Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price) (32 page)

CHAPTER 34

The party goes off without a hitch. Everyone eats too much and Joe drinks a little too much beer. Olivia loves every present she gets and has a sugar high from the cake, but finally crashes in the car on the way home.
I’m quiet as I drive. The radio is turned on softly, and Joe is humming along.

“Rachel looked good, didn’t she?” Joe asks me out of the blue. I am not sure how to respond, other than to agree. Earlier, when I met up with them at the pizza parlor counter, I followed Joe’s suit and hugged her too.

We were all classmates until Rachel moved before our freshman year of high school. I remember her as a friendly and warm person. Shortly after our divorce, she moved back into town when her grandmother fell ill. I assume that is when Joe and Rachel became friends again. When Joe later married her, I truly believed she was the best fit for him and I was grateful that Olivia had her as a stepmother. But during the party I couldn’t help but wonder why I felt so awkward when I encountered her. I wasn’t jealous, I wasn’t upset, and I didn’t feel as if I got caught with her husband. Instead, I felt sad for her.

In the bits of memory of the future I had left, she and Joe had a life together in Idaho. They had a nice home and two children. I feared that was taken away -- in what I believed to be my true reality -- and their happy future might possibly never exist. I felt in some way responsible for that, even if I didn’t directly do anything to cause it. And that set my mind to questioning.

If I left Joe now, would it change anything? Would they end up together after all? Olivia is so happy. Is it worth the risk? I’m too afraid to make any impulsive changes that could mess up anymore of my life than what I have already done -- whatever that may have been. I may never know what that was, as I’m too afraid to pursue it any further.

For now I am moving through the phases of grief. Denial...check. Anger...check. Bargaining....maybe. Depression...definitely. Acceptance...we’ll see.

CHAPTER 35

This last week of January has crept by. The Marketing department is away at a tradeshow and I’m left with nothing to do but pace myself at work so I won’t die of boredom. I cannot wait until Stacy is back and I will have a friend to chat with again.

In the days since Olivia’s party I have managed to convince myself that I need to commit to this life I’m living. Joe is a good dad, and in his own way a good husband. The guilt I felt after seeing Rachel has lessened. I can’t change anything and I can’t force something to happen that may never have happened anyway.

One night I decided to burn my journal in our fireplace. There is no point in keeping it any longer. John still has the recordings from our sessions, even though he offered them to me at our last visit. I didn’t see the point in listening through them anyway. It would just add to my confusion and make me long for something that was disappearing from my memory more and more each day.

When I sleep I now dream about my job, Olivia, and sometimes Joe. I don’t see the man in the shadows so much anymore, or the little girl. In fact, the other day I actually forgot her name. It took me an hour to come up with a name that sounded right.

In my downtime at work I research past life regression, future life progression, and even time travel. Most of it seems like a bunch of hocus pocus and it confuses me. The conclusion I have come to -- for my peace of mind -- is that I must have had a vivid premonition of what could have been. It must have been so real that it shocked my subconscious and caused me to believe that I actually lived that life. I speculate if it was the medication or the panic attacks that allowed this fantasy to get so elaborate that I believed it. I may never know.

My office phone rings around 1:00 p.m
., snapping me out of my thoughts. “Sound and Clear, this is Jenni,” I say politely.

“Hey Jen. It’s Steve,” Steve replies.

“Hi! How is California?” I ask, happy to hear a friendly voice.

“Great! Can you do me a big favor?” he answers back.

“Sure. What’s up?” I respond, grabbing a sticky note and piece of paper.

“I just got a call from the internship program. The Marketing interns will definitely be arriving on Monday. Stacy ran out of time to get their housing arranged. If I give you the info, can you contact the house on campus and finalize everything?”

Something in my gut pulls at this request, but I am not sure why. Sound and Clear has always employed interns for Engineering and Marketing, so this wasn’t anything unusual. However, for some reason butterflies are lightly swirling in my stomach. Maybe I’m nervous about the task at hand, I rationalize.

I take down the information and hang up. I quickly dial the number Steve gave me and arrange to meet the housing manager that afternoon to sign paperwork and provide her with the deposit. At 3:00 p.m. I tell Ruth I have to go. I follow the directions I printed online to locate an old fraternity house that now offers housing for international and low income students.

After I find a parking spot, I make my way to the back entrance of the house --as instructed. When I slowly open the door that leads into a large, communal kitchen I’m greeted immediately by the smell of must and old food.

The house is quiet and there is no sign of life in the main area. I peek into a hall entrance to see if there is anyone around. I feel as if I shouldn’t be here, but at the same time I feel as if I have been here before. I question if perhaps I was here for the brief period of time when I worked in property management.

I notice a door to my left that looks like it leads to the basement. A sign reads
“Manager, downstairs 1B.”
I’m relieved to know where I am going now. I carefully make my way down the old wooden stairs to the fluorescent-lit basement that holds two sets of washers and dryers and a stack of old mattresses.

I find the manager’s door on my right and knock lightly. I hear the doorknob being unlocked, then the door opens very slightly so the person on the other side can just barely see me. There is a plain-looking brunette peering through the slit in the doorway.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m Jenni. We talked on the phone about the two rooms we need on Monday.”

She opens the door a bit wider to let herself out and shuts it behind her quickly, but not before I see that her room is filled with stuffed animals. Odd, I think, for a woman her age.

She seems awkward, but is smiling nevertheless. “Oh, Hi. Thanks for coming so soon. I’m Tonya,” she says, extending her hand. Her handshake is weak, but the offer is kind.

After a quick exchange of paperwork and the deposit, she hands me the keys. I thank her and head back up the stairs. When I reach the top I pause, turn to my left and take another look around the kitchen. It is ugly and bare and smells like stale cooking oil. But it is oddly familiar.

CHAPTER 36

It’s a hot summer day. We are in a field of tall, green grass. The sun is setting. I watch my step as I follow him. The blinding sun makes it hard to see where he is going. His silhouette slips in and out of the shadows and light. I don’t know where we are going or why, but I follow him anyway -- whoever he is.

I am tired, so I slow down to catch my breath. My legs feel heavy and
I’m thirsty. “Wait,” I call out between breaths. It takes so much effort to get the word out. The figure stops, but he doesn’t turn around. After catching my breath, I stand up straight. I notice that the air has suddenly become quiet. No bird song, no sound of the breeze, nothing.

“Who...are…you?” I force out. The figure doesn’t move, nor speak. Instead, it fades away. The air is cold now. It is dark. I hear the rain.

C
HAPTER 37

The buzz of the alarm clock unkindly wakes me from my slumber.
I’m not ready for this week because I know it will be chaotic, with Marketing returning from their trip. I committed to help them unpack from the show -- an offer I now regret, after having helped them pack to go.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” Joe says sarcastically, as he enters the room and puts on his work boots.

I roll my eyes in irritation.

“You were quite vocal last night,” he says.

What the hell does that mean, I wonder.

“I have never heard you talk in your sleep before,” he continues, “but you were saying ‘wait’ and it woke me up.”

I sit up and grumble, shrugging off his comment. I can’t remember what I dreamed about, so it doesn’t make any difference to me. I hear Joe grab his keys. He quickly kisses me on the cheek and exits.
“Love ya,” he says from down the hall.

I hurry to get ready and make myself look the opposite of how I feel.
I’m in a bad mood and I don’t know why, but I am trying to snap out of it. Olivia decides to be picky about the pants she is wearing this morning and won’t cooperate. I am starting to run late and my patience is wearing thin.

After fighting with her about wearing jeans due to the cold weather, I concede, and she is now in capris in the winter. I quickly make my way to her preschool, drop her off, and then remember I have to drive into town before work and get more coffee creamer for the office.

I make a quick stop at the mini-mart that’s on the way and pull into the hectic lines of commuter traffic. A school bus and dump truck are competing for spots at the red light and I know that regardless of which lane I choose,
I’m going to move at a snail’s pace.

I decide to turn up the radio and sing a
long, hoping that doing so will clear my bad mood. Ironically, a song about having a bad day is playing. It appears this will be my theme song today. Traffic is still creeping along. I look to my left at a taxicab that just cut off another car behind me, only to get stuck in the lane next to me.

It’s rare to see a taxicab at this time of morning. They are usually more commonly used to transport drunken college students home from the bars at night. The light turns green and the left lane moves faster. As the taxi passes me, I get a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat and jam on my brakes.
I’m jostled hard, as I feel the slam from behind and my head snaps backwards. “Shit!” I yell out loud.

Shaking, I take a minute to collect myself. The cab is gone while I am at a standstill. I look in the rearview mirror. The driver that hit me has gotten out of his car and is preparing to come up to my window.
I’m pretty sure it is his fault because
he
rear-ended me, but I don’t know why I stopped so suddenly.

I try to stop shaking enough to roll down my window.

“Are you OK?” he asks, when he gets to my window.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. How about you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. I grab my purse and insurance information from the glove box and get out of the car.

We quickly inspect the damage and find that besides a slightly dented license plate on his car, there is no visible damage to mine and no point in filing a claim or calling the police. Luckily we were barely moving in traffic when he hit me. But we exchange information just in case. I get in the car, phone Ruth at work to explain why I’m late, and get back on the road.

I am still a little shaken up when I pull into the parking lot at work, but I take a deep breath and try to calm down so I don’t appear so frazzled when I walk in. I see Stacy’s car parked in her space when I get out and I’m immediately filled with excitement and relief to see my friend soon.

I hustle into the building and put the creamer away in the kitchen. As I turn the corner to the hall, I can already hear upbeat voices and laughter coming from Marketing. The sound is soothing to me and eases my stressed mind.

“Hey guys!” I say cheerfully, as I walk in through entrance to the Marketing office.

Stacy turns away from the group of people that are gathered and talking in the middle of the main room to face me.

“Hey you!” she says, rushing over to give me a hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” I say squeezing her back.

“I want you to meet our new interns,” she says, moving out of my way to make the introductions.

My body freezes instantly and my legs lock under me. Suddenly I can’t breathe. My head starts to swim and I feel the blood drain from my brain, as my heart pounds hard in my chest. My eyes are locked on the man standing in front of me. Bright lights are flashing all around me.
I’m blinded by the colors and images. My eyes sting and my pulse pounds in my head. I see a million images in my mind all at once and I can’t make sense of anything, it is all happening so fast.

I see images of this man and me. Our first kiss. Our first time being intimate. I see what looks like England and Sweden, trips we took together. A wedding day. The birth of a child. Holidays and birthdays. Moments of laughter. Moments of tears. Moments of anger. Moments of love. Moments of us. All colliding together at once.

The images stop as quickly as they came.

“Michael,” I gasp.

He stares at me, a confused look on his face.  My legs give out and my body hits the floor. Darkness.

We are alone in a dark room with only the light of the moon shining upon us. The shadows
of the night contour his face.

“It’s you,” I say to him.

He nods and smiles while staring into my eyes. He is holding me close. I breathe in his scent.

“Where have you been?” I whisper, as I try not to cry.

He shrugs.
“With you,” he replies. “I’m always with you.”

“I missed you,” I say, leaning in and resting my head on his shoulder.

“I know you did,” he says. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

I begin to cry. He gently strokes my back and kisses my head.

“Don’t leave me again,” I say.

“You either,” he says.