Scotia's Grave Page 7

  Macy had been able to recognize Lorrah’s dark aura at the restaurant in Vermont, just like I had. There were no auras visible around my mother and I couldn’t remember ever having seen one.

  A flash of the phone call...taking place right now. My mother told the person on the other end of the line to get here as fast as they can and that they couldn’t let me get away this time. “Lorrah should never have been trusted with such an important task. We hoped to get both of them, but Muriel is better than nothing.”

  It had taken a long time but, my mother, in a few short minutes, had finally lost me forever. Any hope or delusion of a relationship I may have held on to quickly vanished.

  “I think you’re right mother. It’s time to stop with the games,” I announced, when she returned to the table. “Tell me why you killed my grandparents.”

  She didn’t flinch at the accusation. “She was going to tell you everything about your lineage when she visited you that Christmas,” she said. “It would be risky for you to decide which kind of druidess you would be without understanding all your options. I killed them to give you the freedom to choose.”

  My mouth hung open due to the fact that she didn’t try to deny her treachery. Unbelievable. However, her reasoning, as though she had murdered them for my benefit- enraged my being.

  “They were good people and your father is a good person,” she continued, nonchalantly. “There had to be time to explore the parts of me within you.”

  “Yes, because everything has always been about you, mother,” I said. “Everyone is supposed to love and care about you while you shit on everyone’s feelings…while you lie and cheat your way through life. You don’t think you need to answer for any of it?”

  She shrugged. My blood pressure rose. I wondered if my face was as bright red as a beet. She coughed. A small cough escaped her at first, which soon turned into gasping. She held her hands to her throat, becoming her own shade of red.

  The waitress rushed over to offer help. It occurred to me that I hadn’t moved, but calmly watched my mother struggle for air.

  “I’ll call an ambulance,” I said, rushing over to the pay phone, trying to look concerned.

  When I reached the phone, she started sputtering and became able to take in small, labored breaths. That’s when I realized that my unborn baby was reacting to my anger, protecting me against her own grandmother. I replaced the phone on the receiver and walked back toward my mother.

  Her breathing became difficult again as I moved closer. “Why don’t you get some cool dish cloths to put on her forehead,” I told the waitress. “I can wait here with her.”

  By this time, my mother was down on the ground. The patrons of the restaurant became concerned with her condition, huddling around. I told them that 911 had suggested this may be a contagious illness that’s been going around and the restaurant cleared quickly. The waitress threw the wash cloths over to me, so she could exit without more contact.

  My mother’s eyes were wide with fear. She had many expressions, but this one I had never witnessed, until now.

  “If you let me die, you will be more like me than you know,” she whispered.

  My anger rose, and with it, my mother felt the effects of her grandchild’s wrath. Her breathing became so labored that she seemed on the brink of passing out.

  “You need to know something,” I said. “I’m not letting you die- I’m the reason you’re dying. And if that makes me like you for a couple of minutes, that’s fine by me. You always wanted us to be more alike.”

  My anger continued to rise until her breathing stopped. Once her body went limp, I waited for a few minutes to ensure she was truly gone. No pulse in her wrist confirmed it, so I got up to leave.

  With each step toward the door, I looked back to make sure. I flinched during the first glance because her eyes were open, but she had died like that. Bridget came to me in a vision and she rolled her hand toward herself in a hurry-up motion.

  I increased my pace, exiting the restaurant.

  “How is she?” the waitress asked.

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  The door to the van opened right before I reached it. Hopping in, the women were silent. Clio told the driver to head back to the airport. She said she would give him a bonus if he could get us there quickly.

  Shortly after leaving the bistro, two black town cars sped past us heading in the opposite direction. The people my mother had called. I knew it.

  Looking at Bridget, I asked, “Is there anything that can be done for her?”

  She shook her head. “She’s gone,” Bridget answered. “Your child protected you once again.”

  “Only one of you were going to make it out of that situation,” Macy said. “I’m glad it was you.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me what I’d encounter in there?” I scolded, raising my voice. Looking around the van, no one responded. “Hello?”

  “Once we received reports that your mother was located here,” Ann sighed, “it needed to be you to decide her fate. Besides, she can see dark or light auras. She would have seen one of us coming.”

  “We had suspicions about your mother’s involvement,” Macy said. “You would be able to find out for sure. You’d see the events unfold.”

  “Once you knew all the facts, it would be your decision how to move forward,” Tina piped up.

  “Do you feel any remorse?” Clio asked.

  “Not at the moment,” I responded. “Is that bad?”

  “It’s actually very good,” Clio told me. “And that’s the last time you won’t be fully informed about a situation.”

  It wasn’t long before we were back at the airport and heading home. The pilot’s voice came over the loud speaker and said that we should be home in time for a late supper. I needed to see Deidra and Bruce more than ever. Hopefully both of them would still be up.

  We all got comfortable on the plane. Bridget sat next to me when we lifted off. After the landing gear rose up into the body of the plane, she turned her head toward me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, with no awkwardness.

  “You know,” Bridget broke the silence, “you always called her mother. Why is that, even when she was so wretched?”

  I shrugged, looking upward. “A child knows what they’re taught,” I started. “She trained me to think that the word mother meant neglect, disappointment, selfishness and pain. So, calling her mother couldn’t be a more fitting title.”

  “Hmm. There’s a lot more to you than I thought,” Bridget confessed.

  “Let’s hope so, Bridget. Let’s hope so…”

  Chapter 7- Party Time

  Between classes and homework, time flew during the week. I found myself in my dorm room, Friday afternoon, not sure what to do with myself. Normally, I’d be packing to go home for the weekend. This pause in the day would have been welcomed, but the party tonight seemed unavoidable.

  Dread came over me, realizing there was no excuse for me to miss the party…the party that my horny neighbor invited me to because his friend had a crush on me. My stomach churned at the thought of participating in this college ritual.

  If only I could master the art of lying before the inevitable knock on my door. Homework was a good excuse, but the advertising assignment had to wait until tomorrow in the library and no other homework had been left undone.

  “That’s it,” I concluded, out loud. “Quit being such a baby and go to the stupid party. You can always leave early…maybe figure out why you have a compulsion to tell the truth all the time.”

  A tap on the door brought me to my senses. Opening it, I found my neighbor out in the hall, with a large grin on his face.

  “So, it’s four now,” Rick said. “How about we all go to dinner around seven and then swing by the party after that?”

  “I just figured we were going to the party.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Well, no,” I answered.

  “So, what’s the problem? We’ll all
meet here and head out at seven,” he decided. “See you then.”

  Rick bolted through his door before I could debate the dinner decision. Shutting my door, I leaned against it, closing my eyes and worrying about eating in front of strangers. The girls would probably order salads and peck at their plates like birds. My manners were impeccable, but I enjoyed hearty meals and could probably eat more than the boys. The temptation would be suppressed this evening.

  My wardrobe selection wasn’t great. Most of my cuter clothes were at home, but I grabbed what might be considered appropriate for a party and headed toward the shower. For whatever reason, the shower had a calming effect, a chance to muse about my thoughts, unfettered. For the first time, I wondered about Rick’s friend, who had a crush on me.

  Although making sweeping judgments was not my typical practice, it seemed logical that anyone who wanted to spend time with Rick must be deeply flawed. Rick, being an unleashed dog, must run with a pack of people that have similar traits.

  Back in my room, the radio blasted while I did my hair and makeup. When the knock on the door came, it could barely be heard. After taking a deep breath and telling myself this was no big deal, I opened the door. There were three young men standing in the hall, including Rick, and three young women.

  “Wow,” Rick said. “You look great!” The girl beside him looked sideways at Rick as though she didn’t appreciate his observation.

  He noticed. “Uh, Jenna, this is my neighbor, Muriel. Muriel, this is Jenna.”

  She said hi and pretended to be pleased to meet me. Rick never introduced me to anyone else. We all walked down to the parking lot.

  “My car will fit everyone except for Muriel and Greg,” Rick said. “You two can go in his car.”

  I had no idea who Greg was until everyone else followed Rick to his car and the two of us were left behind, uncomfortably standing there.

  “You don’t have to ride with me,” Greg said. “I’m a perfect stranger and this is the way Rick tries to control situations. I’d understand if you want to switch with one of the other girls. Do you want me to yell for Rick?”

  While walking down to the parking lot, I secretly hoped Greg would be my date tonight. He was in my psychology class and adored by many girls on campus. I’d seen him around and noticed his size more than anything. He had to be on the football team, which would also help explain the fan club, but I’d never known his name.

  “Do you want me to yell after him?”

  Greg had to ask again because I was busy in my own little world, not fully present.

  “I’m sorry,” I answered. “No, you don’t need to call after him, but can I drive? My car is right over there.” I pointed to a spot in the lot.

  Surprised by my response, he smiled. Oh my Lord- that smile! It was like the sun…warm and intense. He put one hand behind his neck. His bicep flexed and the combination between that and the smile made me a little giddy.

  “Are you a good driver?”

  “Yes.” My answer was immediate and very confident because I’d been driving since the age of twelve.

  “Well, O.K.”

  I smiled. “Well, O.K.”

  We walked to the car. I explained that the passenger seat had been stuck and it might need to be dislodged. After opening the passenger side door, I struggled to pull the handle so the seat would move backward. No way would Greg fit in the car with the seat so close to the dashboard.

  “Why don’t you let me try?”

  I moved out of the way. He yanked the handle, breaking the seat free. He was so strong that his arm continued past the handle and pushed into my side, banging me into the car beside us.

  “I’m so sorry!” he said, snatching me off the car in a flash. “Are you O.K.? Do you want me to take you to the clinic?” He put his palm over the spot where his hand practically went in between my ribs.

  “I’ll be alright,” I answered. “Give me a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  A dangerous offer for him because I’d rather stay there instead of going out to dinner or the party.

  “Stay right here. I’m going to go get my truck and I’ll drive.”

  Greg returned shortly and helped me into the truck. I insisted that I was fine, but he hoisted me up anyway.

  We started driving off campus, when he asked, “Would you mind if we didn’t meet everyone for dinner and picked up some food instead? Maybe go hang near the beach before the party?”

  “Well, I’m a perfect stranger and I’d understand if this makes you uncomfortable,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “I think I’ll be O.K.”

  “Well, O.K.”

  We stopped at a Chinese place where Greg ordered four entrees, of which I hoped he only expected me to eat one. He asked for forks, but I opted for the chop sticks, internally judging him for selecting the fork option.

  It took 45 minutes to get to the beach from San Jose, so I knew we would be in the car for quite some time.

  “Do you think Rick will be upset that we didn’t make it to dinner?” I asked.

  “No,” Greg replied. “We’ll go to the party later and he’ll be fine.”

  “Why are you friends with him? I don’t mean for that to sound rude. He’s just kinda…well…I don’t know,” I fumbled.

  “I know what you’re getting at.” He laughed because he understood my point. “Rick and I have been friends since we were three. He has short-comings, but he’s like a brother to me. I accept the good and the bad.”

  “The good?”

  He flashed that smile once again.

  “There’s good- I promise. It’s different for me. He’s not trying to get in my pants.”

  “That’s a valid point,” I agreed. “Can I ask you a question?” He nodded. “Why me? You could have your pick of any girl on campus. Yet, here I am.”

  “That’s what I like about you. You don’t realize that you could have your pick of anyone on campus, too,” he countered. “So, why me?”

  “Because your friend, Rick, set this whole thing up.”

  “See? There’s an example of good, right there.”

  We both smiled.

  It wasn’t long before we were pulling into Cowell’s Beach, slightly north of the Santa Cruz boardwalk. The lights on the rides could be seen in the distance. Greg parked in the perfect spot, like he had done it a million times before. He got out of the truck, nodding for me to do the same.

  The last thing I wanted was sandy Chinese food, but I got out. Greg lowered the gate on the back of his truck. He took out a mat that covered the truck bed and then got out a few blankets, which made sense because the temperature had dropped to the mid-fifties. As much as I was thankful for the blankets, he seemed too prepared for this little jaunt, making me suspect he had wooed many a girl in the back of this truck.

  “Hop in,” he said. “It’s all set up.”

  I sighed, preparing myself to fend him off all night. Reaching back into a bin, Greg took a small, folding table out to set up between us. It resembled a TV tray with shorter legs. He placed the food on the table and asked if there was anything I wanted to try first.

  I merely shook my head no and started eating the chicken chop suey.

  “Thank you for dinner, by the way,” I said.

  “It was the least I could do after pushing you in the parking lot.”

  A bonfire raged further up the beach, sparks flying into the air. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves lapping the sand calmed me. The table between us felt like a small safety barrier…a ridiculous notion.

  “This is…” I started to say, but stopped after realizing Greg was staring at me. “What?”

  Greg shrugged. “I don’t know,” he mused. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. This is my place. I come here before big games or to avoid parties. I have all this stuff because I sleep here all the time.” He pulled out pillows, putting one behind me, while doing the same for him.

  “I
’d think this would be a nice place to bring a date,” I observed. “It’s really quite beautiful.”

  His mouth was full of Chinese food, but he wanted to say something, so I waited.

  “No one bothers me here. I don’t have to talk about football. It’s a good place to be alone with your thoughts and even cry if I need to, without being mocked.”

  “Cry? Why would you cry? You seem to have the world on a string.”

  “Have you ever lost someone close to you, Muriel?” Greg asked. “I mean someone you never thought you’d have to miss?”

  My mind immediately went to Jed and my eyes started to fill with tears. “Yes,” I could barely get the word out. It didn’t take long before silent tears rolled down my cheeks. I hoped Greg wouldn’t notice, but when I looked over at him, it was obvious that we were both crying.

  He smiled a sadder smile than the ones witnessed before and handed me a couple of napkins to mop up the tears. We never elaborated on the losses we had suffered, but we shared in the sadness and it made me closer to him in an instant.

  “Isn’t I’ve Got the World on a String a song?” He asked.

  Greg changed the subject perfectly and added some levity to the situation. It was brilliant.

  “Yes, it’s a song,” I affirmed.

  “My grandma really liked Peggy Lee and she would listen to that song a lot.”

  “I think about ten people sang it before her,” I informed. “The first person to sing it was Cab Calloway at the Cotton Club.”

  “No way,” he said. “Seriously?”

  “Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, having just taken a bite of food.

  “Once we’re done with our food, we better get going. We both promised to go to this party,” Greg reminded. “I promised to go, so I could meet you, but I’m not sure why you promised him.”

  “I’m not either, but I’m glad I did.”

  His face became a little flushed. It was the cutest thing. We chatted for the next fifteen minutes. Neither of us wanted to go, but there were promises made. We folded the blankets and threw away any garbage. Greg picked up a can that had been on the beach before we came, which made an impression on me.