A Chance for Charity (The Immortal Ones)
Page 7
“Oh how cute, you’re a bunny,” I smiled at him.
“R A B B I T,” he spelled, “Rabbit, not bunny. What cute little animal are you?”
“A cute little Rooster,” I replied.
Link looked at the placemat, his expression contemplative. “You said you’re turning eighteen in February right?”
“Yeah,” I answered. Oh crap, what year did I look up? “Oh yeah, stupid me, I’m a Monkey.”
“Okay that makes sense, silly monkey,” he grinned.
“You are not disappearing for Christmas are you? I’ve already talked it over with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jason, and we’ve decided you should come over to our house. Please say yes.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, pleading for his compliance.
“I don’t want to impose...”
“You aren’t imposing. Say yes,” I said and then mouthed, “Yes – Yes – Yes,” to him.
“Okay, okay, yes,” Link gave in.
“Yay,” I squealed as I clapped my hands together.
Our waiter arrived at the table with the soup. He placed a larger bowl in the center of the table and then ladled soup into each of our small bowls. As he finished, another waiter passed by carrying a tray filled with eight or more glasses from the bar. In slow motion, it seemed, I watched as a toddler from the large party in the back escaped his mother’s grasp and ran between the two waiters. A stunt coordinator on a movie set couldn’t have timed the next moment any better. The toddler bumped our waiter off balance. He stumbled into the other waiter, carrying the heavy tray. The tray tipped and the glasses came crashing down. Glass shards flew in all directions, mostly hitting the two waiters on their aprons and causing no damage to them. But a few flew into my arms, piercing my skin.
Link’s eyes widened with concern. I panicked, and ran for the bathroom in the back of the restaurant. I closed the door behind me, locking it, and examined my arms. Why couldn’t I have worn a sweater? Why the short sleeves tonight? One, two, three... I counted six shards of glass. I carefully pulled the first one from my skin.
“Emily, are you alright?” Link pounded on the door.
“I’m fine. I just freaked,” I answered as I pulled out the second and then the third.
“Open the door, I need to see that you’re okay,” he implored.
Four...
“Just a second,” I breathed
Five...
“Emily, please,” Link begged, and his voice cracked.
Six...
I splashed water on my arms and dried them with a paper towel. I ran some more water in the sink to remove the few drops of blood that had escaped my wounds as I pulled out the shards. I looked at my arms. Everything looked normal. It was going to be fine, I lied to myself.
“Emily,” his voice had an edge now, panic had set in.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I said as I opened the door. I knew my eyes were still anxious. My heart was beating a little too fast. “I just panicked and ran in here to look.”
“Show me your arms,” he ordered.
I held them out for his inspection, “It was nothing just a few bits of glass landed on them but no damage was done,” I lied.
“I saw glass in your arms,” he insisted. “There are drops of blood on the table.”
“Maybe they were from one of the waiters. That little kid’s alright isn’t he?” I asked trying to shift the focus away from me.
“I think so,” he looked confused again. “Are you sure you are unharmed?”
“I am perfectly fine,” I swore.
The waiter walked back to where we stood, “The table is all clean now. I’m so sorry. Are you Okay? Do you still want your food?” he asked, openly concerned.
“I’m fine, thank you. And yes, we will still be dining,” I answered.
We walked back to the table, where our dinner was waiting for us. All evidence of the mishap had been erased while I was in the restroom. Except for the soggy floor, and the concerned faces of the patrons and staff, I could pretend everything was as it was before. But then, there was the one overly concerned face, sitting across from me, staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t pretend he would remain as he was before.
I chatted excessively about skiing, the kids at school, and the boutique. I talked to fill the silence and the tension that came my way, radiating from across the table. After twenty minutes, or more, Link began to act like his old self again. He talked about work and told me some of the funny stories about the different people that come into the store. He told me how he skied with Ron, a co-worker, this past week. He described the view from the top of See Forever, one of the trails they skied together. My worries eased some, but I could still make out the lingering doubt that would escape from of his eyes from time to time.
We walked back to the gondola after we left the restaurant. Link reached for my hand, his grip gentler than before. I wondered if he still thought I was injured. I was ruining this, I could feel it. I wasn’t normal, I didn’t deserve this. The gondola ride didn’t hold the same magic it had earlier that evening. My “carriage” was no longer filled with anticipation and wonder. Now it was filled with uncertainty, doubt, and questions I couldn’t truthfully answer.
Link drove to my house and helped me unload all of the day’s ski gear.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.
“Working,” he immediately answered.
“Oh that sounds about as fun as my day will be. I have to finish a history paper and prepare a class presentation. I really need to crack down. You want to trade?” I offered with a weak smile.
“No thanks, I’m done with that. Once was enough for me,” he mirrored my smile.
“Yeah,” I answered. For me too, I thought.
“What’s the paper about?”
“Pearl Harbor and the U.S.’s entrance into World War II. I’m going to wear a dress from the Forties for extra credit. Very cool,” I said.
“I’d like to see that,” he smiled a more genuine smile.
“Meet me after school Friday and you can.”
“It’s a date.”
“Goodbye, Link, thanks for tonight,” I hugged him goodbye.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered and his lips grazed my forehead with a gentle kiss. My skin seemed to smolder from the warmth of his lips for hours after he left.
The following week passed slowly. Delilah looked perfect, dressed as an adorable flapper for her presentation on Prohibition. It was Rusty’s turn the next day and, seeing no need for extra credit, he wore no costume and brought no props. Wednesday was Burke’s turn and he brought in a helmet that belonged to a relative who had fought in the war. On Thursday we learned all about the Gold Rush from Summer. She went the extra mile, for her extra credit, and brought in a bucket with sand and small rocks she’d painted, with gold spray paint. She put water in the bucket at school and had the students simulate panning for gold. Summer was an overachiever. I told myself – if she can do all of that, then I can wear a costume and give a simple presentation the next day.
That night I called Link, I hadn’t heard from him all week. I kept hoping I hadn’t ruined everything, but this silence was a deafening sign. As the phone began to ring I hoped for voicemail. Then I could leave a message telling him not to bother with seeing me tomorrow after school. “Oh crap,” I whispered as the thought occurred to me that maybe he had already forgotten and this call would just remind him. I was just about to hang up when I heard his voice.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Hey, Link, It’s Emily,” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“Hi, Emily,” he sounded distant.
“So maybe now wasn’t a good time to call. Sorry...”
“No I’m sorry. I sort of broke our routine. I’ve just had a really busy week and that is my lame excuse for why I haven’t called you.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just calling because tomorrow is my presentation, but you don’t need to worry about meeting me after school. So just for
get it, it’s no big deal.” I got the words out hurriedly, hoping he would agree.
“No, I said it’s a date, so where should I meet you?”
I was torn between my desperate need to be with him and the reality that it would be better if I never laid eyes on him again. “Aunt Rachel is dropping me off at school tomorrow morning. I’ll be walking to the boutique after school. You can just look for me on Colorado, or meet me at the boutique, or not. Whatever you decide is fine.” I gave him a free pass, not wanting him to feel obligated.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
“Goodbye.”
I actually had one authentic outfit from the Forties. It was purchased in Nineteen Forty-One. The outfit consisted of three pieces; a skirt, a shirt, and a jacket. The skirt and jacket were sewn from deep red wool. The jacket had wide shoulders and was tailored to cinch in at the waistline. The lapels were adorned with gold stitching. A neat row of big gold buttons ran down the front. The skirt was just about knee length and would flare if I spun. I owned matching suede leather, peep-toe heels as well.
I had received permission from my science teacher, the class I had before history, to leave ten minutes early so I could change into my outfit. I’d styled my hair before I left the house and hoped that it would hold up all day. When I looked in the mirror I breathed a sigh of relief, it had made it through the day just fine. Once I’d adjusted my make-up, my look was complete.
I gazed in the mirror, amazed at the transformation. This did not look like Emily Johnston, seventeen year old high school student, living in Telluride. Someone else entirely was staring back at me. She looked a bit older, more sophisticated, well put together. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We could do this. Get into that classroom, get through the presentation, then class will be over, I told myself. I walked out of the school restroom and made my way to History.
“Hey, Emily, you look great,” Rusty winked at me and Summer lightly punched him in the arm.
“Wow, that’s so cool. Is it vintage?” Summer asked.
“Yeah, it is pretty isn’t it?” I twirled and let the skirt flair up around my legs.
“Your hair and make-up are perfect too, you did some good research. All I did was wear a left-over costume of my mom’s,” said Delilah.
“Thanks guys,” I smiled as I took my seat.
I was finally feeling confident. When my turn came, I stood in front of the class and gave a brief but precise rundown of the events that led to the attack on Pearl Harbor and how the US then entered World War II. I answered every question posed, by the students and Mrs. Beech, and even elaborated on some of the details I was more familiar with. Everyone complimented my attire and Mrs. Beech gave me her – job well done – nod when I was finished. Yay! I got through it just fine.
As the bell rang to dismiss us from class I took off my peep-toes and placed them back in their box. I slipped on my sheepskin boots and put on my long winter coat. It was cold outside and I had a bit of a walk, the boutique was on the opposite end of Colorado. I said goodbye to everyone and walked out the door. The second my feet hit the main road I saw him.
Link was waiting for me just off the school grounds. He was motionless, watching me walk toward him, his stare intense. Then I remembered the hair and make-up, it probably looked out of place. My outfit was well hidden by the thick down quilted coat. I smiled as I stepped in front of him.
“I’m dressed to the nines under here,” I said as I opened my coat for a quick flash of my outfit and then securely closed it again. “You like my hair?”
“You look swell. Is that Forties appropriate?”
“Close enough. What do you want to do? I need to change, but not until after you’ve had a chance to appreciate this marvelous outfit with my coat off and my kicks on,” I patted the box that held my shoes.
“Would my apartment be too weird? Or, we could just head over to the boutique,” Link said, his gaze still locked on my face.
“Your apartment would be fine,” I answered.
We walked in silence, fingers intertwined, the short distance to his apartment. I could hear the water from the river trickling nearby as we walked up the steps to his door. The inside of his apartment was sparse but functional. A black leather couch was positioned against the far wall with a glass coffee table centered in front. His flat screen TV, DVD player and video gaming system were opposite the couch. Two small picture frames rested on the TV cabinet. I picked up the first one. There were three smiling faces posed by a snowy tree, a boy and two adults. It was Link at around eight years old with, I assumed, his parents. The second frame held a picture of Link at his High School Graduation, his Grandma and Grandpa on either side of him.
“Is this your last picture of her?” I asked, remembering what he had told me about his Grandma’s death.
“Yes,” he answered.
“She looks so proud of you. I can see it in her eyes. Your Grandpa looks just like you. You two have the same mouth.” I was struck by the familiar again. “I swear this is déjà vu,” I whispered.
“Do you want a drink?” Link asked from the kitchen.
“Water would be great. I’ll be back in a sec,” I smiled as I left the room. I went into his bathroom and took off the warm coat. I changed my shoes and then smoothed out my hair and fixed my make-up.
When I emerged from the bathroom Link was sitting on his couch. I twirled for him, “You like?” I asked as I came to a stop in front of him.
His expression turned quizzical again. He sat frozen, thinking. He got up without saying a word, crossed the room, and opened a door. I peeked inside, it was a storage closet. He pulled out a box and bent over it.
“What are you doing, Link?” I asked, confused.
“Just give me a second. I just remembered something that has been bugging me since the day I saw you at that dance,” he answered as he found what he was looking for. He pulled a photo album out of the box and sat on the couch.
“What?”
“Hold on, I’m looking,” he said as he rapidly paged through the book, searching for a photo. He paused, focused on a particular page and then looked up at me, scanning me from head to toe. He looked back at the photo album, and then back at me. “Oh my God,” he breathed.
I grabbed the album from his hands, desperate to know what had disturbed him. There were two black and white photos on the page. One was of a man and a woman standing in front of a house. The other was of the same woman and a little boy sitting on a porch swing. I sat down, still holding the book, and traced my fingers along the edges of the photographs. They were taken so long ago, but I remembered them.
“Where did you get these,” I murmured, my eyes stinging with tears that desperately wanted to flow.
“They belonged to Grandpa,” Link answered.
“That’s him isn’t it?” My voice broke as I pointed to the little boy.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I guess I see the similarities now, you look an awful lot like him. I wonder why it never clicked up here,” I said knocking my head with my hand.
“That’s the same skirt, the same jacket, the same shoes, the same hair... That’s you,” he stumbled on the words.
“I couldn’t get rid of it. It was my favorite outfit. His favorite outfit too,” I sniffled, tracing the first photo.
“That’s Grandpa’s older brother, he died in the war. Grandpa used to talk about him a lot, especially after my parents died. He would bring out the photo album and tell me stories,” he spoke rapidly, his voice cracking, getting frantic.
“That’s my Roger,” I wept, the tears freely streamed down my face. “I should go now. I have to warn them. We’ll have to leave right away. We’ll be found out now. Please don’t tell anybody. That’s probably too much to ask...” I sobbed. I wasn’t sure if he could even understand the words, as I struggled to talk through my tears. I tried to get up from the couch but Link held me in place.
“No you wouldn’t have, you couldn’t have. We count on it,” I said, my sobs now gone but the tears continued to flow. I placed my hand on his leg. He flinched and stood up, as if my touch had burned. “Sorry,” I murmured a weak apology and moved my hand back to my lap.
“What are you? A vampire? No, I can’t imagine you killing and drinking blood, plus you are walking around in the daylight. But you are awfully pale. Maybe a witch, and you’ve cast some sort of a spell to keep yourself young,” Link paced back and forth across the room. “How are you doing this? Were you following me, toying with me?” he questioned.
“Slow down. I will answer all of your questions, I promise. But you must understand, finding out who you are is a great shock to me as well. I, I’m having a hard time believing it,” I stammered. “I was drawn to you, after seeing you for the first time as well. Every time you smiled it was as though I’d seen that smile before. Now I know I had, on Roger. You two have the same mouth, the same brilliant smile,” I paused.
“Grandpa said the same thing. ‘Keep smiling kid, you remind me of my big brother when you do.’”
“He was absolutely right,” I continued. “But to answer some of your questions – I am not a vampire. I do not ingest blood. As for the pale skin, tanning is actually tissue damage and my body... kind of... fixes that, so I am constantly pale. I am not a witch. I have no powers... well not exactly what you’d call a power. Honestly, I don’t know why I am the way I am... or how I got to be this way,” I finished and looked at his face. It was calmer now.
“You’re not a seventeen year old girl,” he accused, now standing far across the room, needing to say aloud the truth as he now understood it.
“If you will sit and listen. I will tell you,” I said, keeping my voice as smooth and calm as I could. “I will tell you how I came to know what I am. I’ll start when I met your great uncle, that’s what Roger would have been to you if you’d had the chance to know him. To me he was my life, my love, before the war took him away from me, from your grandpa, from you.”