One Hundred Candles [2] (5 page)

“I’ve been saving this one for last,” she said. I sat back on my hands, happy that I wouldn’t have to tell another story and even happier that the game was nearly over. Next to me, Harris also sat back, his hand lightly brushing my own. I wondered if he’d touched me on purpose.

“My parents are renovating this house,” Gwyn started. “It’s over a hundred years old, so they’re gutting the kitchen, replacing the roof, that kind of thing. It’s taking forever.”

It was a familiar beginning to me. Home renovations often triggered dormant energy, a phenomenon my parents investigated more than any other. Their inquiries usually concluded that whatever the homeowner was experiencing amounted to little more than residual energy being stirred up, almost like someone shaking a bottle of juice. In fact, my parents received so many calls about strange things happening during a remodeling project that they rarely examined them anymore unless something truly unique stood out. I wondered if Gwyn’s parents had called mine.

“About a week after they started working on the house, strange things began to happen,” Gwyn continued. “Little things, at first, like furniture or papers being moved at night, so that when we woke up the next day they were in the wrong place. Sometimes we heard footsteps in the hallway, and once my dad heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen. The more work we did on the house, the more things happened.”

I hoped Gwyn would hurry up. Nothing about her tale was all that unusual. I had to stifle a yawn as she went on to describe how her family took pictures that revealed orbs in the corner of the kitchen. Why people got worked up about small white balls of light in a photograph was beyond me. It was usually dust or bugs.

“Last month it got really bad,” Gwyn said, her voice softer. “So bad, in fact, that my mom moved out.” I sat up straighter, ready to hear about something other than random noise and minor movement.

“It was late at night, and we all heard sounds coming from downstairs, like furniture was being moved. My whole family went together—my parents and my brother and me—and sure enough, the dining room table had been pushed against a door.” She paused. “That’s when we saw the light. It was like someone was walking across the room holding a flashlight, but there was no one there, just the light. It glided right past us, and I felt a cold breeze when it did. Then I heard a voice. It was so clear and so close that for a second I thought my brother had said something, but it wasn’t my brother’s voice.”

People were leaning forward, eager to hear the rest of the story. When Gwyn was silent for a second too long, a boy near her asked, “What did the voice say?”

Gwyn flicked on the lighter and held up the final candle. “It said, ‘Thank you for pushing back the curtain.’”

five

“Are you sure he’s not a serial killer?”

“Hello, Noah. Happy New Year to you, too.” I leaned into the bathroom mirror to apply lip gloss while trying to balance the phone on my shoulder. The strange angle was aggravating my arm, though.

“Sorry. Hi, Charlotte. Happy New Year. Now, are you absolutely sure Shane isn’t a serial killer?”

I used my pinkie finger to wipe a little excess gloss from my top lip. “Pretty sure.”

Noah was constantly asking me about Shane, who was like an uncle to me. While I was happy that Shane was dating Trisha, Noah was miserable that his mom was now going out all the time.

“Because he fits the profile, you know. And he travels a lot, so he could have left behind dozens of corpses all over the country.”

“Hmm. Well, that would explain the smell coming from his van.”

Noah sucked in his breath and I laughed. “Kidding! Look, he’s a nice, normal guy who’s crazy about your mom. Be happy for them.” I left the bathroom and returned to my room, where a pile of clothes lay on the bed. I started picking through them in a determined search for my good jeans.

“If Shane’s so nice and normal, how come he never got married? He’s, like, forty. And who spends their life driving around in a van trying to film ghosts?”

“Careful,” I warned. “You’re about to insult my family.”

“Sorry,” Noah mumbled. “I’m really tired.”

I located the jeans and inspected them for obvious stains. “It’s okay. I know how you feel.”

It
had
been a late night. After all one hundred candles had been lit, we waited without speaking. Then Gwyn led us into her kitchen, which was still unfinished. While everyone else quietly inspected the cupboards and corners, I kept turning over Gwyn’s story in my head.
Thank you for pushing back the curtain.
It gave me chills. What did it mean, exactly? Was it simply an eerie coincidence or was my experience in Ohio connected with Gwyn’s experience at home? She had said it happened a month earlier, so whatever I encountered in Ohio could not have possibly followed me back to South Carolina.

I hoped.

“So, what did you think about that whole thing last night?” I asked.

Noah sighed. “I don’t know. After what happened in Charleston, I’m kind of open to anything, but it seemed hokey. I didn’t feel anything afterwards, did you?”

“I definitely didn’t feel a hundred spirits in the room with us, if that’s what you mean.”

Still, I thought I had detected something. Despite my two recent supernatural experiences, I wasn’t sensitive like some people. I never relied on my feelings alone, but I knew what to be aware of, and as the group of us stood in the kitchen, waiting, I tried to tune in and pay attention. Seconds after Gwyn finished telling her story, the candles all flickered in the same direction, as if responding to a slight breeze. The debunker in me immediately looked around to pinpoint the source, but I couldn’t figure it out. The room was warm and stuffy and still. No one had moved, and even if someone had exhaled deeply, the candles were scattered in such a way that not all of them would have been affected. In fact, Noah coughed a moment later, and only a couple votives flickered at all.

There was something not quite right, something I couldn’t define, and it was more than just a feeling. It was like my brain was trying to alert me to something out of place. I continued to scan the room, hoping to identify what was wrong. Most of my classmates were focusing on the corner where Gwyn had said the cold light had passed. A few had closed their eyes. Bliss was also looking around, and for a split second, our eyes met. She frowned and turned away.

I tried to move closer to Gwyn. I needed to talk to her about the voice she had heard. But every time I came within a few steps of her, she moved away, almost as if she was trying to avoid me.

When the hallway clock chimed eleven, the spell seemed to break and people began to move toward the front door.

“It may take a while,” Gwyn said. “But something
will
happen. You’ll see.”

There was a general disappointed grumbling in response. After all, most of the group had sat around for hours hoping to witness something unusual, something caused by the hundred spirits brought forth by their hundred stories. I was just happy to escape the house and return to the party across the street. It was still loud and crowded, but at least it felt normal. Harris stayed at my side for the rest of the night, and we counted down the waning seconds of the year with the rest of the packed room. As the fireworks in Times Square erupted on the TV screen, Harris wrapped both arms around my waist and pulled me close.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered. Before I could respond, his lips were pressed against mine. I don’t know why I was surprised—we were surrounded by couples ringing in the new year with a celebratory embrace—but I was. The kiss seemed to end before I fully registered what was happening, but Harris kept his arms around me in a way that announced to the rest of our classmates that we were together. The fireworks exploding on TV were nothing compared to what was igniting inside of me.

I checked the clock on my nightstand. It was just after noon. “Avery’s going to be here soon,” I informed Noah.

“Mom’s still sleeping in. Shane didn’t bring her home until almost three this morning. I was about to call the cops. And she didn’t even tell me where they were all night, except to say that they went to some great party.”

I heard the doorbell ring downstairs. “Do you really want the details?”

“Why? Do you know something?”

“I know that Shane is happy and your mom is happy and you should try to be a little happy for them.”

Noah groaned. “You sound like her.”

“Great women think alike. I have to go. Avery’s here.”

“See you at school tomorrow.”

A moment later, Avery waltzed into my room. “Okay, I have three possibilities,” she announced, pushing the heap of wrinkled clothes off my bed and onto the floor. “You mind?” She knew I didn’t. Avery laid out the three tops she had brought with her, each a different shade of dark blue.

With school starting the next day, Avery had volunteered to come over and help me pick out clothes that wouldn’t draw too much attention to my sling. I stood still while she held each of the blouses against my skin.

“Too light,” she declared, tossing a crinkly peasant blouse to the side.

“This is why I need you,” I said. “That was my first choice.”

Avery appraised the pile on my bed. “We want something like you wore last night, but more casual. The darker, the better, I think.” The corner of her mouth curled into a smile. “Although I have to say, Harris definitely wasn’t paying attention to your cast last night.”

“It’s not a cast, it’s a sling. And I think he felt sorry for me.”

“So that was a pity kiss he gave you at midnight?”

I immediately looked down, embarrassed. I had no idea that Avery had witnessed the kiss. It had been so public, though.
Everyone
must have seen it.

“So?”

I looked up. “So what?”

“Was that a friendly peck or something more?”

“It was, you know, the whole midnight-on-New-Year’s tradition.”

Avery smiled knowingly. “Right. Tradition. Tell me this. Do you like him?”

I hesitated. I did like Harris, but I didn’t know him at all. I liked that he was taller than me and had a great smile. I liked that he was nice and athletic and had a sense of humor. He seemed great—on paper. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had chosen me, and, since I barely knew him, I couldn’t figure out what it was that he liked about me. I was slightly suspicious. Was he genuinely interested in me or was he attracted more to his idea of me, whatever that was? More than once, someone had pretended to like me when in reality, all they wanted was a chance to be on TV for a couple seconds. When I expressed this to Avery, she frowned.

“Any chance you’re over-thinking this?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve known Harris since kindergarten. He’s a nice guy who wants to get to know you better. That’s all.”

Hearing her say that helped me relax. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right. He’s one of the most—” She was startled quiet by the slamming of the front door downstairs. We both turned to look at my open door as heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Before they could reach the hallway, though, we heard my dad’s voice.

“Fine! Avoid the question like you always do!”

The footsteps stopped as my mom turned around and went back downstairs. “I am not avoiding anything except yet another screaming match! If you calm down, maybe we can discuss this.”

My parents were standing at the bottom of the stairs, completely oblivious to the fact that I was home and that Avery was over. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there, hoping they would retreat to another room and lower their voices.

“We agreed that we no longer needed this kind of assistance.” Dad spoke loud and fast, like he was trying to prevent Mom from interrupting. “And yet you keep going over there. We have a massive caseload and a full schedule, and you insist on wasting valuable time listening to some head cases with no degrees whatsoever fill your head with New Age nonsense!”

Mom kept her voice calm. “So if they had graduate degrees, you’d listen to their ideas? Their opinions would hold some value to you, is that what you’re saying? I never thought you were that pompous, Patrick. I really didn’t.”

“Again, you’re avoiding my original point!” Dad exploded.

“Which was?”

“Which was that we do not have time for psychic drivel. We have a reputation to uphold, Karen. I will not allow you to destroy over twenty years’ worth of respected scientific research—”

Now Mom exploded. “You will not
allow
me? Is that what you said?” she screamed. “Since when do you
allow
me to do anything? I thought we were a team! Or does that only apply when I’m on board with what you want? Heaven forbid that I should have an opinion that diverges from yours—”

I’d had enough. I crossed my room and slammed the door shut. My parents immediately got quiet. I turned to Avery. “I’m really sorry you had to hear that.”

She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I heard a lot worse when my parents were getting a divorce.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t mean—”

“No, it’s all right.” I returned to my bed and sat down next to her. “They’re not usually like that. It’s stress, I think. It’ll blow over.”

I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Avery or myself. I felt like I was waiting for some defining moment when my parents would finally realize how stupid and pointless all their arguing had become. Then they would make up and everything would be back to the way it was, maybe even better. They just needed a little more time.

Avery held up the remaining two shirts and looked at them for a full minute before making a decision. “This one,” she said, holding a silky midnight-blue top next to my sling. “Perfect color. Plus, it has a square neck, which looks great on anyone.”

“Thanks, Avery.” I knew I sounded less than thrilled, but I also knew she understood my shift in mood.

After Avery left, I tried calling Annalise. She had already returned to Charleston. I knew that if she hadn’t been dating Mills, she would have stayed home for a few more days. She might have even overheard our parents’ most recent outburst. Then she would have finally understood how serious things were at home.

Annalise’s phone rang once and went straight to voice mail. “It’s me,” I said. “Call me soon, okay?”

I wanted to talk to my big sister. I wanted her to reassure me that everything would be fine. I wanted her to give me advice about Harris and my senior year and college choices. We’d been so busy helping our parents with their investigation in Ohio that we hadn’t really talked during the holidays. I felt like I’d wasted a chance.

There was a tap at my door. “Charlotte?”

“Come in.”

Dad smiled nervously as he entered my room and looked around. “Hey, it’s almost clean.”

“Give me another day and I’ll have it back to its normal messy state.”

He pulled out my desk chair and turned it so he was facing me. I sat cross-legged on my bed and tried to keep my face blank. The last time Dad had visited my room was when he’d needed to set up equipment to monitor for potential paranormal activity. He followed a general rule of never coming into our rooms unless absolutely necessary. Annalise and I had always joked that he was worried he would glimpse our bras or something distinctly feminine.

Dad cleared his throat. “So, um, I guess you heard your mother and me downstairs earlier.”

I looked at my hands. “It was hard not to.”

“Right. Well, I want to apologize. If your mother and I had known that you and Avery were up here, we would have been more careful.”

“You mean careful to fight more quietly?” I was surprised by how bitter I sounded, but Dad didn’t look fazed at all.

“Your mother and I are going through a stressful time right now,” he said. “It happens. We’re working on it, though.”

“Can you work faster?”

Dad gave me a tiny, tense smile. “We’ll try.” He pointed toward my arm sling. “How are you? Managing all right?”

I didn’t like that he was changing the subject. I wanted him to promise me that everything was going to be fine, that their problems were all just one big misunderstanding. Instead, he was focused on my injury.

“I’ll be fine. It only aches a little.”

“Good. Try not to move it much. And don’t worry—I haven’t forgotten who’s responsible. He’s not going to get away with this, I promise.”

“Dad, I honestly don’t think Marcus meant to hurt me,” I started. “I mean, he didn’t—”

Dad held up a hand. “Enough. Let me handle this, Charlotte. You don’t need to worry about it.” He got up to leave, but before he reached the door, he paused. “We’re conducting an investigation next month. You interested?”

“Sure.”

Dad smiled. “That’s my girl.”

He left my room, and for a split second it almost felt like everything was back to normal.