Jackal

by Jackal in the Mirror (retail) (epub)

  Puzzled by Sarah’s sudden departure, Iris and Sonia glanced at each other and followed.

  Once they reached her, Iris touched Sarah’s shoulder. “What’s the rush?”

  “What? Oh. No rush. Got tired of being upfront. Anyway, we’re about to get off.”

  Sarah’s phone crackled. “What’s wrong with my phone?” She fished the phone out of her purse and pressed the answer button. Through piercing static she perceived the words.

  “Sarah, you must leave now!”

  “You look a bit pale,” Iris noted with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Now!” The screeching voice shook Sarah’s entire body. “Now!” it yelled again. “Now, now, now!”

  Sarah covered her ears and shut her eyes.

  Sonia reached for her. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”

  Sarah opened her eyes, shut off the phone and dropped it in her bag. “Nothing, a horrible headache.”

  “I’ll get you something to drink, I have some aspirin,” Iris said as she moved towards the center of the ship.

  “Don’t bother, Iris,” Sarah called out.

  Sonia wrapped her arms around Sarah and guided her toward an empty seat. “C’mon, sit down. You’re white as a sheet. Are you dizzy? Seasick?”

  “No, just a bad headache.”

  Iris returned empty-handed. “No drinks. We’re docking.”

  The captain announced that the docking procedures were about to start, and thanked the passengers for their patronage. Once the ship was docked, the friends exited the vessel and headed back to their hotel.

  Sarah apologized when they reached the lobby. “Sorry to be such a party pooper. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go lie down. I had very little sleep last night. I’m beat.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hurried back to her room.

  Moments later, Sarah snatched up the book and frantically scanned its pages. She slammed it shut. “Nothing but poems.”

  You must help her, Sarah! Now!

  “Stop getting into my head! To help her, I need more than poems!” Sarah yelled.

  She pulled her cell phone from her purse and stared at it. With reluctance she turned it on and waited. When the phone remained silent and free of static, she ventured a call.

  “All done?” Conrad asked, with optimistic cheer.

  “No. I’m hearing voices.”

  “Voices?”

  “Well, the voice. The woman’s voice.”

  “You’ve heard her before.”

  “Yeah, but now she’s screaming at me through the phone.”

  “What does she say?”

  “That I need to leave immediately and help Karla.”

  “Leave where? Eureka?”

  “Where else?”

  “Where does she want you to go?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “And the story in the book?”

  “A glimpse of Karla leaving San Francisco headed north, then the woman’s voice yelling that I needed to go. I open the book and find only the poems.”

  “At least you’ve confirmed that San Francisco is where Karla is.”

  Sarah sighed. “Yeah, but she’s gone. No idea where.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “This entire trip has been a fiasco.”

  “It has not. You’ve spent some time with Iris and Sonia, you’ve visited some interesting things, and seen some beautiful scenery. And, don’t forget, you’ve met James.”

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “You’re right, as usual.”

  “Give yourself a break.”

  “It’s not me. The woman is hysterical. She yells at me with this incredible urgency that I need to go and help Karla, but she doesn’t tell me where. Her screams tear into my head. It hurts and it’s nerve wracking.”

  “I can only imagine what’s it like. But it’s not surprising. Remember she’s pure energy.”

  “Which is affecting my phone.”

  “How?”

  “Loud crackling, and when I turn it on, screeching static along with her screams.”

  “What an effort to release so much energy.”

  “I get that…oh…” she sighed, “she’s so real to me, I forget she’s dead.”

  “C’mon, maybe together we can figure out where Karla’s heading? Any clues?”

  “The last bit of story had her leaving across the Bay Bridge.”

  “That’s a start. Once you calm down—”

  “How can I? I’m supposed to rush off to somewhere in search of a woman whose real name I don’t even know.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you’re going to do.”

  “And I suppose you’re fine with me gallivanting all over the California countryside.”

  Conrad chuckled in a conscious effort to bring some levity to the situation. “Gallivanting, huh? No, I don’t like it one bit, but I’m a realist. You can’t stop yourself when you sense that someone’s in trouble. You’re going to do whatever it takes, no matter what. I’ll fly down and meet you and we’ll work this out together.”

  “No, no, Conrad, please don’t.”

  “Tom can handle the store without me and—”

  “No, I’ll be okay. It’s plain stupid to lose control and call you over nothing.”

  “Nonsense, Sarah. I can tell this has you pretty rattled. I’ll check on flights to Eureka—”

  “No, please, no. All the flights we found were expensive and went to San Francisco first. You’ll lose an entire day trying to get here.”

  “Let’s make a deal—we meet in San Francisco. We can look around there. Later we can drive back home together. I’d like to stop in Eureka on the way back and maybe meet James.”

  “You spoil me.”

  “Let’s hope so. I’ll call you when I have a flight booked. Hopefully I can get there tomorrow. I’ll book us a room in San Francisco and we’ll take it from there.”

  “See you tomorrow. I love you,” she whispered as she hung up.

  She stared at the book for a moment, shook her head, and strode to the bathroom. She filled the tub, testing the water until it reached a perfect temperature, added an aromatic bubble bath, and got undressed. She slipped in, closed her eyes, and allowed her body a chance to relax.

  The Spark

  The room, suffused in the dim light from three beeswax candles in a brass candelabrum that sat on the desk, embraced the couple in a cocoon of comfort. The mountain cabin stood silent save for the natural evening lullabies that hummed in the wilderness surrounding it.

  The young man wrote in a small notebook. He glanced at the woman asleep in the bed, her nude body caressed by the sheets. He smiled as his eyes traced every inch of her. He stopped and lingered on her lips, the memory of their union fresh in his mind and body.

  Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was looking at her, and enjoyed the awareness that she pleased him.

  A few hours earlier, she’d arrived at the cabin and waited for him, afraid and reluctant, but despite it all, anxious to welcome his embrace. They knew it was wrong to surrender to their long-concealed emotions and the desire that burned inside them, but awareness of right and wrong had not stopped them from consummating their love.

  Now, she reveled in the memory of how he’d pulled her to him, his mouth hungry for hers, his arms sliding over her chilled shoulders. Could the same memory be traveling though him, she wondered?

  At the same moment, he savored the recollection of how she’d trembled under his embrace and her complete surrender to him, her body welcoming his. He’d kissed her with such need, such desperate ferocity, that she’d whimpered, and he’d pulled back, but she reached behind his neck and drew him to her, reciprocating his hunger.

  Now, even as he wrote down the emotions she inspired, he smiled, reminiscing how he’d undresse
d her without his lips ever leaving hers, and gently lowered her onto the bed. How his eyes had devoured her body moaning with desire, as he’d shed his clothes and descended toward her. “Martha,” he’d said, his voice low and deep as he slipped inside her.

  She’d placed her slender finger over his lips. “I don’t wish to hear who I am, or who you are,” she’d whispered into his mouth, “let’s be us.”

  When he’d joined with her at last, the endless years of restraint, of distance, of denial, had erupted into a frenzy of kisses, bites, and strokes that craved full possession. Their passion, finally unbridled and free of restraint, had been spontaneous, irrepressible, and honest. Their union had lasted mere minutes, but reflected an eternity. They knew that by having allowed their passion to materialize, nothing would stand in its way.

  He set down his pen and turned toward her. He watched her breathe and his tongue ran over his lips, the taste of her still palpable, her scent lingering. He sighed and returned to his notebook.

  She opened her eyes and smiled, comfortable in the realization that her mind was one with his, and as such, could savor the poems he wrote for her.

  Sarah’s eyes popped open. “Martha…” she whispered. “Your lover wrote these poems for you. Who is he?”

  Silence.

  She emerged from the bathtub and dried herself.

  “I understand why you’re apprehensive. I’m sure it must’ve been difficult for you to engage in this relationship. But, why be so coy about it? This must’ve happened in your twenties? Surely it doesn’t matter now?”

  Silence.

  There was a knock at the door. Sarah slipped into the terrycloth robe and opened the door. Iris pranced in followed by Sonia.

  “You look much better,” Iris said. “Headache gone?”

  “Yes. Took a nice hot bath.”

  “Can we get you something? Maybe bring you dinner?” Sonia asked.

  “I’m not hungry, only tired. You guys go ahead, I’m going to turn in early tonight.”

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  “I am. We’ll have breakfast in the morning. Nine…ish?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s sounds good.” Sonia hugged Sarah and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope you have a restful night. Call us if you need anything.”

  Iris joined in, hugging both women. “Call us even if you don’t need anything. That’s what friends are for. We’re just down the hallway.”

  “Thank you. Love you both.”

  They departed in a flurry of gentle bickering, and Sarah shut the door behind them. She approached the table where the book lay and picked it up.

  “This illicit affair is the reason you’re changing the actual names and not giving me the full picture. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  Silence.

  “No dialogue with you, a one-sided conversation except when you yell at me.” She paused. “Yeah, I get it, your way is to give me the book of poems, and offer me bits and pieces of Karla’s story and glimpses of your past.”

  She slid into her nightgown and got in bed. “Okay. Let’s read the poems he wrote for you that night.” She opened the book.

  YOU

  As questions rise

  And then subside

  To reappear some other time

  A constant flow

  Of unknown thoughts

  Of feeling

  Strong as life

  Emerge as nonsense words

  Despair and love

  Within one phrase

  Cannot a man’s true feelings

  Say

  And yet

  When all is done

  When all is said

  The feeling still remains

  So new

  So fresh

  And if words could stand alone

  With words I’d build the highest walls

  Pave the straightest road

  And find the brightest light

  And with the world locked out

  A road to you

  And the sun to light my way

  The wall I’ll make

  The road I’ll build

  But

  The light

  Is always

  You

  THEN and NOW

  What have you done to me

  What chord’s been struck

  What tune’s been played

  Composed and sung

  Since first we met

  What sun rises

  What moon shines

  Through what door

  Did indifference leave

  And love arrive

  I know before

  When I peered inside

  There was a night

  Of darkest black

  No stars

  No sun

  No here I am

  No take this hand

  And be my friend

  What I recall

  Is an endless end

  A spiral going nowhere

  Now

  Flowers grow

  And children laugh

  And birds have wings

  To fly

  Aldercrest

  Karla drove along a winding mountain road nearly obscured by a blanket of thick fog.

  She passed a road sign shrouded in low-hanging clouds that distorted its information. She squinted as she leaned forward in an effort to read. “Did it say Clear Lake? Oh, hell!”

  Karla continued carefully down the narrow mountain road, the fog allowing forty feet of visibility at best.

  At long last, a handful of dim lights broke through the gloom. “God, I hope this is the right place.” A small scenic village emerged, surrounded by lush mountain greenery. Fog seeped through the trees and floated across the buildings in waves, its tiny drops of water clinging to the day’s dust and dirt.

  Spotting a motel, she pulled in, parking directly in front of the office door. Karla stepped out of the car and stretched to release the tension of the drive. She waved her hands through the moist air and rubbed her damp fingers. “Talk about a heavy fog.”

  She reached for her purse, shut the car door, and climbed the steps toward the illuminated door facing the parking lot.

  The office consisted of a small room with a desk and a bell next to a sign that read: Ring for Service. Karla followed the instructions.

  A door behind the desk creaked open and a plump woman in her late fifties emerged. Her unruly white hair had been tied in long braids adorned with leather straps. She wore tattered slippers, jeans, and a tie-dyed T-shirt that did nothing to disguise her stout shape. She sported a broad smile and kind eyes. “Hi there. Welcome to the beautiful Mountain Lodge. I’m Judy, how can I help you?”

  “Is this Aldercrest? The fog is so thick I’m not sure I read the road sign correctly.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you’re in the right place. This fog though, is real strange for us. We don’t get much fog around here. The mountains tend to keep it out, or in this case, in. Glad you found us. That fog bank is like driving through whipped cream.” She giggled.

  “I’d like a room, please, if you have any vacancies.”

  “Lake view?”

  “Uh, sure. That would be great.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  “I haven’t decided.” She pulled a wallet from her purse, and handed Judy a credit card. “Could you keep it open?”

  Judy turned the registry around. “Sure thing, no problem. Write your particulars right here.”

  While Karla entered her information, Judy processed her credit card.

  “What brings you out here? Vacation?”

  “Not exactly. I’m a reporter and I’m writing a story on the McKenzie family. Do you know them?”

  Judy returned Karla’s cr
edit card and turned the registry around. “Well, I know of them. It’s said they put the town on the map. In fact, our main street is named after them.”

  “Really? Are there any members of the family still living around here?”

  Judy squinted in an effort to recollect. “Don’t think so. I’ve only been here for five years, though. You should ask Elisa, the waitress at Pines, the local diner. It’s a few blocks down McKenzie Street.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Yeah, right, the fog. Nothing to it, if you go out of our parking lot and hang a left, you’ll come to McKenzie Street. You missed it ‘cause of the fog, but it’s not far from here at all.”

  Judy opened a drawer under the desk and handed her the room key.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing, honey. Your room is down at the end, facing the lake.” She pointed to her left. “You can leave your car parked where it is if you like, or you can move it right in front your door. Parking is not assigned. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thanks, Judy. I will.”

  Karla closed the door behind her, stepped down to her car and attempted to spot the end of the motel. The thick fog covered the entire lot, so she decided to leave the car put. She grabbed her briefcase and suitcase, and walked the length of the porch to her room.

  She opened the door, and switched on the light. “Well, at least it’s not a dump.”

  The room had a queen-sized bed with a plush comforter, plenty of pillows of varying sizes, and a beautiful carved redwood headboard. The bed was framed by two matching redwood night tables with large lamps shaped like pinecones. A deep sofa with lavish multi-shaped cushions occupied one corner, while a desk and office chair stood in the opposite corner. A redwood credenza with a small refrigerator faced the bed, and was topped by a coffee maker and bar accouterments. A large flat-screen television had been installed on the wall above it. Paintings of the lake and its surroundings adorned the walls.

  She unpacked quickly, left the lodge behind, and turned onto McKenzie Street. The main street showcased curiosity shops of all types and sizes, an arcade with electronic games, and a bowling alley. Between the shops and a parking lot, a red, white, and blue flashing neon sign read, “Pines: Best Diner in Town.”