Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  “I don’t know if what I’m experiencing right now is an edge, per se,” I said.

  People were starting to stream in through the door. A few of the alpha types quickly checked me out – the men assessed my attributes, while the women calculated my threat factor. I must have been neither a prize nor a danger, as their glances quickly moved on to others.

  Within minutes, most of the tables were claimed by the women, while the men loitered near the counter. Many maintained a bored expression except for their darting eyes, each wondering who was looking at them. Others hid behind menus or smoothed their hair.

  Nick offered his flask again, and this time I took a strong pull, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. The drink would hardly cover me for three hours, but it might get me through the opening ceremony.

  “You needed that,” he said, returning the flask to his pocket. “I’ll give you another when I make it to your table.”

  “Make it to my table?” I asked.

  He gave me a tilted smile, then joined the other men at the counter.

  Love the One You’re With came on over the speaker. It was show time. All eyes were on Kela as she announced the rules of courtship. A bell would ring, signaling the men to select a table where a ‘lovely lonely’ awaited. After three minutes of meaningful conversation, the bell would ring again and the men were to switch tables. At the end of the night, everyone would list their top three choices on an index card. Kela would arrange future meetings for any of the interest matches.

  I should have brought my own flask, I thought, looking around for the waiter. I wasn’t cut out for small talk or chitchat, or feigning interest in a person I would only know for three minutes. I felt cold sweat on my temples.

  Breathe, Baylee.

  I had to be logical about this. There were only about fifteen men. At three minutes each, this event shouldn’t last a full hour. If everyone stayed focused and moved without dilly-dallying, I could be home and in my pajamas by the time AMC started their early showing of The Thin Man.

  “Any questions?” Kela asked as she wandered gracefully through the tables.

  I raised my hand. “This is actually more of a suggestion, but what if the men leave their chairs pulled out when they leave each table? That will help speed things along.”

  “Any other questions?” Kela asked, clasping her hands in front of her chin. “If not… “

  A middle-aged man with hanging jowls came in through the door, hand raised. “Yeah, I got a question. What the hell are you doing here, Shirley?” He pointed to a far table where a mousey woman was doing her best to fade into the shadows. “You told me you were shopping. Come home now or I’ll lock you out of the house.”

  She stood and smoothed her short purple dress. “Sorry,” she apologized to the crowd with a shrug. “I guess I’m not allowed to have fun anymore, since I married Burt.”

  Burt and Shirley left the tea house, bickering even after the doors closed behind them. It was bad news for the marriage, but it meant one less candidate to go through for me.

  “Let’s hope tonight’s matches end up better than that one,” Kela joked, breaking the tension. “Now, let’s have some fun!”

  She rang the bell and the bulls were set loose. They grunted and snorted around the tables, vying for territory. A slim blond man looked at the empty chair across from me, shrugged, and slid in.

  “Hello,” I said, not offering my hand. “I’m Baylee. Or number four, as they like to call me here,” I said, pointing at the number taped to my table.

  “You’re way hotter than a four,” he said. “But you look like you wear flannel pajamas to bed.”

  “Only on cold nights.”

  “Yep.” His gaze trailed over my head to the grandfather clock, his eyes tick-tocking along – waiting for the three minutes to end.

  Ding!

  He moved to the next chair, not saying goodbye.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on his rudeness - a goodbye would have taken precious time anyway. I called the nearest man over to my chair. “Sit,” I directed him.

  “All right.” He was handsome, in a garage-band kind of way. He leaned back and studied me, his eyes twinkling. “I’m Joe. I’m not going to waste your time pretending I’m interested. You see, the woman behind you is my ex-girlfriend. I’m just waiting to get to her table, so she has to listen to my side of the story for an entire three minutes.”

  “Does Kela know this?” I asked, looking around for my cousin.

  “Yeah, it was her idea.”

  Joe wadded up a paper napkin. “Duck,” he said, motioning for me to lower my head. I did, just as the napkin sailed over me, hitting the man currently sitting with his ex-girlfriend. The man looked around, then returned to the ex.

  “I used to beat the crap out of any guy who so much as looked at her,” Joe continued. “But now I just throw paper napkins. That’s progress.”

  “I don’t know how to respond to… are you sure Kela knows all the details of this?”

  Ding!

  Joe scrambled from his chair, only to be beaten to his woman by another man.

  This was followed by several more equally wonderful suitors. One mentioned my child-bearing hips. Another had an obsession with maple syrup that bordered on kinky. And one nearly scratched off his hairpiece while I pretended not to notice.

  Ding!

  I had made it through seven rounds, and couldn’t take any more. If Burt and Shirley could leave, then so could I. I had fulfilled my obligation by showing up. If Kela wanted to argue technicalities, she was woefully outmatched.

  I stood and grabbed for my purse. It was caught on the back of the chair. When I tugged it, my elbow thumped into someone.

  Someone tall – who smelled clean yet woodsy.

  I turned around.

  “It’s good to see you again, too.” Nick smiled at me, then sat down in the empty chair. “I made it. Wasn’t sure how many more times I could endure being asked what I do for a living. Isn’t there anything real on anyone’s mind anymore? I mean, we live in this vast universe, and yet all anyone cares about is what I do for a job.”

  “I uh…” My voice caught in my throat. There was something about him that my body physically responded to. With weakened knees, I sat back down. “I know what you mean. I’m glad you made it, too.”

  “Are you kidding? We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning.”

  “A Streetcar Named Desire! One of my favorites.”

  We looked at one another, as if recognizing a kindred spirit. The silent moment turned into many. When the bell rang, Nick stayed seated. “I’m not into small talk,” he said. “But I’d love to know what’s on your mind.”

  “That you smell good, like pine needles and syrup,” I blurted. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it was true. “I’m sorry. I think I’m suffering from the effects of your flask.”

  He grinned and leaned forward on his elbows, a strand of his hair falling across his brow. He pushed the candle to the side. “And you smell like peppermint and sunshine.”

  “You sure it’s not dust and mold?” I asked.

  “You’re not that old,” he teased.

  I swatted his hand with my napkin. “I meant, because I work in an antique shop. But thanks for the near-compliment.”

  Nick passed the flask again and I took a swig, no longer concerned about the rules or who saw us. The bell chimed again and Nick motioned for the next man to keep moving.

  “I have a confession.” Nick tugged on his earlobe and licked his lips. “I only signed up for this event because I knew you’d be here. Kela told me. You’ve been on my mind since I saw you here yesterday.”

  “She made me come,” I admitted. “She thought some socialization would be good for me.”

  “I know what you mean. My brother is the social one in the family. I prefer roaming the woods with a thermos of coffee and a dog. He makes me feel bad about it, especially now that he’s decided to run for mayor.”
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br />   Garett is running for mayor?

  I would have ruminated on it further, had I not just realized our bare hands were touching, my fingers folded into his. As before, there were no memory effects. I hadn’t experience that since Ryan.

  There are no accidents. Ella’s words echoed back to me.

  I quickly withdrew my hand as the blood rushed from my face.

  “I didn’t cross a line, did I?” Nick asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,”

  “No, just remembering one.”

  Ding!

  Kela stared at us, her lips pursed and her hands on her slim hips. One of her eyebrows was raised and its corresponding foot tapping. She may want me to find True Love, but not at the expense of her event. Nick reluctantly stood and offered the next man his seat.

  “I’ll be seeing you again, Baylee Scott,” Nick said. He walked past the next table, all the way to the front door, leaving without looking back.

  The man now across from me said something about working for a bank. I was too distracted to notice. I had a crush, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  As I learned about the exciting world of pensions and bonds, my hands searched through my purse for my ring. At last, I found the chain. I looped my finger through it. It felt surprisingly light. Lifting it out, I realized why. My wedding ring was gone!

  In a panic, I dumped out my purse on the table, sifting through the contents.

  “Something wrong?” the man asked.

  “Yes. No. Yes. My wedding ring is gone!”

  “Wedding ring?”

  I slid out my chair and searched beneath the table, on my hands and knees, squinting in the dim light. Not finding it, I extended my search zone. The ruckus forced Kela into a preemptive Ding.

  “My ring is gone, Kela!” I said, as she stormed over. “I should never have taken it off my neck. I don’t understand… Look! The clasp is still shut.

  Kela held up the chain, her mouth drawn into a long oval. “Freaky-deaky!”

  By now, everyone’s eyes were on me as I wandered from table to table, turning over napkins and searching under chairs. Where was my ring?

  “Baylee, get a grip,” Kela whispered in my ear as she trailed behind me. “We’ll find it.”

  “It’s not here,” I said helplessly. I could sense its absence, somehow. It had been a piece of me for years and now it was gone. “Kela, I need to go.”

  “Okay, honey,” she called, as I rushed for the door. “I’ll text when I find it.”

  Outside, the cool air attempted to calm me. I took shallow breaths as I hurried down Main Street towards The Aunt-Tea-Query. The ring had been on my chain, and now it wasn’t. Even stranger, the chain was still fastened shut. How was all this possible? Ryan had purchased the ring for a hundred dollars at a pawn shop when we were both still in college; it wasn’t worth anything but the memories.

  Who – or what – had taken it? And why?

  Eleven

  Sleep didn’t come easily that night. My ring was gone. Surely, this had to be one of the bad omens Ella had spoken of.

  There are no accidents.

  After a restless slumber, I found myself awake at 2:30 in the morning, my pajamas soaked with sweat. My sleep mask was dislodged, covering only one eye.

  I heard something in the darkness. It seemed to be coming from just outside my window. It was a chirping sound, like a bird stuck in the rafters. I lay very still, focusing on the location. It sounded again, now coming from my closet. And then from behind the boxy TV set. The chirping became less lyrical, almost guttural. Low grunting noises, like pigs at a trough. The sounds were all around me now – grunting, snorting, chirping, and hissing.

  I pulled off my sleep mask, letting my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The light from the digital clock illuminated a squat shadow with flickering ears beside my dresser. The shadow growled and receded into the folds of a curtain.

  “Mr. B?” I called out hopefully. “Mom?”

  I was so cold now; my teeth chattered and goosebumps rose up on my arms. The room felt drained of energy, as if something had funneled out all its warmth. The sense of dread was palpable – it was rot, and fear, and death.

  There was sudden weight at the end of the bed, as if a bowling ball had landed near my feet. I drew up my legs and sucked in my breath, the scent of compost burning my nostrils.

  The weight shifted, rolling up alongside me. Something brushed my ear.

  “Alex! Alex!” I called, fear overcoming my pride. I fought against the invisible hands that were poking and prodding at me through the blankets. My closet door swung wide, and my dresser drawers began slamming open and shut.

  The lamp on my nightstand crashed to the ground, its base breaking into dozens of ceramic pieces that skidded across the hardwood. A small hand dug sharp claws into my scalp as another grabbed for my feet.

  “Kela!”

  Kicking out with my legs, I swung them wildly as I scrambled from the bed. I raced to the door, flipping on the bedroom light switch.

  But the room was now quiet. The closet door was shut, and so were all the drawers. The only evidence of a disturbance at all was the broken lamp, its pieces strewn across the floor.

  Stepping out of the room, I found no sign of intrusion in the hallway. Doing my best to calm my nerves, I found a flashlight and methodically worked through all the floors of the house, checking windows and locks. Hearing nothing from Kela and Alex’s bedrooms, I assumed all was well inside. Everything seemed to be in order.

  I returned my room.

  In the full light, it was easy to chalk this up to a bad dream or night terror, brought on by the trauma of the day. It made sense, as I was probably in deep REM sleep when I awoke.

  Except for the broken lamp.

  Something had been in the room with me, I was sure of it.

  I swept up the lamp and tossed it into the bathroom garbage can, not wanting to look at it again until morning.

  Knowing I wouldn’t sleep, I turned on the old TV that had come with the house. I found It’s a Wonderful Life. Thank you PBS for playing Christmas shows two months early. I settled into my pillow, seeking relaxation in the reassuring safety of Jimmy Stewart’s voice. There were no boogiemen in Bedford Falls – only self-deprecating angels.

  Just when Clarence introduced himself to George Bailey, I noticed something I hadn’t seen earlier – a shiny object on the floor beside my bed.

  I took a tissue and plucked it up. It was a sickly yellow and hooked like a scythe. It held the distinct scent of grass. A claw?

  I wouldn’t let my mind wander to the possibilities. Even Jimmy Stewart couldn’t quell my fears, if I didn’t put an immediate halt to the anxiety train pulling out of the station. If I was lucky, Alex had adopted a litter of raccoons and set them loose in the house.

  If I was lucky. The alternatives were far too frightening.

  Twelve

  “Wakey, wakey, my little Bay Leaf.”

  The muted words floated to my ears as a gentle tickle skipped over my cheek. I smiled and sank deeper into my pillow. A moment later, my eyes sprung open wide as I remembered the previous night. I squeezed my eyes against the late morning sun, noticing the blurry outline sitting on the side of my bed.

  I groaned. “Hi, Mom,” I said, slowly blinking myself awake.

  “Happy pre-birthday!” Vivi Bonds had manifested so completely that the bed sank down an inch beneath her.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked for coffee that wasn’t there. “You know you’re not allowed in my room when I’m sleeping. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day.”

  “I just wanted to spend the last day of my daughter’s twenty-ninth year with her. There’s really not much left to celebrate after that. All my best days happened before I turned thirty.”

  “You had me when you were thirty-two.”

  She shrugged. Her hair was rich honey blonde now, fashioned in a stiff 1950s flip, not anything like her usual frazzled look.

&n
bsp; “You noticed!” Mom said, beaming as she patted her immovable hair back into its imaginary place. “I could never get my hair to behave in life, but watch this…” She closed her eyes tightly and touched her bangs. Her pale plump face was now framed by a sleek Egyptian bob.

  “Neat, huh?”

  “That’s wonderful, Mom,” I yawned. “Do you know if Alex made coffee yet?”

  “You can have coffee anytime. I brought you this.”

  She presented me with a small leaf. A bay leaf. I was named after this plant of protection. “Did you think I’d need protection when you named me?” I asked, folding the soft leaf into my palm.

  She laughed so hard the mattress jiggled on its frame. “I knew you had gifts, even before you were born. A gypsy fortune teller read my cards. It’s a tough world for those of us with talent, and I knew you’d need all the help you could get. Anyway, grind that up with some sage and sprinkle it around the perimeter of the house.”

  “Ella told me to protect myself. She was talking about the veil opening up and bad omens.”

  Mom smirked. Her Egyptian hairdo must’ve required her full concentration because it was back to her blond flip. “Don’t heed a word that old bag of bones says. She goes on about that every year. That’s what happens when you live too long – you get paranoid.”

  She left my bed to explore the room, her feet floating just above the floor. Vivi Bonds hadn’t been physically inclined in life, and it seemed the afterlife had only made her that much lazier.

  “How’d you sleep?” she asked, silently inspecting my bookcase. She pulled out a Nancy Drew mystery, flipping through several pages before returning it to the shelf. “I had a feeling you haven’t been sleeping well. A mother knows.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. A mother knows? My mother was doting and overbearing, but she was not as in tune with my natural rhythms as she was suggesting. “Mom, you weren’t skulking around my bedroom last night, were you? Sitting on my bed? Or looking through my things? Or breaking my lamp?”