by Amy Star
“That’s good thinking, peanut.” He beamed, patting her on the head. “There’s no stopping this girl!” He used his public speaking voice to play to the film crew.”
Of course, it made Jillian sick to her stomach to manipulate the situation, but it was the fastest way to get out of there. The lucky kid who got cherry-picked to get her room was a twelve-year-old African American boy named Miles Freeman. He had broken his arm skateboarding, and his parents, who both had full-time jobs, paid twenty percent of their income into a health insurance policy that would only start covering them after they paid their six-thousand-dollar deductible.
He had been hiding the fact that he had a broken arm for almost a week because he knew they couldn’t afford to take him to the doctor. As it was, they’d been living on boxed pasta and canned food while they waited for their next paycheck to clear. If anything good came from this, at least that sweet kid was going to get his arm taken care of. No kid should have to feel guilty that his family couldn’t afford to pay for health care. No parent should be put in that position either, for that matter.
Tears streamed down Mrs. Freeman’s face as her husband put his arms around her.
“Don’t make a scene, Rebecca.” Mr. Freeman patted his wife on the back. “Just thank the man so we can put all this behind us.”
Jillian played her part, smiling as she reached out to hug the boy and both of his parents while her father signed all the papers before shaking hands with everyone in the room. Her father’s security detail cleaved a path through the sea of reporters as they made their way to the limo, and Jillian managed to keep her composure until they were safely inside behind the tinted windows.
“That was a genius move, peanut.” Her father straightened his tie. “You’re going to make a terrific First Lady one day.”
“If anyone in this car is going to be married to the president, it’ll be Mom.” Jillian tried to ignore the lump in her throat as her father’s cell phone rang.
“Excuse me, sweetheart.” He reached into his coat pocket. “I’ve been waiting on this call. I have to take it. I promise we’ll catch up as soon as we get home.”
“No apology needed.” She looked back out the window. “The world’s gotta keep turning.”
That was the phrase he always used when his work took priority with whatever was going on in her life. She was used to him putting his career first. She had finally reached an age where she no longer took it personally. She just accepted that some people didn’t have time to be parents.
She kept thinking about Miles back at the hospital. How does a kid manage to hide a broken arm for so long? She met his parents; they obviously loved him to death. But they both worked long hours, sometimes only seeing him briefly at dinner. It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor; our society didn’t make allowances for people to know their kids.
If I have to bring a life into this world… She thought to herself… I’m damn sure going to do things differently.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to pitch the next part to her father. Denying DuPont’s request to drill in Hemlock Park would mean a substantial loss to his campaign budget, and she would have to figure out a way to supplement that before she dared to bring it up. But she was beyond emotionally drained after the day she’d had. The DuPonts and their oil company were two problems she would have to square up to on another day.
They pulled into the circular drive, and Jillian looked up at the dozens of brightly illuminated windows and wondered for the first time how much electricity was used to keep the front of their house lit like a national monument. The mansion was five stories high, with every wing bearing a unique arrangement of towers and gables. Congressman James Lox loved to tell the story of the day he had proposed to his wife, how he promised her a castle by the sea, and when he saw this place, he knew it was meant for the love of his life.
The grounds of the Lox Mansion were maintained by a twenty-four-hour staff of housekeepers, cooks, and landscapers. Granted, this was a lavish home, even for a New York Congressman, but he did have several non-profits that he was legally entitled to take a salary from. Some shrewd investment and accounting strategies made sure the Lox family standard of living was always secure.
“Are you hungry, dear?” Her mother headed toward the kitchen. “Mommy needs a nightcap.”
“I was just going to take a bath and turn in early if that’s okay.” Jillian’s room was in a separate wing of the house that had a view of both the courtyard and the beach.
“I’ll have Milly bring you a salad.” Mrs. Lox made a dismissive gesture. “She can run into town tomorrow and get the replacement for your phone.”
“Thanks.” Jillian pressed her lips together, heading through the foyer that led to the courtyard.
Maggie supervised all the other housekeepers. She had worked there for the last three years, which was a record. Most people would have quit or been fired within a year, but Maggie was a tough old broad. She had thick skin but always managed to stay kind. Not that it stopped Mrs. Lox from getting her name wrong about half the time.
Can I blame her? Jillian watched her mother disappear into the archway, wondering how many Xanax it took to get her through today. The woman only went into social mode when it was time for pictures.
Yes… Yes, I can blame her. Being anxious doesn’t give you the right to be a self-absorbed asshole. Even if you choose to medicate yourself halfway into a coma, you should at least know the name of the person who cleans up your vomit the next morning.
Jillian stepped out into the courtyard and smelled the freshly cut grass and ocean breeze. A few hundred meters beyond the tall, sturdy brick wall that surrounded the grounds was a beautiful white sandy beach. The garden in this courtyard used to be where she would come to feel closer to nature. Looking up at the towering shade trees and the perfectly symmetrical hedges, she shook her head. Her cheeks burned with shame for how ignorant she had been all her life. Following the cobblestone path, she opened the door that led past the indoor heated pool.
The vaulted ceiling above the pool and lounge area meant that there were only two floors above it. Through the stone archway on the other side of the pool was a corridor. That was where Jillian would find the staircase leading to her bedroom. There was a time when she lived in the main body of the house, but she got sick of hearing her parents fighting or fucking, and there was hardly ever a time when she was younger that it wasn’t one or the other.
Granted, there had been less drama since he had started cheating on her a couple of years ago. But it still felt better to have this small distance between her and her parents. The house was big enough that they could go days without seeing one another unless they made a specific effort to do so. Sure, it was a bit of a walk to get from her room back to the foyer, but it was still the best view in the house.
Her bed faced the patio doors that led to her balcony, where she used to go out every evening and watch the tide come in. Looking out over the white dunes scattered with patches of tall grass that swayed with every breeze, she closed her eyes, wishing she could have the best of both worlds. As dysfunctional as her family was, this place had been the only home she’d ever known, and saying goodbye to it wouldn’t be easy.
Turning on the tap in her jacuzzi tub, she stripped down and opened her essential oils. The smell of tea tree brought her back to bathing in the creek. She sighed at her naked reflection, wishing that she had the courage to strip down whenever and wherever like Conner did. Stepping into the warm water, she wondered if this might be the last time she would have the chance to enjoy hot water for a while.
Jillian indulged in all the soaps and shampoos she’d missed over the past week, taking the time to catch up on shaving before laying back to relax. She wrung the water out her warm washcloth, placing it over her eyes as she pictured sitting out on the beach on that big heavy quilt with all the boys as they counted the lights from the fishing boats dotting the horizon.
“Ugh.” Jillian wince
d as a heady sensation came over her.
Did I run the water too hot? She opened her eyes and watched as a drop of water fell in slow motion from the tap. No, it’s not the heat… The falling sensation intensified as the vision overtook her, and she managed to hold her breath as she convulsed, slipping beneath the surface of the water.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jillian opened her eyes and found herself sitting at the head of a long banquet table. On her left side, her family was seated, and farther down, Ted and his parents smiled at her. On the right side of the table, Vincent, Conner, and Finn stared blankly ahead as if in a trance, farther down were several more figures with blurred faces. Sitting at the opposite end, facing her was the vampiric creature that had visited her in her sleep.
“Vesh,” he began.
“Noque Waure.” Jillian finished.
“So, you do hear me.” He spoke with an unusual Northern European accent as a sly smile spread across his lips.
“I don’t speak your language.” She blinked, trying to get a better look at him, but his features seemed to change every time her eyes started to focus. “But yes… I can hear you.”
“Spirit got what she wanted from you, didn’t she?” He picked up a wine glass with a long slender hand and swirled the red liquid around before taking a sip. “She does like to get her way.”
“Who are you? “Jillian almost felt motion sick from looking at his face, so she opted to settle her gaze on a red jewel on a pendant that adorned his neck.
“You may call me Eden.” He smiled, showing off his fangs. “I’ve been asleep for a very long time, but now that my kingdom is in danger, I fear I must come out of retirement and prepare for a fight. You and your Waure are my first line of defense. Should you fail, it could mean the end of this world as you know it.”
“Your kingdom?” Jillian crossed her arms.
“Fear not.” He ran the tip of his tongue over one of the sharp points of his teeth. “My kingdom is far to the north of your little den. I have no quarrel with you and yours… yet.”
“Then, please.” She nodded cordially. “Tell me what I can do for you.”
“So diplomatic.” He chuckled. “You’ll make a good leader for the Waure.”
“All due respect, sir.” She cleared her throat as sweat started to bead up on her forehead as her oxygen expired. “My body is currently underwater. So, if you have something you wish to say, please say it.”
“Very well.” He leaned forward and set aside his wine. “Your father has already signed the documents Fredrick DuPont needs to commence his drilling venture in Hemlock Park. I have caused a power outage on the entire East Side of New York City to prevent him from sending it. You have until tomorrow when the power comes back on to change his mind.”
“Shit.” She bit her lip, breathing heavy as her soul sensed her body had begun to suffocate. “What can I do?”
“Whatever you must.” Eden got to his feet, bracing his palms on the table as he pulled her gaze to his. His eyes shifted from green to blue to yellow and even flashed a split pupil for a second or two. “You are the only one of your kind who was able to hear me. That means it is you who is tuned into the frequency of the spirit realm.”
Jillian wanted to ask him more questions, but when her mouth opened, water poured out. The more she choked and coughed, the more water poured onto the table. Her eyes widened with panic as she looked to Vincent, who continued staring off into oblivion. In a flash, Eden appeared at her side.
“Should you need to speak with me, the incantation is… Vesh noque Eden. You’ll remember, won’t you? La revedere, my darling.”
As she fell through space and landed in her body, a splash of water sloshed out of the tub and soaked the entire bathroom out. She clawed her way out violently, coughing as she hit the tile floor, gasping for breath.
What had Eden said appeared to be accurate as she glanced around; all the lights in her room and bathroom were out. Getting to her feet, she threw on her robe and went to the switch, flipping it up and down a couple of times to make sure she didn't imagine the whole thing.
Her father must be in his office. She tied the belt of her robe and ran as fast as she could down the stairs and around the indoor pool area. Crossing the courtyard and running to the staircase that led to her father’s office and bedroom, she passed various members of the house staff who were scrambling with flashlights, trying to figure out what the hell could have taken out the power.
She scaled the stairs two at a time and burst into her father’s office, where his head of security grabbed her, twisted her arm, and took her to the ground.
“Get off me, you fucking dick!” She struggled, but he only tightened his grip.
“McDonald, that’s my daughter.” Her father snapped, setting down an LED lantern that one of the staff members had brought him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sorry, sir.” He released her, and she got to her feet, shoving him back when he remained closer than she felt was appropriate.
“It’s just a power-outage, peanut.” Her father kissed her on the forehead. “There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
“Actually, yes, there is.” Jillian rubbed her shoulder, which still ached from McDonald’s twisting it. “Daddy, I have to tell you something… something about Ted.”
“Okay.” He put his arm around her and walked her over to the sofa. She shuddered as she sat down, wondering what depraved acts had been committed on that couch. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“When we were camping, Ted asked me to marry him.” She wrung her hands in her lap, working up to the part about the assault.
“Yes, I know all about that.” He chuckled, getting up and crossing the room to the fish tanks. He had a small twenty-gallon one that contained feeder fish. The bigger two-hundred-twenty-gallon tank contained ten ugly gray fish with red bellies and teeth that looked like something out of a horror movie.
“You… know?” She grimaced.
“Well, of course!” Her father looked at McDonald, who smirked. “Ted is too much of a gentleman not to ask your old man’s permission.”
“Well, I said no, and he got furious. He pulled my hair and fought him off and ran away. He chased me.”
“Sweetheart.” James Lox sighed, picking up the mini net hanging on the side of the feeder tank. “He’s still young. You both are. But for all Ted’s faults, I know he cares an awful lot about you.”
“Are you even listening to me?” She huffed, speaking slowly and a little louder. “He attacked me and chased me through the woods! He threatened me.”
“Sweetheart, grownups fight sometimes.” He scooped a goldfish out of the feeder tank and smiled, watching it thrash around inside the small blue net. “Especially people who are passionate about something. He probably didn’t mean to direct all that fire at you. He was fighting for you. He didn’t want to lose the love of his life. I know you’ve been through a lot, but I still have faith that the two of you will work things out.”
“We’re not working it out.” Jillian shook her head. “Dad, I need you to promise me you’re not going to let Fred DuPont drill in Hemlock Park.”
“What the hell does that have to do with you and Ted?” His smile relaxed into an expression that bordered on suspicion as he dumped the plump goldfish into the tank. The ugly gray fish sprung to action, and after a flurry of red bubbles, the gruesome deed was done.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Ted and me.” She took a deep breath for courage. “I know that Mr. DuPont gives you a lot of support on your campaigns, but Hemlock Park is one of the last big wildernesses in our country. You can’t let him destroy it.”
“Jesus, you sound like one of those tree-huggers with their picket signs out in front of the Capitol building.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips, pacing to his desk and then looking back at her. “You’re not involved with one of those extremist groups that send me death threats all the time, are you?”
�
�No.” She put her hand on her forehead. “How could you even think that?”
“Well, you’ve made quite a following for yourself, and one of McDonald’s guys noticed that you post a lot of stuff about the environment, and not all of it reflects well on the corporations that support our family.”
“Dad, I am begging you.” She clasped her hands together. “You can’t let him drill in that park. The future of this family and every other family in New York depends on people like you to do the right thing even when it’s hard.”
“Hard?” He laughed. “Oh, you sweet little girl, you spend a week in the woods, and you think you know something about life.”
“I know you think you’re going to lose a lot of votes if you don’t have DuPont.” She stood up and forced a hopeful smile. “But times have changed. You don’t need to spend tens of thousands on a campaign if you do right by the people. They want to be inspired, Dad. You saw those reporters at the hospital. You can win your next election with an army of those tree-huggers at your back.”
“And you think Congressman’s salary is going to pay the mortgage on this place?” He gestured to the room around him.
“Dad.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “We don’t need all this.”
“I sent you to the best schools money could buy, and you still know nothing about life!” he screamed in her face, and she realized for a second what it was like to be her mother.
“This isn’t all there is to life, Dad.” She picked up a throw pillow off the couch and threw it down. “It’s not about twelve-million-dollar houses and designer clothes and driving your stupid super-cars to charity dinners. You used to believe in what you were doing, and somewhere along the line, you lost your way.”
“No.” He sneered. “I hate to break it to you, honey, but this has only ever been about giving you and your mother the best possible life. This job is business, and it’s about powerful people scratching the backs of wealthy people. I share the power, and they share the wealth.” He clapped his hands together, making her flinch. “That is how life works.”