“Same as usual. I hate that place and everyone in it.”
“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d be seriously worried about your mental state.”
He grinned as he headed over to the fridge. “You don’t have to worry about me going off the deep end and doing something stupid. They’re a bunch of jerks, but they’re not worth it.”
“Good thinking.” She got up. “Why don’t you go get freshened up? And I’ll serve the food.”
“Great idea because I’m starved!”
As he headed to his room with a glass of water, Rachelle thought she heard that odd tinkling sound again. But if she did, within seconds, it had stopped. She was truly beginning to wonder if it was all in her head.
Steve returned to the dining room minutes later and sat at the table. Rachelle was bringing over the sodas.
He looked up at her suspiciously. “Are you okay, Mom?”
She sat down across from him. “Sure. Why do you ask?”
“You look like you have something on your mind, that’s all.”
Twirling the metal spoon around her soup, she sighed. “It’s just that I heard some strange sounds in here before you got home…”
“What kind of sounds?”
“Like wind chimes or something. Then in the bathroom, it sounded like someone was yanking back the shower curtain, but when I checked, no one was there.”
Steve grinned. “You’ve been watching some horror movies lately, huh?”
“I would laugh too if I had, but this was really odd,” she said. “I looked around and couldn’t find an explanation for what I’d heard.”
Steve took a gulp of his ginger ale. “Maybe the stress of losing granddad is playing on your mind. They say losing a loved one can be quite traumatic.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” she replied, quickly. “Dad and I weren’t very close, so I doubt his passing would’ve stressed me out to the point that I’m hearing things.”
“With the human mind you just don’t know. We think about things subconsciously, not realizing it’s affecting us physically. After all, he’s still your dad—even if you two didn’t really have a close bond.”
Rachelle shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”
Rachelle and Steve had both turned in well before midnight. Rachelle had managed to drift off to sleep a little before 10:00 PM, which was not unusual for her.
Within the hour, a dark shadow shot past the front of her bed and proceeded over to the closet area.
“Rachelle…” a familiar voice woke her out of her sound sleep.
She pitched up. “Dad…is that you?”
There was no mistaking his voice. Completely alert, she sat up and switched on the side lamp, then quickly glanced around the room.
“Rachelle…” the voice went again, rather slowly.
She was panicked now.
“Dad…it’s me. What do you want? Aren’t you…dead?”
She knew she couldn’t really be hearing the distinct voice of her deceased father—or could she?”
“Rachelle…”
She stood to her feet, determined to find out where her father was. For thirty-nine years, she’d never once heard imaginary voices, and as crazy as her experience was that night, she wasn’t going to talk herself into thinking that suddenly she could hear voices and other sounds that weren’t real. Yet, the thought of what might be happening to her was frightening as she recalled something an acquaintance had once said, rather nonchalantly, “If a person is crazy, he doesn’t know it.” Could this be Rachelle’s case? First the tinkling and rattling sounds—now her dead father’s voice jolting her from a sound sleep.
Checking her closet was the first thing she thought to do. Certainly, there was nowhere in the room for someone to hide other than there or under the bed. Both places checked out.
The round wall clock mounted several feet above the foot of her bed indicated it was exactly one o’clock. She’d picked up the clock from a flea market booth approximately a year earlier and what attracted her to it was that it had multicolored lights which ran along the perimeter and a faintly illuminated back board.
Rachelle made her way into the hallway, flipping on the light switch a few feet away from her bedroom door. The stridulating of crickets seeped through the open windows and echoed inside the apartment.
Steve’s room was in utter darkness, but by means of the dimly lit incandescent light streaming in from the adjacent hallway, Rachelle could see that he was fast asleep. She eased the door shut and headed over to the bathroom. The blue curtain, which completely hid the bathtub, caught her eye, but only because of that sound she’d heard earlier. Could it be that someone is hiding behind that dreadful curtain and is waiting for me to pull it back? She wondered. She proceeded towards it carefully, ready to run out of there the moment something decided to startle her. Standing in front, she took a deep breath in, slowly raised her right hand and a second later, she yanked back the curtain.
Her hand met her chest with profound relief as the bathtub was empty. Within that moment, she was really beginning to doubt herself, then she heard it again…but this time, there was more.
“Rachelle…when are you coming to see me?”
Her heart sunk. Those were the exact words her dad had spoken to her just days before he passed away. She immediately slumped onto the floor and wept.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come, Dad! I shouldn’t have listened to Belinda. I’m so sorry!”
She drew her knees up against her chest and rested her head between them. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have listened. Now, you’re not resting in peace.”
She didn’t realize her weeping was so loud until Steve hurried into the bathroom.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” He knelt beside her.
“It’s Dad! He’s here!” she said, looking into her son’s eyes.
“What’re you talking about, Mom? Granddad is dead.”
She shook her head, vehemently. “He’s not at rest. He’s here, I tell you! I heard his voice with my own two ears!”
Steve slumped on the floor next to her. “Mom, you need to get a hold of yourself. Are you listening to how you sound right now?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Steve, but I’m not crazy. Dad spoke to me and what he said tonight was one of the last things he’d said to me on the phone.” She paused. “Before that, I hadn’t seen him in a couple of months—you probably saw him more than I did! A few days before he passed away, he’d asked me when I was coming to see him. I told him I’d be by soon, but I never went.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not trying to cast the blame elsewhere, but you know me and your aunt Belinda hang out sometimes after I get off from work and have a few beers with friends. I just never made seeing Dad much of a priority, probably because Belinda wasn’t very interested. And the last time I spoke with him, she talked me out of seeing him because we had plans that day. I could’ve seen him the next day, but for some reason, I just didn’t.”
Steve sighed. “Mom, I always told you Aunt Belinda’s bad news. She’s a self-centered leech who only uses you. She’s your sister, but you know she doesn’t give a damn about you—you’re not up to her status. That’s why she treats Uncle John better. He has the money, the expensive cars, the big house—everything she defines as success. What do you have? Nothing. She only keeps you around to control you because no one who has a strong head on their shoulder will put up with her nonsense!”
He got up off the floor. “You never listened all those times when I told you you need to find something in life that can occupy your time in a positive way. All you and Aunt Belinda do is drink, and you watch her make a complete spectacle out of herself nearly every time she does it because she can’t hold her liquor and you don’t have the guts to speak up to her or at the very least, avoid her.”
“I know how Belinda is, but I put up with her because Mom wanted us to be close,” Rachelle replied.
“Grandm
a wanted you to be subservient to Aunt Belinda, regardless of how she treated you. So, if Grandma told you to jump off a bridge because that’s what Aunt Belinda wants, would you do it?”
With tears still in her eyes, she muttered, “Of course not!”
“Why am I not so sure about that?” He extended his hand to help her up. “Your family is messed up. That’s why Uncle Toby keeps to himself and I don’t blame him.”
“I don’t either.” Rachelle got up, slowly.
“He’s so different from everyone else. Regardless of what they say about him, I, personally, have never had a problem with him.”
“Neither have I.”
Steve looked into his mother’s eyes. “You’ll be fine, Mom. You’re just under a lot of stress, that’s all. Granddad is dead; we all saw his body lowered into the grave. So, he’s not here talking to you. It’s just all in your mind, okay? As time goes on, you’ll feel better.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“Let me help you back to bed.”
* * * *
Same night - 4:12 A.M.
Toby had dreamt about his father several times since he’d died and that night was no different. In almost each dream, they had a conversation about something seemingly insignificant like the weather, food store prices going up, or something odd that John or Belinda might’ve done. But that night, Toby dreamt that he went to the cemetery and everywhere he turned, he saw a headstone above the graves. Yet, when he looked down at his father’s, it was overgrown with tall weeds surrounding the concrete slab, laden with dust and maggots. Then, he saw a shriveled, pasty hand protrude from the concrete slab and he awoke soaked in sweat.
“Honey, are you all right?” Jonie put her hand on his shoulder as Toby sat straight up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded. “Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Jonie turned on her side and soon drifted back off to sleep while Toby sat there for a few minutes before lying down again. He dreaded closing his eyes only to be propelled back to a nightmare he’d just managed to climb out of.
6
_________________
The drive to Cindy’s Creations took a mere forty minutes from Belinda’s house. Belinda was decked out in one of her many latest fashions; this time—a black and silver fitted jeans with a matching sleeveless blouse that stopped at her navel. She knew she’d arrived, especially after she was able to construct her apartments by swindling Ralph Weatherspoon—the fool who’d literally fallen head over heels in love with her. After getting him to pump a good chunk of his money into her building project, she told him she felt smothered and needed some space. Two weeks later, she dropped him cold turkey after an argument she’d deliberately incited. That was Belinda’s way of getting things done. She had no use for any man outside of her brother John since she didn’t care too much for Toby. Toby was just different—perhaps, outside of their league was a better way to put it.
Belinda was trying out the new red nail polish she’d purchased a couple of days earlier while out shopping with Rachelle. Actually, she was shopping and Rachelle was tagging along.
She picked up her cell from the passenger seat and dialed Rachelle’s number.
Rachelle answered after the first ring.
“What are you up to?” Belinda asked her.
“Nothing much. Sounds like you’re on the road.”
“On my way to Cindy. My hair is in desperate need of a wash and fresh style. I don’t know why you don’t get that son of yours to pay for you to see Cindy at least twice a month. That hairstylist of yours needs to close her shop. That’s how awful she is.”
“Jane’s fine,” Rachelle responded, softly. “Besides, Steve’s saving for a down payment on a house. He takes care of enough bills around here already.”
“Whatever you say. You keep cloaking that boy and making excuses for him. See how it works out for you in a couple of years.”
Rachelle sighed.
“What’s wrong with you? You sound off,” Belinda said.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Been thinking a lot about Dad.” She paused. “Belinda…I was thinking—maybe we should try and get that headstone for his grave.”
“Are you serious, Rachelle? Do you really have money to throw away on a headstone right now? You can’t even afford a sensible hairstylist!”
“I’m very serious,” Rachelle replied. “I don’t think Dad’s at rest.”
“Why would you say a thing like that?” Belinda scowled.
Rachelle hesitated for a moment. “I swear I heard his voice last night.”
Her sister laughed. “Whatever you heard, it surely wasn’t Dad’s voice. He’s dead—remember?”
Rachelle was quiet.
“Anyway, you and Toby can do whatever you want, but I’m not investing in any headstone any time soon.”
“But Mom got hers right after she was buried. It’s only fair for us to get Dad his.”
“You sound stupid!” Belinda snapped. “Mom’s different—you know that.”
“Different how? They’re both our parents. You’re not making sense, Belinda. If anyone can afford to buy that headstone outright, it’s you and John. We shouldn’t even be debating this right now.”
“Well, you sound just like Toby! Maybe something on him lately has been rubbing off on you. Anyway, I gotta go. You want me to swing by for you later so we can grab some cocktails before dinner?”
Rachelle suddenly heard her son’s admonitions from the night before. “I’ve got so much to do around the house today,” she replied, “so I’ll pass.” Although she didn’t intend to avoid her sister at all costs, she felt she needed a break to get her thoughts together.
“Have it your way. I’ll call Marva. I’m sure she’ll be ready to go when I’m done at Cindy’s,” Belinda said.
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
Belinda pulled up in front of the little pink parlor with the well-manicured lawn shortly after eleven o’clock. One other car, besides Cindy’s was in the yard that morning.
“How are you, miss lady!” Cindy smiled when Belinda stepped inside.
“I’m super!” Belinda replied. “Glad to see your chair is empty.”
“Well, your appointment is for eleven and I try to keep things flowing so my customers wouldn’t have to be waiting. You know that!”
“Sure.”
“Come on over.” She gestured with her hand.
Belinda strolled past Cindy’s assistant, Wanda, who was taking care of the only other customer in the parlor.
“Miss Reed…” Wanda hailed.
“Wanda…” Belinda kept her focus straight ahead at Cindy.
Cindy was a happy-go-lucky sort of lady who often chose to see the best in people and ignore the glaring signs that spelled trouble. Wanda was quite the opposite. She didn’t like Belinda and made that clear to her boss, particularly since Belinda demonstrated whenever she did show up there that she hardly thought Wanda was worthy of a simple greeting. For the sake of her job, Wanda kept things professional, but was guilty of wishing, on more than a few occasions, that the floor would open up and swallow the pompous woman.
“How’s that sister of yours?” Cindy asked Belinda after she was comfortably seated.
“Same as usual. I try to train her to be more like me, but I’m beginning to think she’s absolutely hopeless right now.”
Cindy chuckled, and Wanda, outside of Belinda’s view, rolled her eyes.
Cindy placed a clean, white towel across Belinda’s shoulders. “You really think so?”
“Yep. She’s getting nowhere in life. All she does is obsess over that grown boy of hers and caters to his every need. Ridiculous!”
“Maybe she needs companionship—you know—like a boyfriend.”
“She doesn’t need a man!” Belinda frowned.
“Why not?”
“She’s got me to hang out with.”
“But i
t’s not the same, B.” Cindy released her hair from the hairpin and fluffed it with both hands.
“Well, I don’t agree, especially since I’ve had my share of them. Truly, they’re only good for one thing and that’s not the thing you’re probably thinking about!”
“What is it, then?” Cindy asked.
“It’s the money. Without it, they’re useless, don’t you think?”
“Noooo…I wouldn’t agree. I wouldn’t trade my Charlie for the world and he’s no way near rich.”
“They don’t have to be rich; just well-off, although rich is ideal.”
“You’re a piece of work, B. I can see you’re quite content being on your own.”
“Shouldn’t I be? I can’t be happier with anyone more than I can be with myself!”
Cindy had a hearty laugh.
Two hours later, Belinda walked out of the parlor with a new hairdo and confidence to match. She pressed the handheld remote and headed over to her vehicle.
“Time to change this old car,” she muttered on the way.
She’d purchased the BMW brand new off the lot three years earlier and knew Rachelle just loved riding in it, compared to her own ten-year-old buggy.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, opened the car door and sat behind the wheel, simultaneously resting her purse on the passenger seat. Life for Belinda couldn’t get any better and to compliment her upbeat mood, she decided she’d listen to some rock music during the drive over to her friend, Marva’s house. After starting the car, she reached forward to switch on the radio, when she thought she saw something move on the floorboard of the front passenger side. Tilting her head, she zoomed in on the floor and spotted a long, gray snake slithering forward from under the seat. Then, her peripheral vision immediately caught something in the seat next to her—another snake, almost identical, was crawling over her purse. With her heart pounding and a shrilling scream stuck inside her throat, without a moment to spare, she yanked open the car door and got out, slamming it shut behind her. It was then that the scream finally escaped and, in a flash, Cindy and Wanda appeared in the doorway of the parlor.
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 93