One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) (11 page)

“Like cheetahs could be easily killed if the gazelle didn’t run but fought as a group with their long wicked horns.”

“Exactly – pitchfork horns.”

I ran out of tissues. I’m not hungry but Garin suggested I stay put and he’d go to the grocery store across the street. I can see he’s keeping a close eye on me as he moves through the store.

He came back with a hot burrito, a diet drink, and a box of tissues in a small shopping bag. I took the food from the sack and pushed into the empty bag all the soggy bits of spent tissues I’d been cramming wetly in my purse and collecting on my lap. Then I could worry the paper bag will disintegrate. I used hand cleaning gel before unwrapped the burrito, not hungry before but now I am.

“Thanks,” I nodded to the food, “and thanks for being patient with me.”

“Of course.”

We watched cars go around the square until the sun set. The times Bethany and I spent together filled my thoughts. Sitting in cars talking about boys. Trying to figure out their wily ways. Never succeeding because their confusion ranked as high as ours and neither group brave enough to actually say who they liked to them directly. We shared dreams of what we wanted in life. Picket fences, big wedding dresses, kids? “Maybe when we’re really old – like 30!” she said, but that wasn’t seeming so far away now. Careers, husbands … love. Singing a song together with the radio in front of a mirror. Hushed secrets about who we yearned for. It’s so hard to say goodbye, Bethany!

Sparrows twittered and flew out of the cedars across the lawn to land in a maple tree. From there they skipped across the street and stopped in the scroll-work of a building’s gingerbread molding.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” I stroked his arm with my fingers, so solid, patient, and quiet.

The darkness hurried in. “Take me home.” My bottom sore from the bench and my legs too stiff.

He drove me home and at the door to my apartment asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

“No. I’ll probably watch an old movie and fall asleep with tissues.”

“Give me a call and I can be over here any time. If not I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“Good.” I turned and grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him into mine. I kissed him hard, “Thanks for being with me today.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”

“Goodnight.” I closed the door. I flipped on the television in passing through to the bedroom to find a flannel nightgown and change. I settled on some random late night movie. I fell asleep on the couch before the fourth or fifth scene.

The next morning I stood waiting at eleven when Garin’s car pulled up. I got in. I wore another black dress going out of style but satisfactory for now. I slipped my feet into my shiny patent leather shoes with slightly higher heels than I’m comfortable wearing,

Garin said, “I like the shoes but they will probably sink in the sod around the grave site.”

I shrugged, “All I have that go with this dress.”

He wore a charcoal suit. His necktie a swirling rose pattern pinned up with a silver cross bar under the points of his shirt collar. Bits of metal poked from his outfit like his stainless steel watch and pewter cuff links. He shod his feet in laced black dress shoes. He pushed the car away from the curb like a small boat from a dock. I’m lost in thinking about Bethany again, we float along the smooth glass-like river of the road. Watching the trees at the shoreline beyond the gravel drift toward and away from us. The images of Bethany and our times together more and more vivid as we came closer to the cemetery. Garin down-shifted like the boatman dropping an oar in the water. We rounded a corner and accelerated forward.

I said, “Hey, thanks for knowing the details on where we’re going.”

“Took me a while to find the cemetery on the maps. It’s small and hidden.” He went back to looking at the road leaving me to my thoughts. Garin brought the car up to the gravel edge near the pavement passed the other cars and utility vehicles at the cemetery. He brought our boat to a pause before some pier-like posts outlining the extents of the parking lot. The last dock before death.

Everyone took their usual places. A bright sunny day again. My shoes sunk into the soil and supported me like flats. I’ll spend a long hour getting the mud off the heels. The usual things were said but I didn’t pay attention. I couldn’t pay attention. Garin bumped my elbow and dodged his eyes across the cemetery.

The cemetery rose on a little hill looking over one of the many small lakes in the area. Peaceful. Across the rows of headstones not far from the road stood a solitary figure. Unmistakable. Mr. Branoc watched the proceedings, the attendees, and the trees ringing the cemetery. They lowered Bethany and her casket into the ground. Dirt was cast. More words. And then it was done.

I couldn’t remember getting back in the car and floating across the streets. I had become numb. “Thanks for taking me today.” I flopped into the couch after kicking off my heels. I dragged the blanket over my legs.

Garin dropped my purse and keys on the coffee table that I’d forgotten in his car. He even fished my keys out to open the door for us. I might later be embarrassed he had a chance to rummage through my little bag of horrors but not now. Garin said, “Call me whenever you want but I’ll call you tomorrow morning to check in.”

“Ok. Thanks.” I pulled the blanket closer about my chin. “Can you lock the door on the way out?”

“That’s what I planned, but I don’t have a key to throw the deadbolt.”

“Yes. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it in a few minutes. The building front door automatically locks so I’ll be fine.”

He waved sadly to me as he shut the door.

I huddled alone.

Garin called me the following morning as he promised and I asked him to check back the next day. I stayed home all day skipping both class and work.

Oh, Bethany … What happened? I’ll miss you.

-:- Nine -:-

Garin called me again the following morning and invited me to his house for a movie that night. I agreed. Maybe my eyes would be less puffy by nightfall.

He picked me up and drove me back to his house. “I’ve seen your little television,” he joked. The car coasted to a stop and we listened to the click click click of the turn signal, waiting for traffic to clear. Tall pines lined the road in permanent greenery obscuring the house and property. The way clear, Garin turned the car across the little crown of the road and into the downward sloped driveway. The car skimmed along like the bump and roll of a roller coaster with the pit of my stomach lifting. But it settled as Garin turned the car up by the front door and came to a stop.

“Here we are.” He got out and met me climbing from the car. I wore jeans, a blue silk top, canvas tennis shoes, and had even put makeup on – the routine sustained my happy distraction and so my mood settled in a better state. The sun set against the horizon creating silhouettes of the horses wandering across the field next door.

The house sat firmly against the landscaping and surrounding few acres of property. I could see sheep nibbling the back of Garin’s lawn. The house siding showed a masculine dark gray paint with black and red highlights in the trim. Reminded me of a rum bottle label. The broad cobble brick walkway and steps leading to the front door set back from a sweeping porch.

“How old is the house?”

“Eighteen twenties. The old parts anyway. The front had been added in the eighteen nineties when they built the carriage house across the back.”

“Must have a Michigan basement?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Age of the house and – your particular affliction?”

“Funny guess. Nope. Another superstition.” He unlocked the door and held it open for me.

“This is great in here,” I said as I entered. “Very contemporary and not stark contemporary nor completely incongruous with the outside architecture.”

The old growth wide pine planks of the original floor had been sanded and stained. “How much of the remodel did you do?”

“All of it.”

“Hired it out or did it yourself?”

“I swung the hammers, cut the drywall, moved walls around, ran the drum sander on the pine floors. Cut the trim. Modernized the plumbing. Redid the whole septic system and drain field.”

“That’s a lot of digging. I remember my neighbors growing up had to do that. Did you rent a backhoe? Or get a contractor in here?”

“I know how to drive a shovel. Since I don’t get tired I can dig all night through the dark.” He closed the door and dropped his keys and phone on a shelf while slipping out of his shoes. I kicked mine off. My thin socks exposed my feet to the prickly short fibers of the antique wool carpet runner that led from the door out into the large living room.

“I saw a few sheep in the back. Is that part of the horse farm next door?”

“Yes and no. Rather than pay for a landscape crew to cut the lawn every week on my five acres or spend time cutting it myself I work with the farmer to bring sheep over for the season. Then I don’t get in trouble with some of the neighbors’ lawn mowing concerns when I’m away traveling for a week or two at a time.”

“Can the sheep get away? I don’t see any fences.”

“I have underground electric dog fencing. Works well when their wool is cut short.”

“What happens at the end of the season? You board them at the farm?” I went over to the big L-shaped black leather couch that protected the wide television and fireplace. The fireplace sported a cast iron stove stuffed into the brickwork. A fire danced in the grill of the stove.

“There’s a butcher shop in downtown Livix that sells organically fed beef, pork, and lamb –”

“Oh.”

“– and too much sharing again. Sorry.”

“I like your stove.” Its heat radiated and hugged me across the room through my silk blouse.

I took a seat on the couch. I could hear some light music in the background but I didn’t see any big stereo or speaker boxes like every other young gentleman’s dorm room or apartment.

“Looking for where the music is coming from?”

“Yes. I don’t see the hopping equalizer bars nor the big speaker boxes.”

Garin sat next to me, “I designed base speaker enclosures and built them under the couches. Base is non-directional and can be put nearly anywhere. It’s a different sensation when watching action movies than you’ve probably experienced. The rest of the speakers are buried in the wall and their grills are either flat panel speakers or gap out here and there. See the top bookshelf over there? Those middle books disguise a speaker.”

“An audio engineer too?”

“No. A hobby for a while. I ended up getting pointers from a few colleagues and some books on speaker design and room acoustics. Then I run the whole thing from my media center computer system wired throughout the house.”

“Wired when you remodeled?” Glad he brought me here. I learned how deeply handy he could be and the expanse of his knowledge.

“Yes.” He got up and went to the kitchen. He came back with a couple of wine glasses and a pair of wine bottles. He went back to get something else.

“What kind of wines are these?” The labels revealed Temecula, California and Monte De Oro Winery. One is a Tempranillo and the other a Cabernet Franc.

He came back with a bag of chips, a bowl, and a cork puller.

“I’ve never had these varieties of wine.”

He asked, “What have you had before?”

“Sweet wines. Farmer Joseph’s. I tried others equally bad. Made the back of my teeth feel furry.”

He laughed, “That’s the tannin on a two dollar bottle of wine,” then he sobered, “That’s where everyone starts. The sweet wines. A cross between wine and kids party punch.” He reached for the bottle of Tempranillo and eased the opener into the soft cork drawing it out in a slow even stroke. The bottle gave up its “POP!”

He looked in my eyes, “Isn’t that a great sound?” I had to agree. He set the cork and opener on the coffee table. Then he poured a little wine in each of the glasses. And ‘little’ like a magical elixir, inky and dark. He gave me one of the glasses. I pinched the stem with my fingers.

He leaned in close to me, “Now swirl the goblet like this,” he demonstrated looping it around and around, his hand caressing the bottom of the goblet’s globe like gently cupping some of my anatomy, “So the wine coats the sides of the glass. Holding the glass like this and your body heat will release more flavor from the wine.” He tipped his nose into the top of the glass, “Now put your nose in the opening of the goblet.”

I did.

“Deeper.”

Maybe my nose isn’t so big as I always feared so I put it further into the glass. “I feel a little weird like this.”

Garin chuckled, “This is the educational part.” He swirled his glass again and put his nose behind the rim, “Smell the hint of chocolate?”

“Mostly plums,” I inhaled again.

“There’s a lot of fruit in this wine, but search the smells for chocolate. You’ll sense a whole stream of things. Sometimes something from your childhood. A new cut lawn. Herb gardens or a cup of tea.”

“Cedar?”

“Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yes! One of my aunts had a cedar closet where she kept her winter coats and old dresses. I don’t think she actually wore them since they were popular styles in the thirties and forties. We used them playing dress up. Pretend to play stewardess or princess from a far away land or for a wedding. Great times. I haven’t seen any of the cousins in years since the whole family scattered across the country.”

“And now you see the power of a decent bottle of wine.”

“Magical.” I smelled the wine again.

Garin retrieved another pair of wine glasses and opened the second bottle.

“Now try this.”

We swirled.

“I can smell licorice. Like Halloween candy my Grandmother made when I was ten!”

“You might find coffee and cherry.”