Aftermath

by Sandy Goldsworthy

  Then, I realized I used the word home.

  Chapter 33

  Ben's Story

  I wasn’t sure why Molly picked Rusty’s Anchor to meet.

  We already resuscitated Rusty and I heard he was doing well, but I didn’t question her motive. I was just happy to be out of the bleachers. After all, it was Friday night, which meant high school football in Westport, the social event of the week for every teenager in town.

  As instructed, I showed up promptly at 9:35, disguised as a thirty-six-year-old man. Old chunks of driftwood adorned with fish netting and seagulls sat in the entryway, with an oversized, partially rusted anchor. Last time I was here, I never noticed the dingy-looking life rings on the paneled walls.

  The hostess sat me at a window booth, told me they only served until ten o’clock, and then left. I felt the presence of an immortal like myself, as I opened a menu.

  It was faint and could be from a distance or shielded by a barrier, a skill only experienced agents possessed. Claire, I knew, would never pick up on the sensation I had. It was both a blessing and a curse.

  I scanned the place mentally from a bird’s eye view, as I pretended to read the menu. It was my favorite ability. I simply left my body for a nano-second to get a different view. No human would ever notice my rigid body for that split second of time when I left it frozen in place. I could visually cover the entire building before anyone noticed I left my body behind.

  There was only one table of guests in the dining area and one middle-aged guy at the bar. Rusty made small talk with the dark-haired man. The hostess left her podium station and was punching out in the kitchen. The cook was grilling two burgers, one with Swiss cheese, the other plain. The food-prep girl fixed condiments on white stoneware plates and began wrapping and storing tomatoes and pickles. She stopped mid-path to the commercial refrigerator when the hostess told her about me.

  They couldn’t see me. I was invisible in spirit form outside of my body. Of course, I couldn’t be free from my body for long. A minute or two at most.

  I glanced around the kitchen and noticed the back door open. I perched myself higher to get a view beyond the confines of the building as Molly sat down in the booth, across from my body.

  “You were propelling, weren’t you?” she asked when I returned.

  The sensation I felt had to be her. “Yes.”

  “Bored?”

  “You were late.”

  “It’s 9:36. I’d hardly call that late.” She tipped her head the way she always did when she was in a snippy mood.

  “Okay, so why the meeting?” I asked. “Nice disguise, by the way.”

  She held back a grin. “You like?”

  I laughed. Molly would change her height, her hair color and style, but she would never pack on pounds or add wrinkles. She was a bit vain. Wrinkles that came with the age of her disguise were always camouflaged with makeup, like the abundance of eyeliner she had on.

  “There’s no reason a thirty-something-year-old woman can’t wear something attractive. Is there?” She blinked in slow motion, her long lashes swooping to her cheeks like a monarch’s wing in flutter.

  I shook my head. “Nope. No reason you can’t wear something attractive,” I repeated and chuckled. Molly would never change. She was a fashion statement with her fitted black dress, double strand of pearls, and slick hair pulled back into a neat bun.

  She rolled her eyes at me, as she heard my opinion.

  “Ready to order?” the waitress asked.

  I looked at Molly, who seemed flustered, and then turned to the waitress. “Yes, we are,” I said. “Honey, would you like me to order first? You know, they only serve until ten o’clock.” I touched Molly’s hand as I spoke, and then glanced up at the thirty-two-year-old waitress, who smiled back. She wasn’t in the kitchen when I propelled.

  Molly’s thoughts were pointed. She hated being called honey as much as I hated saying it aloud. “I’ll have the grilled chicken, please,” she spoke to the waitress. “And a glass of Chardonnay.”

  After I ordered Rusty’s famous fish fry and a beer, the waitress left.

  “She’s pretty,” Molly said.

  I nodded. “Is she why we’re here?”

  She glanced around and then continued silently, Yes. She would have left a few minutes ago and been attacked and killed.

  Is this a sanctioned assignment? Or are you going rogue? It wasn’t usually our mission to change the life path of a human, but it was something we could do. Sometimes it was without consequence, but not always.

  She shot me a look. “Jorgenson sent me.”

  “You know the hostess punched out a few minutes ago,” I said.

  She shook her head. “She’ll be fine.”

  I was confused.

  “The waitress’ ex-husband is sitting in his car, drunk and angry, with a loaded gun in his lap. Give him twenty minutes and he’ll be passed out. When Maria’s done with her shift, she won’t even see him.”

  “Why didn’t Jorgenson call your parents to handle this? We’re missing an underage high school party right now.” I smiled.

  She paused while Maria served our drinks.

  “Well, let’s see. Ava is at a medical event at the Carmichael Inn, where Grant was until he was paged to the hospital. Marty is covering for Barbara Carmichael, so she could be with your beloved Emma. Which means Marty can’t leave the Inn until the event is over.” Molly took a sip from her wine. “This situation with Maria came up rather suddenly. I don’t mind, really, Benjamin.”

  I nodded and raised my glass in a toast. “And it gives you a chance to be an adult again.”

  She smiled and clinked her glass with mine.

  “Jorgenson could have called Bianca. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “Bianca?” Her tone expressed her surprise.

  “Yes, Bianca. She’s here.”

  Molly turned to look around the restaurant. “What, pray tell, do you mean by here?”

  “You didn’t know?” I told her Bianca rented a condo and planned to stay until January.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea she was that extreme. She clearly doesn’t understand your bond with Emma.”

  As soon as Emma’s name came up in conversation, Maria brought our food. Her hand accidentally touched mine, as she placed my fish fry before me. I could tell she was an abused wife and a mother of three that was trying to make ends meet. She finally had the courage to get a restraining order after Rusty gave her a job waitressing.

  After Maria brought a side of mayonnaise, Molly ordered another drink, and later a glass of water. When Maria returned to our table a third time, Molly struck up a conversation with her. Despite Molly’s repetitive requests, Maria was pleasant. She smiled and chatted with us like we were the only customer she ever had.

  Suddenly, I understood why Molly enjoyed these simple assignments.

  Chapter 34

  Emma's Story

  Aunt Barb woke me before my alarm went off.

  “I want to get on the road early,” she said as I strolled into the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. Aunt Barb put two slices of bread in the toaster. “Neal will be here any minute. Oh, and Marty’s agreed to watch Chester while we’re gone.”

  “Marty? From your office?”

  She nodded and sipped her coffee.

  It was Saturday, the day of my move from Highland Park to Wisconsin. Neal volunteered to help move the delicates. It was what Aunt Barb called the fine china and other valuables she didn’t trust to the moving company. “I want to make sure your mom’s precious things stay that way,” she said.

  Going back to my old house made me both nervous and excited. I was looking forward to seeing my old friends and spending the night with Melissa, but I also knew it would be the last time things would be the way they used to.

  The drive flew by, as Aunt Barb and Neal talked the entire ride. I put in ear buds and turned on some music to drown out their conversation.

 
What could they possibly talk about for two hours? They just saw each other the night before, at the high school football game. Westport won against some school I never heard of. TJ played and so did Neal’s son, though I didn’t know his name, or what number he was. Hannah was there. As I suspected, she was a cheerleader and simply waved at me when we walked in.

  When we reached my house, it looked different. The swing set in the backyard seemed small and vacant. Flowers were wilted in the pot beside the door.

  Stepping inside, a chill ran through me.

  I swore I saw Mom cooking at the stove, stirring a huge pot of chili. Dad kissed her on the cheek and asked for a taste before it was done. In the family room, I saw Dad reading the paper with his feet propped up on the oversized ottoman that doubled as a coffee table.

  “It’s the new thing,” he said to me. “Impressed that I’m not old and out of touch?”

  I smiled to myself, almost convinced they were there with me.

  When Aunt Barb called my name, images of Mom and Dad vanished, leaving me with memories of a distant past.

  “You okay?” She smiled weakly as if ready to give me a hug.

  “Yeah. I’m good,” I answered quickly and turned away. I didn’t want to remember. I wanted to focus on getting this over with so I could be with my friends.

  Aunt Barb had a plan and immediately put Neal and me to work. She had labels and boxes for us to sort what was staying and what we would bring with us. The movers were scheduled to pack things we were taking. The rest would be donated, Aunt Barb told me.

  I went to my room and begin filling a small box with the mementos I accumulated over the years. The soccer and basketball trophies that meant so much to Dad and me at the time seemed suddenly more important.

  Hours passed quickly. Before I knew it, all we had left were cartons stored in the basement—holiday decorations, silver platters Dad hated polishing, and my old collection of American Girl dolls. I paused for a moment when I saw the outfit Mom bought my doll at the store in Chicago. It was way before Mom got sick, back when she and I would go shopping downtown, or take in a movie on a Sunday when Dad watched football. Memories flooded my thoughts and suddenly, I wanted to keep the collection of dolls and accessories.

  “Honey, you keep whatever you want. Okay?” Aunt Barb said. “Even if you’re not sure, keep it. For now. You can always part with it later.”

  We packed, labeled, and organized the house, while Neal sorted tools and moved the patio furniture that would sell with the house.

  When Melissa’s BMW pulled in the driveway a little after five, I was relieved. I ran out the side door, as she shut off the engine. She gave me a hug in between squeals of “Omigod, I’m so excited to see you” and “I’ve got so much to tell you.”

  I felt like we were in middle school again.

  Melissa greeted Neal and my aunt like she knew them for years. She navigated their questions in a confident tone that matched a middle-aged woman. Melissa was always good at impressing adults, and she certainly wowed my aunt with her interest in the Inn and how the packing was coming along.

  “Have a great time, girls,” Aunt Barb said as we headed to the door. “Emma, don’t forget the moving truck will be here early.”

  I nodded. How could I forget? She told me a dozen times.

  “So, your aunt and Neal, huh?” Melissa asked as she pulled onto the street.

  “What? No. I don’t think so.”

  “Really? I would swear they had body language. You know, like a couple.”

  Couldn’t be. I shook my head. “Uh-uh. No way. My aunt isn’t dating Neal. They’re just friends. Neal knew my uncle. That’s all.”

  Could they be? I shook the thought.

  “So, The Grill or Norton’s? What do you feel like?” Melissa asked.

  “The Grill.”

  She smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” It was Melissa’s favorite restaurant, mostly because it was next to her favorite jeans shop, a little boutique with designer brands. “The guys are going to Frank’s later tonight.” She glanced at me, as we rolled to a stop at an intersection. “Lewis said we could stop by. If you want to, that is.” Her elevated tone made it sound inviting.

  I hesitated before I agreed to go, but Melissa didn’t seem to notice. I wondered if Matt would be there and if it would be awkward seeing him. Obviously, he didn’t tell anyone that we broke up, either.

  Melissa pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaurant. I checked my reflection in the mirror and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  “Um, Em? Isn’t that Matt?”

  I flipped up the visor and looked in the direction where she was pointing. Walking down the sidewalk, Matt was holding hands with Aimee Wilkinson.

  “What the hell?” Melissa asked and looked at me.

  My heart pounded in my chest. “I, ah… we… we broke up.”

  “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” She was staring at me now. I felt her eyes on me as mine were fixed on Matt opening the restaurant door and following Aimee inside.

  “Mel, I’m sorry. I should have. I wanted to,” I whispered. “I guess I… I didn’t think it was real.” I shook my head, still staring at Matt. “I can’t go in there. I just can’t.”

  Melissa started up the car and shook her head. “Neither can I.”

  We spent the rest of the night at her house. We talked about school, Matt, and which colleges to apply to. We ate ice cream out of the tub and watched Saturday Night Live. Melissa swooned over the host, an actor she crushed on since his first movie came out when we were in middle school. It brought back memories of earlier days, before boyfriends and high school, before Mom got sick and before Dad died.

  “Do you think we’ll stay this close? You know, after I move away?” I whispered after Melissa shut off the TV. Even though it was almost three in the morning and I was exhausted, I didn’t want the night to end.

  “Of course we will, silly,” Melissa mumbled. “You’re my best friend.”

  I smiled to myself in the pitch-black room and slowly fell asleep.

  ***

  The moving truck was already in front of the house when Melissa drove me home the next morning. Two men in gray uniforms loaded Dad’s leather couch, as she parked the car. Neal’s Jeep and my Jetta were both filled with boxes and framed prints.

  “Good morning, girls,” Neal said when he met us in the driveway. “Glad you’re here. We’re ready to go.”

  I glanced toward my aunt. She stood by the garage, talking to a woman in a deep red suit. The woman had blonde, perfectly shaped hair and wore an abundance of jewelry. Dressed like that I doubted she was with the moving company.

  “She’s the realtor,” Neal said, when he caught me staring.

  I tensed with his words, but Melissa’s immediate hug changed the subject.

  “Text me every day, okay?” she asked, her eyes beginning to water.

  “I will.” Tears ran down my cheeks. Saying goodbye was harder than I thought it would be. “Come visit, okay?” I asked in between deep breaths.

  Melissa nodded and wiped her eyes. She smiled briefly, then turned and left.

  Neal put his hand on my shoulder and mumbled something about it being all right. I knew he was just being nice.

  Nothing about this would ever be all right.

  Chapter 35

  Ben's Story

  Claire and I drove to school together each day.

  It was expected of siblings, I assumed. She was settling in well, making friends with Hannah Lambert and a few others that I couldn’t name if I had to. I didn’t care. She was fitting in. In other words, she was working out.

  Rookie or not.

  Molly never took a liking to young agents. Not that she didn’t like them, personally; they just brought a level of additional responsibility to any mission. Like an untrained dog you kept on a leash, rookies should never venture too far alone.

  “Are you ready for today?” she asked on o
ur drive in that morning. It was Emma’s first day of school, and we were already running late.

  I nodded. Of all days, Claire picked today to get picky about her appearance.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get ready,” she said. “I just can’t get the hang of these newfangled hair irons. We didn’t have them, back when… well, you know.”

  Yeah, I knew. Back in the late 1930s when she lived in Chicago.

  We drove in silence until we got stuck at a stoplight. When the light turned green, I gunned it. I had to get past the railroad tracks before the gate dropped. A train was a few miles away, and timing was everything.

  “What are you doing?” Claire’s voice distracted me and broke my concentration. I lifted my foot from the accelerator pedal, and the car immediately slowed to a more manageable speed. Sixty miles an hour was fine on the county highway, but frowned upon on city streets with a posted speed limit of twenty-five.

  My change of pace meant we got stuck by the train.

  “This is my fault, isn’t it?” Claire asked. “I’m really sorry, Ben.”

  I calculated the precise speed necessary based on the distance to the tracks, the speed of the train, and the time school started. I had it. I was set. We would have made it on time.

  Then, Claire’s distraction interfered, and we sat idling. In other words, we would be late.

  I took a deep breath and realized Molly’s point about rookies.

  “You know, Claire, you don’t need to use a curling iron to fix your hair in the morning.”

  Her bright blue eyes looked up at me, but she didn’t understand.

  “Shape it. With your hands. It’ll turn out like you envision.”

  She gave me a blank stare.

  I shook my head, realizing we had a long way to go on the training of basic immortal abilities. Maybe Molly had the patience to teach her.

  I certainly didn’t.

  Chapter 36

  Emma's Story

  “Of course I’m driving you,” Aunt Barb said.

  I thought she was kidding, but when she pushed the issue, I realized she was serious. As much as I appreciated what my aunt did for me, I didn’t need a hovering pseudo-parent holding my hand like a kindergartner on the first day of school.

  I was nervous enough as it was.