Swift (10 page)

The accident happened just a few minutes later on the outside of town. I don’t remember many of the details. In the hospital, the police tried their hardest to get any information out of me as to why we were out driving so late or what made my dad swerve the way he did. But I couldn’t remember anything except the sounds of the tires screeching along the pavement, the glass bursting as our car flipped and went flying through the air, and my family’s screams. That was it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital with Aunt Rose at my side.

Finally, I opened my eyes, not wanting to go any farther down memory lane. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. Even though I could feel them, I had to touch them to really believe they were real. It had been years since I had cried, years since I had shown any type of emotion in that sense. I rolled over and saw that it was close to midnight. It was imperative that I get to bed. Tomorrow I would be going to the Harper’s, and I wanted to be fully alert. I was hoping not to make any more of a fool out of myself than I already had.

After a full night’s rest, I woke early and spent the morning picking which outfit to wear over to the Harpers’. After trying on a few different options, I opted for the most comfortable one, my usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans, realizing that showing up wearing anything else would not go with the purpose of the day: choosing paint colors.

“Well, the butterfly has finally come out of her cocoon,” Jack shouted from the living room as I walked down the stairs.

“Ha, ha.”

“Whatcha been doing up there all morning? I heard you stomping around.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just trying on a few outfits for the day.”

“You? Trying on outfits? I thought all graduation partying was over?” he asked jokingly.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore his remarks. Apparently, I had woken up with the same sad and cranky mood that I had gone to bed with.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, hoping it would take the focus off of me.

“I’m here to fix the toilet,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Hey, I brought your favorite. They’re in the kitchen.”

“Donuts?” I opened my eyes wide. I turned and headed toward the kitchen. Comfort food sounded perfect right about then.

“Yep, an entire dozen—half glazed, half chocolate.” He followed close behind me. I guess he had been waiting on me to take first dibs.

“So where’s Aunt Rose?” I questioned, lifting the lid off the box, inhaling the sweet smell of sugar and chocolate.

“She’s finishing up getting ready so I can get in there and start working.”

I nodded, my mouth too full of donut to speak.

“Where are you all dressed up to go, anyway?” he asked, raising his left eyebrow in curiosity.

I looked down, inspecting myself and wondering how on earth he got “dressed up” from just jeans and a T-shirt. I swallowed my mouthful before asking, “What are you talking about?” It came out sounding harsher than I’d intended.

“Well, your hair is not in a ponytail and you’re wearing makeup. Wasn’t trying to offend you. You look nice. I was just curious to know where you were headed, that’s all.” He shrugged, clearly regretting that he had even asked.

Guilt washed over me. It was not Jack’s fault that I had spent the last night reliving the worst night of my life. “Actually, I’m helping out the new family that moved into one of the older estates. They’re restoring it and asked for some help in choosing paint colors.” I tried to be conversational, hoping to show him that I really was not out on the attack.

“Oh, yeah. I met the son the other day in town. Blake, is it? Seems like a nice kid. Real polite.”

Polite? Ha. Not from what I’d seen. Even though he had made my heart flutter and just may have been the sole reason for me agreeing to go over there that afternoon, he had been anything but polite to me.

“Well, I better start making my way over there,” I said, grabbing another chocolate donut before heading out. “Thanks for the donuts. Tell Aunt Rose I said bye,” I yelled as I headed toward the door, wanting to get out of there before he could ask me any more questions.

“Sure thing, kid,” he called out just before the door slammed shut.

On the way to the other side of town, I tried to prepare myself for what I was about to do. It was difficult for my mind to process that I had willingly agreed to enter one of the homes I had heard scary stories about my entire life. Of course, the stories had gotten more and more ridiculous with each passing year, but I had to believe that they held some truth, right? Supposedly, those homes had belonged to witches back in the early 1900s, and apparently they were cursed and still housed spirits. Not that I believed in any of that or ever paid too much attention to the gossip, but as I was about to get up close and personal with one of those houses, I began to wonder a little more.

I pulled out my cell phone, checking the time; it was 11:00. There was still an entire hour before I was supposed to be at the Harpers’. There was a reason I had left the house early. A part of me had wanted to visit my family on the way. It would be a shame not to take advantage of the coincidence. I would be passing right by the cemetery on the way to Estate Lane. But the other part of me didn’t know what a visit would do to me just then. My thoughts from the night before were still too fresh on my mind, and I was not sure if the tears would find their way back out again.

As I walked, I continued to debate whether or not I should make the stop. But the closer I got, the more it occurred to me that it would be best to wait until after the Harpers’. It was foolish to even entertain going there before. Plus, I would have an excuse to leave early—I could tell them I had an errand to run, if an excuse was necessary. I was hoping that the process would be quick, easy, and painless. I mean, how hard could it be to pick out a few paint colors?

I turned onto Shore Drive, and the familiar smell of salt grew stronger and stronger with each step. The cemetery appeared on my left, and as much as I tried to fight it, the sickening pain in the pit of my stomach came with it. A few deep breaths and my continued march right past the gates helped ease the pain, and it nearly disappeared as I approached Estate Lane. As I turned the corner, I bumped into someone. It felt like bumping into a large object, something similar to a brick wall, which stopped me and pushed me backwards. I stumbled back, thinking it was just a matter of seconds before my head hit the concrete, when a hand reached for me and pulled me back up to a standing position.

I gasped, shocked at the person I saw in front of me. He towered over me, standing at least six feet tall.

“Sorry,” I muttered, hoping the words actually made it out of my mouth that time.

“No, my fault. I should watch where I am going,” Blake spoke in a soft, deep voice as his eyes found mine.

Oh, no, it’s happening again … I’m speechless, I thought. Please no, not again. I almost screamed out loud. Speak, all you have to do is open your mouth and let the words out!

But before I could convince myself to speak, he began. “Were you on your way to my house?”

I nodded and smiled, apparently still having the issue thinking of something to say.

“Would you like me to walk you? It’s not too far up the road,” he offered with a longing on his face that sent my heart into a flurry.

“Sure,” I muttered, relieved to hear that I could speak again.

We began our walk in silence, but after a few moments, I opened my mouth, praying that the words would actually come out.

“Um, I think I’m a little early,” I began. “Abby asked me to come over around noon, and it’s only 11:30. I had planned to make a stop on the way over here because the stop I needed to make was in the neighborhood, but then I decided to just do it on the way home so that’s why I’m early, and—” I shut up, realizing that I had just rambled on like a babbling idiot.

Great, at first it was that I couldn’t get any words out, and now I couldn’t shut up. My stomach began to knot up, and I felt my face flush. I was annoying myself, so I couldn’t imagine what Blake was thinking. Actually I knew what he was thinking … He’s thinking that I’m a mute, klutzy, fumbling, rambling idiot, I concluded to myself. Why would he think anything else? The last few times I had been around him, I certainly acted in those heinous ways.

I swore I heard him chuckle, but when I glanced over in his direction, his face showed no amusement. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Abby will be thrilled at the idea of you being early.” He turned, catching my gaze. For a number of moments, I can’t be exactly sure how long, I gazed at him and took in his deep blue eyes, his chiseled jaw line, the dimple on the left side of his face that I hadn’t noticed until then, and every other perfect feature he held. Just like Abby, he had changed from the first night I had seen him after the senior’s party. Not a drastic change like hers, but still there was a difference. His blonde hair was still long and wavy, but a few inches had been cut. I didn’t remember him having any facial hair before, but now he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days and stubble was forming on his face.

I swallowed hard and stopped walking, noticing that I had been just following his lead. He stopped in front of what from the corner of my eye looked like a large piece of wood. I looked up and saw that we were standing in front of the largest wooden gate I had ever seen. It looked like it belonged in front of a fortress, not protecting some home in small-town Marblehead. It must have been at least fifteen feet high and thirty feet wide, I guessed. A trace scent of fresh paint hit my nose.

“Here, allow me,” Blake began as he reached for the door, unlatching the lock and pushing the gate open. “I just finished painting it, and I don’t know how dry it is.”

When the gate swung open, it revealed the largest, most grandiose, intricately detailed home I had ever seen. I stood there in shock as my eyes swept from left to right, trying to take it all in. The old white paint was still peeling away from the brick it had once clung to, and the black shutters were in major need of re-staining. A large porch stretched across the entire length of the house, and a stone staircase led to the large red door. It was so bright red that it must have been recently painted.

“I wanted to say sorry for my behavior the first night we met,” Blake said, breaking my focus on the house and calling my attention back to him.

He looked intently at me, and I couldn’t deny that my face felt twisted with shock. Never in a million years did I think he would actually apologize for that. There was no reason to. “No big deal. Everyone is entitled to an off day, right?” I responded, hoping that he would chalk up all of my peculiar incidences to just a bunch of off days.

“Well, you girls have fun.” He smiled, revealing the dimple on his left cheek again and sending my stomach into full-on summersaults. His eyes retreated from mine back toward the house.

When I followed his gaze, I saw Abby bouncing down the stone staircase, making her way down the long, curved driveway toward us. “Hi, Meredith. You’re early!” She smiled as she approached. She truly sounded excited about my being there, just like Blake had said she would be.

“Yeah, sorry, I had planned to—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she cheerfully cut me off. “I’m actually glad you’re early. I had everything all set up this morning, so we can get started
right
now
.” She turned to Blake, giving him a pointed look. “If you’re ready of course.” She smiled, turning back to me. And I couldn’t help but wonder if they were having another brother-and-sister quarrel.

“Sure, I’m ready.” That was my main reason for coming there, right? And as much as I tried, there was no way to lie, especially not to myself. I knew why I had really accepted Abby’s invitation: it had been to see Blake. There was no way of explaining why I wanted to see him so badly. Why I felt a certain way when I was in his presence. But I tried to look on the bright side: we had spoken a few words and I had proved somewhat that I was not a total weirdo … or at least, I hoped I had.

Abby turned on her heels and headed back toward the large house. I followed, but not before looking at Blake once more. When our eyes met, he gave me a delicate smile before turning around himself and walking in the opposite direction. I couldn’t help but wish he wasn’t going.

Chapter Nine

I walked quickly, trying to catch up to Abby with her light and bubbly bounce. She flew up the stairs, and I hesitated before placing my foot on the first stone step. I couldn’t describe what was happening, but a strange feeling came over me when I was a few feet shy of the staircase. There was some energy in the air that I couldn’t quite explain, but it gave me a gut instinct that something weird was going on. I shook it off, thinking it was just all in my head. It had not been the best idea to think about all the scary stories I’d heard as a child on the way over. I began the walk up, trying to fight off my nerves with each step. When I reached the top, I looked forward to the open door and saw Abby standing in the foyer waiting for me.

“You coming?” she asked, a puzzled look crossing her face.

I nodded and continued to make my way across the wide porch and through the doorway.