Reminiscence (Statera Saga Book 1)

by Amy Marie

  My gaze settles over the endless water horizon, and I enjoy what is sure to be one of the last days of warm weather this season. The waves are moving farther and farther up on the shore, almost like they’re reaching out for me. A sudden breeze produces small goosebumps on my sunburnt skin.

  Char returns in triumph and adjusts her towel to sit down. With a goofy grin, she silently holds up her cell phone to display a new contact entry labeled Lifeguard McAbs.

  Just as my laughter bubbles up, my stomach growls with hunger, and the noise sends both of us into uncontrollable laughing fits. We pack up for the day and grab an early dinner on the boardwalk, both of us oblivious to the cold stare that follows us as we go.

  Later that night, we head downtown to the theater district to check out the clubs and nightlife. As we walk the crowded streets a few blocks south of the Boston Common, I’m in complete awe. I’m not sure I’ll ever get comfortable in the swarm of a big city. Walking along, an uneasy feeling creeps over me in small waves. I brush off the feeling, resolving to have a good time despite the overwhelming crowd.

  In desperate need of a dance floor, we venture inside one of the local clubs.

  First stop, ladies room.

  Bright green eyes stare back at me in self-examination from the bathroom mirror. I straighten out my black and teal tank dress uncomfortably, wondering if I should’ve worn heels. Two golden-blond braids at my temples are tied back behind my head in a halo. I apply some lip-gloss before testing my brightest dimpled smile.

  Char waltzes out of the stall and borrows my lip-gloss. She looks stunning, as usual, in a black mini dress. I study the pair of us in the mirror: Char is nothing short of exotically beautiful. I’m just the simple girl-next-door type.

  She hands me back my tube of lip-gloss with a smile of thanks before turning back to the mirror. “Look at you, missy! I haven’t seen you in a dress in ages. You’ve been playing the part of bashful librarian too long.”

  I shake my head with a laugh. “Uh-huh. And how about that little black dress? Someone’s on the prowl tonight!”

  She turns to me, smiling at my teasing.

  “We’re both on the prowl tonight. When was the last time you even went on a date?”

  I count back mentally – okay it’s been a while. But to be fair, dating in high school was a complete disaster.

  “I know, I know,” Char says. “You’re different about that stuff. Waiting for Mr. Right and all that jazz. You know what I always say: If you’re waiting for a special meal, would you rather fast all day in preparation, or sample and enjoy the hors d’oeuvres in the meantime?”

  She flashes a sultry smile into the mirror. Char is a lover of life and variety – she samples and enjoys.

  I look back at my own reflection. I bide my time to select things with appreciation – I wait and savor. “Well, I just don’t want to spoil my appetite.” I scrunch my nose into a goofy face in the mirror and we both laugh.

  We walk back out of the restroom and Char hurries me onto the dance floor. In seconds, we’re throwing up our arms up and letting loose, moving and laughing through song after song. Music is one of the few ways to get me out of my shell. Listening to all types of music gives me the feeling of being reunited with an assortment of old friends, of all varieties.

  Right now, the particular song variety is being represented by a girl next to us twerking like a hummingbird. We laugh as the crowd is transfixed on this girl’s movements with horrible fascination. It’s like an accident – I may not want to see, but I can’t look away.

  Thank goodness for Char’s social aptitude. I never would’ve known what twerking was, or how to tweet, or what the women from reality shows are doing for attention each week. I’m not sure what being on fleek even means, and don’t even get me started on the use of the word bae, considering it means ‘poop’ in Danish.

  Char is my link to the society that I’ve never been connected to. She helps me reach out of my old-fashioned comfort zones. There really is a captivating side of it all to be appreciated, as long as I can sometimes laugh at the ridiculousness.

  I signal for a break to the bar, and we get a couple bottles of water.

  Char turns to me, “I hope you don’t mind, but I texted the lifeguard from earlier today. He’s going to meet us here with some friends. Is that cool?”

  “You’re going to force me to be surrounded by hot lifeguards?” I ask with an exaggeration of wide eyes. “You’re such a beach!”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to be on bae watch?” Char asks, flattening her mouth and doing her best to hold a straight face. I break first in a fit of laughter, and seconds later she’s hunched over and snorting.

  Char goes over her ‘let’s get out of here’ signals. After a minute, a tingling of my skin, like I’m being watched, pulls my attention away from the conversation. I’m only paying half attention as I glance around to confirm my suspicions. Unable to catch anyone in the act, I shrug off the feeling.

  “Okay. If either of us gives any of those signals, we’ll meet in the bathroom and bail. Deal?”

  Coming back to attention, I nod to Char. I’ve missed half of the list, but I assume she won’t be too subtle if she wants to leave. Char’s not afraid to make a scene if she’s uncomfortable.

  I smile remembering several times where she’s cawed like a bird obnoxiously to escape a guy’s unwanted attention. One time she even froze in place in her own personal mannequin challenge. She literally held it for over five minutes until the guy went away, I was so impressed.

  Across the bar, a striking blond stranger stares fixed and unblinking in my direction.

  Does he think I’m smiling at him?

  Right as the nervous thought pops into my head, I meet his eyes for just a moment and something in the air shifts.

  Whoa.

  A sense of déjà vu hits me hard. Before I can register a proper reaction, I’m accidentally shoved sideways by a passing group as the bar fills up with a crowd.

  My gaze sweeps the club to relocate the familiar guy – but he’s vanished.

  Chapter 2

  Char’s repeated words break my spell of confusion, snapping me back to attention. “Hello? Nora. I said this is Alex. The lifeguard from the beach, remember?”

  “Oh, hi!” I smile, doing my best to concentrate as introductions are made. I can’t shake the strange feeling the blond stranger gave me.

  “Hi, Nora. Good to meet ya,” Alex says, grabbing my attention with his thick Boston accent. “This is my brother Gary, and my buddy TJ.” I’m distracted by their uniform of tight T-shirts and slick hair. I’m reminded of a reality TV show that Char used to sneak to watch when we were younger that took place in New Jersey.

  Alex’s friend TJ keeps eyeing me up and down. “So Nora, you’re here for college? Where ya from?” he asks, leaning in so close that I notice a slight gap in his front teeth.

  “Yeah, we go to Boston College. We’re actually from Ohio,” I say, backing up for some personal space. I smile, keeping things friendly.

  “Ah, a BC girl. Ohio? Ain’t that the corn state?” He laughs at his own joke and nudges his friend.

  “I think that’s Iowa,” I correct him.

  “Close enough,” he shrugs. “How do ya like it here so far?” His accent drops most of his R’s so it sounds like he’s saying “hee-yuh so fa-ah.”

  “Wicked good,” I reply in my best mock accent.

  That earns me a few blank looks. Then TJ busts out laughing and slaps me on the shoulder. “What a killa.”

  After a few minutes, the guys move to refresh their drinks and ask us if we’d like anything. Declining, Char and I head back out to the dance floor. As we continue to dance, the uneasy feeling of being watched returns.

  I scan the sea of faces in the club, only to find Alex and his friends huddled together talking. I’m guessing the feeling must be coming from their direction with the way TJ is focusing on me.

  I quickly turn away to discourage th
at kind of attention, when I spot the familiar blond man again. He’s staring straight at me.

  Do I know him?

  In lack of inspiration, I give an awkward half-wave.

  He returns my attention with an empty stare, any emotion impossible to read. The charged feeling in the air is back, and I’m smacked with a sudden bad feeling.

  “Who’re you waving at?” Char asks, grabbing my attention.

  “Oh… there’s a guy here that looks really familiar. I thought maybe he’s from one of my classes. I’ve caught him staring at me twice now.” I turn back to point him out, but he’s gone again. Frustrated, I explain, “I keep losing him in the crowd. I don’t know though, something’s not right. It’s starting to creep me out.”

  She doesn’t seem too worried. “Well, at least we’re here with a group of guys. Nobody will bother you with them around.”

  Char’s right. While I may not run into the arms of TJ as my protector, I guess it’s fortunate he’s been hovering in this instance. He may be a little overzealous, but at least he doesn’t seem threatening.

  Alex and TJ join us back out on the dance floor. The third guy, Gary, must’ve wandered off on his own. After a few songs, Alex starts to move closer to Char, holding her in his arms. Char laughs as he whispers something in her ear.

  Taking that as my cue, I shy away and bolt to the restroom before TJ gets any similar ideas.

  Passing the end of the bar in the back corner, I’m pulled around as someone grabs my arm from behind. I turn around in fear, expecting to look into the eyes of the staring stranger, but am relieved to find that it’s only TJ catching up with me.

  A sigh of relief escapes me. Why did I think that stranger was after me?

  Something’s making me nervous, but I’m not sure what.

  I suppress my gut feeling, and try to focus on the situation at hand with TJ. My arm’s still tightly in his grasp. I pull away from the contact, but smile to make up for it.

  My mistake.

  A smile was all that was needed to encourage TJ in his inebriated state. He leans in close, and fumes of alcohol overwhelm me. These guys must’ve been drinking long before they met up with us.

  Without warning, I’m trapped in his embrace. He forces his mouth onto mine, crushing my lips. I push away with all my might and gag at the aftertaste of beer and smoke.

  TJ looks at me in over-exaggerated drunken shock. “What’s with you?”

  I’m blown away by his reaction.

  “What’s with me? Don’t touch me, I don’t even know you!”

  He scoffs. “You were practically beggin’ for it, honey. I saw you dancin’ and lookin’ around, tryin’ to catch my eye. You been smilin’ at me all night. I knew you couldn’t wait for an excuse to get me alone.” His Boston accent is sloppy with alcohol, and his speech has only managed to accomplish a slight spraying in my direction.

  “Smiling isn’t an open invitation. I smile at everyone. I was trying to politely discourage you. And I dance to enjoy myself, you were the one gawking at me.”

  “Ah polite,” he says. “Yeah, you don’t need to play innocent with me, ya little tease. I know you want it.”

  Just as he starts to reach for me again, I make an attempt to push him away. I don’t want to make a scene, but his groping hands are pushing me to my limits.

  He moves his lips so they’re just touching my ear and all trace of his accent disappears as he whispers, “Finally found you.”

  I freeze.

  What?!

  After a second of stunned horror something inside me snaps in reaction to his words. I drive my knee up into him as hard as I can manage, and shove him away as he doubles over.

  Absurdly, I consider giving off a loud ‘caw-caw’ as I hurry towards the women’s restroom and lock the door.

  Pacing the bathroom floor, I shudder and wipe off the areas of my body that TJ touched me as if they’re contaminated. I move to the sink to splash some water on my face to help clear my head.

  What the hell just happened?

  Looking up into the mirror, I play back TJ’s words in my head. What did he mean when he said he found me? How could he have been looking for me if I’ve never met him before? Did I hear him right? Either way, something strange is going on, and we need to get out of here.

  Char.

  Better prepared this time, I reach into my clutch purse and grab my keychain, which happens to have a handy bottle of pepper spray attached. I’m moving to the door when there’s suddenly pounding from the other side.

  I jump and step back, holding my weapon high.

  “Nora? It’s me, open up!” Char calls through the door.

  Relieved, I open the bathroom door and my sister comes to the rescue.

  “What happened to you?” She looks me over in concern. “Alex and I were dancing, and one minute I saw one of his friends talking to you, and a few minutes later he’s all red and angry talking to some other dark-haired girl! You didn’t give me any signal!”

  How do I explain this, when I don’t even get it? What if TJ was just drunk babbling and I misheard him? The last thing we need is added worry from my overactive imagination. Until I can figure out what’s going on, I decide to keep what happened with TJ to myself. I do my best to pretend to shrug it off. “He was a drunk loser. I had to get away. No time for signals. Sorry. Are you ok? I hope I didn’t ruin things with you and Alex?”

  “Ugh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Man-pig. He kept asking if I wanted to get out of here with him. I said no, but he kept insisting. I said something about not wanting to leave you, and he said his friend was taking care of you. It’s like he wasn’t even listening to me. I don’t know if he was on drugs or what, but he seemed way different than earlier at the beach. Anyway, when I told him I was coming to find you, he called me a tease and started rubbing up on some eager-beaver girl on the dance floor.” She waves her hands as if dismissing all lifeguards.

  “Weird… I mean honestly, what a couple of jerks! Are you okay?” My loyal defenses are on full alert. How dare that guy treat my sister that way?

  “Oh yeah,” she waves it off. “I say we find a new place, then maybe grab some late-night comfort food on the way home.” Char’s always quick to rebound after a disappointment, especially when food is involved.

  The idea of getting a bite to eat is music to my ears. But nothing sounds more appealing than getting away from TJ.

  “Let’s just grab some food to go and call it a night. I’m beat, and there’s still a few things I need to unpack. We can celebrate our move-in at home for the rest of the night.” I neglect to admit the fact that I’d feel much more comfortable at our apartment for the night. After what just happened, I’m ready to go home and be a shut-in for the rest of my college career.

  After a quick order of Uber and Chinese carry-out, we dodge out of the club in search of a much more relaxed and safe night at home. As we pull away from the curb, a chill produces small bumps up and down my arms, despite the comfortable temperature in the car.

  “Hey, did you ever talk to that other guy who was staring at you?” Char asks.

  I rub my arms and turn to look out the window.

  “No,” I say as I catch a glimpse of the blond stranger standing in front of the club. His stare follows the direction of our departing vehicle. Only when we are safely out of sight, am I able to rub the bumps away.

  Chapter 3

  Over the next few days, it’s not hard to forget about the creepy night out, since I’m buried in schoolwork and settling into my new job.

  I also forget about my resolution to pay a visit to Char’s great-uncle Michael Augustine, until the production assistant at work brings him up halfway through our conversation.

  Rafe Clark and I bonded from day one. He’s working on his doctorate at the Harvard Divinity School in theological studies. History and theology have always been intertwined, so it seems like we always have something to talk about.

  “Pretty impressive to land a
job like this in your first semester. But I gotta admit, it’s good to have you. Have you noticed we’re two of the youngest employees here by at least twenty years?” jokes Rafe.

  “Careful sonny, someone might have their hearing aid turned up,” I say, hauling over a stack of paperwork for him to scan.

  “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupts us from the door of the archive room. “I’d ask if you’re calling me chopped liver, but I know you’d never do that.” A bleached blond barbie sidles up to Rafe’s side with the click of her stilettos.

  “Hey Em. Nora, this is Emily Devlin. Em’s a research specialist for one of the neighboring historical societies. She pops in from time to time. Em, this is our new employee, Nora,” Rafe introduces us.

  “I’m actually an executive research specialist, which is why I have to travel around all the time. Though, I did have my eye on the assistant to the director job here. It would’ve been nice to be stationary,” Emily focuses on Rafe as she speaks, like I’m not even in the room.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  She turns to me with a tight smile, but just nods.

  Awkward.

  I’m relieved when Rafe breaks the tension. “Word is Nora came highly recommended from none other than Mr. Michael Augustine, himself.” There’s a hint of reverence in Rafe’s voice at the name. He turns to me, “Did you know he lived through and transcribed half of these archives?”

  The unexpected joke catches me off guard and I smother a laugh. I go on to explain, “I’m really lucky, he’s an extended part of my family. I put in a resume, he put in a good word, and here I am!”

  “Oh, family,” Emily laughs. “I was wondering what exactly you did to get this job!”

  On second thought, that laugh might’ve been a cackle. I’m so stunned for a second, I don’t know what to say.

  “Well, I’m sure Nora was more than qualified. She’s taught me a thing or two here already. Besides, I told the director it was a great idea to add a fresh, young perspective to the team. How many years ago did you get your degree, Em?” Rafe asks, saving the day.