Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I had received another message from Switch.

  Nick saw that you viewed his photo and sends pink flowers. Send pink flowers back?

  A GIF depicting a bouquet of bubblegum-pink daisies danced across on my screen.

  Nick had seen me looking!

  “Is that Ella’s stepson?” Mom asked.

  “You know him, too?”

  “Only when he was young. I always liked Garett better, though. He was more sociable. I hear he’s running the Senior Center now.” Her head swiveled towards the kitchen. “Hey! I think your brother cooking. I’m going to watch!”

  Mom dematerialized and I was alone in my office. I thought of going to bed early, but my mind was too busy. I looked around the room, searching for something to keep me occupied while I decompressed from my strange day. It wasn’t even suppertime and I was exhausted. Dating sites and ex-wives and dead mayors and strange shadows. Oh My! And a virtual bouquet from a handsome man.

  I removed my gloves, took out my feather duster, and began working my way around the room. It was a mindless chore, but one I enjoyed. And it would hopefully take my attention away from the outside world. Antiques should be dust-free yet still smell old. That’s what buyers craved – the experience of being transported to another time. If you dusted too much, you lost that.

  As I worked the sleek feathers across the shelves and cases, I caught a flash of silver in the book section. Curious, I carefully tugged at an object wedged between two Dickens volumes, in the same place that I had found the jade comb originally.

  “My stars!”

  The missing jade comb! But how?

  I retraced Yolanda’s steps. I was almost certain she hadn’t been near this book case. And even if she had, she hadn’t known this was where I had found it to begin with. Forgetting myself, I lifted the comb with my bare hands – and was instantly immobilized by the accompanying vision:

  “Ooglie boo ko iiiii!” a voice whispered.

  I was in a room draped in shadow. There were skittering sounds, followed by hollow footsteps, echoing all around me.

  “Her vitals are low!” said a woman. “She might be going into cardiac arrest!”

  “I was just giving her a birthday gift,” another woman said. “I don’t know what happened! Gram? Gram!”

  As chaos engulfed the room, the two gray hands of a strange creature reached out from under the bed. The creature’s fingers lifted the sparkling comb from the floor, then clutched it to its chest.

  “Eee poo sawk mee!” the creature squeaked, carrying its treasure back into the shadows.

  “What on earth?” It wasn’t my imagination. The memory seemed as solid as the comb in my hand, and I abruptly dropped them both.

  “Goo lii mmmaaa…”

  This time the voice came from somewhere inside my office.

  I stood corpse still, hardly daring to breathe.

  There was a rummaging noise in the corner, behind a Victorian bassinet.

  Whatever had made that noise was watching me now, from beneath the antique crib. I could feel its presence – dark and cold.

  It had returned the comb. But why?

  Eight

  I briefly thought of asking Alex if Mr. B could sleep with me that night. Two things prevented this. First, I didn’t want Alex, or anyone for that matter, to know of our frightening intruder. Second, I was more afraid of Mr. B than whatever lurked in my office. The cat and I had a tentative relationship, at best. Since ordering Alex to stop buying the expensive cat food, I was certain Mr. B had it in for me.

  There was little sleep for me that night. I tossed and turned and beat my pillow into a squishy tube, watching the hands on the clock slowly churn forward. Whenever I shut my eyes, I saw those chalky gray hands, and heard the creature’s raspy voice. Giving up on sleep, I decided to inspect the comb again.

  I had wrapped it in silk cloth and placed it on the nightstand beside me. Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I felt the chill of the mid-autumn air in the old house. I retrieved a small flashlight from the drawer and carefully unwrapped the comb. It was beautiful, even in the ashen light.

  “Tell me your secrets,” I whispered to the jade comb as I gingerly lifted it with the tips of my fingers. I took a deep breath before clasping my entire hand around it. I never knew what I would see when delving into residual memories, so I readied myself for anything.

  Surprisingly, nothing came from the comb but a low, steady hum. It gently reverberated through my hand and down into my body. It wasn’t frightening. In fact, it was rather calming – like the purr of a lazy cat.

  “You’re not so scary after all,” I said, turning the ornate object over. “In fact— “

  I was overcome by a sensation of vertigo, accompanied by a searing pain in my forehead. When the dizziness abated, I found myself standing in another room. The sun was rising, light trickling in through the windows.

  A beautiful woman stood in the room with me. As my eyes adjusted, I could see we were in a child’s nursery, filled with finely crafted furniture from another era.

  The woman glided to her vanity, staring at her reflection as she quietly nursed a baby in her arms. The child cooed, and the woman turned her attention from the mirror, locking eyes with the infant in a moment of love. The woman’s hair was swept high on her head, fastened at the side with the jade comb.

  I stepped forward to see more, standing just a few feet behind her. Her gaze lifted back to the mirror, her reflection catching mine.

  “Ghost!” she exclaimed, pointing. “Ghost!”

  “No!” I tried to say as I was sucked out of the memory. I was back on my bed, shaking from head to toe.

  “My stars,” I said, nestling the comb back into the cloth. Wrapping it tightly, I placed it inside the drawer. Nothing like this had ever happened during a memory viewing. The woman had seen me! I wasn’t just a spectator, but how could that be?

  My physician, Dr. Friendly, had given me pills for both insomnia and hallucinations. I promptly took one of each, swallowing them dry.

  Returning to bed, I tucked the blanket up to my chin, just as I did as a child when I was sure there were monsters in my closet. Soon, my mind began to soften and thoughts no longer held any coherence. I would think on all this tomorrow. For whatever was left of the night, I only wanted a dreamless abyss.

  I saved you a croissant

  It was a text from Alex. I smiled as I yawned and stretched, the gray of the previous night disappearing with the sunshine.

  After I showered, I made my way to the solarium for my promised breakfast. There was a pot of New England Morning Brew tea waiting for me, along with the croissant and two kinds of jam, made from apples and pomegranates from our garden. I took a bite and put it back down, frowning. This was not home-made. It was probably purchased from a discount warehouse. If Mom’s spirit weren’t roaming our farmhouse, she’d be turning over in her grave.

  Alex came inside through the garden entrance, his gray knit cap and flannel jacket covered in bits of dried leaves.

  “Alex, may I ask why we aren’t making fresh croissants anymore? Do you really want to neuter our business completely? It’s one of the few things this place is still known for. Did you lose Mom’s recipe?” I tapped the stiff pastry on the table to prove my point.

  “They were cheap and I’m tired,” Alex answered gruffly as he called for his cat. “You told me to cut costs, remember?”

  “On cat food, not people food.”

  “Shh…” Alex said. “He’ll hear you.”

  “I was thinking that perhaps we should revamp the place a little. Give it some atmosphere, like The Little Tea Pot has. If we can’t compete with Ella’s baking, we can at least compete with the ambience. Our space is huge; we might as well use it.”

  Alex wasn’t listening. He had a distracted look as he scooped Mr. B into his arms. “Sorry, it’s been a long night,” he said. The cat nipped at his fingers as he attempted to pet it.

 
; “You too?”

  “Well…” he nodded at Mr. B. “This guy was running around the house all night long, like someone had slipped catnip into his water bowl. When I finally caught him, he was hissing and shaking. We may have a rodent problem.”

  “Oh?” I blinked slowly, taking a sip of my tea.

  “Yeah. Mr. B swears there was something in the house last night. Maybe I need to change his food back to the good stuff? He might be having withdrawals.” He and the cat both eyed me, looking hopeful.

  “Yes,” I agreed, sighing. I didn’t want to alarm anyone, and if Kultured Kitty Gourmet was enough to quell his nerves, I was willing to concede. I noticed my brother was wearing gloves and work boots. “What have you been doing this morning, instead of baking croissants?”

  He groaned and pulled a leaf from his hair. “Working off my community service. I was hoping the mayor would reduce my probation, but now that he’s gone…” he lifted his free hand in defeat.

  “I’m curious why you’d think Elmer would have granted you special treatment. He may have commissioned pies from us, but that didn’t mean he was going to absolve you of your civic duty. And frankly, I’m surprised you formed a friendship with the man. I thought you were anti-government.”

  Alex shrugged and departed for the kitchen, dropping Mr. B off in a sunbeam along the way. I gathered my dishes and followed.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?”

  “Why are you suddenly so interested in my life?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a long-handled scrubbing brush. “You normally only want to talk to tease me about my love life, or my terrible customer service.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “Sometimes I want to talk about how terrible your baking is, too.” I held up my croissant and smiled, hoping he’d smile too. He didn’t.

  Alex scratched his head, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter, all in one fluid movement. I knew there was more than he was telling me. “I taught the mayor how to use a computer,” he confessed.

  “I don’t understand.” Alex was a charitable type, but not when it came to people. His goodwill was saved for animals and nature.

  “When I was doing community service at the Senior Center last month, I saw the mayor struggling at the computer when I went to take a leak.”

  “Alex!”

  “I meant piss, sorry.”

  “Not better at all, but I get the point. Continue.”

  Alex moved on to the bagel toaster, wiping it down in slow even swipes. “I guess I have a soft spot for old people. The poor guy couldn’t even get the mouse to work. Anyway, I helped him, and he offered me twenty bucks an hour to keep helping him. I took his money for about a week. Then I got to like the guy, and did it free of charge.”

  “Is that why he gave us the contract for all those pies? And why you no longer have to wear the shock anklet?”

  “Maybe on the pies. As for the anklet, the mayor never knew about it. Though if he knew how to use the computer, he coulda looked it up.” Alex grabbed two dirty cups and tossed them into the sink. “I just want to know what happened to him. I talked it over with Mr. B last night, and he thinks it was foul play, too.”

  “Well, if Mr. B thinks there’s foul play, who am I to question it?”

  “I’m glad you agree,” Alex said. “And there’s something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “We may be getting his cat.”

  “No! Absolutely not! Alex, I forbid it!”

  As I walked down Main Street, I practiced the words, repeating them again and again, committing them to memory. Alex had blindsided me earlier with his request to take in Fat Sam. The next time he asked me, I wanted to be prepared. I would be firm and speak with conviction, my reasons at the ready:

  We already had a cat.

  They were both males and would probably fight over territory.

  Mr. B would feel abandoned or left out. Did Alex want that for the pet he considered family?

  The logic was sound on paper, but no amount of practicality would work on Alex. I could only hope that Fat Sam was so lovable that someone else would take him first. One cat in our home business was quite enough. I spent enough of my day with a lint brush as it was.

  It was a pleasant day. Both the sun and the wind were gentle on the soul. The plastic ghosts bobbed overhead, and old-fashioned carts swelled with pumpkins. There were new signs up on the storefront windows announcing holiday sales. I bought a paper cup filled with hot apple cider and drank it slowly as I continued along. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, I simply needed to get out of the house to collect my wits and restore my sanity.

  Honestly, Alex’s behavior was juvenile at best. When I had said no on the cat, he had slammed down the dishes and stormed off to his room. But I knew this wasn’t the end of it. My brother was stubborn, when his convictions were on the line.

  “Hey! Baylee!” I heard Dave’s voice. He waved to me from across the street. And he was alone! I skipped over, my mood lightening with each step. It was a relief to see my old friend after all the chaos. I gave him a warm and unexpected hug.

  “Uh, thanks,” he said, patting my back with one hand. He smelled like aftershave and apples – but the latter could have been my cider. “Did you see yesterday’s paper?” he asked, pulling a rolled-up edition of The Reed Hollow Sun from the pocket of his brown bomber jacket. It was a thin paper, and that seemed to be the only news. “I’m pretty proud of the article, considering it was a rush job.”

  “It is very well-written,” I said, tracing the headline: Mayor’s Death Leaves Reed Hollow Stunned. “You’re as a good a writer as I remember. I’m sure Elmer would have appreciate the tribute.”

  “I had good material. The mayor was beloved in our town, for the most part. No scandals. No dirt. This was the first big news I’ve had to report since I bought the paper. I’m glad you like it.”

  “So, Dave, this will sound strange, but I need to tell someone before I pop. My brother believes the mayor was… well, that there were suspicious circumstances surrounding his death. He says the mayor’s cat told him so.” I laughed, stiffly. It was ridiculous when I said it aloud. More than ridiculous. Absurd. But Dave was the one person that I knew I could tell, no explanations needed.

  “Baylee, he was sixty.” Dave reminded me. “Sixty-year-old dudes die all the time. And have you seen that new wife of his? One night in Bangkok…”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say,” I said, annoyed at the mischievous look on Dave’s face. “And it’s not polite to speak of another woman with that tone, especially when you have a… what is she… a girlfriend?”

  He took a step back, as caught off guard by my words as I was. “Baylee, is the green-eyed monster nipping at your heels again?” His mouth twisted into a smile, and his eyes twinkled at my discomfort.

  I didn’t like displaying emotions, especially those as banal as annoyance and jealousy. But I had already been caught.

  “Don’t hate yourself.” Dave teased. “I’ve been told I bring out the primitive side of the opposite sex.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, David. I just… I just want to make sure we are paying proper respect to the dead. And also to…what’s your girlfriend’s name again? To Raquel?”

  “Rachel.” He corrected. “And she’s more than my girlfriend. We were married, you know?”

  “Yes, I remember you saying that.” I looked up and down the street at the milling pedestrians. “Speaking of which, where is Raquel – Rachel? She hasn’t left town already, has she?”

  Dave blushed, nodding to the shop behind him, The Well-Dressed Tot. “She’s buying the kiddo some new onesies because he outgrew his old ones. I asked her if she should be buying two-sies instead!”

  He chuckled and I smiled, as best I could.

  I was disappointed, both that Dave had seen my jealousy again and that Rachel was still in town. Neither of these thoughts was a virtue. But I couldn’t help myself, and I kept prodding – my Libra heart
eager to know how he felt, while my Libra brain told me to quit before I dug myself in deeper.

  “How is it having a baby around?” I probed. “A lot of noise and bad smells, I suppose.”

  Dave’s smile was relaxed and genuine. He jingled the keys in his pocket. “It’s wonderful, actually. When I’ve got him bundled up in his blankie, and he’s sucking down a bottle, it’s the best feeling in the world. He recognizes me now, and stops crying whenever I pick him up. I can almost pretend he’s…”

  “Yours?”

  “Mine.”

  And just like that, Dave’s smile vaporized.

  I felt terrible. He was happy and I should have been happy for him, not reminding him that Little P and him didn’t share the same DNA. I was about to apologize when Rachel emerged from the store, pushing her stroller, now laden with more bags than baby. She looked past me, as if I wasn’t there.

  “Look who came to say hello,” Dave greeted, acknowledging me.

  Little P giggled, dislodging his pacifier. Dave quickly gave him the old iron keys he pulled from his pocket, while Rachel showed off the new baby outfits she’d purchased.

  They were a family – and I was an interloper. No one noticed as I quietly disengaged from the scene.

  I squeezed the jade comb in my hand as I made my way to the east edge of town. When I started walking, I didn’t know where I was going, I only felt a longing to get away. But somewhere along the way it hit me – I’d pay a visit to Yolanda Darcy’s grandmother.

  I arrived at the shanty in the run-down section of Reed Hollow, and three dogs growled at me from behind a chain link fence. “Shut up!” a woman shouted at the dogs as she burst through a screen door. She wielded the bottom half of a broken flyswatter. The dogs scuttled away at her threat.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout them,” she said, inviting me inside. “They’re all bark. So am I, for that matter. My name’s Dawn, by the way, Beatrice’s niece… and nurse.”

  Dawn informed me that Beatrice was receiving in-home hospice care. Her condition had worsened over the last few days.