Eliza's Shadow (3 page)

Pete was
already sitting by himself, listening to music and flipping through a book when
I reached our retreat. His light brown hair stuck out in a million different
directions making him look like he’d had a brush with a lightning bolt. He
jumped when I plopped down beside him. Evidently, I'd interrupted his thoughts.
He recovered quickly.

"I
found tickets for the show in Providence." He said proudly.

"Awesome!
Are you sure you don't mind going again?" I asked tempering my excitement
just enough to ensure Pete would answer honestly.

"No
two shows are alike. I'm psyched. You just gave me the excuse I needed to
go." Pete assured me.

Bryn appeared
out of nowhere and sat down next to Pete. I sensed with a hint of dread that
she was simply bursting to talk about something juicy and with Bryn that always
meant one thing… guys.

"Sooo,
what do you think about the new guy?" She asked, painfully trying to act
nonchalant before taking a bite of her sandwich. I could practically see the
wheels spinning under her blond curls.

"I
haven't thought about the new guy. Why would I?" I snapped too quickly,
feigning indifference.

Pete put
his book down and leaned back in his chair crunching on potato chips.
"Seems cool to me. Wonder where he’s from." He responded offhandedly.

Bryn
quivered with excitement.

"He’s
so… exotic. Pete, maybe you can befriend him and then introduce him to
me." Bryn suggested coquettishly.

Despite
the fact that Bryn never dated, she frequently entertained unrequited crushes.
It could be annoying but part of me enjoyed it. At least she was hopeful and it
made me feel almost normal being around her.

"Or
maybe you could just befriend him yourself. I'm not a professional taster but I
don't think he's poisonous." Pete smirked.

Pete loved
teasing Bryn. They started talking about the show again and Pete brought up her
reaction to some guy sitting in the row ahead of them. I finished my lunch and
felt a compulsion to get out of the loud crowded lunchroom, thinking that a
little fresh air would help me put things in perspective.

"I
have to cram for my history quiz so I'm gonna head to The Quad for a few
minutes before class. Do you think you'll survive without me?" I asked
with exaggerated sarcasm. Pete and Bryn rolled their eyes in unison.

Throwing
my bag over my shoulder, I ambled toward the exit. I leaned back briefly,
winding up for the push necessary to force the heavy metal doors open but just
as I hurled my full weight toward the doors, they swung open. Missing my
target, my shoulder rammed into a body on my left.

My mouth
fell open to spout an embarrassed apology but before the words could escape, an
unnatural wave of heat passed through my shoulder and down my core. The cicada
hum electrified my cells sending a visible shiver through my whole body. This
time, I couldn't avoid his face. I looked up, too disoriented to be mortified.

Ren's dark
eyes met mine with an unspoken intention that took me off guard. "I’m
sorry… Are you hurt?"

"Uh
no, sorry, I just didn't see you." I mumbled and began to back away from
him.

He smiled
knowingly and his eyes searched my face. "Leaving so soon?" He asked
amused.

As if we
met here on purpose?

"I…
have to study for a quiz." I sucked in a breath and felt the heat of
embarrassment slide across my cheeks. I stumbled forward a few feet in an
attempt to escape. Then gathering my wits, managed to assume a smooth gait down
the hallway.

"Later
then." I heard him remark to my back.

I crossed
the atrium and headed for the exit to The Quad. My heart was racing and wings
of panic fluttered against my ribcage. As I stepped through the doors, I had to
resist the urge to run away and not stop until I was safely in my room under my
comforter. Instead, I sank onto a bench nestled between two large oaks in a
quiet corner of the yard. Ignoring the bustle of students strolling between the
buildings, I plummeted into thought.

What was
happening to me? A cyclone of emotions whirled in my chest. Like a human
magnet, I was powerfully drawn to Ren and equally repulsed… even afraid.

Then I
felt something else, something old and hidden. Icy fingertips along my spine,
like the touch of death, a warning before it takes you.

I began to
shake before I even comprehended the gravity of what was happening. Like lava
from a dormant volcano a searing tide of memories oozed from deep within my
psyche. Long buried emotions burned through me, scorching my chest. I was going
to be sick.

Jane will
call. She'll take care of this, I reasoned as I started to walk slowly across
the yard and away from school, then quickly as the tears spilled.

3

The walk home was a blur. I
ran like I was being chased, though I knew what lingered on my heels was not
something I could ever outrun. The air stung my cheeks and made my face itch
where the tears dried. I dashed by all my usual stops, the town library where
on a normal day I would have stopped off for a couple of hours to finish
homework and then moved on to Bishop's Tea Room to lose myself in a novel
before heading over to Viva for dinner with Jane. When I finally reached my
building, I charged up the steps desperately seeking the solace of home.

Jane wasn't home. Yellow afternoon light filtered
into the living room through the large windowpanes overlooking Main Street.
Relieved to be alone, I allowed myself to give in to the pain that roiled in
the pit of my stomach and curled into a ball on the couch. Pulling a crimson
throw around me, I sobbed. My tears didn't provide an immediate sense of relief
but as they slowed the ache subsided. By the time my eyes cleared, the light in
the room had changed and it was evening.

I allowed myself to turn inward. It was as if a
secret panel to a vault deep within me had cracked opened and all the contents
lay in the darkness waiting to be explored. To find out why Ren Alden’s arrival
blew the cover off the vault, I had to look inside. I had to remember.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and stepped
inside.

Within moments I was back in Moco, hiding under
the covers in my mother’s bed, the night she had disappeared. I had prayed that
when the storm cleared, my mother would be home. Despite myself, I had slipped
back into sleep cocooned in the warm scent of my mother’s blankets. When I
woke, clear light streamed through the windows. The craggy branches of the live
oak outside the window bobbed on a gentle breeze, bearing the burden of the
wispy Spanish moss draped over them.

A familiar scent drifted through the bedroom door.
My heart quickened and I slipped out of bed racing for the stairs. I heard a
sizzling noise the moment my feet hit the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Mother?” I called out.

No answer came.

The glass from the shattered picture frame was
gone. But my heart sank when I saw the damaged portrait resting on a table in
the hall. It hadn’t been a nightmare after all.

That was the first time I laid eyes on Cora Jones.

She stood in my mother’s place in the kitchen,
moving slowly between the stove and the sink. She was plump and brown like so
many of the Gullah women I’d known. Her clothes and hair were swathed in a
bright blue fabric that reminded me of hydrangea blossoms.

There was nothing remotely menacing about Cora but
her presence still sent me into a complete panic.

Hearing my footsteps, Cora turned around slowly,
drying her hands on a dishtowel. She smiled but everything else about the set
of her face confirmed my alarm.

“Where’s my mother?” I demanded, my breath
catching in my chest. My heart beat so fast I thought it might explode.

Cora’s smile wilted as she glided across the room.
Her arms stretched toward me.

“Come child. Let’s get you some breakfast.” She
cooed soothingly, avoiding my demand.

When her smooth warm hands graced my arms, I shook
them off defensively.

“Where is she? And who are you?” I demanded
growing increasingly angry that she hadn’t yet explained herself.

Cora sighed and sauntered to the small white
kitchen table, easing her large countenance into a chair. Her expression
softened then and in it, I saw defeat. She gestured for me to join her.

I crossed the room stiffly and climbed into my
usual chair. My nerve endings bristling, I noticed that the pool of water that
had been on the floor the night before was gone.

Cora’s eyes softened as she took me in. “My name
is Cora Jones. I’m an old friend of your mama’s.” She said simply.

My heart throbbed, pounding against my ribcage.

“Where is she?” I asked my voice cracking.

Cora shook her head despondently. “Don’t know,
child. She called last evenin’ sayin’ she’d like me to look in on you. Wasn’t
expectin’ that call. By the time I arrived, she was gone.”

A knock on the wood of the screen door interrupted
us. It was Nathaniel Jackson, the sheriff. My stomach flipped and I thought I’d
be sick.

Cora looked up unsurprised and pressed her hands
against the table to lift her heavy frame out of the chair, “Mornin’ Nathaniel.
Thank you for comin’ by.” She said seriously.

I tried to listen to the conversation between Cora
and the sheriff but a thick buzzing noise filled my ears, making it hard for me
to concentrate. “Missing… some kind of trouble...leave child… ” The pounding of
my heart became painful and it was hard to breathe.

The next thing I remember I was stretched out on
the floor. Cora and the sheriff’s faces stared down at me. Cora’s soft arm was
beneath me and a cool washcloth lay over my forehead.

“That’s right, child, keep breathing. You just had
a sinkin’ spell.” She said softly.

The sheriff frowned, “She goin’ be alright, Miss
Cora?” he asked.

“Just fine.” She said, a reassuring smile
stretched across her face.

The sheriff sighed. “Whelp, we got a lot of mess
to clean up today but we’ll work it up. If you hear from Nia, give us a
holler.” He said, directing his comment to Cora.

“Uh hum, thank you, Nathaniel.” Cora said shortly
without looking up.

Then his face disappeared from my line of sight
and I heard the screen door slam.

I took a deep breath and sat up.

“Easy now, child. Let’s get you some breakfast.
You need something to settle yourself.” She said decidedly.

I crawled back up to the kitchen table and
obediently consumed the sausage biscuits Cora placed before me. It occurred to
me that both Cora and the sheriff were under the impression that my mother had
left me on purpose, a possibility that was utterly devastating.

While I ate, I dazedly watched Cora fuss about
pulling an array of jars from a paper grocery bag on the floor. Some were large
and filled with colored powders, others held dark, wrinkled mysteries, and some
of the jars were so cloudy I couldn’t tell what was inside.

“Let me know when you’ve finished. We’ve got us
some work to do.” She said, all the while inspecting the windows and doorframe
of the kitchen.

“Mmm, hmm, not a bit of protection on this house.
Not a bit.” She mumbled shaking her head.

“I’m finished Miss Cora.” I said wiping crumbs
from my lip with the back of my hand.

Cora looked at my clean plate and smiled wide showing
off a set of perfect white teeth.

“Good! Let’s get about securing this house.” She
said and grabbed an old jelly jar filled to the brim with rusty colored dust.

I followed Cora out the screen door and joined her
on the backyard. She stared at the house in silence for a few moments before
unscrewing the top of the jar and charging toward it. She shook the jar leaving
a smooth unbroken line of rusty dust along the doorframe then moved across the
edge of the house similarly marking each windowsill. I followed her as she
circled the entire house methodically dusting every possible passage.

When she’d finished, she went back inside
carefully stepping over the line marking the back door.

“What is that stuff?” I asked hesitantly, since
Cora had offered no explanation.

“Brick dust” she said in a matter-of-fact manner,
“bars the passage of evil.”

An icy shiver ran the length of my spine.

Cora moved to the kitchen counter and began
opening the jars. From them she drew dark shriveled items and smooth white bones.
She carried these items through the house, humming as she walked, and placed
them on shelves and mantels. When she’d finished, she made her way back to the
kitchen and retrieved a jar that looked like it was filled with water. She
dipped her fingertips into the jar and shook them sending droplets spraying
over the floor. As she walked through the house she continued to hum and
sprinkle, hum and sprinkle.

The rest of that day was a blur. I felt confused
and afraid. I’m sure I ate, I’m sure I dressed, but all I really wanted to do
was sleep. Sleep with the hope that when I woke up the nightmare would be over.

But when I did sleep instead of drifting further
from the nightmare, I fell ever deeper inside it.

I dreamed that I wandered down a dark country
road. Deep forest lined the path and from the sound of the night around me, I
knew that I was headed into swampland. I wanted to stop but my legs kept
carrying me forward further into the darkness.

The road ended in water. Black water stretched out
before me reflecting a clouded moon like a mirror fogged by steam. In the weak
moonlight I could make out the silhouettes of swamp trees. Their strait
graceful trucks towering above the bulging roots that dove into the watery
depths.