Swift (9 page)

The rest of the week at work went by with no major events. But I shouldn’t have been surprised—I was working at the library in Marblehead after all. There were also no more nightmares or headaches, so no need to worry Aunt Rose about it. I was cured.

Saturday morning came and I woke early. I tried to cover my head with my pillow in order to block out the sun in hopes of getting another hour of sleep, but it didn’t work.

Aunt Rose was up, reading the paper and sipping her coffee, when I walked downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning. You’re up early. There’s more coffee, if you’d like some.” She pointed with her free hand toward the half-empty carafe.

“Thanks,” I responded as I reached for a cup and poured myself some coffee.

“Hey, it’s my day off and I have a few errands to run. Would you like to join me? We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together lately. Things have been so hectic at the hospital. And I still owe you a congratulatory lunch, remember?” She looked at me with a hopeful expression, and I couldn’t resist. Not that I had had anything else to do that day.

“Yeah, sounds great,” I answered, pulling out a spoon and stirring some cream into my cup.

After drinking two cups of coffee, I felt reenergized … and that was a good thing, because I needed it. Aunt Rose was not kidding when she had said she had a few errands. We went to the dry cleaners, pharmacy, and nail salon. She begged me to get a mani-pedi with her, but I politely declined and just sat and talked with her while her nails were filed and polished. Then there was my congratulatory lunch. From the moment we got there, she probed me with questions about my travels at the end of the summer. Honestly, I had thought after revealing the information to Jack the other night that she would let up a bit, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. She quizzed me on specific people I wanted to research, where I planned on staying, how long I was going to be there, and many other topics. I assured her that, before I left, she would have a detailed schedule of all the when’s, where’s, and who’s. I was still not a 100 percent sure on it all. After a few more questions, she seemed satisfied with my answers … for the moment, anyway. For a congratulatory lunch, it felt more like an interrogation.

After a few more errands, we headed back home. “Oh crap,” Aunt Rose muttered as we turned onto Maple Avenue.

“What’d you forget?” I guessed.

“I was supposed to stop by the hardware store and pick up a new part for the toilet. The toilet in my bathroom has been leaking, and Jack told me he would fix it as long as I got the part. Do you mind if we go back? Should only take a minute.”

“Sure.” I shrugged. It’s not like I had anything pressing to do at home.

Aunt Rose pulled over, making a U-turn to head back into town. When we arrived at the hardware store, we parted ways. I aimlessly walked the aisles as Aunt Rose explained her toilet problem to the store associate.

“Meredith?” someone from behind me called anxiously. “It’s such a coincidence that I would bump into you here, the hardware store out of all places.”

I turned around and saw two familiar green eyes on a smiling face. “Abby?” I asked, shocked, giving her a once-over. Her look had changed drastically since the last time I had seen her. She was ... beautiful, and much more up-to-date-looking, if that even describes her transformation. She was wearing an emerald-colored sundress, one that I would see a model wearing in a magazine. Her hair was still the same corn-silk blonde, but it was styled as if she had just walked out of a salon. I couldn’t help but look her up and down again, admiring her new clothes and style. Before, she had been so simple and plain-looking. Not that she had overdone it, but suddenly I felt like I paled in comparison, where before I had felt like somewhat of an equal.

“What brings you to the hardware store?” I questioned, trying my best to strike up a conversation in order to distract myself from staring at her amazing makeover.

“I mentioned that we are restoring one of the older estates, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I remember you saying something about that,” I answered, trying hard to maintain eye contact. I still had not forgotten the weirdness between us the evening after the party: the things she and Blake had said to one another and the way they had acted when I had accidently interrupted them.

“Well, I’m just here getting some paint samples for the interior of the house.” She lifted the basket in her arms to show me. It was filled with tiny cans and a handful of small paintbrushes.

“Oh, cool,” I responded, not knowing what else to say.

“Would you—” She started to ask but then shook her head and stared at the ground. “Never mind, I just had a silly idea, but I’m sure you’re too busy.”

“What is it?” I insisted, regretting the words the moment I said them.

“Well, I was going to ask, if you are not too busy of course, if you would help me decide on some paint colors. You know, come over and help me choose the right ones.”

“I don’t think I would be much help. I don’t really have any experience in that department,” I confessed.

“Neither do I. Honestly, this is my first go-around with all of this. And my mom and dad are
so
outdated, and well, my brother couldn’t care less about what color blue should go on the living room walls. But I’m sure you’re too busy.”

As I looked at her, contemplating how I should answer, I swear that she was purposely making a pouty-face at me.

But then my mind drifted to her brothers blue eyes and my yearning to see him again answered for me. It was a weird feeling, one that I was not sure how to describe. We had not really even spoken to one another, but I felt the need to see him again and maybe prove to him that I wasn’t a head case. Or maybe I wanted to prove it to myself. The few times I had been in his presence, I had practically killed myself by walking out in front of a car, become mute when we were introduced, acted like a crazed person looking for him at Omega’s, and played a klutzy idiot at the library. Yes, I definitely had to prove it to myself that I was not totally losing it.

“Sure, I’ll try my best,” I said. “But I really don’t know if I’ll be much help.”

“Really?” Her face lit up in excitement.

“I’m with my aunt right now, but I could come by—”

“Tomorrow,” she said, cutting me off and finishing my sentence. “That will actually work out perfectly. It will give me more time to prepare; you know, clean up the rooms and put some plastic down,” she rambled happily.

I was not sure why she was so oddly excited; it was just an afternoon of choosing paint colors. Maybe she’s just missing having a friend, I concluded.

“How’s noon?” she questioned, her voice high with excitement.

“Noon is good.” I nodded, already starting to feel a little uneasy about agreeing to it.

“Are you familiar with the estates on the edge of town?”

“Yeah, I know the area,” I answered. Then I realized what I had just agreed to: I had just voluntarily agreed to enter one of the houses that everyone I ever knew avoided like the plague.

“Great. Well, it’s the third house on your left, 12 Estate Lane to be exact. See you tomorrow.” She bounced off happily, and I couldn’t help but think about how much her attitude had majorly transformed as well. It was possibly even a more dramatic change than her physical one. The first day we had met, she had looked at me like I was the nut; all the while it appears she was the one who looked to be insane.

I met Aunt Rose at the register with an uneasy look on my face.

“You feeling okay?” she asked as I approached her.

“Yeah, fine,” I answered automatically, knowing deep down I truly wasn’t.

“Who was that girl you were talking to? Someone from school?”

“Oh, no, that was Abby,” I responded, glancing out the window to see her disappear around the corner. “She and her family are new to town—well, they are only here for the summer. They are restoring one of the houses on Estate Lane,” I explained further.

“That’s nice,” she remarked.

“Yeah, it should be neat to see how it turns out. She wanted some help with paint colors, so I’m going to help her choose tomorrow.”

“That should be fun. You know, your mom always loved those houses. When we were kids she was never scared to go into them like the rest of us,” she said, probably not even realizing what she was actually saying. It was rare for Aunt Rose to speak about my mother. It hurt us both to talk about her as much as it hurt to hear about her.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” I said. Just picturing my mom’s face made my heart ache.

We headed back to the house and ate some leftover lasagna before I retired to my room for the evening. I was not really tired, but I was craving some alone time. The remark Aunt Rose had made about my mother had put me in a depressed mood. I’m sure she didn’t even realize it when she said it, and normally a comment like that wouldn’t stick with me like it did just then; but since I’d spent the past few nights seeing my family in my dreams, I was more sensitive than usual. Especially the dream from the other night, where we were all still happy, made me miss them even more. I lay on my bed and actually wished for another dream like that, wanting it so badly that I began to think about the last day they were alive.

Chapter Eight

It started off like the first nightmare I had had just a few days ago: my sister and I playing hide-and-go-seek in the backyard, totally unaware of the terrible accident that lay ahead. After I had ventured into the woods and Charlotte called after me, my mom had burst out the back door before I could step two feet into the thickness of the trees. She called after me, screaming my name, yelling for me to come back toward the house. The panic in her voice stopped me. I turned around quickly; jumping back toward the grass, back to the boundary line my mom had set and told my sister and I not to cross. When she finally got to me, she took me by the hand and dragged me back toward the house, the entire time scolding me about disobeying her strict orders. I had never heard my mom speak like that, especially not to my sister or me. Her voice was full of anger, panic, and sadness … if a voice could hold all those emotions at once. I remember asking myself as I was being dragged on what the big deal was. It was just the woods, the same woods where my sister and I had gone many times. Why were they suddenly off limits? Why was I being scolded for something that had seemed so trivial before?

Once we were back inside, my mother sent my sister and I up to our rooms while her and my dad continued their hushed conversation in the living room. I remember trying to hold in the tears until I was alone and could hopefully block some of the noise with my pillow. The entire time I was being dragged and scolded, Charlotte followed silently behind us, not saying a word. Before I shut my bedroom door, Charlotte stopped and looked at me with sympathetic eyes, trying to apologize for getting me into trouble; it had been her yelling that had caused my mom to rush out of the house and grab me. But my stare must have been unforgiving, because she continued to her room with the same sorrowful look on her face. After shutting my door, I ran to my bed and leaped onto it, not able to hold back the tears anymore.

It was later that night that my dad had rushed into my bedroom, telling me to get up and get dressed. I remember being confused; it made no sense to me. It took me a few seconds to recall the events that had taken place earlier in the day. Then I remembered: I had gone into the woods, been reprimanded, and then sent to my room. I remembered crying for hours after that, and then I must have fallen asleep. As I sat there trying to get my bearings after my dad woke me, something told me that it was not yet morning. I still felt tired and groggy. I looked down and realized that I was fully clothed, never having changed after being sent to my room. As I got out of bed, I heard my dad giving Charlotte the same instructions that he had given me just seconds before. I stood in the hallway, still dazed and not sure of what was happening. Then Charlotte stumbled out of her bedroom in a confused stupor as well. She too was still dressed in the blue-jean skirt and Disneyland shirt that she had on while playing in the backyard, her favorite purple tennis shoes in hand. I looked down and saw that I had never taken my shoes off. Our eyes met and fear must have crossed both of our faces at the same time. We walked toward one another and held hands, not knowing or fully understanding what all was going on.

My mother called for us to join her downstairs in the kitchen. We walked down the stairs and entered the hallway. I could see my mom hunched over the counter, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She finished and placed the note in the cabinet where we kept our spices. She turned back around and smiled at us, then embraced us in a big hug. It should have been a comforting feeling, but it wasn’t. It just added more to my confusion. I could see the same reaction on Charlotte’s face, too. Then my dad’s voice was behind us, telling us it was time to go.

Time to go? Go where? It was the middle of the night. My mother grabbed each of our hands and walked us outside to the car. Neither Charlotte nor I asked any questions, in fear of what would happen if we did. It did seem like my mother and father were somewhat back to normal. Well, except for the waking-us-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-making-us-get-in-the-car thing. But they acted sweet and loving, the way my sister and I were used to. Those past few weeks they had been distant toward us. They had been much more concerned with having hushed conversations we were never meant to hear. My mother and father joined us in the car, and we began to back out of our driveway. Charlotte put on her shoes, and then we held hands as we drove into the quiet night. That was all I remembered from that night.