Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Epilogue
Once again, things went back to normal for days. I thought about the phone call and wondered what it was that had brought my ghosts downstairs. Maybe they didn't like modern devices, or maybe Mama was was being overprotective. When I was younger, I was not allowed to answer the phone if Mom had to go away for few moments. Though I was older now, it probably still wasn't the best idea. I didn't get a lot of phone calls, and neither did Seth. Chances were, it would have been for Mom or Dad, neither of whom had been available, and I'd have had to tell the caller that.
I suppose if we lived in a bigger city, that would still have been a house rule; do not answer the phone if there is not an adult in the house. Anyone can pretend to be a telemarketer just to find out if there are no adults at home, then show up and rob the place. It wasn't something we ever thought about. That kind of crime just didn't happen in our little berg.
I tried sitting in my room and reading, to see if contact would occur again, but there was nothing. Aside from finishing my book, the days following the incident were uneventful, and so were the nights. My dreams were forgettable, at best. As I placed the finished book up on a shelf, I realized that I was once again in the position of having nothing new to read, but was nowhere near our next trip to the mall, which was thirty miles away in the only real city our area could boast. There was the library downtown, but I'd pretty much exhausted the selection of books I was permitted to check out at my age. The librarian didn't understand advanced readers, and was sure I was just showing off when I tried to leave the teen section. Even after Mom went in and verbally gave her permission, the librarian was hesitant to let me choose the books I wanted, and by the next trip, she'd forgotten that I was allowed to pick from the main fiction stacks, and sent me back into the teen section. I went home with no books that day.
It wasnt' that I didn't like revisiting favorite stories. I loved my books, and the library books as well. It was just that I craved new stories as much as a gourmet craves new foods. Yes, we have our favorites. I'd read The Hobbit four times. My paperback copy of White Fang was so well-read that I'd rubbed the teaser off of the back cover. The Secret Garden didn't even have a back cover any more. I'd had to replace it with card stock, and to protect that, I'd made a book cover like the ones we used at school for our classroom textbooks, which I taped together over the remaining cover. Still, there was nothing like the smell of a new book, the feel of the thick, unworn pages between my fingers, and the anticipation of getting caught up in the fantasy therein. Much as I loved my favorites, I wanted... no, I needed a new book for my mind to munch.
Annoyance crept into my peripheral thoughts, until I remembered the little bookstore downtown. The selection there was not huge, but I wouldn't have anyone looking over my shoulder telling me what I could or could not buy, and the store was within walking distance. Checking my ready cash, I found a ten. I could get a paperback for that. The store kept up with the weekly bestseller list. There would at least be one new novel there that would interest me.
I pocketed the ten, and headed downstairs. "Mom, can I walk downtown to the bookstore?"
"Why not just go to the library?" We'd had the discussion before, but for some reason, she always posed that question. I knew she would rather not let me leave at all, and was hedging because the library was closer than the bookstore. I didn't want to go to the library without her, though, because of the librarian's silly rules. Mom looked too busy to go. Was I going to be stuck re-reading anyway? Thinking fast, I decided to try a new tactic. Instead of arguing, I asked for help.
"Sure. Will you drive me?" Mom's face was thoughtful. I could see that she was remembering the need to be present for my checkout. She had an art project for an ad she was working on spread all over the table, and looked reluctant to leave it. I knew she had a deadline to meet, and wouldn't want to quit in the middle of this. Besides, we both knew that walking to the bookstore, twice the distance to the library, would give me some much needed fresh air and exercise. Mom didn't want to discourage my reading, but she didn't like that I spent so much time indoors. I could see the wheels turning, the desire to be reasonable and the wish for me to get more outside time competing with the motherly worry for my safety. With several long, lazy summer days between us and the incident, my side of her internal argument won.
"Not today, honey. I've just got too many things to catch up on. I'll take a rain check on that. How about this, though. You can save me a trip." She handed me some folded up bills and a piece of paper. "On the way home, stop at Scranton's and pick these up for me, ok?"
I looked at the short list. There was nothing on it I couldn't carry. "No prob. I'll be home shortly, then."
With that, I was out the door, smiling at the new knowledge I'd gained in the area of bargaining. The act of requesting something you'd like but don't need, and which the other party may not be in a position to give, can be a tool to make the option you really want more attractive. Being able to trade a small favor for the option you want also helps. Cool.
The bookstore was in a little corner building on the cheap end of the main street of town. The storefront was unassuming, with little but a hand-painted sign to advertise the shop's wares. Inside, the store was long and narrow, with shelves along the walls, and a wide walkway between them. There was almost, but not quite, enough room to add another display in the center of the aisle. Near the door was the checkout, with an L-shaped front counter enclosing the area to separate it off from the rest of the store. There was a little swinging door that just barely touched up against the moveable divider between this and the beauty shop next door. Sounds of blowdryers and chattering women leaked through from the other side, audible during quieter segments of the music that came from the small boombox the store owner had sitting in the window beside the checkout.
Light from the front windows faded toward the back of the store, leaving a few bare but still somewhat dim fluorescent lights in the high ceiling to illuminate the area. I scanned the stock of novels, looking to see if there was anything in the discount section. I wanted to eliminate that possibility before heading toward the more expensive new releases and bestsellers. If I found an interesting discounted paperback, I could afford to by a copy of my favorite comic, House of Horror, in addition to the book. That would be cool.
At the same time, I didn't have the luxury of reading the teaser on the back of every book, because I wanted to get Mom's groceries home without too much delay. It looked like the kind of items around which she would plan supper.
Just when I was about to walk away from the shelf, a cover caught my eye. The novel wasn't a mystery, the genre I'd been in the mood for lately. It looked like this one was a horror novel. On the front was a picture of a young woman who appeared to have been primping in front of a bathroom mirror, when taken by surprise by a change in her reflection. The double image in the mirror showed a frighting, dark-eyed face superimposed over the girl's face. Reading the back, I became more interested in the story as the teaser described the discovery of a haunting at the young woman's new apartment, a mysterious and creepy stranger, an interesting neighbor, and a potential mystery. The price was a third of what I would spend on a new release. Those could wait. I was getting this!
On my way out, I wandered over to the short section of comics and magazines. There, I picked up the latest House and a copy of Puzzles and Teasers. A quick mental calculation told me I would still have enough to get one of the gourmet dark chocolates at the counter, and a regular candy bar, too. Since the store had my brother's favorite, I picked up both and lay them on top of my purchases. Mrs. Dennings, the store owner, smiled as she rang everything up, asking me if I found everything I wanted. I said yes, smiled back, and handed over my ten. I was in great spirits, thrilled at my luck and my shopping savvy, and looking forward to the look on Seth's face when I handed him a candy bar out of the bag.
Going to the grocery meant going one street over before heading home. It was no less a direct route than the trip downtown, just a different turning point. It took me through the neighborhood where I had bought the mirror. As I walked past, I saw that the owner was having yet another garage sale. I thought about checking it out, but remembered that I'd spent the amount I'd brought with me, and anyway, I didn't see the table full of books in there. I walked on by, crossing the driveway that turned into an alley going past the garage.
Just as I reached the other side of that, I thought I saw a face peeking out at me from behind a curtain in one of the houses. I stopped, stepped back, and turned to look. No one was there. At least, I couldn't see anyone. It really kind of felt like I was being watched.
I looked back at the garage sale. There were a few people there, rummaging through things on tables and in boxes, but no one was looking my way. I glanced again at that house, but the curtains remained still. Shrugging it off, I crossed the street and headed into the grocery. It was probably just my imagination, my nerves being a little over-sensitized by recent events. If someone around here had been looking out the window at me, I would have seen him or her smile and wave when I looked. It was just how people in my neighborhood were.
I found everything on Mom's list except the re-fried beans. Mom's favorite brand wasn't on the shelf, and if I brought home the wrong one, she'd send me back. I had to ask a stock boy to check and see if he had any in the back. He was gone for several minutes before returning with what I needed. By the time I checked out and headed home, I had the feeling I'd taken too much time. I sped up the pace, walking rapidly toward my house. I only had a few blocks to go, but I was getting hungry and since supper couldn't be started until I got home, I hurried as fast as I could go carrying three bags of stuff. I decided to cut through the alley on the next block.
It was because of my hurry that at first, I didn't notice guy in the long coat. I was almost past him when his movement caught my eye, just in time for me to see him dart around behind a parked car. That was more than a little weird. I thought I recognized his face, but wasn't sure, because I only saw him for a second. It could have been a neighbor, but he looked like the man who had been in my room. I picked my pace up even further. Any faster, and I'd be running. I couldn't help it. I was becoming really spooked.
About halfway through the alley, I started to hear footsteps in the gravel behind me. I looked, and realized that the man was following me. He was far enough away that I couldn't quite pin down his features, but once again I had the sense that this was that guy. I broke into a run. So did he.
Oh, crap, he was chasing me! My heart pounded, and my palms began to sweat. Who the hell was that guy, and why was he after me? I bolted toward the street, terrified. I could hear him panting behind me, but the sound of his footsteps was getting further away. Whoever he was, he was too old and out of shape to keep up with the junior high school hundred yard dash champ for the whole league, especially after a burst of fear-induced adrenaline. I burst into the street, not looking until I heard tires squeal. Mrs. Forrester, my next door neighbor, threw open her door and jumped out of her car.
"Land sakes, Sarah! What the hell are you doing, trying to get yourself killed?" Then, she noticed the look on my face and asked if I was ok. I turned and pointed down the alley.
"Look out Mrs. Forrester! He's coming to..." but there was no one coming. The strange man had disappeared, probably cutting through yards to get away before he was spotted by an adult. I looked at her. "There was an old guy, like old old. He broke into our house a couple of weeks ago, and they haven't caught him yet, and I just saw him. He chased me down the alley. I don't know where he went. How can an old guy be that fast?" Then, I was out of breath, and shaking. I sat down on the curb.
From down the block, I heard my Dad's voice. "Ohmigod... Sarah, are you ok? Did you get hit?" He came running toward us, looking at me. Before I could say anything, Mrs. Foster explained what happened, telling him that I was running away from a stranger chasing me down the alley, and that she had stopped in time. No harm was done, but I was really shaken up. I thought that was a pretty good assessment. My hands felt oddly weak. I wasn't even sure I could carry the groceries home.
Dad asked me some questions. Once he found out that the man who chased me was the man who had broken into our house, he helped me up and took the bags. We thanked Mrs. Forrester and went inside to call the police. We would have to file another report.
As we approached the house, I looked up. It may have been a trick of the light, but I was certain that I saw Grace looking out the window at me, with a worried expression, twisting one of her braids nervously between her fingers.
When I got up to my room, however, she was gone, and there was no sign that she had been there.
As I walked in, I noticed the color pink on my dresser. Looking closer, I found that it was a white cardboard box, wrapped in a pink ribbon. I picked it up and opened it.
Inside was a broach, in the shape of a scimitar. The piece was really detailed. It had a scabbard decorated with colorful little gemstone chips, embedded within pretty pattern pressed into the metal. The blade was removable, and sharp, with a pommel wrapped in what felt like real leather. The end of it was embedded with a little sparkling gem. From the cross-guard, a tiny, delicate gold chain hung down, and looped back up to connect to the scabbard. The whole thing was just under three inches long. It was beautiful. I gazed at it for a few moments, then took it downstairs to thank Mom and ask where she got it.
Mom looked at the broach. "I didn't put that in your room. It's pretty, but it isn't from me."
I approached Dad. "Did you put this in my room?"
Dad shook his head. "Are you sure you didn't pick it up at one of your garage sales and forget about it?"
I didn't think I had, but I didn't want to worry them any more than necessary. Besides, it was a good possibility. It wouldn't be the first time I'd picked up some knack-knack at a junk sale and forgotten about it until later. I took the broach back up to my room, and put it into my jewelry box. It fit nicely into an unused section, looking like it had always belonged there. Odd.
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Epilogue
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