Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  Nick pointed to a sign pleading for us to Vote for Garett, He’s no Parrot. “I came up with that,” he grinned. “What do you think?”

  “It’s crisp. Catchy.”

  “Good, good,” he said, blowing into his cupped hands. “My brother wanted to go with Vote Garett or You Won’t Be Able to Bear It. But I liked parrot. Shows he’s an individual, don’t you think?”

  We arrived at the end of Main, where The Aunt-Tea-Query backed up against the forest. At The Mean Bean next door, the lights were dim as baristas wiped down tables and locked the doors. The yoga studio had long since closed. A few lights were left on in our house, all upstairs. That was a good sign. It meant that no one knew of the minor bout of shock that sent me to Dr. Friendly’s.

  Nick followed me onto the porch and joined me on the old wicker chairs. From here, we could see a few stars and the swell of the white moon. The cold deepened, but I hardly noticed. Though Nick and I were sitting opposite one another, I was acutely aware of his presence – the smell of his aftershave, the rhythm of his breath, the nervous energy circulating between us as we searched for something to say.

  He leaned forward and folded my hands into his. I instinctively tensed, readying myself for the jolt that would take me on Nick’s magical-mystery-memory tour, but again, nothing came.

  I melted into his touch. I didn’t realize how much I had missed human contact.

  “What the heck?” Nick shot up to the banister railing, looking towards the yoga studio next door. There were two silhouettes in the main floor window. One was immediately recognizable as Yvette, the owner. The other was a male. They spoke a moment, pointing at one another.

  The front door opened and the man walked out.

  “That’s Garett,” Nick whispered, as his brother marched along the side of the house and towards the woods behind. “What is he doing here?”

  “We’ve seen him here before,” I said, purposely leaving out mention of Audrey. “Are they dating?”

  “God, I hope not,” Nick said, and sat back down on his chair. “I called my brother the Magic Man growing up. He was always able to get himself in and out of trouble with the ladies. But I think his magic’s wearing thin these days.”

  “Oh? What do you mean?”

  A wry smile fell over his handsome face. “Women grow up and get tired of the games. His charms don’t last forever.” He stretched his arms in front of him, yawning. “Besides, he needs to stay focused on this election. He has two weeks. Romance can wait until after he’s the mayor. I didn’t come all the way back home to see him squander this opportunity.”

  Though I was a pragmatist by nature, that sounded like a very cynical view of love. Nick must’ve noticed, because he quickly backtracked. “I don’t mean to say that romance is wrong. But there’s a time and place, right?”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m… jaded. I promise I’m not. I’ve just seen Garett screw things up again and again, because of his love for the ladies.”

  “You don’t have to explain. I have a brother of my own. I’m protective, too.”

  “Thank you, Baylee. Wow. You’re so easy to talk to. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. What year did you graduate again? Oh, never mind. That’s not a question to ask a lady.”

  I smiled. “I was an eighth grader when you graduated from high school.”

  “You’re so young,” he said.

  I’m so young!

  On the eve of my thirtieth birthday, that was the nicest gift anyone could have given to me. I reached out and took his hand, feeling nothing but warmth.

  We sat there until I lost track of time. It was a welcome reprieve from the chaos. But as we both knew, even the most magical night has to end. We stood up together.

  His hands were on my shoulders and his breath was on my cheek. I wondered what I would feel if we kissed.

  “I should get going before I break my vow to the good doctor,” Nick said with a boyish grin. “Goodnight, Baylee Scott.”

  Baylee Scott. Or was it Baylee Bonds now?

  “Goodnight,” I whispered, though he was already halfway down the sidewalk.

  Seventeen

  My eyes were cracked open by the early morning sun. I hadn’t slept much. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I’d slept at all. Thoughts of Dave and Ryan and Nick all swam through my head – interweaving, coalescing, becoming one. Whenever I was on the brink of sleep, I’d see Ryan’s face, his eyes staring into mine.

  And when I did manage to fight back that image, another bore down on me – the face of the tiny creature, displaying his pointed teeth at me through the Lake House window.

  I turned towards my alarm clock, realizing I hadn’t slept for another reason, as well. Somewhere in the wee hours of the night, I had turned thirty. I was a decade older and there was no going back.

  I put on my slippers, fastened my robe, and snuck up on the mirror. I’m not sure what I expected to see. Wrinkles? My first gray hairs? Or perhaps a new look of maturity and wisdom? It seemed implausible to have the same face staring back at me – a pleasing, plump-cheeked smile, framed by soft brows and a hint of freckles. It was a face no different from the one I owned yesterday.

  I showered quickly, then plodded down the cold stairs. The only light came from the kitchen, where Alex went about his morning duties. An aromatic scent of spice cake radiated from one oven, while the smell of pumpkin pie wafted from the other. I had to admit they smelled good. I peeked into the kitchen to watch my brother for a moment. His elbow was bent high as he stirred thick batter in a silver bowl. The KitchenAid sat beside him, performing a similar chore. He grunted. The beads of perspiration on his forehead showed that he had been at this a while. He dropped his plastic mixing spoon into the batter when he saw me.

  “How can I make you a surprise birthday cake if you’re always around?” he asked. “You were out late. I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

  “I should be sleeping,” I admitted as I joined him. “And I wouldn’t have guessed you were baking me a cake, since we sell baked goods for a living.”

  He fished the spoon out of the bowl and handed it over. I licked it and my eyes rolled back into my head. “Alex I hope the baked version tastes half as good as the batter.”

  He gave me a cockeyed grin. “Good, huh? I’ve been getting inspiration like never before.” He looked me over, his silent appraisal unkind. “You really didn’t sleep much, did you?”

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Existential dread,” he said, nodding as he poured the batter into a yellow pan. “Birthdays make you wonder about things. Your place in the world – your purpose – how you might die alone.”

  “Alex!”

  “Wait until you hit thirty-five. You’ll see.” He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, then put the cake pan in the oven. I could tell by the look on his face that he was about to give me one of his famous pep talks.

  “The thirties aren’t so bad. I mean, you sweat more… and body parts heal slower… and sometimes it hurts to sleep. Oh, and you can’t get into some of the better nightclubs, but your hips can’t take dancing anyway. You’ll get used to it. Anyway, word of advice from someone whose already been in this decade a while – all the foods you love eating will finally get their revenge.” He patted his stomach, prompting a disconcerting rumble within.

  “Since I’m up, do you need any help? I know we’re entering the busiest time of year. If we can just keep the lights on through January, I think we’ll be okay.”

  Alex’s face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. “I have news! I was gonna wait to tell you but…Baylee, our luck is turning. I think we may even make a profit this year. A small profit, but if things keep going like this, well, you may be getting both a birthday present and a Christmas present.”

  “What? When did this happen?” Alex, Kela, and I had recently sat down for our quarterly review, and we certainly weren’t turning a profit then. The mayor�
�s party was the only thing that could save us.

  Alex wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, then again on his jeans. “I delivered the pies I made yesterday to the Senior Center, to help lift everyone’s spirits.”

  “Yes…”

  “Apparently, they were a huge hit! They want me to make and deliver thirty of them a week! They’ll pay me fourteen bucks a pie. And that’s just the start. Garett says he’s got some other businesses that may need my pies, too.”

  “Garett?”

  “Yeah, he came by last night to let me know, not long before you and lover boy were smooching on the porch.”

  “We weren’t smooching! And you shouldn’t be spying on me.”

  “I was awake, not spying.”

  So Garett was in the neighborhood last night to deliver the news. For some reason, that made me feel better. Perhaps he had simply visited Yvette because he was already here? “What other businesses?” I inquired.

  “No idea. But knowing Garett, I’m gonna guess he wants to invest in the community. I’ll know more soon. In the meantime, I just need to focus on getting these orders out on time.”

  Mom phased slowly in, standing just behind Alex. His nose crinkled as if he smelled something in the kitchen that didn’t belong.

  “Shh,” Mom said, putting her finger to her lips. “I don’t want your brother to know I’m here. I’ve been helping him, and I want him to think it’s all his doing. I’m such a good mother.”

  “And a humble one, too,” I said.

  “Huh?” Alex looked up from the sink.

  I stepped into the café and Mom followed. “Are you the reason Alex is selling so many pies?” I whispered.

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I think it’s my secret ingredient. I put in a dollop while he’s mixing.”

  I took a muffin from the pastry counter. It had been out overnight but I didn’t care. It was my birthday. “Extra baking powder?” I asked.

  “Nope, better. Cannabis oil!”

  “What?” I dropped the muffin into my lap, not bothering to pick it up. “Mom, that’s illegal!”

  “It’s only illegal if you don’t have a medical card.”

  “Which you don’t! Because you’re dead!”

  “Bah! Potato, tomato. Besides, Yvette says cannabis is a natural medicine and soon everyone will be using it. I wish I hadn’t been so afraid of breaking the rules when I was alive. I had to do everything in secret.”

  “Oh, Dear Lord!” I would have grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her - if she were solid. “We’re getting the old people high? No wonder they want to buy Alex’s pies!”

  “See? Business is booming.”

  I dropped my head on the counter and the muffin dropped to the floor. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about. Deputy Markus already had it in for my brother, and this situation could only work out badly. My mother might have been lucky in life, but Alex hadn’t inherited that gene.

  I had to remain calm, though. I couldn’t alarm Alex, or send Mom away before I got all of the information. I lifted my head off the tile, composing myself. “Do you happen to know how many pies Alex dropped off?”

  “Hmmm…I don’t know how many he took, but I know how many I helped with.” She began to count on her fingers, and I clutched my chest as started counting mine, too. “Eighteen…ish. We were on a roll.”

  “Eighteen-ish!? Mercy! We’re going to jail!”

  “You’re being dramatic.”

  “Alex just got his ankle collar off. If anyone finds out he’s been taking cannabis-infused pies to the Senior Center… I need to go tell Alex.”

  “Do you really want your brother to think the reason they liked his pies is because of the oil?”

  “But that is the reason!”

  “But do you want him to think it?”

  Alex hummed his way into the café, carrying a platter of biscuits to the glass case. They looked light and fluffy, not at all like the rocks he’d been producing lately. He was even whistling.

  “He’s got his mojo back,” Mom said smugly. “Don’t take that from him.”

  Check and mate.

  I would have to retrieve the pies on my own.

  “Alex, I do appreciate you dropping me off, but I really could have walked,” I said as my brother sped down the street in dad’s pickup, unconcerned that he had neither a driver’s license nor valid tags.

  I could have driven myself, but I was still nervous about operating the vehicle that killed my parents, fearful that I might relive their demise through residual memory. Even in the passenger seat, I had to sit on blanket.

  “I sure didn’t want to walk,” Mom said from the seat between us. Since Alex wasn’t aware of her presence, I had to pretend not to hear.

  “I don’t mind,” Alex said. “I wanted to talk to them anyway. I know they said thirty a week, but Halloween’s almost here. After that comes our money shots – Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’m betting I can talk them up to forty a week, through December.”

  “Let me work on that,” I said. “You’ve worked your magic in the kitchen, now let me work mine.”

  “Right! Nick,” he winked.

  Oh! I had forgotten Nick might be there. I hoped he didn’t think I was chasing him like some desperate she-wolf. If I was lucky, I’d be in and out without seeing him or anyone else I knew. “Alex, the pie solution is a good Band-Aid, but maybe we should be working on long-term goals.”

  “Nah. After Christmas, there’s New Years and President’s Day. People eat pie on those days, right?”

  “Right!” Mom said.

  I shot her a stern look. This time, Alex caught me.

  “Is she here?” he groaned. “Mom!” he called out, louder than necessary. “You know I hate when you hover around. Its creepy.” Mom smiled, pleased she still had such power over him.

  “She said you should cut your hair and go back to school,” I grinned.

  He turned towards the center seat, scowling. “What the heck, Mom? You gave me bowl haircuts as a kid. Now I get to decide how long I grow my hair.”

  Alex turned down the freshly tarred road leading the Senior Center. In the past, it had been an aged and ivy-covered dwelling, built in the 1940s and abandoned in the ‘70s. But it had received new funding a few years ago, and the previous melon color had been changed to a sunny yellow. It wore new white shingles and shutters, and colorful flower boxes lined every window. It was set in a grove of tall trees, adjacent to a small pond surrounded by benches. It was a serene setting.

  Mom leaned forward, staring. She gasped, as if setting eyes on the Taj Mahal. She disappeared, reappearing a few moments later before the welcoming double doors.

  “Sell more pies,” Alex said, as I stepped out of the truck. I started to close the door, and Alex held out a hand. “Baylee, I don’t mean to butt into your love life, but I don’t trust that guy. He’s always smug, off doing his own thing.”

  “Well, so are you.”

  “Touché. I’m out of here.”

  I stayed by the curb until the truck disappeared. My brother didn’t like the idea of me dating; in his words, all men were predators. But at least it threw him off the pie trail.

  Mom appeared next to me, her face flushed with excitement. “Bay Leaf, come inside quick! You’ve got to see this place.”

  “This is a new low in my career.” I chided Mom as we entered the Senior Center lobby. “The Great Pie Caper.”

  “Pot-Pie Caper,” Mom corrected with a giggle. She rubbed her hands together and her body shimmied, blurring outside the lines. “This is the most fun I’ve had since I died.”

  “Let’s just hope we made it before anyone got sick.”

  We entered a large communal room. There was a coffee bar, a vending machine, a pool table and an old-fashioned juke box. A few gray-haired members looked up, taking note of us, before returning to their card games. I spotted a sign over a set of swinging double doors, reading: Galley.

  So far, I hadn’t seen anyon
e I knew, and that was the way I wanted to keep it.

  On my way towards the kitchen, I walked past several women clustered around a small table. They were all giggling. I then noticed the pie crust remnants on their plates. One woman started to talk, then laughed so hard she nearly choked. This caused all her friends to laugh just as hard.

  “They look fine to me,” Mom said.

  “They’re high as kites!” I hissed, looking around as I tried to formulate a plan. “You can help make this up to me by creating a distraction.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? I could float around naked and not a one of them would notice. Well, maybe that guy over there – I think he has one foot in the grave.”

  “Get their attention the same way you get ours. Be annoying, knock loudly on a door, break a dish. Make something smell like cheap perfume.” I eyed a lady at another table. There was a small china plate with a half-eaten piece of apple pie on it. She was talking gaily – to herself.

  “You’re really no fun sometimes. Most of them are on drugs anyway.” Mom floated ahead of me. “We don’t know if it’s the pie.”

  “If you can’t create a distraction, can you buzz out for a while?” I asked. “You’re going to get us noticed.”

  Mom sighed heavily, but faded away.

  As I pushed through the swinging door leading to the galley, I was confronted by a stiff and deliberate cough. Standing in the kitchen before me was Audrey, holding a clipboard. A pen was tucked behind her ear. “Can I help you?” she asked, coolly.

  I was caught off guard. I had been keeping my eyes out for Nick or Garett, but I hadn’t expected to see Elmer’s widow here. She wore a name tag that read: Fun Coordinator. But her pinched expression said that she was anything but fun.

  Alex was right about one thing – she was no grieving widow. Her hair was neat, her makeup perfect, and she wore rose-petal pink from head to toe.

  “Uh, hi,” I said. “Do you work here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I volunteer here. We all volunteer here. What do you need?” she asked, turning her nose up. “You don’t look like the volunteering type, and you’re not quite old enough to be a member.”