“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You will soon.”
This time he succeeded in distracting her by wrapping his hand tighter around hers. Thrills coursed through her when he placed a supporting hand on her lower back to help her up the embankment. By the time they reached the road, she’d not only forgotten her question, she couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about.
***
That night Eren had way too much energy to sleep. For nearly an hour she lay on the daybed. Though she was staring at the stars, she saw nothing but Aiden’s face. Finally, the restlessness drove her from bed. She snuck down and tried to read more of the Life In A Society novel, but it just couldn’t hold her attention. More than that, it’s repetitive mention of energy was starting to freak her out. After a chapter about the leaders of a Society, called Rectors according to the novel, she put it back and wandered upstairs.
She dug around in her suitcase until she found her paints. Soon she’d have to accept the fact that this was home and unpack, but not tonight. There was something else she had to do right now.
In the back of the large walk-in closet she had found several blank painters’ canvases. Whether her aunt had put them there for her or not, she wasn’t sure. If not, she’d buy her a replacement for the one she was going to use. She carried it and her paints to the loft and sat down at the easel. After splashing the whole canvas with a midnight blue, she fell upon it with several different brushes in a trance-like state.
It was always this intense when she painted, like she was pulling the image up from deep in the canvas. Only when she ran could she come close to matching the feeling of freedom and passion that she felt when she painted.
This was why she didn’t want to be an Olympic track star. Her idols were not famous runners, but Michelangelo and Botticelli. Her mother used to complain that most kids her age didn’t even know who those men were. Eren had argued with her saying she remembered very little about being her age. She had always been quick to laugh and admit that was true.
When Eren finally stepped back from the painting, Aiden’s hazel eyes were staring back at her from the canvas. She had captured his likeness perfectly. But more than that, she had somehow ensnared a bit of his essence. It was in the cute smirk that was a half smile, and in the sparkle in his eyes. She almost felt embarrassed staring at it because it felt like he was looking back at her. He would think that was funny.
Part of her hated that he affected her like this. It was hard to forget how her last boyfriend had dumped her the moment her life had become complicated. Aiden didn’t seem to be anything like that guy, though. Still, she’d have to be careful and keep up her guard.
Laughing at herself, she gathered up her brushes and went back to her room. Tonight there would be no bad dreams of wolves and fangs in the darkness. Of that she was certain.
Chapter 7
As they were sharing another crispy breakfast, Sylvia suggested they have Aiden over for dinner. Surprised, Eren had to remember to chew her crunchy bacon and swallow before answering.
“Can I help cook?” she asked as gently as she could.
Instead of looking offended like Eren feared she would, her aunt smiled so big that her eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously. “Of course! I want him to like the food!”
Eren hid a smile behind her hand, but the mirthful look on her aunt’s face soon had them both laughing. The woman was making it really hard for Eren to keep an emotional distance from her.
That afternoon they drove to the local grocery store. When Eren suggested lasagna, Sylvia had looked positively terrified. Quick to reassure her, Eren said she knew her mother’s recipe by heart and had made it several times. When they got in the car Eren finally worked up the nerve to say something she’d been thinking a lot about.
“Aunt Sylvia, Aiden says you didn’t live in Spruce Knoll before I came,” she said.
Sylvia stiffened and her eyes locked on the road before her.
“No, I didn’t. But I visited often.”
“You came to live here just for me?” Eren suddenly felt like a huge burden.
Sylvia smiled but didn’t relax. Tension radiated off her and she stared at the road as if it might try to elude them. There was something her aunt was holding back.
“Of course, honey. Dad is wonderful, but his days of raising teenagers are long over and I couldn’t very well expect you to live in a foreign country,” she said, trying too hard to sound casual.
“You didn’t even live in the country? Now I really feel like a burden,” Eren said as she dropped her head into her hands.
“No honey, no. Please don’t feel that way. For goodness sake, you’re almost sixteen, that’s only two years that we have to live here. Besides, I really needed to come home and spend some time with my dad,” Sylvia said.
She gave Eren a reassuring look as she patted her leg. There was genuine sincerity in her eyes so Eren relaxed a little. The idea of her aunt living in another country raised more questions than it answered though. Why hadn’t she wanted to live here with her dad? But then, why hadn’t Eren’s parents?
“Here we are,” Sylvia said as she turned into the store.
The parking lot was so small there was no way it could hold even a hundred cars. In fact, it looked packed with only about twenty in it. A few people were milling about, putting groceries in their trunks or getting carts. Eren stepped out of the Jeep and all eyes turned to her. She felt like a bug under a microscope, a cockroach or a locust maybe, definitely something distasteful. People stopped what they were doing to turn and stare. And the looks weren’t friendly.
Sylvia looped her arm through hers and practically skipped to the doors. She waved and called out cheerfully to a few people but no one responded. If anything, the looks became more hostile. It wasn’t any better inside either. People glared openly and some even shied away around aisles to avoid them. Eren did her best to ignore it as she searched for the ingredients she needed amidst the store’s meager selection.
Even the cashier looked at them like they were something she didn’t want to step in. Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits filled with anger and cut toward Eren like the edges of daggers. The woman thrust her dark bangs back and lifted her chin to stare down the length of her nose at them. Sylvia only smiled and chatted about how lovely the tomatoes looked and how wonderful they were going to taste. She went on and on about it as she swiped her card.
Ignoring her, the woman loaded their items into the cloth shopping bags Sylvia had provided and pushed them to the end of her counter.
“You have a nice day now,” Sylvia told her in a tone sweet enough to make Eren’s teeth ache.
The woman turned her back and began to straighten up her register. Sylvia picked up their bags and made for the door. Eren had to rush to catch up to her. Once they were back in the Jeep she turned to her aunt.
“Are people always so rude or is it just because of me?” she asked.
Her aunt’s smile faded and a look of old hurt came into her eyes. That look answered her question.
“Some people don’t like that your parents got married and even less like that they left when your mom became pregnant with you. But our family is used to controversy so who cares what they think!”
This bothered Eren, a lot. She was pretty sure Sylvia was faking her indifference. So people in this town were prejudice after all. Great, she thought by getting out of L.A. she might get away from that kind of attitude.
“I don’t want people to treat you different because of me,” she said in a small voice.
Sylvia shook her head and shot her a very serious look. “They don’t honey, and not everyone is like that, just the judgmental ones.”
For a moment she seemed like she wanted to say something else. Whatever it was contorted her features and caught in her throat. She shook it off and began talking about how much she was looking forward to a real home cooked meal. But Eren couldn’t forget that look. She would defin
itely have to start doing a lot more digging.
Chapter 8
Making dinner was a weird experience in role reversal for Eren. She gave directions while her aunt flitted around the kitchen getting ingredients and mixing things. Her mom had always been the dictator of the kitchen while Eren had watched and learned. It hurt to remember her mom, but it was also good to be in a kitchen again. Besides, Sylvia was very different from what Eren was used to. She kept everything fun and asked questions like she was the eager student.
The best part was, when Aiden arrived and they sat down for dinner, Sylvia didn’t do anything that embarrassed her. There was a moment when they started talking about recycling that Eren thought things would take a turn for the worse, but they didn’t. Aiden seemed almost as passionate about it as Sylvia was. Eren wondered if he was just politely humoring her, but it didn’t seem like it. When she commented on it they both told her that all of the town’s residents were very dedicated to not only recycling, but preserving energy. Apparently Spruce Knoll was one of the greenest towns in America. Everyone used alternative energy, renewable products, and recycled.
“It is a great place to run. I’ll give it that over L.A.,” Eren admitted.
Sylvia smiled and nodded as if this didn’t surprise her. Afraid she might dive into a lecture on pollution, Eren asked what else Sylvia did for a living and the woman’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“I’m an art curator for a museum in Romania,” she said.
That explained the art books on the shelves in the living room. It blew Eren away, her own aunt, an art curator! It didn’t explain the lack of photos or the odd book she had found but she didn’t want to push into the strange just yet. Tonight was going too well for that. They talked long after the plates were clean. Finally, Eren rose and started to pick up the dishes.
“I’ll get those, you kids go have fun,” Sylvia said as she waved her off.
Eren began to protest but Sylvia raised her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Nonsense! You made dinner, the least I can do is clean up,” she insisted.
Eren gave in and she and Aiden headed upstairs to the loft. She realized too late that she had left her painting sitting out on the easel. She picked it up and turned it away from him, meaning to nonchalantly stuff it into the closet.
“Is that one of your paintings?” he asked.
She cringed at the curiosity in his voice. He wasn’t just going to let her put it away. “Yeah, but it isn’t finished.”
He crossed the room in the blink of an eye and grabbed her arm. Damn, that had been fast, unnaturally fast almost!
“Then why are all your paints put away? Come on, let me see it!”
The warmth of his hand on her arm distracted her and made her drop her guard. The pleading look in his eyes convinced her despite her anxiety. She turned the painting around and closed her eyes, afraid to see his reaction.
Would he run screaming from the house thinking she was obsessed? Or, would he think it was terrible? She wasn’t really sure which would be worse and didn’t want to find out. No one aside from her parents had ever seen her paintings. She was far too self-conscious to show them off. It would be like showing someone her soul. But, if she had to show her soul to someone, Aiden would be her first choice.
“Wow,” he murmured.
That didn’t sound like either reaction she’d been expecting so she opened her eyes. There was a look of wonder on his face as he stared at the painting, mouth dropped open. Eren chewed on her bottom lip as she watched him.
“You like it?” she asked.
“It’s amazing! You’re amazing! I can’t believe you painted this.”
She blushed and turned away. That was far from the reaction she expected. He had said she was amazing.
He seemed to sense her discomfort and was quick to put her at ease. “Does my hair really look like that?” he asked.
“Yeah!” she laughed.
Eren put the painting back on the easel and they went to sit on the daybed nestled in the bay window. Since this was the place she actually slept, it felt a bit awkward having him sitting here. Stretching onto his stomach, he looked out the window and commented on the fantastic view. She had to admit to herself that he looked pretty good on her bed. That thought made her blush yet again, but thankfully he didn’t notice.
Still looking out across the treetops, he asked her, “So has your aunt told you what’s so unique about Spruce Knoll yet?”
His tone had changed, becoming serious. Eren was confused by this new mood. She couldn’t figure it out by his expression either because he wouldn’t look at her.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“That would be a no. Stupid big mouth,” he said, muttering the last part so that it was barely intelligible.
Cocking her head, Eren lifted an eyebrow at him. What in the world did he mean by that? A tingle ran down the length of her spine. His words, coupled with the book she’d found, made it hard to believe something strange wasn’t going on here. He didn’t give her time to contemplate it. Rolling over onto his back, he tucked his hands behind his head, which flexed his biceps enough to leave her speechless. Whatever it was she was going to say slipped away as her eyes traced the curves of his muscles.
“So who’s your favorite artist?” he asked.
He smiled at her and the distraction was complete. “You’re a painter, you must have a favorite artist,” he insisted.
This caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to be interested in her art. Boys never were. For a moment she just stared, trying to figure out if he was for real. The interest on his face looked genuine and when she hesitated too long he encouraged her.
“Michelangelo,” she finally said.
“Good choice. Sistine Chapel, impressive,” he said.
It blew Eren away that he even knew who Michelangelo was.
“Art is so much like architecture. They’re tied intricately together don’t you think?” Aiden asked.
After thinking about it for a moment Eren had to agree that she did. It turned out Aiden was so interested in art because he was fascinated by architecture. A conversation sparked that they had trouble ending. For at least an evening it felt good to forget about all the strangeness of this place and just enjoy a bit of normalcy. The pain of all she had endured during the last seven months started to fade just a little, allowing her to breathe for the first time since the accident. Well into the night Sylvia had to interrupt them and send him home.
Chapter 9
Eren waved from the front door as her aunt drove away. It hadn’t been hard to convince her to let Eren stay home. A trip to the recycling plant was about the last thing she wanted to do and thankfully Sylvia understood. The morning sunshine temped Eren but she closed the door against it. Aiden was coming over this afternoon which only gave her a few hours to finish reading Life In A Society and then poke around to see what else she could uncover.
She hurried over to the bookshelf and knelt down only to find the book missing. Maybe she had misplaced it. But she’d been so careful. She looked anyway, searching every title. It wasn’t anywhere on the shelf and there was room for a book where it had been. Had Aunt Sylvia taken it?
“Why would she do that?” Eren whispered aloud to the empty house. A forgotten book on the bottom shelf hardly seemed like something she’d grab for no reason.
It was time to find out more about her aunt. She jogged to the other end of the cabin and crept up the stairs that led to Sylvia’s room. Creeping around in an empty house made her feel kind of silly but she couldn’t help it. Though her aunt was clearly hiding something, it still felt wrong to violate her privacy like this. But she wasn’t talking and now she had taken the strange book, leaving Eren even more curious. That, along with the reaction of people in the grocery store, and Aiden’s mysterious comment about her aunt not telling her why Spruce Knoll was unique, had her dying to know what was going on.
Each creak of the floorboa
rds made her wince even though she knew she was alone in the house. The dimly lit hallway with its dark wood accents made her heart race at every shadow. Sneaking around wasn’t something she made a habit of.
Relief poured through her as she reached the open door to Sylvia’s room. The layout was pretty much the same as Eren’s own room only with different décor. From the bold colors of the bedding, to the almost gothic feel of the furniture, it oozed the essence of another country. The log walls were bare, the dresser top was clear, and nothing lay upon the nightstand save for an antique looking Tiffany lamp and a hardbound book.
Eren gravitated toward the book but it was a mystery novel. It was the only thing about the room that seemed to fit her bubbly aunt. On a whim she flipped it open and looked at the bookmark. It was a postcard from Romania written in a beautiful flowing script. Eren had no idea what it said because it wasn’t in English, Maya, or Irish. All she could read was the return name; Alin Moldovan. Great, so now her aunt had a man she’d left behind. Eren had never felt like more of a burden. Guilt made her rethink her intrusion.
Something about the bed caught her eye as she turned to leave. A small rectangular shape was poking out from between the mattress and box spring. The brown leather binding was familiar. A chill chased away her guilt and left her somewhere between angry and confused. Just to be sure, she pulled the book out. The strength drained from her hand as she read the title and the book tumbled from her fingers. She lunged, catching it before it hit the ground. Opening it, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Page after page flipped through her fingers as the words poured into her. It explained Societies as groups of people called channelers that lived together as a sort of family. There was no explanation of what channelers were, at least not yet. Eren wondered if it had something to do with ghosts or mediums. That would make it seem more like a novel. The chapter said Societies were supposed to be balanced with both kinds of channelers to help keep it strong, but it didn’t say what the two kinds were. It went into one’s place in a Society and doing what was best for all, even fighting to protect each other. Maybe back in 1812 that wouldn’t sound so strange, but in the modern day it did. It seemed odd that something like this would be reprinted repeatedly. It still didn’t read like a novel at all, not even sixty pages into it.
The Secret Of Spruce Knoll: A Channeler Novel Page 4