Helens-of-Troy (54 page)
Ryan kissed his guitar pick then tossed
it onto the casket. “Godspeed, Old Man Wagner,” he whispered,
fighting back the tears.
Ellie stepped forward and pulled
Beastie Bear from the bag she was carrying. She gave it a kiss and
tossed it in as well.
“What are you doing?” Helen shrieked.
“That’s your bear.”
“I don’t need it,” Ellie sighed. “I
offered it to Stan, but he said he didn’t want it either. He said
he was almost nine,” she smiled. “Sometimes you just have to let
go.”
“Are you sure?” Helen asked. “You don’t
have to let go of everything. You could let go of just a
little…”
“I’m sure,” Ellie said, turning to
smile at Tom.
“Is there enough room in there to toss
in that God-forsaken bug van of yours?” Helena asked. “I mean,
while we’re giving things away?”
“I’ll take it back to Tony tomorrow,”
Helen offered. “Although it might be good for our family business,
if you think about it.”
“Get rid of it,” Helena insisted. “I’m
searching Craig’s list for a black Impala for you.”
“You know, there’s a lot more room in a
Beemer than people think,” Helen smiled.
“You just keep thinking that,” Helena
laughed, patting her daughter on the shoulder. “And I’ll go see if
Forest Lawn’s grave digger is looking for an assistant. You still
need a job. Unless you feel like becoming a cop. Apparently there’s
a shortage in town.”
Helen grumbled inaudibly to
herself.
“What’s that?” Helena
prodded.
“I guess Roy’s heaving a sigh of
relief…getting to pin all the murders on the twins you wanted me to
date,” Helen said sarcastically.
“I think he’s got mixed feelings on
that one,” Helen lamented. “I don’t know what this is going to do
to our relationship. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
“From the relationship or from Troy?”
Helen asked. “Because I just got here. I’m beginning to settle in.
I know where the school is. I know where the movie theatre is. I
know where the jail is…or was, and now I know where the cemetery
is. Really, what else is there to know?” She glanced over at Ellie,
still holding Tom’s hand. “And Ellie’s making friends.”
“And?”
“And that’s it. They’re a little
misguided, but they’re good kids. Human kids. That ought to count
for something.”
“Helen, you sound enlightened,” Helena
noted. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fighting vampires and wraiths can do
that to you,” she admitted. “I’ve definitely lost my little girl.
But I like the woman she is becoming,” she said lovingly. “Sort of.
She still wears weird make-up.”
“Oh, Helen!” her mother sighed. “What
am I going to do with you?”
“Love me like you always do, because
you’re my mom,” she answered. “And learn to lock your
doors.”
“Deal,” Helena agreed, crossing her
fingers behind her back.
She needn’t have worried. Her promise
to her daughter had fallen upon deaf ears. Helen’s full attention
had turned to a man she had never seen before. A tall man, with
reddish blond hair that hung unkemptly over the collar of the long,
tan drover coat he wore haphazardly over his left shoulder, despite
the weather.
“Who is that incredibly handsome man
who just walked up beside Betty?” she asked her mother. “Does Ryan
have an older brother I don’t know about?”
“Settle down, Helen,” Helena replied.
“That’s Ciaran Quinn.”
“Who?”
“An old acquaintance.”
“He doesn’t look that old to me. He
looks positively divine.”
“
Uh, no. He was a houseguest
of Mr. Wagner’s. I imagine he’s come to say his last respects,” her
mother informed her.
“I thought you said Mr. Wagner lived
alone.”
“He did. Ciaran rented his backyard for
a month.” Helena bobbed her head in contemplation. How much did she
really want Helen to know? “Sort of. At the beginning of
July.”
“No! Don’t tell me…”
“Well you didn’t think Gaspar was the
only vampire in town did you? How did you think I managed to save
the boy that night? He tried to kill himself. He had lost a hell of
lot of blood by the time I found him. I needed another vampire to
bring him back from the dead. If only temporarily,” she
sighed.
“And Ciaran was…” Helen began, her eyes
looking him up and down. She never would have guessed there was
anything unnatural about him. “Really?” she sighed.
“Listen to me the first time,
Helen.”
“But he looks so…”
“Human?”
“I was going to say ‘fine’.”
“Well, I guess he is a step up from
your man in purgatory,” Helena taunted. “You are incorrigible, you
know that, Helen?”
“I get that from you.”
“And Ellie gets it from
you.”
“We’re doomed,” Helen laughed, putting
her arms around her mother. “What do you think happened to Jacey’s
baby? That must be heartbreaking for her.”
“I don’t know,” Helena replied
nervously, taking Helen’s arm off her shoulders. “You take the
Mustang and drive Ellie home before the guests get there. I think
I’m going to go take a little walk. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed
by all this.” She caught Ciaran’s attention out of the corner of
her eye and nodded to him.
“Mother! You get back here,” Helena
insisted as Helena began to walk away. “You do too know something!
Spill it.”
Helena stopped in her tracks and was
tempted to say something smart back to Helen, then thought the
better of it. “I forgot to tell you, darling. Your grandmother has
invited us to England for Christmas. Think about it, will you? I’m
going to have to let her know our answer soon.”
“Let’s not. Tell her to come here. We
can all be together and celebrate the season in Troy. I’ll help you
decorate the house.”
“I don’t know, the whole Santa/Chimney
thing…” she hesitated, “…that was a bit of a bummer. Besides,
Elaine’s not getting any younger.”
“
Well she sure as hell isn’t
getting that much older,” Helen argued, putting her hands to her
temple. Helena watched as her daughter’s forehead begin to wrinkle.
“Oh crap,” Helen said with disappointment. “I have visions of sugar
plums fighting in my head.”
“I’m so glad you’ve embraced this power
of yours,” Helena remarked. “It’s going to make life a hell of a
lot simpler.” Turning, she started to walk off in the direction
opposite the parking lot.
At the edge of the cemetery was a
sparsely wooded forest that led down to the banks of the river.
Helena kept walking until she could no longer hear the sound of the
crowd at the funery ground. She stood alone and breathed in the
crisp, cold air. The wind refusing to calm, whipping through the
bare branches of the birch tree with little resistance. For Helena,
it brought back memories of her childhood in England, where she
would walk through old cobblestone streets. When she was young, the
wind tried its best to knock her over. She didn’t have any of its
nonsense then, and she wasn’t going to have any of it now. She
would dig her heels in as usual.
A tug on her coat sleeve from behind
her back brought her back to reality.
“I have eyes in the back of my head,
Ryan,” she said as he moved in front of her and raised his
out-stretched arm towards her face.
“Don’t do it,” he begged, a look of
desperation on his face.
“Do what?” Helen asked, somewhat
nervously.
“Don’t do to Tom, Jacey and me, what
you did to Stan.”
“Be quick with this, Ryan. I have an
appointment to keep.”
“The memory thing. We want to remember
all this craziness. This has been the best week of my life. Except
for the almost dying part.”
“Really, Ryan. I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
“If you say so,” he said, sounding
eerily like Mr. Wagner.
“I’m sure that Stan will be less
nervous now,” Helen offered. “He’s still Stan, don’t worry. He’s
just been unwound a bit. A good thing, under the circumstances,
wouldn’t you agree?”
“He punched me in the gut last night,”
Ryan informed her. “I was just lying there on the couch, calling
him a wimp like I usually do, and he up and drove me one,” Ryan
said with a smile. “I’m thinking he’s a cornerback.”
“Hmm, interesting,” Helena smiled
back.
From above their heads, a crow let out
an ear-piercing call, then dove downwards towards them from its
perch high in the tree. It missed Ryan’s head by less than an
inch.
“Whoa, that was creepy,” Ryan said,
clearly shaken. “It’s the wrong time of the year for them to be all
gonzo. No babies in the nest. Are you okay, Mrs.
LaRose?”
“I’m fine, Ryan,” Helena assured him.
“But maybe it’s time you rejoined your friends.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He
could see a dozen or so crows heading towards them from the north,
all soaring lower than they should be. He turned and ran back
towards the crowd as fast as he could.
“Glad to see your shoulder’s better,”
Helena said to herself.
She took the scarf she had wrapped
around her neck and placed it over her head, glancing at the sky as
she did so. The crows had arrived and formed a circle around her on
the ground. She turned around to face the river, and found that
once again she was not alone.
“
We have unfinished
business,” the voice said, the Celtic accent being easily
understood by Helena.
“I know,” she sighed, her boots
crunching the frozen snow beneath her feet. “Elaine has called me
home. But I’d like to get through Thanksgiving first, Ciaran. No
craziness, no voodoo, just home made turkey and pumpkin
pie.”
“
Good luck with that,
Helena,” he smiled wryly. “If you bring the girls with you in
December, I suggest you book a sightseeing trip for them to keep
them occupied. You and I are going to be quite busy, I’m
afraid.”
“Ciaran,” Helena began, “about
Gaspar…”
“You did what you had to do,” he told
her. “Even I understand that. But you owe me one, and I’ll be in
touch.”
He blew a kiss towards her, turned and
walked alone down to the riverbank.
She watched him walk along the
shoreline until he eventually vanished from her sight. Ciaran’s
arrival hadn’t been happenstance. She was grateful that he had
decided to give her some peace. Thanksgiving was just around the
corner, and she had a lot to be thankful for. Ellie and Helen
wouldn’t just be home for the holiday, they were home for good as
far as she was concerned. That, more than anything, made her feel
like everything was good in her world. At least for now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janine McCaw lives in Vancouver,
(Supernatural) British Columbia. “Helens-of-Troy” is the first in a
series of “Helens” books, so please check back for more stories.
She has previously released the title “Olivia’s Mine,” a fictional
account of the disasters at Britannia Beach, circa 1920.
Reach us:
http://www.Helens-of-Troy.com
Tweet: mc_janine
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