a back-up plan.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice answered.
Harmony swallowed. She’d fantasized often enough about calling her grandparents, but what do you say to someone you’ve never spoken to? Her mom had parted with her parents acrimoniously. Did they even know she existed?
Part of her wanted to conjure a loving grandma who was in the kitchen, wearing an apron,
with the fragrance of something delicious baking in the oven. Her grandfather would be the type who’d take her on all kinds of adventures from museums to hikes in the mountains. From what she’d researched, neither was like what she would hope for. On the other hand, she probably wouldn’t be the grandchild of anyone’s dreams, except maybe Gomez and Morticia Addams.
“Hello?” the voice rose.
Deep breath. Harmony spoke. “Am I speaking to Sophia Hendricks?”
“This is she,” the tight, professional sound gave her some courage. Dr. Sophia Hendricks was an economics professor at Radcliffe, according to the research she’d been able to do on the Internet. Occasionally, she’d look at the woman’s unsmiling picture and wonder how different her life would have been if….
“Are you there?” her grandmother prompted after what seemed like only a breath to Harmony. There wasn’t time to gather her courage. She needed to say something to the woman or she’d hang up, thinking she was a prank caller. With any luck, she had Caller ID, and she’d block her number never to answer again.
Keep it to business.
“My name is Harmony,” Harmony said. “I’m calling about Elizabeth Hendricks.”
“Is she dead?”
The question hit Harmony like a blow straight to the chest. Her mom and she had an off-hand sort of relationship. She never doubted her mother loved her. She embraced her every time they encountered each other and told her she loved her often, but the notion of any kind of traditional maternal support was moot. Her mom would buy her tickets for a cruise and end up sending a friend with her while she stayed home and organized a charity event. She’d get her rock concert tickets and go—then dance and scream with her like a teenage fangirl. Shopping trips netted her everything she wanted and then some, but her mom had objections about the ethics of garment production in countries that had women sewing for slave wages. She provided the basics: food, clothing, and shelter and when prompted, did the other things which were needed like finding a friend to take her for vaccinations. When she passed her driver's license test, her dream car—a brand-new black Volkswagen Beetle—appeared in the driveway with a huge bow tied on the top and a congratulatory note, but her mom had not stuck around long enough for the shake-out cruise. Her mom was constant in her inconstancy. Harmony took several gulps of air and lowered the Beetle’s window, despite the noise and fumes from traffic.
“No,” Harmony said. “I mean, she’s not been home since Friday, but that’s....”
“Precisely why are you calling me, Miss?” the brusque no-nonsense voice asked from her phone.
Harmony’s stomach clenched. The woman didn’t know she had a granddaughter? Would she even care? She sometimes wondered if that off-hand sort of raising came from her own mother. At least her mom sounded kind on the phone and generally was in person as well. Her problem was she felt a responsibility to the world at large. Harmony was just a small part of that world: long as she was clothed, fed, and sheltered, she often was much better off than those her mom worked so hard to help.
“If you want money for one of Elizabeth’s....”
Harmony thumbed off the phone. Maybe it was being raised with some sense of Southern polity, her mom would stop and listen when she was around, Mom often had odd, but effective, solutions for her problems. Her grandmother’s curt attitude offered about as much warmth as having a snowball stuffed down the front of her shirt. She’d be as well off if she went to a stranger—and possibly receive a kinder welcome.
Hesitantly she called home. Maybe she should go back.
The tone rang a few times. A Russian-accented male voice answered: “Hello?”
Hands shaking, she hung up. Ivin was there. She’d be safer in an Oklahoma tornado.
Interstate 35 was the best way out of town, so she headed north toward Dallas. She flipped on the oldies station. Brian Wilson crooned to her about California Girls and she took that as a sign.
She would go to California.
Somewhere around midnight, hail pounded the roof of the Beetle like a million tiny fists. She pulled off the road and managed to score the one vacant spot beneath an awning at an all-night gas station. Storm sirens screamed warnings.
“Get inside, hurry!” an elderly tall silver-haired man in a pickup yelled to her over the noise.
Harmony didn’t ask questions. She opened the door and ran for the station. The man followed and pulled her to the back, away from the glass, where several of the customers huddled in a maintenance hallway outside the restrooms.
Once inside, she could hear the blare of weather alerts. A nasal-voiced announcer advised extreme caution. Underground shelter was the best. If that wasn’t available, get to the center of your home away from windows. If you’re in a mobile home, find the nearest tornado shelter.
On and on he went. That voice sounded like a dental drill, but the local people seemed reassured when he spoke.
“Where am I?” she asked the older man, who’d chivalrously passed her napkins from the soft drink bar to dry off. Kind of a fruitless venture, since running maybe twenty feet had her soaked like a ten-minute shower, but Harmony smiled and nodded her thanks for the gesture.
“Moore, Oklahoma.” The man gave her the side-eye.
Harmony’s stomach flopped. Just last year, a record-breaking tornado had nearly blown that town away—and she was driving straight into another one?
“What are you doing out on the road by yourself so late?” While the man’s air was friendly, she got the impression he was used to asking questions and having them answered. A closer look showed her the close-cropped military cut to his silvery hair, and his erect attentive stance even huddled in a dank, crowded hallway with half a dozen other scared people.
Cop. She didn’t have her mom’s radar. Before this, she wasn’t worried about the “po-po” like her mom and her friends. She didn’t have anything to hide, before.
“I'm headed to see my grandparents.” Harmony said the first thing that popped in her head.
That earned a grin.
“You should not be on the road this late.”
Harmony nodded, offered a smile. “I guess I just wanted to get there quicker.”
She had him.
While the storm raged outside and the weatherman tirelessly updated them, her companion opened his wallet to show photos of Maddie, his great-granddaughter. The kid and her mom were staying with him on the farm since her husband had been killed in the “big ‘un” the year before.
On and on the sirens and advisories went. This storm was tearing up ground, too. Seemed like the town couldn’t get a break. The store manager brewed a pot of coffee and offered it up for the people taking shelter there, as well as the left-over day-old kolaches, which were amazingly delicious yeast dough topped with fruit or wrapped around hot sausages.
“Look, do you have a place to stay?” the old man asked once the sirens and the weatherman both finally shut up.
Harmony sagged, unsure of how to answer.
“Come back to the farm with me,” he offered, showing her an Oklahoma City Police Department shield and ID indicating he was retired from the force.
Richard Chesley Eason, she read the name on the ID. She wondered what his contemporaries called him.
Harmony stared at the shield, memorizing the name on the ID. She knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers—okay, her mom had never told her that, but she’d picked it up somewhere. However, this guy was a lot kinder to her than most of the folks she knew.
“Pete will vouch for me that I’m all right,” her would-be rescuer said, gesturing to the station manager, who was heading outside to see what damage the storm had done. The man offered a cheerful affirmative. Her rescuer took that as acquiescence, and called his granddaughter to tell her to make up the spare bed. He even handed over the phone so Harmony could say a few words to the woman and know that he was telling the truth.
“Follow me. If you don’t like the setup, you’re free to keep on driving.”<
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Once the rain let up, she followed him to a small farm outside of town. A single story frame house was set in a grove of trees. She noted a chicken coop and a barn as well. True to his word, the house lights were on and a smiling brunette woman in her twenties greeted him at the front door with a tiny girl clinging to her pants leg.
“Granddaddy!” At the sight of him, the kid opened the door and ran through the muddied drive to jump into his arms. She looked wired with fear, eyes wide, her dark blonde hair blowing everywhere in wisps of loose curls. Harmony understood. According to her great-grandfather, Maddie had lost her father to the big tornado a year ago. Knowing her great-grandfather was out there in the weather had to be awful for her.
Harmony climbed the steps to the porch and followed everyone inside out of the rain.
“This is Maddie,” the woman said. “I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll be sharing a bunk with her.”
Harmony nodded. She’d brought her backpack with her most-cherished belongings in it inside. The older man had noted how full her car was, but said nothing. Would he turn her in as a runaway? Had she made a mistake in trusting him? The woman pulled a huge freshly-fluffed towel from the dryer and wrapped it around Harmony's damp body offering a smile.
They led her into Maddie’s room, which was a dream of bright colors, stuffed animals, and kites flying suspended from the ceiling. A bright red wrought-iron bunk bed was already made up with sunshine yellow sheets.
Harmony winced. Had it been daylight, she might’ve needed shades.
“Thank you....” Harmony hesitated.
“Call me Glenda. And just call my grandfather, Granddaddy.”
Harmony nodded.
“To bed with you both!” Glenda said. Maddie managed to loosen herself from her great-grandfather and hopped to the top bunk, tossing down a fuzzy bunny.
“So you won’t be alone,” she offered in her little girl voice. The bunny was warm and smelled of dryer sheets and candy. Spots on its fur were worn from hugs and its stuffing was uneven at best. She suspected the toy had been passed down from mother to daughter, perhaps for more than one generation.