Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel)

by Brighton Hill

  The brown haired guy helped the blond one walk. He was limping a little. But they all strode away toward the campsites. Then, to make the circumstances even stranger, the dark haired guy looked back over his shoulder and smiled at me.

  What the hell! My face must have turned as red as a tomato. I was so confused. I didn’t know what to make of the whole situation.

  At once, I just turned around and ran back to our motorhome. Oh, my! My heart was beating a mile a minute.

  “Are you okay?” Mom asked when I stepped back into the motorhome.

  “I’m fine,” I breathed, trying to act normal. My mind was all mixed up.

  “Your face is flushed.” Her blue eyes were laced with concern.

  Dad looked back at me as he took the ticket through the window from the park ranger. “You look like you saw a ghost.” He laughed.

  He turned back to the man. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You all be careful, now,” the ranger responded through the booth window. “Don’t walk outside alone at night. Some strange business has been going on here. Some teenagers were reported missing.” His voice was hesitant, but Mom and Dad were focused on me now, so they didn’t hear him.

  “Okay, bye, Ranger Mike.” Dad pulled the motorhome forward along a forest of trees toward the campsites that nestled within the outer edges. The car tow swayed a little side to side as we rolled along the dirt road. I noticed the greying light gave the campground an ominous look.

  Dad was glancing at me in the rear view mirror. “Did you get something from the store?” He cleared his throat.

  “No.” I blushed probably even redder. “I’ll go later.”

  “What happened?” Mom asked running her fingers through her long golden locks before twisting them up into a French knot.

  “Nothing.” I was sitting stiffly on the bench seat that paralleled the side windows. “I just didn’t want to hold you guys up. It’s your special week and I’m catering to you.”

  Mom and Dad laughed. “You don’t have to do that, Hailey,” Dad said. His eyes were focused ahead now.

  “Well, I’m going to,” I responded adamantly. “Twenty year anniversaries don’t happen every day and I want yours to be memorable.” I planned this trip just for them. Mom’s favorite place was the ocean and Dad found every place annoying so it didn’t make a difference where we went.

  “You’re a keeper, Hailes.” Dad parked the motorhome in campsite number 12. “Here we are,” he said cheerily as he pulled on the security brake.

  Mom unbuckled her seatbelt and almost glided, as was her way, over to the vanity mirror to put on fresh lipstick and powder her face. “So what’s the plan for today?” she called out.

  “It’s almost dinner time. I thought I’d take you guys to that fish and chips restaurant by the wharf.”

  Mom’s blue eyes lit up. She loved seafood, especially raw. “That sounds fantastic.” She blushed a little.

  Dad ran his fingers through his brown shaggy hair. “I’ll get the car ready.” His voice sounded a little grumpy.

  “Why don’t we find some wood for the fire pit so we don’t have to get it later?” I suggested to Mom.

  She laughed. “Hope I don’t break a nail.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you do, I’ll super glue it back on.” My voice was sarcastic.

  “Oh, please,” she snorted as she examined the glitter polish on her naturally long nails.

  After we walked outside and examined the campsite, Dad unhitched the car, while Mom and I gathered sticks and branches in the forest behind the campsite for the fire pit. Even though it was still light outside, the woods were dim and eerie. There were some used cigarette butts on the ground and a man’s wallet.

  My eyes widened. “Look at this.” I motioned Mom over to me.

  She sort of sauntered over with her tote bag filled with sticks. “What is it, chérie?” She looked distracted. Her eyes were directed upwards looking into the high reaches of an oak tree.

  “No not up there—here.” I pointed at the ground.

  Glancing down, she picked up the wallet absent mindedly. “A man’s wallet, Hailes. What’s the big deal? You look frightened.”

  I bit the side of my cheek. “It just looks like someone was hanging around in here and left in a rush.”

  She opened the wallet and looked through it. Her eyes widened. “Fifty four dollars and a golf pass.”

  “Is there an I.D.?”

  “No.” She shook her head and glanced around. “Look over there.”

  I followed the direction of her pointer finger to a boulder several feet away. “Oh!”

  We both walked over to the large rock.

  “A Peter Segal bikini top!” Mom picked a garment up off the boulder by her nail. Her jaw was clenched and her nostrils flared.

  “There’s blood on it,” I said in a whisper.

  She threw the thing down as if grossed out.

  I examined the boulder more closely and saw wet blood that had splattered against the other side of the rock.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mom mumbled as she examined it. “Some girl probably just had her period.”

  I scoffed and then shook my head. “And splattered it against a rock?”

  “Did you hear that?” I asked suddenly.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  My body tensed. “Whispers.” I looked around through the trees.

  “No. I didn’t hear anything.” Her thoughts seemed distant. And then in the dim light of the forest she started to sing softly. It was a gentle lullaby and under the circumstances totally out of place. Though I could never figure her out entirely, I think she sang like that to calm herself or maybe to calm me.

  Even though I was used to her unusual behaviors, I found myself lost in her melody. The sounds were so soft and entrancing. For a moment, I felt like I was floating in the clouds.

  When she stopped singing, I felt suddenly irritated. “Let’s go,” I snapped as I pulled Mom by the arm.

  She looked agitated now too as I led her through the trees back to the camp.

  Dad turned to us with a wrench in his hand. “The car is ready to go,” he said in a proud voice. A wind coming off the ocean was blowing through his shaggy brown hair.

  “We found a wallet in the woods and Hailey is going bonkers,” Mom sang the words teasingly.

  “Where’s the money?” Dad chuckled as he walked over to the picnic table to set his wrench down.

  Mom smiled playfully. “There was fifty four dollars in it.” Her hand was on one hip.

  Then a thought struck me. “Where is it?” I demanded as I glanced at the tote bag of sticks that rested over her shoulder.

  “Oops,” she rolled her eyes. “I dropped it.”

  I got the feeling she left it in the forest on purpose.

  “We could use that money for dinner,” Dad joked. “Especially with the way you eat, Jo.”

  I ignored his play. “We should at least return it to the park ranger,” I said sternly. “Somebody could be looking for it. Maybe even the police.”

  “I’ll go back and get it,” Mom suggested.

  My eyes widened. “No way!”

  Dad was shaking his head now. “Women and their dramatics.” He liked to play the chauvinist to get us riled. But this time we hardly paid attention. “I’ll get it.”

  “No, Dad. Stay here.” I looked at him, but he was already stepping into the woods.

  I chased after him. “It’s over by that boulder,” I said pointing through the trees.

  “I don’t see anything,” He murmured as he looked around on the ground.

  “That’s strange. It’s not here.” I looked over by the rock. “There was a bikini top here too, but it’s gone.” Dirt covered the blood on the boulder now as if someone had taken a handful from the ground and thrown it against the wetness to hide the mess.

  I walked back over to where we saw the cigarette butts, but they were gone too. “This is so weird, Dad.” />
  “What are you upset about?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing.” I sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  But just as we turned to leave, I heard the sounds of footsteps advancing toward us, crunching the fallen leaves upon the ground with every step. “Hey, there,” a masculine voice called through the trees.

  Dad and I stopped and turned to look. The three boys I saw at the market were approaching through a cluster of tall pines.

  Table of Contents

  Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel)

  Midpoint