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The Unexpected Guest Deborah Lynn GilbertCopyright 2013 by Deborah Lynn GilbertSmashwords EditionChapter 1On a wintry December evening in ‘66, snow was beginning to fall harder than it had in years. It was a heavy snow. The kind that falls fast. Within two hours four inches had fallen over the already existing eight inches that carpeted the ground the day before, and more was on the way. As much as the branches of the evergreens sagged from the burden of the weight, so did the power lines, as heavy iridescent icicles clung tightly. Acres and acres of rolling hills that once rose up out from the earth, now looked like gentle slopes of fluffy white marshmallows. If it wasn’t for the gray smoke piping from a chimney on a distant rooftop, the town could almost appear to be deserted. Right now, the only vehicle on the road was a commercial snowplow dispensing a thick layer of salt and cinders. In a while, Pete Morley’s two boys would ride into town on their snowmobiles and get supplies from Rockport’s General Store, delivering food, water and flash light batteries to anyone stranded by the storm. Bad weather in Burrillville was no surprise this time of year. Winters in the sparsely populated Rhode Island town were always long and harsh. During the lazy days of summer vacation, the teens would skinny dip in Marshall’s Creek, drink beer, and smoke cigarettes behind Backup Berney’s barn. The local kids called him Backup Berney because the transmission in his truck didn’t work in reverse anymore. There was Todd Greenly, whose father owned the hardware store, Bushy McVay, high school dropout, and the twins, Kevin and Paul Martin, who were constantly getting into trouble for fighting. Macy Pinkerton and Alexis Winslow, better known as the two girls most likely to get laid before their thirteenth birthdays. They usually showed up to join the boys in a little game of strip poker. Marshall's Creek was the hot spot where the kids spent a lot of time swimming, smoking, and hanging out. The area was made more accessible after the boys cleared a path through the high weeds, camouflaging the area well. On the bank, at the other side of the creek, in one particular spot, where the water was shoulder-deep the kids would wade in the cool water, then lie on the rocks to dry their naked bodies, carelessly baking in the sun’s hot rays.Together, Bushy, Kevin and Paul were more than capable of stirring up a lot of trouble in this small town. Once, the manager of the Happy Faces Drive-In allowed the boys in to see Midnight Cowboy, an X-rated film. A brawl started when the three under-aged boy’s obscene drunken behavior and vulgarity provoked a fight with the Winslow boys, Leonard and Glen, who were no strangers to trouble. When the incident got out of hand, the manager called the police and all five teens were arrested for drinking and disorderly conduct. After the brilliant warmth of summer vanished, it left behind an afterglow of gentle rains and hot sticky afternoons. But for now, the cold cruel temperatures of a deadening winter would draw everyone inside their homes until Spring. When morning came, a cold wind cleared the air allowing the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread and pastries at Russo’s Bakery to bloom over the town. Bob Russo was a born native of Burrillville. He was a good man. A tall lanky fellow about six-foot three with a head that looked like a chrome dome encircled with wiry gray hair. His side burns were artistically shaved well above the tops of his ears, and he had one salt and pepper eyebrow that looked like a caterpillar. Prior to opening the bakery, Russo was employed as Burrillville’s police chief for thirty years. Some townsfolk believed an early retirement had something to do with a hit and run cover-up by the department. Of course, he denied it. And since the aging man was ready to make a change in his life and to find something he could enjoy, he decided to quit the force. Bob Russo never married, never had any children, so he wasn’t burdened with the expense of raising a family. He had a modest savings put away for the day when he was finally able to open a small bakery. For a long time, he was content with his life, until an old work injury flared up, sending him to a wheelchair. He worried that he’d lose the business. But with the help of several women from the local Baptist church, the shop continued to operate smoothly. It was five months before he was able to return to work, and when he did, he worked even harder than before with longer hours. It wasn’t unusual to drive by the bakery late at night and see the lights on and see Bob behind the counter rolling dough. Sometimes, he worked straight through the night. He gave special attention to every intricate detail, the end result being the best pastries around.As the wall clock chimed, Russo stopped to check the hands on his watch, making sure it was keeping accurate time. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something moving outside the front window. When he leaned over the counter with his neck stretched long, he saw five little townies watching him as he sprinkled powdered sugar over a tray of jelly-filled donuts. He knew them well, knew everything about them and their parents and grandparents as well. Bob was more than just the town baker; he was a friend. On Saturday afternoons, he’d tell the stories about his life; some true, some not so true. He told them for every ‘A’ they brought in on their report cards, he’d give them a donut and a nickel. His sweet gentle nature kept them coming to the bakery every day after school. “Hello girls,” he said from behind the counter, as he waved his arm as if he was swatting away flies. The girls waved back, then laughed when Russo hugged himself pretending to shiver from the cold. Their heads were covered with fresh snow. They must have grown three or four inches since last week, he thought. Then he noticed Rosa Lynn standing shyly by herself and gave her a wink. Ahh, the poor kid. What could make such a pretty little thing so far-flung from the rest. What a shame. What a damn shame. Rosa smiled at him and even tried to wink back. But she hadn’t mastered the art of closing one eye and keeping the other one open at the same time. She’d have to practice that a little more. Russo shared a special relationship with her. He remembered the first time he’d seen her, about thirteen years ago when nanny number one brought her into the bakery for the first time. She was a beautiful baby with a head full of shiny black ringlets and the most beautiful almond-colored skin he’d ever seen. She wasn’t chubby like most babies, but she did have a pretty round face. Russo’s eyes were fixed on her as he reminisced about how her tiny fingers latched onto his. It was at that moment they formed a bond. Man, did she ever bawl, he said, chuckling to himself. The other four girls looked back over their shoulders and made snorting sounds at Rosa, letting her know they disapproved of the attention she was getting from Russo. Especially Alexis Winslow, who disliked and hated how everyone doted over her like she was a fragile little puppy. “Show off,” Alexis said. Rosa could sense that Alexis was skulking at her, and when she looked over at her, Alexis wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. Before an all-out-war broke out between them, Russo tapped on the window twice, motioning for them to come inside. “Girls, hurry up,” he said. In a pack-like formation, Alexis and her three friends squeezed through the narrow doorway, each one in an effort to be the first one to reach the counter where they would find a special treat. Rosa tagged close behind, which was okay with her because she knew Russo would never let her leave empty handed. Even if the four little hogs ate every last donut, he always saved the best for her.“Come on girls, slow down now,” Russo said. “One at a time, or you’ll take my door clean off the hinges.” The four girls nearly knocked him off his feet as they stampeded to the counter. “Now hold on girls, there’s plenty to go around. Let's not turn this place into a circus.” Aware that Rosa was lagging behind, he waited for her to approach the counter with the rest, although she didn’t. “Did you girls bring what I asked for?” he said, holding out his hand.“Next week silly man,” Alexis said. “Report cards aren’t due until next week. Russo’s eyes widened as he looked into her bratty little face, giving her an insincere smile. If she wasn’t a kid, he said to himself, I’d give her a piece of my mind and a taste of the old hickory switch too. Alexis sensed his unwillingness to converse with her so she tried again to amuse him. “Mm-mm, yummy, sure smells good in here.” Russo wasn’t at all impressed with her antics. When he didn’t respond to her false niceties, she backed off, walked around to the other side to where her best friend Macy was standing, and simply ignored how rejected he had just made her feel. Russo’s eyes followed her and he gave her a leveled look. A lump formed in her throat, yet she managed to hold back from crying. “What an pig,” she said over Macy’s shoulder in a low tone of voice, “That’s definitely the last time I try to be nice to him. ” She lifted her eyes until her gaze met his. The look he returned told her he must have overheard what she said. Macy gave her a thud in the gut. “Shh, he’ll hear you.” Alexis watched his hardened eyes surf over all the newly made donuts. From the plate inside the display case, he picked off five creamy powdered donuts, counting each one aloud, then placed them gently on top of the counter. Thick as thieves, the girls nudged their way closer to him while Rosa remained comfortably aloof in her out-of-the-way position against the wall.“Girls, now come on, don’t push or I’ll put them away,” he said, knowing full well he probably wouldn’t. “Let Rosa up here too,” he said. “No way!” Alexis hotly protested, pushing herself even closer. “She’s a witch!”“Yeah,” said Macy, her closest companion. The other girls agreed in unison like three battery-operated monkeys clapping their symbols.“Now hold on ladies,” Russo said, propping his hands on his hips, wanting to give them a good scolding. “That’s not very nice. How’s you all like it if someone treated you that way just because you were different?”Defending Rosa wasn’t going to be easy. It was obvious that Alexis was leader of the three girls. Her and her brood had been aiming for Rosa for a long time, and it griped him to see the little posse plot to get the best of her. “She’s a witch!” Alexis bellowed ferociously, her eyes big as saucers. “…and there’s ghosts in her attic, pictures with moving eyes, dead things walking around….” Macy nodded, though she really didn’t have an ax to grind with Rosa except that she was Alexis’s best friend. With that friendship there came a certain kind of unspoken loyalty, which was more beneficial for Alexis, but usually not for Macy.“Hush!” Russo growled, wiping the tray clean with his apron before placing the donuts on it. “Witches are mean with big ugly warts on their noses. Do you see any warts on that pretty face?” He said pointing to Rosa. He watched the girls turn their heads and peer across the room at Rosa, who was seemingly unprovoked by their remarks. After six years of rivalry with the girls, she’d become immune to the sarcastic digs they made at her. The only thing on her mind right now was what Russo had said a few minutes ago about her being different. She’d known him most of her life and never once had he indicated that he thought of her as being different. She hated that word. Maybe it was true.“Different?” she said to herself. Who’s side was he on? The room suddenly felt stuffy. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs would not expand enough to take in any air. “I got to get out of here,” she thought, feeling she ought to run for her life. Yet, when she attempted to move, her feet felt like lead weights holding her down. “Oh, so that’s it,” Russo said. “You mean to tell me that just because Rosa lives at Brynwood, that it automatically makes her a witch?” Then he chuckled. “She is!” Alexis shrieked in a siren-like tone. She stood confidently tall and mimicked him by placing her hands on her hips, starring up into his eyes with a look that dared him to challenge her. Standing up to an adult like this would make her look quite fiendish in front of her friends; an impressionable fearsome warrior. Russo stepped back and looked away. “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee-my-mother’s-bad-knee,” he said, though the girls were not at all impressed with his humor.“Come on girls, do you really believe Rosa’s could be witch?” The three girls shrugged and turned to Alexis, knowing she would made good on her promise to take revenge on them if they dared cross her.“I’m with Alexis, Mr. Russo,” Macy said, proud in her inane loyalty, waiting for Alexis to give her the at-a-girl wink. “Rosa’s weird and everyone knows it.” She moved to stand with the other two girls, who followed her lead by nodding their heads in agreement. Russo thought the four simpletons looked silly standing against the wall in a firing squad-like sort of way. And he sensed by the dead stares that they gave him he wasn’t going to be mending any fences today.“Fine,” he said. “But I really think you’re barking up the wrong tree when you blame Rosa for the stuff that happened at Brynwood a hundred years ago. According to the things I’ve ever heard, a lot of it was probably fabricated.”“What’s that mean,” Macy whispered to Alexis. “It means made up stupid,” Alexis snapped. She took two steps forward, and turned toward Rosa. The lump in her throat receded and she was now ready for round two. “My mother said the last guy that lived in that place hung himself in the basement because the police caught him doing illegal stuff. I didn’t make that up!” Alexis was on a mission to really stick it to Rosa; to make her whimper like the poor little puppy everyone treated her like. But it wasn’t working. Rosa remained cool because she knew how crucial it was that she not let her see how creepy the news about Brynwood made her feel. She could just imagine what would happen if she started bawling right now. She might not be able to stop, and that would give Alexis exactly what she wanted.“We don’t know if that’s true, Alexis. You shouldn’t be spreading rumors around about something you don't know nothing about. Even if it was true, what does that have to do with Rosa? It’s just a bunch of rubbish. You girls should be ashamed of yourselves.”Macy lowered her head as if he had just let the air out of her balloon. She and the other two tagalongs didn’t have any reason to rub bones with Rosa, only that they were commissioned to be friends with the head strong Alexis.“We’re sorry,” said Macy. The other two girls responded by nodding.Alexis became even angrier as she watched her pitiful friends turn into shrinking violets right before her eyes. It was a total meltdown. She’d been betrayed. Now the fight was hers and hers alone.“All right then,” Russo said, smiling approvingly. Then he looked over at Alexis. Her face was pale and clammy, her jaw tightening. She felt a surge of furious vibration rip through her body. “What are you all looking at?” She said with her mouth gaped wide open and her back stretched up in a straight line as to look taller. “It’s true about her, you know. I tell you, she’s a witch!” Suddenly, the room became quiet—dead quite. In spite of her persistent need to squash Rosa like a bug, Alexis felt she was the one being flattened by their accusing stares. Tears of frustration began to well in her eyes. Her breath became quick and heavy. “You’re all gonna be sorry for not believing me. You wait and see!” She stood listening wordlessly to their thoughts with her hands resting on her hips.In the background, Rosa stood numbly placid, but intrigued by Alexis’s stormy rantings, almost feeling halfway sorry for her. It was scantily obvious by the way she twisted her body and tapped the heel of her boot that she wasn’t accustomed to being cornered like that. Seeing tears as big as boulders stream down her face was momentarily bittersweet. Any other time, she would have gloated about it, but at the moment Rosa was more interested in the bits and pieces of information she’d just heard about Brynwood. Did Alexis maliciously mean to scare her? It was definitely more information than she needed to hear, but nonetheless, it affected her. Hung? Rosa mumbled to herself pulling in her lips, cautious to not say the word out loud. This was the first time she ever heard anything about a hanging. What if it was true? They say that if a person dies in the house that they live in their spirit will remain locked inside forever. She wondered if her father had known this before he bought the house, yet purposely kept it a secret? Maybe the people that sold him the house were afraid to tell him; or maybe they didn’t know. If her father had known, surely he would never have bought such a house. Who’d want a house that’s haunted? Rosa made a mental note to ask her father about it the first chance she got. But right now she still had to deal with Alexis spearing starry daggers at her from across the room. As Rosa glared at the vile expression on Alexis’s face, she wished a little telepathy would whisper something to her like, dropkick the bitch. A pleasing thought, yet she feared it. The stories of the wailing voices and the high-pitched screams were incomprehensible. Could this be another one of her tricks? The atmosphere in the bakery was thick as mud. Russo stood firm, watching how Rosa would handle herself. He never liked Alexis much, never thought she would amount to much. But how could he blame her? It’s not her fault, he whispered. Bob Russo knew Amos Winslow, her stepfather, and that he had been arrested on two counts of domestic violence to her mother, Vera. Amos told the police it was a silly misunderstanding and he forced Vera to bail him out of jail. He warned her if she didn’t do what he said, he’d make her wish she was never born. For years he physically abused her, beat her, and yanked out her hair. Then he began threatening harm to her daughter, Alexis. Even his boys weren’t safe from his whippings. Eventually, in an urgent state of desperation, Vera ruthlessly planned to run away and to escape the torment that Amos inflicted on her. She had to run before the bastard killed her, and she had to do it quickly. Her plan was to leave quietly with just enough money to buy herself a one-way bus ticket going nowhere. Taking a young child would only slow her down, so she left Alexis behind.With her plan set, Vera laid awake in her bed, well after midnight until she was sure that Amos had passed out drunk on the sofa. She knew that the amount of alcohol he usually consumed would keep him unconscious at least until morning, which would easier for her to sneak out of the backdoor and without the squeaky hinge on the screen-door alerting him to what she was up to. Once she got down the lane and onto the road, Vera hitchhiked all the way to the bus station, bought her ticket and was never heard from again.Alexis never got to say good-bye to her mother. And once Amos burned every stitch of her belongings, the only thing she had left to remember her by was a cheap barrette left lying on the kitchen table. It might have been better if her mother had died. At least she would not have had to live with the feeling that she was abandoned. With her mother gone, Alexis was forced to survive with an abusive stepfather, who began to drink more every day now. And though he had two delinquent sons that had had their fair share of run-ins with him, they were blood, so that gave them an advantage. What little communication she did have with them was when they summoned her from her chores to grab them a beer and serve it to them while they laid around and watched television or played cards. At eight years old, Alexis learned how to stick three cigarettes in her mouth and light them all with one flick of the match. Shamelessly, the boys would cheer and clap as they complimented her on her God-given talent. In their reckless irresponsible endorsement, they taught her an impressive vocabulary of foul words from a–z, which got her expelled from school half a dozen times in the fourth grade.“I think you owe Rosa an apology girls,” said Russo.“Forget it!” Alexis hissed. “I’m not sorry for anything. She’s the one that should be apologizing to me, Little Miss Kiss Ass. I’m so sick of hearing poor Rosa this and poor Rosa that! One of these days I’m gonna….” Alexis stopped and didn’t say another incriminating word, nor did anyone else, as they stood tight-lipped and still. Alexis knew she was at a disadvantage. Without saying what was on her mind, she lapsed into silence, as well. Russo glimpsed past the girls and at Rosa who was remarkably undisturbed by Alexis’s threat. He also looked back at Alexis and thought by the look in her eyes that she may be quite capable of committing acts of violence against another person for the simple pleasure of watching them suffer like she had. Many times she had witnessed her stepfather beat her mother to the floor, listened to her cries, seen him punch holes in the walls and break up the furniture, lamps, and dishes. Alexis didn’t get to live in a grand manor like Brynwood. Unlike the solid stone walls of the estate, the Winslow cabin was cold and drafty, heated only by a pot-belly stove in the winter and cooled by shade tree’s in the summer. The cabin was in desperate need of repair. Outside, paint peeled and fell to the ground. The lop-sided shutters gave the little house the appearance of an old dilapidated hunter’s shack. Out back was an old woodshed filled with tires and rusty wheels, which provided an ideal nesting place for snakes and mice. One half of the yard’s grass was overgrown, the other half had been slowly turned to a circle of dirt by the back and forth pacing of a three-legged junk-yard dog that was jailed to its box by a heavy ten foot chain. Alexis disregarded Russo and turned to face her three friends. “Nevermind,” she said in a lowered tone of voice.“Good idea,” Russo replied, and he placed the last doughnut on the tray. That kid’s seen enough violence in her life to sink a ship, he thought. And it concerned him that such a young kid had to be so full of rage and anger. She could have been charming and loving, had she been fortunate enough to grow up in a healthy environment. Instead, she was hostile and combative, an obvious reflection on her young life. Anger and pity swarmed through Russo’s head as he thought of Alexis’s mother. Why did she have to leave her with a drunken bastard like Amos Winslow?“Let’s get something straight girls,” he said, inhaling deeply, brushing his hand across the powdery counter. For the first time since he’d known these girls he thought it was time to give them a little fatherly advice, which was redundant coming from a man who never had any children of his own. Nevertheless, he hoped that whatever he said would leave a good impression on them and not mess up things worse than they already were. Glancing at the girls, he smiled and began putting his well-intended thoughts into words. Alexis pivoted on her heel to face him “You girls are welcome here anytime, but no more cat fights, ya hear? And no more name-calling either. You need to start acting like ladies and not weeping willows, as my mother would say. If ya can’t say something nice about someone, she’d say, then don’t say anything at all.” About that time, Russo’s cat, ?clair, jumped onto the counter and began prancing around on the tips of its toes, meandering around the glass candy jars, dangerously nudging them close to the edge. One was filled with homemade rock candy, another with candy necklaces strung with spearmint lifesavers, and one with black licorice. “Get down,” Russo said, swatting at the cat with his apron. “You know you’re not supposed to be up here.” For a brief moment, the air felt lighter. Flapping his apron vigorously, Russo managed to convince the cat to jump down off the counter. “Here kitty,” Alexis said, bending at the waist as she clapped her hands together to get the cat’s attention. “Here kitty.” She began to slowly approach it, but with a quick sudden jerk, it skipped over to Rosa and began rubbing itself against her legs. “Ah, you’re so sweet,” Rosa said, kneeling down to stroke its fur.For a while the cat sat calmly next to her legs cleaning its fur with long caressing strokes of its tongue. When it had had enough, it skipped back into the storeroom from which it came. Macy and the other two girls resumed their focus on the tray of donuts Russo was still holding. As they gathered closer, chattering about which one they wanted, Alexis stayed behind, sulking like a scorned kindergarten child with her arms crossed over her chest, face sorrowfully melting. “Even the cat hates me,” she mumbled. In the corner of her eye she could see Rosa looking at her, so she dodged her gaze and pretended not to notice. “Girls,” Russo said, proudly holding his pastries. “I believe Rosa was the last one to pick from the tray last week, so why don’t we let her go first this time?” He looked at Rosa, stretched out his arms and raised the tray above the girl’s heads.“Rosa, your first.” Relieved that he was on her side again, she nodded and began walking toward the tray of succulent glazed and creamy mouth-watering donuts. Rosa gazed into the four girl’s statuesque faces, well aware that at any moment, three of them could easily ignore what Russo had just said to them and tear her to shreds. Right now the best thing she could do was to stay calm. Slowly, she inched her way through two of the girls who were purposely blocking her way, but then hesitatingly moved to let her pass. Before she was able to select what she wanted, Alexis lunged forward and began swatting at the tray, nearly knocking it out of Russo’s hands. Russo blocked her hands by turning his back toward her. “Wait,” he said, raising the tray above his head. “Rosa’s first.” “Go ahead big baby!” Alexis said. Rosa didn’t flinch. With her eyes on the tray she pretended to look intently at the donuts and not on Alexis. Still, all her senses were behind her head concentrating on the girls. She thought how cool it would be if a spirited voice from that so-called alternate world Alexis talked about would suddenly appear and urge her to smack her monkey-like face.“Hurry up, would ya?” Alexis said in a hard-boiled rage.“Okay, okay!” Rosa already knew which donut she wanted, nevertheless, she mischievously and intentionally poked around, glancing down at the tray, then back at Alexis. She wandered what she could do to really tick her off. Then, she remembered the tantrum Alexis threw when Kenny Hume borrowed her pencil and gave it back to her completely scored with teeth marks from one end to the other. Perfect!Sticking the tip of her index finger into her mouth, Rosa began touching each donuts as she counted each one out loud, “One…two...three…four…”“Oh man,” Alexis bawled. “She’s putting her fingers all over them!” With a jolt of her shoulder, she poked Rosa with her shoulder and tried to knock her aside before she was able to contaminate the rest of them. Without budging an inch, Rosa stood firmly grounded and simply stabbed her with her pointy elbow. “Stop it!” Alexis wailed.Rosa picked up a cream-filled donut and jammed it into her mouth, using her tongue to move it around. “You’re sickening,” Alexis groaned, listening to the smacking sound it made.Before Rosa took another bite, the gooey creamy filling oozed onto her fingers and down onto the floor.“Girls!” Russo yelled. “Knock it off!”“Oops,” Rosa said, innocently cupping her left hand under her chin to catch the cream.Russo turned around and placed the tray on the counter and went back to the storeroom and grabbed a mop from behind a towering stack of granulated sugar boxes. Although he was only gone less than a minute, Alexis had decided that she was not going to wait for him to return so she marched headstrong to the counter to attempt reinstating herself as leader of the group.“Hold it missy,” Russo said. “We’re going to clean up this mess. Now who’s going to do the honors?” No one answered.“Volunteers?” he said, holding the dripping mop straight out in front of Alexis’s face. He bent forward and lifted his eyes to meet hers. Her jaw dropped. Six eyes widened as they glanced at Alexis, who looked panicked that she was being targeted. “Why Me?” she gasped, pointing to Rosa. “She’s the one that made the mess! Make her clean it up!”“I can’t,” Rosa snickered with her mouth full. “I’m eating.”“Oh shut up,” Alexis cried, swiftly snapping the mop out of Russo’s hand with a painful look in her eye.Even though Alexis was feeling six inches tall, Russo figured a little humility might due her good, even if it made her sick with embarrassment. Rosa knew Alexis wasn’t about to let this go without finding some way to pay her back for making her look like an ass in front of her dimple-cheeked side-kicks. The pimple-puss little bitch got exactly what she deserved, Rosa thought as she watched Alexis swish the mop back and forth over the floor splattered with cream filling.Russo let her work until he thought she’d had enough. “Thank you,” he said, thinking how much he’d like to wipe the floor with her sometimes. “You may have a donut now.” Alexis looked at him and didn’t say anything. His pitiful glare was as bad as being stared upon at her own funeral. She released the mop into his flour-covered hands, wiped her wet hands on both sides of her coat, and flung her head to the left, positioning long strands of red hair behind her shoulders. She looked around the room and realized Macy and the girls had slithered out quietly when she wasn’t looking. She felt a squeezing sensation in her gut like she wanted to throw up, yet she hadn’t eaten any lunch. Vomiting was her means of control ever since her stepfather had started abusing her. Alexis was Bulimic, and she went to great lengths to hide it. At the onset of the disease, she binged and purged once or twice a day. Now, the trips to the bathroom were becoming more frequent, at least a dozen or more times a day, depending on what kind of day she was having. When her mother, stepfather and two stepbrothers had all been in the house, the bathroom wasn’t always available, so she started secretly vomiting anywhere she could. Even the basement, where she would did a hole in the dirt floor, vomit, then cover it up like an animal. Eventually, the need to stick her finger down her throat wasn’t necessary anymore. The process had become as natural as putting on a pair of socks. No one could possibly understand what she was going through, and she wasn’t about to confess what she was doing. Bulimia was a lifeline in a world where there was no control. It bailed her out of feelings of helplessness, worthlessness, and low self-esteem. She depended on it like a faithful friend. The eating disorder protected her from that proverbial feeling of abandonment that her mother had left. Maybe the disease will kill her someday, but she'd rather die a thousand deaths safe from reality than to live one day victimized by it? The clock chimed. It was 4’o’clock. Alexis knew she had thirty minutes to get home before her stepfather and two half-brothers did or she'd face severe punishment. Her gaze was fixed on the clock. Knowing she was pressed for time, she figured she would simply get a donut and get the hell out.Across the room, Rosa was still loitering around the counter talking to Russo who seemed quite fixed on what she was saying. Their voices were too low for Alexis to make out what they were saying, so she automatically assumed it had to be about her. I know the little witch is making fun of me, she alleged. And he’s probably enjoying it. I outta go over there and beat the piss out of both of them. Rosa and Russo laughed out loud, frying Alexis nerves further. Damn, I hate them.With an overactive imagination getting the best of her, she clenched her fists, imagining Rosa’s neck between them. I’m not leaving until I’ve squeezed out every ounce of poisonous pus from her rotten veins. The phone rang in the storeroom, leading Russo to take the call. Rosa looked back over her shoulder and into Alexis’s bloodthirsty eyes. There was no mistaking the girl’s mood. She knew Alexis wanted to drive a stake through her heart, and given the chance, she might do it. Alexis lifted her head, puffed-up her pointy breasts, and started walking toward the counter, all awhile keeping her focus on the tray and not on Rosa, who was also looking mighty sure of herself, as well. Rosa turned completely around. With her back propped against the display case, she felt herself tremble excitingly as she waited, tauntingly running her finger around the outer edge of the tray. Alexis glanced into Rosa’s mistrusting eyes and could almost smell how much pleasure it gave her to hover victoriously by the tray. At this point, she didn’t want the damn donut as much as she wanted to show Rosa that she wasn’t afraid to take a stand against her. With that in mind, mule-headed and ready to fight, her snail-like journey across the floor brought her closer to her challenger. With sweaty hands, a feeling she always got before a fight, she wasn’t sure whether she was frightened or merely overanxious. Come and get me, Rosa said to herself, her gaze fixed and focused. You’re dead-meat, was the expression Alexis reflected, and just as equally challenging. As she progressed further, Alexis was overcome with the feeling that the room had suddenly disappeared, like the walls, floor and ceiling had simply vanished. Tunnel-like darkness was all around, as though someone had just turned out the lights. And the usual sweet smell of candied corn and licorice that usually so potently filled the room was now undetectable. Her head was spinning out of control. Not even the branch from a naked maple tree clicking against the window broke her attention. Everything was spinning. Something was very wrong. Even when the clock chimed, it sounded almost like Ding Dong the Witch is Dead. Except for the fact that she could still see Rosa poised in a distant blur, all of her other senses were temporarily dulled. What the heck’s happening to me, she thought as she held both sides of her head. Am I being possessed by her? The red-headed tyrant stopped in the middle of the room, closed her eyes briefly and hoped the free-falling feeling in her head would stop. She slowly opened her eyes and shook the cobwebs from her head she was able to proceed forward. Everything seemed back to normal except that now moving through the room was like walking through quick sand. So much so that you could chop at it like firewood. In the background Alexis could hear the muffled sound of Russo’s voice arguing with someone on the phone. One more agonizing step put her at the counter, face to face with her enemy who looked very willing to finish what they started six years ago. Alexis grit her teeth, feeling as though time had suspended, and hours had lapsed from when she first started. The paralyzing journey across the room was over. Rosa remained cool.Alexis felt incredibly wicked. “There won’t be a coroner on earth who’ll recognize you after I’m done with you,” she said, standing securely tall, though nearly jumping out of her skin when the clock chimed. She realized that it was getting very late.Rosa turned to look in the storeroom entrance, but didn’t see Russo, so she assumed he was still on the phone. Perfect! Cautious that the little sniper would gun for her if she were suddenly distracted, especially after having made her look stupid in front of her friends, the ultimate unthinkable crime, Rosa held her position against Alexis and tried to look as fearless as she could.“Get out of my way!” Alexis blazed. “Go around me.” Nose to nose they stood, eyes locked. When Alexis reached out her hand, Rosa snatched the glazed one, stuffed it in her mouth, and poked the cream-filled doughnut with her finger, stabbing it again and again until the cream filling oozed out. When the doughnut stuck to her finger, she lifted it off the tray and waved it back and forth in front of Alexis’s face. “This is yours.” When Alexis refused to take it, Rosa laid it back down and slammed her fist on it, flattening it.“Oh, you bitch,” Alexis gasped, using her body to pinch Rosa against the counter, bending her back as though she was made of rubber. “You rotten little bitch!”“Wait,” Rosa said, shoving the rest of the glazed doughnut in her mouth. When Alexis stepped back, she squeezed herself free from between her and the counter and quickly snatched the damaged donut.“Hey!” Alexis yelled, shoving her on the back. Rosa stumbled but did not fall. She turned toward Alexis and threw the ruined cream-filled donut at her feet.“You better clean that up, Cinder-smella, before Russo comes out.” Alexis stood speechlessly decaying in defeat. “That’s it!” she fumed. Remembering the promise she made to herself earlier about consequences, she quickly picked up the damn donut, ran to the door and threw it at her, hoping to hit her as hard as she could. Rosa disappeared around the side of the bakery.Russo shook his head and chuckled as he came back into the room. He had silently watched Rosa do something he believed she should have done a long time ago. She finally stood up for herself.“Are you okay dear?” he said, though he knew the girl’s ego had just been christened with a little birdie shit. Instead of responding to his question, she went to the counter and cleaned her hands with a linen towel and then walked toward to the door. “I’m late.” “Just hold it a minute,” Russo said, walking to the display case. He took out a fresh cream-filled donut and held it out to her. She paused and wondered if he really meant to give it to her, especially since she knew the way he felt about her. Funny how the donut seemed more like a poisonous apple. “No thanks.” Drowning in humiliation she fled the bakery and let the door slam behind her. It was almost dark when Alexis left the bakery. Russo stood by the open door and watched her run toward the darkening sky, and he worried for her safety. It scared him to think what that son-of-a-bitch Amso would do to her tonight. “Wait!” he yelled into the night’s void, hoping she’d hear him. For a moment he thought about having old man Winslow investigated. On what charges? Nothing had ever been proven. Not yet anyway. Even if he did call the police, he knew the department wouldn’t be able to do anything. The old man would have to hurt her first. That’s the law. But what if it’s too late? He thought about closing the shop early tonight and taking a drive by his house. During his years on the force, Bob Russo had a keen sense for things that seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe everything was going to be all right, he thought, and Alexis would be back tomorrow snarling like the spoiled selfish brat she was. At least he hoped so. He closed the door and scratched his head. If there’s any black and blue marks on that girl, he'd make sure the department either arrested Amos or he vowed to take care of the son-of-a-bitch his way.Chapter 2Rosa Lynn lived six blocks from Russo’s Bakery in an eighteenth century Graystone mansion called Brynwood. Her father, Kyle, and nanny number five were the only other two residents of the manor. Bordering the estate, stood a ten-foot high fence that allowed for privacy and to keep unwanted visitors from trespassing. Behind the gates of the all-encompassing estate was an old greenhouse, an abandoned stable, an orchard, and a mausoleum where former generations of the estate were buried. Brynwood was not the first house built on the three hundred and fifty acre spread. In 1780, Roger Durgan constructed a quaint five-room cape cod, a house barely big enough to comfortably house even a small family. In front of the tiny house, a small covered porch painted white with a rustic wood plank floor added charm to the entrance. The Durgan's lived and worked on the land until their deaths, leaving the property to their only son, Roger Durgan, Jr., who then farmed the land. In 1835, he married Beth Brimley of Brimley’s Textiles of Newport. After years of dreaded rivalry with her father, Charles Brimley, who didn’t believe an uneducated farmer was worthy of his daughter or heir to the Brimley Textile fortune, cut Beth out of his will. Five years later, Beth died from pneumonia and left Roger to raise their two young sons. The townspeople said after Beth’s death, Roger was never the same. But a year later, he respectfully married Ella Wilt of Rhode Island when she became pregnant out of wedlock. Eight months later, their daughter was born. Roger kept four horses, a buggy, three milking cows, and six pigs in a stable he built from logs. They lived normal lives and seemed content with their humble lives, until tragedy struck and the Cap Cod caught fire, trapping Ella, her daughter and two stepsons inside. Because the property was so isolated, rescuers were unable to reach them in time and all four perished in the fire. It was assumed that an iron door that led to a crawl space used for the underground railroad had been blocked. The home smoldered for days.The only thing left standing was the hearth, which had been used to cook their food and warm the house.The residents of the little town gathered together to bury the charred remains of the Durgan family in a small gravesite on the hill. It was said to be the worst catastrophe the town had ever seen. Roger was never found. Speculation was that he slowly went insane after his first wife, Beth’s death and possibly started the fire himself, though it was never proven. Some folk claimed to have spotted him panhandling on the streets of Newport?. Years later, John McClement, a European shipbuilder from England, and his wife, claimed the ground. Construction slowly began and a magnificent estate they named Brynwood was underway. The manor would be built with pride and it would display the finest architecture from England. Immediately beyond the threshold, a thirty-foot cathedral ceiling would suspend a massive chandelier adorned with teardrop-shaped crystals that would twinkle a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors when the sun beamed through the stained-glass window. Covering the walls, were warm tones of decorative wallpaper in florals and paisleys. The high ceiling in the foyer was to be painted in a fair shade of gold, ornamented by mahogany carvings of acanthus leaves and scrolls.No less than the best materials were to be used when John McClement finished, including the staircase. The banister pieces were fashionably hand-carved from red mahogany, and crowned by a hand railing buffed smooth as glass. The finished blueprint displayed a masterful drawing of the graceful staircase curving upward to a second floor hall with ten bedroom on both sides.Following the completion of the manor, evergreens were chosen to be planted behind the iron fence bordering the area along the road to keep the estate hidden during the winter months. Since work had to be delayed due to the demand for special order materials, it took nearly seventy-two months to complete the manor, and an additional eight months for the furniture to arrived. John McClement and his wife, Mary, moved into their new home in the fall of 1860. Within six months a baby girl was born. Melinda was the perfect child, full of energy and charm. Sadly, at the tender age of four, her life was cut short when she accidentally fell over the second story banister to the foyer floor below, killing her instantly. Grief stricken John suffered unbearably. He believed his daughter’s death was his fault. He locked himself in an upstairs bedroom at the end of the hall and cried while rocking his precious Melinda in his arms until the distressing sound echoed through the manor.Mary felt the only way to help her husband’s pain was to place the child in a mausoleum rather than put her in the ground. John agreed. The child’s body was sealed in a hand-made casket and kept in the stable until the tomb was finished. It stood atop the hill behind the manor in clear view of the master bedroom window. The mausoleum ultimately became the final resting-place for future generations of McClements. Folks say on a clear moonlit night, the ghost of a young girl can be seen dancing around the tomb. But no one knows whether they’re seeing the ghost of Melinda or the ghost of Roger Durgan’s daughter since the tomb was constructed next to the Durgan graves.In 1873, Mary gave birth to a second child, a son, John McClement, Jr. Though the boy was the distinct likeness of his father, John Sr. remained in guilty loyalty to the memory of his dead daughter, Melinda and was mentally unable to provide his son with the emotional support and guidance the boy desperately needed. Nonetheless, young John grew in his father’s image and became interested in the shipbuilding industry. He learned all aspects of the trade and eventually took over the business when his father’s health began to fail. In 1880, John Sr. died and Mary joined him in death seven months later. Both were entombed in the mausoleum on the hill.After the death of both his parents, John Jr. took the reigns of the shipbuilding business, which quickly thrived. He met and married Elizabeth Roth, his secretary who bore him a son, Paul. Three years later, she became pregnant again, and after a lengthy delivery, a baby boy was born. Complications of a breech delivery developed and Elizabeth began to hemorrhage. The bleeding was massive and Elizabeth died quietly without ever seeing her newborn son, Theodore. John saw his son as a constant reminder that he was responsible for the death of Elizabeth. After years of being rejected by his father, Theodore ran away. The disgruntled teen would never return home again until he learned of his father’s death in 1917. After he got the news he had been waiting for, he arrived home, just to learn that his older brother Paul had also died some years earlier from polio. This left Theodore the sole heir to the estate and the business.Unlike his forefathers, Theodore was not interested in marriage or the shipbuilding business. His love was whiskey, women and money, so he turned the manor into a brothel and began gambling, selling sex and making booze. The mansion was alive with entertainment almost every night. Theodore began making bushels of money. Because he had no interest in the shipbuilding business, he sold it by proxy and used the money for gambling and making more whiskey. In 1925, when the prohibition law came into effect. Theodore knew if he couldn’t supply cheap whiskey to his patrons anymore, they’d go elsewhere and take their money with them. Desperate to hold onto his illicit under-ground business, Theodore turned the mansion into a speakeasy and screened everyone before opening the door. This went on until the government caught up to him and raided the manor, seizing all the illegal booze, destroying the stills, and arresting anyone involved. But, before they were able to arrest Theodore, he had hung himself in the basement.For eighty years, three generations of McClements ruled the manor. The telltale stories of the murders, suspicious deaths, personal loss and suffering still lie behind the gates at Brynwood manor, which, on a sunny day portrays an aura of mysterious enchantment with a mausoleum radiating on the hill.Chapter 3Brynwood manor had been vacant for nearly twenty years prior to Kyle Bennett purchasing it from the government. He bought the property knowing many changes would have to be made. The first thing he did was replace the roof’s shingles. Next, overgrown weeds had to be cut away from the exterior’s Graystone wall to allow easy access to a few dead junipers that he had dug out and burned. Windows were sealed and painted, repairs made to the porch columns, and new door locks installed.Inside the kitchen, an old ice-box and wood-burning stove was replaced with modern appliances. Indoor plumbing was establish, and after revamping two bedrooms into bathrooms, the installation of porcelain toilets, bathtubs and vanities was added. Downstairs, an alcove was conveniently reconstructed into a quaint powder room.Equally important to the refurbishing process and livability of the manor was the need to have electricity, so Kyle immediately hired a qualified electrician to run the necessary wiring throughout. Lastly, phone lines were installed.The structure of the manor was solid as a rock. Yet, according to legend, restless spirits possess within the walls. Some folks believe when Mickey Stone’s milk truck was found abandoned at the end of the estate’s driveway, hidden behind the large pine trees, his presence threatened the spirits and he was mysteriously lured away and murdered.Others say he had been struggling with personal problems at home and possibly drove his truck to the estate, concealed it behind the trees and hitched a ride out of town during the night. Nevertheless, whenever anything out of the ordinary happened in Burrillville, Brynwood Manor became the focus of conversation.Kyle may have heard the stories about the alleged deaths, but that would not discourage him purchasing the grand estate. Was it so hard to believe that a house could burn to the ground leaving a woman and her three children dead in its ashes, or that a man could have hung himself in the basement? Not at all. Yet, the thing Kyle could not understand was how rational people could believe such malarkey like pictures crying, spirits appearing from alternate worlds, or ghosts of little girls dancing around the mausoleum. He wasn’t taken in by such narrow-minded garbage.Living on the outskirts of a rural town like Burrillville meant doubling his travel time to and from his office in the city, but the benefit of privacy greatly outweighed the inconvenience. Kyle loved Brynwood, ghost stories and all. Unfortunately, the barren location wasn’t enough to keep out the gossip. Employing a different housekeeper every year, and being a single man with an infant daughter quickly became the wag of every tongue. Kyle’s daughter, Rosa, grew into an exceedingly bright child. By age six, her inquisitive nature possessed her to explore the menagerie of rooms in the manor until she stumbled onto a secret hide-away. It was in the grand library, behind the bookcase wall that she discovered a moveable panel that opened into a small dark hidden space. In the space were dusty bottles full of liquor, a box of old canning jars and a broken lantern. Because she hadn’t yet heard the spine-chilling stories about the manor, she wasn’t afraid of the murky, morgue-like coldness that dwell within it. She spent hours moving aside heavy bottles and sweeping up broken glass so that she had room to play. Unbeknown to the youngster, her new playroom was once used as a hidden storage space by Theodore McClement in order to conceal the alcohol he made during the prohibition era. For Rosa, it was the ideal place to spy on visitors that came into the room. And she enjoyed spending countless hours hiding out and playing inconspicuously with only a blanket, a flashlight and a stuffed giraffe by her side.The library was the heart of the manor where all the best kept secrets and lies were told over the past one hundred years. Covering the west wall was a floor-to-ceiling redwood bookcase lined with all aspects of reading material overlooking a grand fireplace crowned by an oak plank mantel. Across the room was a beautifully polished mahogany writing desk and three red leather wing chairs to its front. A handsome Grandfather clock, a marble inlaid card table, several Cameo lamps, and a French raspberry-red hand-tufted area rug also gave personality and character to the room. Behind the desk was an impressive eastern-exposed window that provided an ambiance of comfort and serenity from the mornings New England sun. The high ceilings, deep colors and bold detailing was boastful of a room designed by John McClement, a man of strength and passion. The library was by far the most fearsome room in the manor, representing leadership and control, which was a position critical for Kyle if he was going to keep up with the young executives coming on board. Once a month, customarily, each man or woman alternately agreed to take his or her turn hosting meetings at their house. When it was Kyle’s turn, the library became an arena of pushy loud-mouthed, beer-belching, cigar smoking, businessmen engaged in heated conversation. Half-smoked cigars and pressed-out cigarettes butts smoldered and overflowed every ashtray, giving the room a stale musty smell that lingered for days. As the evening grew late, tensions got high, and the intoxicated men became considerably roused. On one occasion, as Rosa hid inconspicuously behind the bookcase wall, she saw a big-headed man throw his attaché case across the room in a fit of anger, knocking over an imported Royal Louis XVI vase. It slid across the desk and sailed into the fireplace. It was quite a sight to watch a room full of otherwise prestigious businessmen dance like Indians over the sparks that flew out onto the floor. Meetings at the manor could run considerably late into the night, depending on how dedicated the men were to deadlines, or when the liquor ran out. These late nights could leave Rosa stuck behind the bookcase wall all night.By eleven, she was growing fast, maturing physically beyond her years. She had smooth lightly colored almond skin, big brown eyes and crimson lips. Her delicately freckled face was surrounded by long waves of black curls that sparkled with golden highlights during the summer. She was losing that child-like appearance, and blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Kyle hired Georgene Pritchett to be her nanny, maintain the house and do the chores. He wanted to teach Rosa to become more responsible, so the nanny’s duty was to develop a simple routine that would inspire the girl to be a little more organized in the morning. Especially since she had already missed the bus three times this month. As housekeeper and nanny, Georgene adjusted well living at Brynwood, but more so she enjoyed being near to Kyle. Unbeknown to him, a year before she came to work for him, she had been in and out of a mental hospital where she received treatment for anxiety and depression. At first, the facilities psychiatrist prescribed a tricyclic anti-depressant drug, Amotipolene, to calm her mood swings, but the medication didn’t seem to help. When she started unconsciously talking to herself, further diagnosis declared she was mentally psychotic. Her doctor tried experimenting with an anti-psychotic drug called Thorazine. Once the eight hundred milligrams of the drug worked to stabilize her, within a few months she was released from the Lansing Mental Hospital. Finally, Georgene was not under the strict care of the hospital’s medical staff anymore, so she eventually stopped taking the medication the doctor's had described for her. It wasn’t long before the episodes of peculiar behavior started to resurface again. She shaved her eyebrows, then replaced them with a thin line of eyebrow pencil, followed by an application of bright blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and bright red lipstick which she smeared beyond the outer edges of her lips. For Kyle, he figured middle-aged women did this sort of thing, so it seemed quite innocent to him. He didn’t know anything about Georgene. He didn’t know about the sanitarium, the depression and the voices in her head. His impression of her was of a strong-willed woman very capable of running a large house like Brynwood and taking care of his daughter. But when he should have taken the time to do a background check on her, he unthinkingly hired her on the spot. If he had done his homework, he would have found out about that spine-chilling night seven years ago in June of ‘58 when Georgene’s husband’s car was found at the bottom of Timblewalm Lake. When the cops pulled him out, Earl Pritchett was still buckled inside his seat-belt, handcuffed to the steering wheel, and his throat was slashed. Oddly, the weapon was still stuck into the seat next to him. The crime reached all the newspapers across the country. The police suspected they had their killer and urged Georgene to plea insanity, but her hotshot attorney warned her, given her past medical history, if she did, she would be sent back to Lansing where she’d spend the rest of her life counting the cracks in the ceiling. With a trumped-up alibi and some legal mumbo-jumbo, her attorney got her off and she never served a single day behind bars.After the trial, Georgene went to work for the Louisville library upon her sister’s insistence. Walt Lester, her brother-in-law, hated the idea, almost as much as he hated her. He didn’t trust the dim-witted nut-case with as much as a staple gun because he always believed she was guilty of killing her husband. Walt tried everything he could to get rid of her, short of killing her himself, by working her long hours in the hopes she’d get fed up and quit. But she didn’t. She knew the negative publicity from the trial had already ruined her chances of finding a good job elsewhere. Then something happened that changed everything.On a hot summer afternoon in August 1959, Kyle pulled up to the library in a boat-like Cadillac with leather interior, white side wall tires, and a radio blaring big band music by Benny Goodman. He was decked out in pants so tight it was obvious which way he hung. He wore a black polyester shirt unbuttoned far enough below the chest to expose the jet black hair on his chest, and his boots were made of snake skin leather. By the way he was dressed, there was no mistaking he was an out-of-towner. The minute he walked through the door, Georgene’s face flushed. Kyle glanced down at her name-tag, but Georgene mistook it and thought that he was looking at her breasts. She boldly took him by the arm and swiftly showed him to a quiet table where they wouldn’t be interrupted. For her, the gates of heaven just opened and a chorus of angels were singing Elvis Presley’s, Love Me Tender. Oddly, her wit and charm delighted Kyle. After chatting awhile, he told her he’d been looking for a housekeeper and a nanny for his daughter, and asked if she had any experience. Thrilled at the aspect of landing a job with this God’s-gift-to-the-female-race- hunk-of-a-man, Georgene convinced him she was right for the job. She’d had a lot of practice lying when it served her purpose. This was her big chance to get the hell out of Louisville for good.Chapter 4Now that Kyle was away on business and Rosa had left for school, the manor hummed a deafening sound of silence Living in Louisville with noisy horns beeping and train whistles blowing was very different than the isolated stillness in Burrillville. The manor alone was so quite you could almost hear the blood rush through your veins. Georgene agreed to work for Kyle, but she never thought how lonely she would be once she moved to the barren little town. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it. In fact, for the first couple of months she kept the radio and television on when no one was around, just to keep her company.As she sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and picking the sugar off of the half-eaten donut Rosa left behind, her mind whirling with thoughts, Georgene was nonetheless satisfied with the choice she made when she left Louisville, putting the past behind. Her marriage to Earl had been a fiery one, especially after his affair. It happened one afternoon when she was on her way to the butcher’s to purchase a side of beef when she found a pair of ladies silk panties pinched between the seats of the truck. Raged with anger, she followed Earl everywhere he went. From the driver’s seat of her El Camino, behind binoculars, she watched his every move from close range, hoping to catch him in the act like the criminal he was. Sometimes she’d spy all day, breaking just long enough to use the bathroom at a nearby gas station. Sometimes, she would even follow him when he went out on bidding calls.Earl Pritchett was well on his way to being a wealthy man. With the money he inherited from his Uncle’s death he started a small landscaping business. Enjoying his own garden rewarded him the knowledge to seed, fertilize, plant bulbs, prune and trim trees. He was acquainted with the different types of deciduous oaks, maple, cherry and dogwood trees, knew everything about Junipers, Yews, Douglas Furs and Norway Spruces. He studied the difference between Annuals and Perennials and when to plant them. Some shrubs were good for ground cover, others for hedges and borders. Earl’s landscaping business was so successful that he opened two more locations in Parkersville and Blacksburg. He had an impressive inventory of shovels, rakes, wheelbarrows, hoses, riding mowers, tractors, and a small bulldozer for excavating and digging. As the money rolled in, he purchased bigger mowers and bigger tractors, several chainsaws and shredders, too.In addition to doing residential work, Earl wanted to expand and start professionally designing and rebuilding lawns on a commercial level, so he bought a Backhoe to move dirt and a Skid loader to haul the heavier pots of shrubs and trees. He put up retention walls with bricks and concrete, installed irrigation systems and designed patio walkways and ponds with waterfalls. Earl’s landscaping business was quite lucrative. He named Georgene sole beneficiary to his will, which included the bank accounts and the thriving landscape business.*** Georgene stood up from the table, put her coffee cup in the sink, and left the kitchen. As she walked down the long hallway toward her bedroom, the clanking sound of her penny-loafers echoed off the walls. At the threshold to her room, her eyes swept across the untidy quarters and she tried to remember when the last time was that she did any housework at all. She strained a frown on her lips, observing the mussed bedding, clothes pinched in every drawer, dirty overflowing ashtrays. But this was her private quarters, which was off-limits to everyone except her. As long as the rest of the house was impeccably clean, Kyle wouldn’t take issue to it. Across the tiny room, she spied a bottle of Vodka left on the nightstand from the night before. Sensing the pleasure it would give her to have a morning cocktail, she immediately walked around the bed, picked it up, popped out the cork, and drew it to her lips. Throwing back her head, she swallowed what little was left in the bottle.“Son-of-a-bitch.” Tossing the bottle on the bed atop the rumpled bedspread, she began looking around the room for another. “Where the hell is it?” She went to her dresser and pulled out every drawer, spilling the clothes to the floor. After stripping the drawers of their contents, she paused and thought where to look next. The closet. In an urgency to fulfill her liquid craving, Georgene plowed through the pile of clothes on the floor toward the closet. “Be in here,” she begged, stretching high on her tip toes to the shelf above, blindly feeling for anything that remotely felt like a bottle. When she exhausted that effort, she got down on her knees and rummaged through the shoes and other none essential objects lying on the floor. “Damn,” she shouted, as she sat with her legs crossed and her elbows on her knees, her head low in her hands. There was always one bottle here for emergencies. Her mind worked even harder, thinking where she hadn’t yet looked. She lifted her head, examining every inch of the room, completely indifferent to the chaotic mess. Maybe under the bed, she thought. But only after she crawled doggy-style to the bed, did she soon come to realize that it was no use. There were no more bottles in the room. She must have polished off the last one and just didn’t remember.Georgene got off the floor, sat on the bed and started to cry, because she knew one tiny sip of Gin would never be enough to get her through the day. A course was set for the library where Kyle kept his personal stash. If her intuition was right, the cabinet would have been recently restocked for the next business meeting. When she entered the library, her eyes instantly set focus on the liquor cabinet. Urgently, she skipped across the room, sliding herself down in front of it. When she yanked the handle, her stomach wrenched when it refused to open.“No!” she screamed, slamming her fist on the door. Ideas started spinning through that dark space in her head. “Now what?”Her eyes widened. “I got it!” With renewed energy, she jumped to her feet and marched over to the desk, wiggling herself onto the chair, optimistic that she would find the desk drawer unlocked. “Come on, open you prick,” she ordered, pulling and tugging on the handle, hopeful that the latch would give way and break loose. But when it didn’t, she fell back against the massive red leather chair, pulled her knees up, and began crying like a baby. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a letter opener lying next to a pile of yesterday’s unopened mail. She picked it up, jumped over the desk, and hurled herself down in front of the liquor cabinet again. Being especially carefully not to scratch the wood, she picked away at the latch, twisting the letter opener back and forth until the door unlocked. She paused, then slowly opened the door and discovered her intuition was right and that Kyle had restocked his supply. “Thank-you Jesus,” she hailed, taking in a deep cleansing breath, releasing the tension. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the display of newly unopened bottles, practically insisting to be opened.“The floodgates have opened,” she said, excitedly leering at the shiny brown and white bottles. Best of all, they were all the expensive stuff.“You’re a good man, Mr. Bennett,” she said, sitting cross-legged in front of an array of top-notch liquor too enticing to ignore. Reaching into the cabinet, she pulled out a bottle of Gin and held it to her chest, whimsically grinning because she knew that from now on, there was more booze here than she knew what to do with. Proud as a peacock, she hummed gaily as she picked at the silver-coated paper that covered the cap. Once the bottle was open, she held it tightly between both hands and lifted it to her lips, gulping the Gin like a thirsty horse. “Ah,” she said, wiping the liquor from her chin. Never before had she had anything of this caliber before, so much more agreeable than that cheap stuff she was used to drinking. Better yet, it was free for the taking, making it all the more enjoyable. Feeling tipsy and refreshed, Georgene sat Indian-style on the floor with the bottle of Gin between her legs, knowing that if she put the unused portion back in the cabinet it might draw suspicion that someone had broke in. She decided the simplest thing to do was to keep the bottle and hope that Kyle wouldn’t notice it was missing. She didn’t want to spoil the chance of him finding out that she’d been in his liquor cabinet, especially now that she had discovered a way to help herself to it at any time, day or night. Excitedly, twisting the cap back on tightly, she closed the door, locking it with the letter opener, and headed back to her room, walking down the hall like a crippled duck, wobbling back and forth from the liquor’s grip, her legs rubbery, her head light and fuzzy. Though she had been warned that drinking alcohol could intensify the effect of the medication and make her feel incapacitated, she didn’t care.When Georgene finally made it back to her bedroom, she sat on the bottom of her bed and unscrewed the cap again, sipping the Gin until nearly one quarter of the bottle was gone. She paused, reveling in the anesthetizing potion’s ability to sooth her nerves. She turned on the television, switching the channels until she found an early morning game show. Let’s Make a Deal had always been her favorite, except right now the noise from the clapping hands and the tasteless homemade costumes provoked her. She began to wave her fist at the screen. “You bubble-headed moron!” she yelled, vehemently. “How’d ya miss that price! Eighty-nine cents for a can of tuna? That’s too much? Why’d they ever let you on that show in the first place wearing that stupid getup? You dumb shit. Even I could of done better than that!” As the contestant left the stage, she began laughing uncontrollably, raising the bottle of Gin in the air. “That’s what you get for being so damn stupid.” Rejoicing wickedly, kissing the bottle, Georgene unsteadily stood up, put her right hand to the right side of her forehead, saluted the television, and raised the bottle again. “I salute you Monty, and the rest of all you other dumb shits!” From her night robe pocket she pulled out an unfiltered cigarette and a small metal lighter, flicking it with her thumb, then pausing as the long orange flame lit the end. After two puffs, she pressed it out in the pot of a leafless Poinsettia and started singing loudly, flapping her arms and cackling like a rooster at the top of her lungs, spinning in circles until she lost her balance and fell back on the bed. Thoughts of Kyle being away was becoming harder to bear because she had been wanting to tell him about the feelings she had for him. As she lied across the bed, her robe drawn open, exposing her body, she gazed at the ceiling unblinkingly, while tears of loneliness slid down both sides of her face. Mentally, she formed a picture of Kyle coming to her room late at night, holding a candle, the shadow of his body moving close to the bed until his strong muscular knees pressed against the mattress. In the amber flickering light, she could see his lean naked structure hard and ready to be satisfied. How she wanted him. “Someday,” she said, rolling onto her side, eyes squinting from the sunlight peeking through the curtain.By three o’clock, Georgene was peacefully lounging around the manor in her night-robe, pondering when Kyle would be home. Yet, she still worried about what he would do if he ever found out that she had trespassed into his liquor cabinet. Repeatedly, she told herself that all she had to do was tell him that someone else had been in the house and broke into the cabinet while she was out. Pacing up and down the halls, stopping to look at the pictures on the walls, starring at the faces and wondering who they all were, she tried to forget about Kyle and decided to do the laundry instead. The last place she remembered seeing the laundry basket was in the corner of her bedroom next to a pile of dirty clothes two stories high. All though the laundry had gone undone for several days, the thought of doing all that work right now wearied her, made her feel too exhausted. Shifting gears, she turned to the bed and resolved to relax and wait for the Merv Griffin Show to come on at four o’clock. But no sooner did she put her feet up on the bed did she fall asleep until morning. Chapter 5Rosa came home to find Georgene passed out on the bed like she had done so many times before. As much as she hated the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, she hated coming home to an empty house. But even though tonight would be no different than so many others nights when she had to be on her own, she learned to manage quite well. Home Economics had been one of the few classes she actually liked, and the education she received from it came in handy. As she looked around the kitchen, grunting at where to begin, the first thing to do was to get rid of the blackened cigarette butts and wash the ashtrays left absentmindedly sprawled around the kitchen, then scrub the tobacco stains out of the sink where ashes had been flicked. After fumbling under the sink she found a scratchy pad and Comet and began working on the tobacco and caffeine stains. Now that the sink was clean, Rosa got out the broom and swept all the particles of food and other litter from the floor onto a metal dustpan, then dumped it all into the garbage basket under the sink. Once that was done, she went back to the cabinet and found the can of spray deodorizer, held it above her head, and gave the room a few good spritz. Getting rid of the smell would take awhile, but at least she could eat without having to smell that sickening odor.Lastly, she looked in the laundry room but didn’t see the basket, assuming that Georgene had already done the wash. But then she noticed the hamper was over-flowing with dirty clothes.Bending at the waist, she reached into the hamper as far as she could, wrapped her arms around the dirty clothes, rolled them into a big loose ball and shoved them down the laundry chute.The hall clock chimed six times when Rosa finished cleaning. Looking around the kitchen, though it still lingered of rose scented tobacco, she was nonetheless satisfied. She shrugged…”Good enough.” Being that she was now too tired to make herself dinner, she simply grabbed a handful of cookies, a quart of milk, and a can of chocolate syrup, then walked down the long dark hallway to the stairway that led up to her bedroom. With her right arm grasped firmly around the milk and cookies, she carefully climbed the steps, using her left hand for support as she ascended along the smoothly varnished oak railing, counting each step as she went, a game she played when she was five. The rule was to count each step one by one, but if she lost count, she’d have to go the whole way back down, or up depending on which way she was going, and start all over again. The game was nanny number two’s idea.The house was dark except for a beam of white moonlight streaming in through the open doorway of her father’s bedroom. This time she didn’t stop to look in. After having read the handwritten note he left on the table telling Georgene not to expect him for a few days, she knew he was not there.Halfway to her room, Rosa suddenly realized how creepy the manor was at night, and more so now that Alexis and Macy had unleashed their version of the resident ghosts that allegedly lived there.Ignoring such thoughts, she quickly continued past her father’s room, two more bedrooms and a large hall closet and was finally at the door to her own bedroom. Before going inside, she reached in for the switch, flicked it on, and then went to the white lacquered vanity where she set the milk and cookies on top. After an hour of scrubbing sinks and sweeping floors, sitting down on the pink tufted vanity chair felt so good. She poured herself a tall glass of milk, stirred in the chocolate, placed a cookie on the spoon, then dunked it in the milk before shoving the whole thing in her mouth. While watching herself in the mirror, chewing the saturated cookie, her eyes fell to her breasts and wondered how much longer it would be until hers were as big and pointy as Alexis’s. From a sideways glance she couldn’t tell if they were any different from a boy’s. “No boy wants a flat-chested girl,” she thought, sticking out her chest. “Girls without tits aren’t popular.” Feeling discouraged, she got up and went to the window and saw a moon that seemed to be smiling mockingly at the earth below. The ineffectual light did nothing to warm the nights frosty air, though the brilliant illumination lit every object on the lawn. Stubborn winds had not died down at all, nor had the crude temperature change from its bitter cold. Nevertheless, Rosa opened the window and deeply inhaled the smell of the cold fresh air, felt the wintry breeze in her face. From across the lawn on the distant horizon she noticed how picturesque the mausoleum looked in the mystic moonlight. She hypnotically gazed at it, but didn’t see one sign of anything so weird as what Alexis had spoke about. There was no ghost of a girl dancing around the graves.She stepped away from the window when she heard a noise that sounded as if it was coming from the attic; an area never ventured. For some reason in all the years she lived and roamed the manor, Rosa could not bring herself to go into the attic. And though she knew it wasn’t unusual for an old house to have creaking sounds once in awhile, after what she heard today, the attic was even more ghostlike than ever, and the stories more realistic. When she went to the door, curiosity peaked, she turned the knob and allowed it to open freely. One thought was that perhaps her father had come home and his footsteps on the floor had made the noise. But she still wasn’t sure. So before going any further, she listened intently behind the partially opened door to determine which direction it was coming from. Just as suddenly as the thumping started, it stopped. The anxiety of not knowing what it was forced her curious nature to react. Before Rosa got the courage to go out into the hall, a strong gust of wind blew in from the window and slammed the door shut. Startled by the unexpected sound, she screamed so loud that she figured whatever was out there was surely gone now. All the same, she wasn’t going to open the door to find out. Instead, she pressed her thumb on the lock, overlooking the fact that ghosts can appear through doors and walls, and stepped back. Now she felt silly. Still, the mere thought that something like that could happen made her skin crawl, put her nerves were on the razor’s edge. So much so that when she turned around and a dark shadowy object passed across her face, it almost caused her heart to stop beating. Flapping her arms in the air to keep from being attacked, Rosa felt a painful thud hit her chest. Too scared to run over and close the window, she back up and stood stiffly against her door, watching the curtains blow, listening to the wind whistle through the branches on the tree outside with the convincing theory that something was in her room.As cold air poured in, smothering the warmth of the room, Rosa’s mind raced. With both hands glued to her side, she cautiously turned toward the door with the intention to make a run for it. But no sooner did the clicking sound of the unlocking of the door, and the sudden movement of her hand, cause whatever it was in the room to take flight. As it fluttered back and forth in front of her face, she repeatedly swung at it until it stopped.Rosa stood still with her hands over her face, more frightened than ever. When she spread her fingers, bracing herself for what she might see, she gasped, wide-eyed and horrified at the bat sitting idly aloof on her bedside table. “Yuck.”It wasn’t uncommon for bats, squirrels or mice to get inside the house, mostly in the attic, so it wasn’t unusual to hear the fluttering of wing, scratching of claws, or the gnawing of teeth. But this one had come into her room, not the attic and now it was up to her to find a way to get it back out.With each sideways step, eyes unblinkingly fixed on the bat, Rosa moved toward the window. Never in her life had she seen anything so queerly ugly as she did this rubbery looking creature. And it was so much bigger than the ones on Dark Shadows, her favorite after school television show.With a hard push of her right hand, Rosa shoved the window open a little further to alert the bat to the outside air. “Get out!” she screamed, covering her hair as the bat flailed around, zigzagging ungracefully through the room. This went on for the better part of an hour until the bat finally exited through the open window, disappearing into the night sky from which it came. Instantly, Rosa reached for the window’s handle and drew it in, then latched it tight. Now that the rude attack was over and the black-winged intruder was gone, she began to think how funny the unsettling display actually was. She fell backward onto the bed laughing. But even though the ordeal was over, she would nonetheless sleep with the light on. By morning, the manor was peacefully quiet. Rosa woke early and rolled over yawning and stretching, feeling much better now that she had a good night’s sleep. With her fist in a ball, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up inspecting the room. Suddenly, remembering why she had kept the lamp on made her feel childish for having been so frightened over the bat that had inadvertently flown into her room last night. Yet, as much as she tried to justify her overly emotional reaction to it, all she could think to say was, “It was a bat, for crying out loud, not a parakeet!” Sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, Rosa leaned forward to re-check the latch on the window, making sure once more that it was securely locked. Since it was going to be at least another half-hour before the sun would rise, other than the small lamp on her bedside table softly glowing and bouncing shadows off the walls, the room was still somewhat dim. The unsettling surroundings had her eyes shifting to every object in the room as though something was going to jump out and bite her. Lying on the floor near the head of the bed was her stuffed giraffe, Mr. Bill, who must have fallen there sometime during the night. Stretching for him, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him close to her chest to feel him safely in her arms. Attached to the toy’s leg was a label that read, F.C. Bayard Toys.As the new day’s light fully rolled in, Rosa remained in bed restlessly starring at the ceiling until the disturbing shadows faded. Morning always made everything seem so much better, she thought. Then she got up and went to her vanity, ran the brush through her long thick hair, and wrapped her housecoat around her shoulders before leaving the room. It was still early, so if she hurried there might be a chance she could catch her father before he left for the office, provided he had come home last night. In a flash, she ran down the hallway to his bedroom, but when she did not see him there, it made her re-think the noise she heard in the hallway. If it wasn’t him, then who or what was it? Prancing down the seemingly endless stairway, barely touching the banister, then to the long hallway that led to the kitchen, she stopped dead in the threshold when she saw that everything was still the same as she had left it the night before. Even the disinfectant spray hadn’t yet masked the cigarette smoke. Georgene was still asleep. Rosa’s grin drew down and she could not pull it straight because she knew once more that no one would be joining her for breakfast. How she wished to spend just one morning with her father. After a long terrible silence, something broke in her heart. She had no pain, but felt paralyzed all the same. Her father didn’t love her. Not really. She didn’t mean anything more to him than one of his co-workers did. Maybe less. “I hate him,” she dishearteningly cried. “I wish he wasn’t my father.” Rosa turned and ran back down the hall and up to her room to get dressed for school. As she stood in front of the opened closet, her eyes scanned over an impressive collection of colorful skirts, dresses and blouses, all purchased with her father’s money, but none that he had ever seen her wear. As she let her body sag against the side of the door, trying not to sulk, she vowed when she got older that she would move out and he’d never see her again.Pushing the clothes-laden hangers from side to side until she found a soft pink blouse and matching plaid skirt, yanking them off the hanger, she went to her vanity and began dressing. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she spoke in a phony voice. “Hello Daddy, how was your day?” When that didn’t sound right, she switched to, “Hello father, I hope you had a pleasant day.” After the last button was fastened, she pulled on her snow boots, grabbed her bookbag and headed down the stairs to the closet in the corridor to find her thin wool coat. When the clock chimed seven o’clock, she bolted out the door and plowed her way through the snow to the bus stop at the end of the driveway.The wind chill had dropped below freezing. Standing stiff at the bus stop made the sub-zero temperature feel worse than it was, and it wouldn’t take long before the bitter cold ground would penetrate through her boots, stealing any feeling left in her toes. Not even her coat was heavy enough to bare the intense cold today. “What’s taking that stupid bus so long!” she snapped, wiping the snot from her nose with the back of her mitten. “I’m freezing.” Her frail body shivered and twisted from the blustery winds that swept across the ground, picking up bits and pieces of stones that stung her face. For a moment, she thought she heard the rumbling bus pulling out from the stop sign a hundred yards away, but it was only a coal truck making a delivery. The next time she lifted her head, it was to receive the sweet smell of Russo’s bakery entwining with the wind, causing her nostrils to flare to the sweet bouquet of fragrance. Distracted by the mouth-watering scent, she curled up tighter in her coat and followed the aroma. Russo’s was almost a half a mile away, but getting there would be worth it, even in the frigid weather. If she cut across Caldwell’s field, she could usually get there in half the time, but not today when there was eight inches of snow on the ground. This time, the main road would be her best bet.The landscape was a winter wonderland of iridescent objects. Some looked like triangles, some like diamonds, all waiting to be unveiled in spring. Except for the cold-crisp wind, everything was still, even a bird perched motionless like a decoy atop a telephone wire, and Old man Sterling’s Basset Hound keeping a lazy leg inside its straw-stuffed box.Curled turtle-like in her coat, Rosa continued moving against the wind. When she came upon Merkey’s pond, she wondered if the ice was thick enough to skate on. An educated guess told her that since the temperature hadn’t risen much above sixteen degrees all week, it was probably more than safe, even though there were no visible foot prints on the surface indicating to her that anyone had tried it yet. It didn’t matter. When the local boys were around, they hogged the pond and only allowed their friends on. Besides, if she showed up sliding around in rubber boots when everyone else had skates, especially the fancy ones with pom-poms the size of soft-balls, she would look like a fool. Rosa glanced down at her boots and imagined them to be the top-of-the-line Ultra Gliders she had seen in one of those money-order catalogs. The fancy type with lavender pom-poms and metallic lightning bolts on each side. For one foolish moment, she thought to give the pond a try.By the time she got to the bakery her hands were so frozen that her fingers wouldn’t bend when she pulled her ice-covered mittens off. Going inside, a little bell rang letting the proprietor know he had a customer. The warmth of the room felt as equally good as it smelled. With just one whiff there was no mistaking what had summoned her there. “Ah…this is heaven,” She said, inhaling deeply as she shook the snow from her hat.“Hello Rosa Lynn,” Bob Russo said in a gaily voice. “How’s your father?”“Okay,” she replied, avoiding the truth that she had no idea how he was. Russo wasn’t the only one that heard the doorbell ring. So did the store’s cat. It rushed over with it’s tail up and greeted her, dragging behind it five wobbling kittens. “Hello ?clair,” she said, stroking the soft fur along its back, then picking up one of her kittens, rubbing it against her cheek. “I didn’t know she was expecting babies.” “Yep,” said Russo. “Now I have six more cats than I need. That old stray needs a good home, ya know. And it looks like she’s takin’ a real fancy to you. Why don’t you take em’ all before they get out on the road?”“Well, I’ll have to ask my father first,” she said kissing the kitten’s head. “As soon as he gets home.” They were interrupted by the telephone. Russo excused himself and went to the back to answer it.In the middle of the room, Rosa spied the little wood stove radiating a blazing fire and went to stand as close to it as she could without getting burned. Soon, the heat thawed her hands. Just as she began to relax, Russo’s sixteen-year old nephew came darting out from the storeroom kicking his way through the huddle of kittens with his size twelve boots. When she watched the little balls of fur roll across the floor she wanted nothing more than to tell him what a jerk he was. But the best thing to do was ignore him and not make a big deal over it. Otherwise, he might do something worse. All she could do was painfully look away and pretend not to care. “Well, well, look what the cat drug in,” he said, slithering toward her like the snake she knew him to be. “If it isn’t Little Miss Rosa. Did you come all the way down here to see me?” He grinned seductively, circled her, corrupting her purity with his hard calculating eyes. The way he leered at her while rolling a chewed toothpick around his tongue made her very nervous. She stood motionless in his web without moving a muscle and hoped he wouldn’t hear the thumping in her chest.“Whoa, you're ice cold,” he said grabbing her hands. “How ‘bout I warm these up for you?” Bending to meet her eyes, it was clear what he wanted. When he opened his mouth to lick his venomous lips the smell of tobacco on his breath nearly made her sick.Lane knew Rosa didn’t have experience with men and that made him even hungrier to take her innocence. At this moment she didn’t know what to do. At sixteen, he was a man with a look that could steal her virginity if she gave into his craving.Her jaw clenched, her hands shook, not from the cold, but from utter fear as he stood in front of her clinging to her bony wrists. She turned her head and tried not to look into his lustful eyes because she knew the wrong look could be all he needed to take her right there. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought it was going to explode through her chest. Vigorously, she pulled back and it was enough to release his grip on her. “Let go!” Cynically, Lane laughed and threw his hands in the air. “Hey babe, what’s your problem, don’t you want to have a little fun?”“Leave me alone.”Rosa was just beginning to develop into a young woman. At thirteen, she was ripe enough to pick. She knew what he wanted and it scared her to think he would get it. At the same time when Russo finished his phone call and walked over to the display case, Rosa did as well, pressing her face against the glass, trying to decide what she wanted. But all she could see in the glass’s reflection was Lane’s seedy eyes starring at her from across the room. “I don’t know,” she said, gazing at each selection of fresh baked pastries, hands trembling as she felt for change inside her coat pocket. Emotionally assaulted, blood drained from her face, Rosa couldn’t remember what she wanted. Russo, who was completely unaware of what his nephew had been up to, waited patiently for her to make up her mind, holding open a small white paper bag.“I guess I’ll take six doughnut holes.” That’s not what I wanted, she thought. Why did I say doughnut holes?“Oki Doki,” said Russo, smiling. Unhurriedly, he lifted the lid from the tray of doughnut holes and carefully dropped each one into the bag. Other than the rustling of the bag and the rattling of her nerves, the room was dead quiet, until the clocked chimed and she almost made her jumped out of her skin. Aware of the time, she knew if she didn’t leave immediately, there would be no way of getting to the bus stop on time. “There you go,” Russo said, neatly folding the top of the bag, whimsically grinning at her sweetness. “Thanks Mr. Russo,” she said, snapping the bag from his hand. “I have to go or I’ll miss the bus.” No sooner did she get her coat and hat on did a flash of yellow go roaring by the store’s large picture window.“Seems to me you’ve done missed the bus, princess,” said Lane. The look on her face made him chuckle, but when her eyes started to tear up, he burst into laughter. More than she hated her father was how she felt about Lane. From behind the counter, Russo said, “Let’s go.” And he untied his apron, flashed her a smile and a wink, softening the lump in her throat. “Do you want me take her to school, uncle?” “No!” Rosa objected loudly. For a moment, she almost felt bad for having missed the bus, but was nonetheless happy now that she had. As long as Russo was willing to drive her to school, even if it was a good five miles away, she wouldn’t have to sit on the crammed bus listening to the loud chitter-chatter of the other kids. She grabbed her book-bag and they headed out the door.The snow was lighter now, but the wind was blowing hard enough to drift the roads, making driving a challenge. Rosa loved riding in Russo’s old truck, no matter how noisy it was or how gassy it smelled. And it was so much warmer than the bus. “How’s everything at the big house?” he said, wiping the condensation from the window with his red handkerchief. “Are you enjoying the holidays?”“I guess.” she said, starring hypnotically at the tiny snowflakes cascading around the windshield wipers. “And your dad? Working hard, is he?”“Yeah, I guess.”“Do you like the big house? I mean… do you see…you know?” “See what?”“You mean you’ve never heard the stories?” He took his eyes off the snow-covered road just long enough to give her a puzzled look.“I’ve heard some stories about blood-stained walls and stuff, but I haven’t seen anything.” She turned her head to the window so Russo couldn’t see her smirk while her mind worked to dredge up something juicier to tell him.“Well, I thought I heard someone crying in the cellar once,” she said with such wide-eyed believability. “Maybe it was a scream.”“Oh…Mary mother of…..,” he said, gently pressing the break, almost coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road. He looked down at her wildly innocent face, rosy from the cold air, her tiny hands clenched tightly inside her mittens. She had an angelic look, an energetic spirit, untamed in her youth. In the corner of her eye, Rosa could see him alternately glaring at her then at the road. Obviously he was stunned by what she said, because his hand trembled violently as he fussed with the knobs on the radio, trying to bring in better reception. Of course, her intention was strictly to tease him, but she worried if she pushed him too far that the feeble old man would drop over dead with a heart attack. So rather than saying another word, she kept quiet and watched the dancing snowflakes outside the window. At last they arrived at the Rachael Elementary School. The old truck pulled up as close to the curb as it could so that Rosa wouldn’t have to step in the wet slush. And since the crossing guard wasn’t on duty anymore, she knew that first period had begun. “Thanks Mr. Russo,” she said, cracking the door open. “See you next Tuesday.” She jumped out, slammed the door and waved as he honked good-bye.Chapter 6 Other than the janitor humming a tune, while swiftly mopping the gray linoleum floor, the lobby was vacant. First period was in session. As quietly as she could, Rosa slipped past him and went into the hall keeping a watchful eye out for the principal, who was probably lurking around somewhere looking for kids that cut class. The thought of getting caught rattled her nerves, even though the thrill of sneaking around the halls was exhilarating.She made it to the stairwell that led up to the second floor and tiptoed up to the door of her first period classroom door and peeked inside the window.“Okay class, take your seat,” said Ellen Dickson, the seventh grade music teacher. Being of Irish descendent, she is known to the students by her strict rules and no-nonsense policies. On the far right corner of her desk lay a wooden gavel, which after years of constant use has left a distinctive impression. “We’re not going to be prepared if we don’t get busy,” she said. “Remember, the Christmas Pageant is only two days away. So whoever is singing, please come forward to get your music.” As she peered over the rim of her reading glasses, scanning the classroom for attendance, the students crowded around her desk. “Quietly,” she said, pounding the gavel. “Does anyone know where Rosa is?”In the center row, four desks back, Alexis sat with her head low, playing with the buttons on her sweater. “Alexis, I don’t suppose you know where Rosa is do you?” Alexis did not lift her head, but rather replied in a low voice, “No.”“Speak up, please, I didn’t hear you.”Alexis sat up straight in her chair, lifted her head and answered louder, “No!”The reddish purple bruise above her right eye and her swollen lip made it clear why she had been trying to hide her face. Ellen opened her desk drawer, took out a small black and white notebook and put a check mark next to the date. That makes twice this week, she thought silently tapping her pencil, counting seven checks in all. My God. But even though she kept a ledger of all the dates that Alexis had come to class with bruises on her face, and possibly more under her clothes, she wondered why she even bothered. Unless the girl came forward and confessed who was abusing her, there was nothing anyone could do about it. Nevertheless, all her suspicions were on the stepfather. “Alexis, since Rosa isn’t here today, why don’t you try rehearsing the piece by yourself?” Alexis nodded and sighed with relief and then caught a glimpse of Rosa looking at her through the window of the door. With a taunting grin she slid low in her seat, cupped her hands alongside her mouth and crudely stuck out her tongue. At first, Rosa wrenched at the sight of the girl’s battered face and even wonder why she smeared so much lipstick on, essentially making her lip look more swollen than it actually was. Maybe she wants people to pity her. Refusing to let herself get caught up in feelings of sorrow, she moved away from the door, went further down the hall and ducked into the lady’s room so that no one else would catch her loitering in the hall. Hiding in the school’s restroom for thirty minutes was nothing compared to sitting in one of Ellen Dickson’s classes. She slipped into the last stall, latched the lock on the door and sat on the toilet. A sob caught in her throat as her mind replayed the bruises on Alexis’s face. Yet, even as it would be natural to feel sorry her, Rosa tried not to. With one hard thrust of her foot, she kicked the door and pounded her fist into the palm of her hand. “The next time she sticks that tongue out at me, I’ll beat her with it ‘til she bleeds piss.” After about twenty minutes, the bell rang and the students began to storm from their classrooms, filling the halls with noise and commotion. Wanting to blend in with the crowd, Rosa left the restroom and hoped that no one from music class saw her. Just when she rounded the corner, heading for the gym, she felt the force of someone’s hand hit her hard on the back. “There you are,” Alexis said, jumping in front, smoothing her overgrown red bangs out of her eyes. “I should have told Ms. Dickson you hooked class.” “Go ahead,” Rosa said, looking away to avoid getting a close-up shot of the welt around her one eye. She tried to push by her, but Alexis followed. “You made an ass out of me at Russo’s yesterday, and I can’t forget it.”“Get out of my way or I’ll give you another fat lip.” “Oh shut up!” Alexis shouted, standing placid in the midst of the busy hall, watching as Rosa disappeared into the mob of students and teachers.Rosa felt bad for what she had just said to Alexis and even thought about going back and telling her she didn’t mean it. She knew it wasn’t her fault. The blame belonged to Amos Winslow, a lazy good-for-nothing fool who spends all his nights getting drunk and all his days sleeping it off. He is the one responsible for those bruises on her face.The day flew by quickly. At last bell, Rosa hurried from her last class and meandered back and forth through the jam-packed halls in an effort to get to the bus where she always had to fight to get a seat. She flopped down, slid close to the window and watched as the other students swarmed like bees to get to their buses, as well. The sky was cloudy, the winds a little calmer, but the temperature still had not changed. Sitting inside the bus made her feel like the ice cube inside an ice cube tray. When she removed her mitten to slide her hand inside her coat pocket to feel for her house key, it was a relief to know it was still there. Not long after she sat down someone else flopped down on the seat alongside her. Twelve-year-old Joey Plem, also known as cricket from the creaking sound his leg braces made, looked up at her and smiled. “Hello,” he said, situating his tiny figure on the seat. Oh no…not him. Looking at him with hardened eyes, she hoped he’d sense her disapproval and sit somewhere else. But Joey had been trying to make friends with Rosa ever since his family had moved to town last summer, so he was more than happy to be right where he was.“What’s it like to live in a haunted house?” His corny wide-eyed expression repulsed her almost as much as his dingy yellow teeth did, gaped so far apart in the front that he could easily wedge a pencil between them. Plus, he had a musty smell about him, as though his clothes had been hung in the basement to dry. But even though the bony little dweeb was handicapped, he was a straight A student with big dreams of one day becoming an astronaut.As Joey intentionally moved closer, he stopped when his shoulder touched Rosa’s arm.“Get off me, Joey!” Rosa shouted, shoving him with her elbow. Feeling scorned and a bit shaken by the heavy tone of her voice, Joey quickly inched himself to the edge of the seat as far as he could without falling off. “Is this okay, Rosa?” He asked, looking up at her.“Damn you, Joey,” she said. “Now you spit in my face.” Clenching her fist into a tight ball and waving it at his face, she let him know that she was in no mood for his clowning around today. With the sleeve of her coat, she wiped the spit from her cheek, pulled her hat over her face and propped her head against the window, trying to pretend he didn’t exist. Except for fiddling with the strings on his coat, tying and untying them, Joey sat idly stiff and didn’t say another word. Then, with the help of both his hands he picked up one leg and positioned it next to the other so he had a place to set his books.Rosa rested with her eyes closed, daydreaming that her father was at home waiting with open arms; to hug her the very second she walked in, nuzzle her on the cheek with his five o’clock shadow.Hello my precious daughter. You always look so beautiful. Is that a new dress you’re wearing? I love you, I love you, I love…Before her father’s last I love you, the bus hit a pothole in the road, jarring her mind back to the present. “Ouch!” she cried, as the bus swerved to keep from hitting another hole. When she looked over at Joey, he was picking up two of his books that had ejected from his lap and onto the floor. This time, when Rosa laid her head against the window, she began to see bits and pieces of an earlier childhood memory scribble through her mind, though the image faded just as fast as it appeared. She wondered what it meant. Wondered that maybe it wasn’t a dream. As her gaze focused outside at the blur of scenery flashing by, her thoughts shifted to the manor and of the supernatural beings supposedly living there. The stories were ludicrous, she thought, but creepy nonetheless. Georgene certainly seemed possessed by something. And what were all the strange noises she had been hearing lately?As the bus neared her stop, she stood up, steadying herself in the aisle so that she could be ready to get off the minute the door opened. “Can I sit with you tomorrow?” Joey asked politely, his eyes fixated on her.“What?” she muttered, as she held on to the back of the seat, looking down at him, wishing he would evaporate. The glistening metal of his leg brace caught her eye, and for one quick moment she felt guilty for having been so disgusted by him. But sitting next to him on the bus for forty-five minutes was more than she could take.“No,” she said, answering him the same way she would have if he were the last boy on Earth. Still, his love-struck eyes twinkled as he watched her move up the aisle. Straightening her back, Rosa moved forward up the aisle, excited with anticipated thoughts that in just a few seconds she would be on her way up the driveway and to see her father. But before she made it to the exit, something caught her foot and brought her down hard on her knees. “Have a nice trip?” When she looked over her shoulder, Alexis was wearing a grin from ear to ear, holding up her middle finger in clear view of the entire bus. Rosa could almost feel the vultures start to pick at her with their vile bouts of name-calling and laughter, which created enough of a stir that the bus driver looked in this overhead mirror to see what the excitement was all about. The intensity of his gaze shook her insides, a reaction that she quickly hid. It would do no good to show any weakness in front of all the kids, and that was especially true for Alexis, who sat snickering inside the pages of her history book. “You okay, Rosa?” Joey said, as he softly reached out to touch her shoulder. “Get off of me Joey!” she snapped at him again.“Oh, poor baby,” Alexis said, lowering her book. This time, not only had she deliberately plotted her revenge from yesterday, she had now aimed to publicly humiliate Joey, as well. With a snarling expression on her face, Alexis stood up and was waving her arms in the air like an orchestra leader. “Joey and Rosa sit’n in a tree, k..i.s..s..i..n..g.While Alexis continued to shame the two in front of everyone, Joey sat like mush in his seat, cupping his hands over his ears to drown out the words that cut through him like a knife. By now he should have been used to the criticism and teasing from the kids, but his sensitive nature and disability made it harder for him fight back. Yet, strangely enough, no one had ever seen him shed one tear.“Shut up,” Rosa said, regaining her balance, intentionally trying to revert the attention back to herself, rather than at Joey. “Why don’t you make me,” Alexis warned.The driver turned around to see if she needed any assistance. “You okay, missy?” Rosa didn’t answer. She looked back at Joey, and could tell that by the way he constantly fidgeted with the drawstring on his coat that he was feeling uneasy. And now with everyone starring at her, she too was feeling uneasy. And even though she couldn’t stand him, she still hated to see him bullied. And yet she figured it was his problem and he would have to solve it on his own. Maybe it would do him good to speak up for himself, she thought, but right now there wasn’t enough time to hang around to find out, especially since the driver was now looking at her quite impatiently. The only thing she wanted to do was to focus on getting the hell off the bus. The driver cocked his head, urging her to proceed up the aisle. Without giving Joey a second look she left the bus. Joey stared after her. The door closed and as it began to pull away, she heard an echoing voice yelling something at her from inside. “Witch Girl!” Rosa did not have to look back to see who it was. She already knew. Yet, as much as she wanted to get even, her mind was more occupied on getting home to see her father. As she shuffled up the driveway, she started to realize that there were no tire tracks in the snow. Maybe, since it had snowed all day, the freshly fallen snow had covered them up. The faster she moved, the more anxiety ate at her stomach.When she finally got to the point where she was able to clearly see if his car was in front of the house, her heart sank into her already aching stomach. She swallowed hard and felt her whole body shake. He was not home, after all. “Damn, I hate him,” she said, alternately stamping her boots in the snow. Wrapping her coat tight around her neck, bearing the cold wind in her face, Rosa walked up to the porch and sat down on the top step, starring down at the beautiful white snow-laden driveway. “I hate you,” she wailed into the wind, hoping that wherever he was, that he heard these words loud and clear. After sitting motionless on the step for an hour or more, completely indifferent to the darkening sky, foggy memories of a mother she never knew began to form in her head and she wondered why she even had them. She died when she was a baby. Sometimes the thoughts made her sad and other times they comforted her. What kind of woman was she? And where was the rest of her family? Now that Rosa was getting older, she wanted to know more about the woman that gave birth to her, and if there were aunts, uncles and cousins. If so, then perhaps they could tell her everything about her mother. It was time she started asking questions and time that her father gave her the answers. As night closed in, and the evening’s coldest air had now chilled her to the bones, Rosa refused to go inside until she saw her father’s car coming up the driveway. It was crucial that she see him tonight. And more so now that she intended to ask him about the cat.As she sat nearly frozen to the porch step, practicing her speech, scheming of a way to get into his good gracious, she heard one of the big doors behind her open. “I wondered where you were.” When she turned around, she saw Georgene standing in the doorway pulling her sweater across her chest. “Come inside, it’s bitter out here. Besides, dinner is almost ready.”“I don’t want anything to eat,” Rosa said, acting like a pouting child.Georgene signed. “Just because your father’s not here doesn’t mean you can starve yourself to death.”“Why not? He wouldn’t care.”Rosa got up, bull-dozed her way through the door and unintentionally knocked Georgene against the frame. “I don’t care if he never comes home.” She bolted up the stairs, skipping every other step and headed for her bedroom.Georgene shook her head. If she would not have been so out of sorts herself, she would have gone up after her. Instead, she stopped at the bottom of the steps and yelled, “Young lady, you get down here right now! You’re father is a……a wonderful man!” All too often, Georgene sensed how lonely Rosa was, but she didn’t have the courage to confront Kyle with it. She just didn’t know how to bring it up to him, which was no wonder. Kyle Bennett, a belligerent and somewhat arrogant man with an unapproachable demeanor, has always had a way of making it difficult for anyone to get close to him. Perhaps, old secrets from the past have dissolved his otherwise loving heart, immersing him into his work. At least he had his good looks to be grateful for, with eyes so intimidating that they could easily steal the honey away from the bees and not get stung. Rosa had come home feeling shaky and very close to tears. She went to her bedroom and stood by the window, looking out across the white-carpeted lawn. Hauntingly aglow on the hill, the mausoleum stood like a guarded soldier under the moonlight. She turned out the light, knelt to her knees and peered over the windowsill. “I don’t see anyone,” she whispered, convinced that there was no merit to all the ridiculous stories everyone talked about. “It’s probably just shadows from the trees.” She refused to believe the rumors, even though they made her insides churn. Everything was dark and quiet for the moment, almost dead-like, until someone turned on the light, startling her to her feet.“Rosa, did you want something to eat or not?” Georgene poked her head through the door, slowly easing it open a little more to expose the rest of her body. “I made a pot roast and mashed potatoes….your favorite.” Rosa hesitated for a second, moved away from the window, and plopped herself down on the bed like a ragdoll. “I’m not hungry,” she said, starring down at her shoes, and at the same time, twirling her hair around her index finger like she did when she was three. “For your information, your father called earlier and told me he would be home tonight, but not to wait dinner for him. I know how much you looked forward to dining with him, but at least he’s coming home.” Georgene’s voice sounded soft and reassuring. Maybe she actually occupied herself with something other than booze today.Rosa sighed. “Can you just bring my dinner up here?” Lifting her head, she searched Georgene’s eyes for approval.“You know better than that. Besides, I’ve already set the table. Now come on downstairs. I’ll eat with you tonight. How’s that?” “All right,” Rosa said, letting her eyes fall back to her shoes. She took in a deep breath and let it out quickly hoping Georgene would take pity on her and change her mind about letting her eat in her room, but it didn’t work.More often than not, Georgene managed to retain a relatively calm mannerism that essentially kept her insanity well hidden. But there was a wild side to her. Once, during a failed attempt to get the lid off of an applesauce jar, she smashed it over the counter firing shrapnel’s of glass everywhere. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes,” Georgene said, backing out of the doorway. “And don’t be late.” She turned and walked away.Rosa jumped off the bed and peeked through the partially opened door with one eye, suddenly thrilled with by what having dinner with Georgene could mean. “Brilliant!” This may be the perfect time to ask about the cat. Quickly, she washed her hands, dried them on her skirt and headed down the hall, giving her father’s room a fleeting look before descending the steps. She entered the dining room and glided to her chair like a boat to a pier. The table was elegantly set with clean linen. In the center was a brass candelabrum with ten unlit candles. The menu consisted of banquet-size portions of semi-warm food, half- melted ice cream, and lukewarm iced tea.Georgene came into the dining room from the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry.”She loosened the belt on her soil-stained apron, folded it three times and laid it on the table next to a meat cleaver. All dressed up in a pink organdy pleated blouse buttoned to her pearl-beaded neck, a heavy black polyester skirt belted at the waist, and black and white saddle shoes, she stood taking a pack of matches out from behind her belt. After lighting each candle one by one, she went to her seat and sat down gentle as a swan on its eggs. With a false presence of grace and sophistication, she picked up her napkin, and then with two fingers, neatly placed it flat on her lap, smoothing the folds. Nothing was more entertaining than to watch Georgene’s do her freaky transformation ritual. Each new act was always more queerly different from the one before, and often just as unexpected. “All right then, I guess we can dig in,” she said, straightening her fork three times before picking it up. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about tonight?” “Yes,” Rosa said, feeling a little cautious in lieu of the woman’s obviously altered state of mind. Starting slowly, she said, “I was wondering, if it’s all right with you, that I…I mean….”“Spit it out,” Georgene interrupted, poking at the roast with a large carving knife. Suddenly baffled by the third place setting on the table, Rosa was even more tongue-tied than before. Hadn’t it already been established that her father wasn’t going to be home for dinner? This interrupted her train of thought, and when she blankly stared across the table with a puzzled look on her face, she couldn’t help but wonder which planet Georgene’s mind had gone to visit now. “Can I have a cat?” she blurted excitedly out of no where, holding her hands in a prayer-like fashion on the table. “Please…she’s so cute. You should see her. And she’s really good at catching mice. And smart….almost human like, if you know what I mean! So, can I have her……please?” When Georgene didn’t show the slightest bit of enthusiasm in her sudden interest to bring home a cat, Rosa found herself sinking into her seat, angry with herself for not having been more convincing. Even when Georgene reached across the table, after having cut off a good sized chunk of beef, using the knife as a serving tool to place it on her plate, she didn’t responded. Now she wished she would had waited for a more appropriate time to confront her, like when she had had a few shots of whiskey and didn’t know what she was saying.Rosa fought back the tears. Her stomach felt empty, but she couldn’t eat. For the first time in five years, she felt vulnerable sitting across the table from her half-witted nanny. She hated that feeling and she hated Georgene for making her feel that way. Why couldn’t her father be here right now? Surely he wouldn’t deny her the cat. He loved her and wanted her to be happy; just like in her dream. Right, and pigs have wings and can fly. Rosa studied Georgene’s face with narrowed, resentful eyes, watching her vigorously saw at the roast as if it were made of wood. Then, with the gentle wink of an eye, everything changed. Something that she never expected to happen, did.“As long as you keep it in your room,” Georgene said. “We don’t want your father to see it. He won’t be as thrilled about having an animal in the house as you are.” “Really?” Rosa squealed. “Oh my gosh, you mean it?” “Where exactly did you find this cat?” Georgene asked.“It’s Mr. Russo’s cat…a stray that he’s been taking care of…said I should give it a good home.” Georgene’s brows lowered. “Bob Russo.”Rosa stopped chewing and looked up at Georgene. “You don’t like him?”“That ex cop is a paint waist, so if you plan to bring home a cat that belonged to that idiot, you better make sure you give it a good scrubbing, ya hear?”“I hear.” “Let’s talk about something else,” Georgene said, growing annoyed. “What about your birthday?” She smiled. “How about we invite some of your friends over and have us a little party?”Rosa only frowned. What friends, she thought. “I’ll make a cake…,” Georgene continued, nonstop. “…and a fancy dinner. Afterward, we can play games. Oh, and don’t forget the guest list. Let’s see, what about the Rickshads, the Webersauls, the Guieswhites, and the McKennits!”Rosa was becoming nervous. She had never heard of these people and she wondered if Georgene had either. Something weird was going on. Somewhere between the time they sat down to eat and now the woman had morphed into someone else. Throwing caution to the wind, Rosa did not say anything about it. “We can make it a formal party,” Georgene said, ponderously. “…dress up like all the royal snobs do. I bet your father will get a kick out of that.” She laughed harder.Doubtful, Rosa thought.“What if he doesn’t bothers to come?”“Nonsense, he’ll come. Just leave everything to me.” For a moment, Rosa felt very sorry for Georgene, even though it was sort of comical to watch her get so excited by the mere mention of her father. The look on her face said there was no denying how awestruck she was with him and that she would give herself to him in a whisper. Maybe she was still beholden to him for giving her a job with such magnitude as taking care of his home and daughter. It did give her a sense of superiority and worth. Just when Georgene hinted on steering the conversation back to Kyle, a knock came to the door. “Son-of-a-bitch!” she snapped. The muscles in her neck grew tense. She pulled the napkin off her lap and slammed it on the table, rattling the silverware, then stood rigid next to her chair, listening. The sudden change in her mood was indicative of a raging bull. The knock sounded again.“Dammit,” she barked. “Now the meal is ruined!” Rosa didn’t move an inch. She just sat stiff looking down at the cold food on her plate and tried not to appear alarmed by the wild explosion. “I’ll be right back.” Georgene left the table and went stamping down the hall toward the door, spitting curse words all the way. Rosa waited a moment, then followed behind her, keeping a discreet distance until she got to the hall tree where she slid down in the corner next to it. It was unusual for anyone to come to the manor this late, unless it was someone from her father’s office, but even that was unlikely. The only time he had people over was when it was his turn to host a business meeting. Georgene turned on the porch light and graciously opened one of the massive mahogany double doors.“Yes?” she said, acting peculiarly normal again. On the porch, the only thing Rosa could see was a tall thin man wearing a dark uniform with something written across the pocket. He was clutching a small white box in his one hand and a clipboard with a pen tied to a string in the other. “I have a package for Ms. Bennett?” he said, looking down at the clipboard. “Is this the right address?”“Damn right, Einstein.” Rudely snatching the clipboard from his hand, Georgene hurriedly scribbled her signature on the dotted line. “Now hand it over Mack, my dinner’s getting cold.” When the deliveryman handed her the white box, she grabbed it, shoved the clipboard into his gut and slammed the door in his face. Rosa watched behind the scenes, her mouth gaped in astonishment when she saw Georgene turn the porch light out before the man even had a chance to step off the porch. In the corner of the dark hall, she watched Georgene go into the library. When she knew it was safe to come out, Rosa followed her to see what she would do next. Peeking through the keyhole from the other side of the library door, she saw Georgene toss the little white box up inside the chandelier, then walk over to the desk and sat down in the chair, running her hand over the polished wood surface. Then, several minutes later, she got up, pushed the chair in, felt the leather again, then headed toward the door. Immediately, Rosa backed away from the keyhole and ran back to take her seat in the dining room before Geogene came back.“Sorry that took so long,” Georgene said, standing numbly next to the table, looking a tad bit worn out, eyes red, expression dulled.“Who was at the door?” Rosa asked, pretending she had been at her seat the whole time.“Just some pesky salesman trying to sell me something. I guess I ought to put a “no soliciting” sign on the door so they stop coming around.”Lately, in all that’s been weird and wacky, Rosa honestly believed that Georgene remembered the man as a salesman and not as a deliveryman. Another mystery in a lengthy string of more to come, she thought, but certainly not unusual.“I have a pounding headache. I think I will retire for the night.” Rosa read her mood as though she had something troubling on her mind. It was especially obvious when she left the dining room with all the food and dishes still on the table. Rosa’s brows lifted at her complexity. Enthralled by the evening’s events, Rosa couldn’t stop thinking about the little white box hidden inside the chandelier. It didn’t make any sense that her father would send her a birthday gift by special messenger, unless he wasn’t going to be home and this was his way of letting her know. The thought nearly stopped her heart. Fourteen years old. She wondered if he even knew.Pacifying herself, she said, “He just has to come to my party.” As she sat alone at the large dining room table, Rosa thought again about the little box, determined to find out what it was. There was no way she could wait until her birthday or to know if it came from her father. The wheels in her head started to turn. With him at work and Georgene asleep, this was the time to act, especially now that the house was quiet since Georgene had gone to bed. Rosa’s curiosity about the white box had finally gotten the best of her. Ever since she saw Georgene mysteriously hide it in the chandelier, she could not shake the image of it from her mind, and she would not rest until she found out what was inside. Swiftly, Rosa returned to the library and went inside, pausing as she listened to stillness that now dominated the room. With her plan in motion, she looked up at the chandelier visibly illuminated by the moonlight, and realized how difficult getting to it was going to be. She never noticed it before, but the chandelier was a lot higher than she originally thought, meaning if she were ever going to be able to reach up inside it, she would have to find something sturdy to stand on. Along the far wall was an old trunk. This could very well be just the thing she needed to assist her in her effort to get the leverage she needed. Pulling and tugging on the thick leather strap, the weight caused her pulse to race. Moving it was not going to be easy, nor would manhandling it to the center of the room beneath where the chandelier hung. As she neared her destination, with the trunk in tow, her heart pounded, knowing that at any moment the unveiling of the box would have satisfied her curiosity. After struggling to position the large heavy trunk so that it was right with the chandelier, she then pulled herself up onto it, stretching as high as she could, but could not touch the box. She sighed, and looked around the room again, more determined than ever to find the one perfect thing that would help her in her quest to do the thing that would make her feel victorious. As she looked around the dim room for anything that would raise her another couple of inches, she spied the ottoman in the moonlit shadow of one of the large leather chairs. Wasting no more time, she jumped down, ran to it and staggeringly carried it back, heaving it on top the trunk. Being especially careful to steady herself on top the ottoman that was now on top the trunk, she crawled aboard and was finally able to reach the box. Like a trapeze artist, she balanced on the wobbly makeshift platform and finally took the tiny weightless box into her hand. It was amazing to see how perfectly it fit in her palm. What could this be?She shook it vigorously, put it to her ear, and then shook it again, though doing so gave no identifying clue to its contents. She couldn’t help wondering exactly what would be inside the moment she opened it.Rosa bit down on the inside of her jaw, fighting the urge to cough. Keeping a watchful eye over her shoulder, she contemplated as to how she could open the box without disturbing the wrapping. Along the edges, using her fingernail as a blade, she sliced at the tape that sealed it tight. She swallowed back to moisten her throat, trying to stop the tinkle that made her want to cough. But the more she swallowed, the more the tickle felt like a painful thorn, making her want to cough all the more. Just about the time when she was ready to open the box, a flash of light sped by the window, startling her to toss the box back into the chandelier. When she did, she coughed and lost her balance, fell off of the trunk and ottoman pyramid and landed backside first onto the hard floor. “Ouch!” she cried, rubbing her bruised derriere. Frantically, she pushed the trunk with her legs, trying to get it back across the room, then back to the ottoman to get it back to its spot, in front of the chair, as well. Disappearing behind the bookcase was the only think she could think of that would keep her from being caught, so that was were she stayed until her father had gone to bed.Chapter 7The next morning, Kyle raced around the house in his midnight blue gabardine pants and white starched cotton shirt, unbuttoned to expose the dark hair on his muscular chest. “Ms. Pritchitt, have you seen my new tie?” As he paced back and forth up and down the hall, combing his temple-graying hair, working to fasten the cuffs-links on his shirtsleeve, he stirred an aroma of Brut aftershave through the air. “I’m looking for the one with the Salesman-of-the-Year logo on the front?” Georgene followed close behind him like an obedient dog, stopping short of the threshold to his bedroom. “Yes sir, I know the one. I ironed it and draped it over your bedside chair.” Yielding at the doorway she watched as he tucked the tail of his shirt into his unzipped pants, blushing like a giddy love-struck schoolgirl. Even after working for Kyle for five years she remained intimidated by his sharp defined exterior and confident disposition. At times, she found herself unconsciously gazing at him in admiration, but trembled whenever he gave her orders. She could never allow him to know how she felt about him. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. She knew he was too busy with work and travel to think of her that way.“Ms. Pritchitt, my keys?” he said raucously, now barreling down the hall. “I’m going to be late if I don’t find those damn keys.” His voice thundered, shooting words through her pale pink flesh like a bullet. Frantically, she searched for his keys and finally saw them lying on the telephone table. Quickening her steps to get them, she was too late when Kyle’s large hand swooped down and snatched them before she had a chance to get there. Georgene’s heart pounded in her chest when she felt his hand inadvertently rub against one of her breasts, which caused her body to become a quivering inferno of secret images playing wickedly in her mind. “Tell Rosa I’ll see her later,” he said gruffly, thoughtlessly lost in his own agenda, leaving without as much as a courteous good bye. Gerogene waited until he left the house, then promptly ran to the window to watch the taillights of his car drive off into the dawn of the morning’s light, and then pass through the gate that electronically opened. As hot tears welled in her eyes, she moaned, knowing it would be days until she saw him again. Inhaling deeply to breath in his manly scent that still lingered, she leaned back against the wall and could almost feel those incredibly large hands of his touch her breast, and moving to search wildly between her thighs.When Georgene had first met Kyle in Louisville, his mannerism then had been more open and friendly. It was only after she moved into Brynwood that he became so very rigid. It made her wonder if it had something to do with the fact that she was now a servant in his home and not the starry-eyed waif he ran into at the city’s library. After all, what could be more despicable than a man engaging in a romantic courtship with his housekeeper? He had too much class to degrade himself like that, she thought. As Georgene stood pressed against the wall, peering outside the window, tossing the subject around in her head, the clock chimed, meaning that it was seven o’clock and late for Rosa to be still in bed. She rushed to the bottom of the stairs.“Rosa Lynn, get up!” Upstairs, Rosa woke feeling tired, especially after having had to clean up following last night’s dinner. In a foggy haze, she lay half-awake, pulling the blankets over her head to muffle the sound of Georgene’s voice barking at her from downstairs. When fifteen minutes more passed, the clock sounded again, and Georgene went running up the steps to see if Rosa had, in fact, got up.Before calling to her again, Georgene paused a moment to look around the room, baffled by how nicely everything was kept; always in its place. The floor, which was carpeted with a pink shag rug didn’t have one lose lint on it anywhere. And the pink coordinating chiffon drapes hung completely unwrinkled. Even the window seat was arranged in an orderly row of toys descending from tallest to shortest. On the vanity the clothes that had been laundered the night before were still there and neatly folded. Except for the mussed lump of bedding where Rosa still lay, the room was as neat as a pin.“Rosa,” Georgene said, nudging the bed with her knees, “Get up or you’ll be late for school!” Rosa rolled over yawning and stretching. The sound of the wind blowing outside made it even harder for her to get out from beneath the warm comfort of the blankets. “I don’t feel like going to school today,” she said. “Can I stay home, I……I think I’m sick.” Managing to fake a sneeze, Georgene leaned over and felt the girl’s head, lightly touching her cheek. There was still the smell of tobacco on her fingers.“You don’t feel warm to me. Now get up before you’re late. Your father wants you to be more organized.” Rosa didn’t argue. She puckered her lips and rolled her eyes, sat up and pulled herself out of bed, then walked over to the vanity and began brushing her dark tangled hair. Starring into the mirror, she could see Georgene behind her, tugging on the blankets and sheets, then removing them from the bed. For a moment, it seemed like she became disgruntled by the effort, but then smiled. Rosa stopped looking at her and kept brushing her hair, hypnotically gazing into the mirror but not seeing her reflection. Thoughts about the summer when she had gone to Camp Hickory, a place that she called her escape from the real world of crazy dysfunctional pre-teens, resurfaced in her memory. You’re tracking in mud, she lip-synched sarcastically in the mirror, remembering one of the camp’s counselors.“I guess I’ll wash sheets today.” Georgene said, reaching for the pillows, then yanking off the cases. “It’s a nice day to hang them out, don’t’ you think?”Rosa shook her head, trying not to laugh. “It’s snowing outside!” “I know it’s snowing, silly. I’ll just shovel a path to the clothesline. How hard can that be?”Rosa figured Georgene had to be a little tipsy if she thought hanging the clothes outside to dry in this freezing weather was a good idea. “It’s up to you,” she said, heading to her bathroom and closing the door behind her. In the event she felt the need to explain to the woman that there was at least a thousand inches of snow on the ground and the cheap aluminum shovel they owned wasn’t strong enough to handle snow that deep, she locked the door to keep her from coming in. Besides, wasn’t it better to just leave well enough alone? Soon after she turned on the faucet to splash warm water on her face, Georgene rattled the knob. When she realized it was locked she tapped twice on the door. “I’m heading downstairs to get your breakfast, so hurry up.” She tapped again. “And don’t forget your books.” Rosa turned both faucets on full blast now to drown her out. Before Georgene left the room, carrying the ball of sheets and blankets she stripped from the bed, she repeatedly reminded Rosa to not be late. Rosa waited inside the bathroom with her ear pressed against the door and didn’t come out until she knew the coast was clear. Once it was safe, she inched the door open, rechecked the room, then went to the vanity and began dressing in her red wool skirt and long sleeved white sweater, pulled on a pair of white knee-highs socks and slipped into her black penny loafers. After she finished dressing, she picked up her bookbag, left the room, closed the door, and was on her way down the hall toward her father’s room. This time, one quick glance was all it took to know that his bed had already been made, which indicated to her that he must have risen early and left the house. Or perhaps, he hadn’t slept in it at all, she thought. She knew Georgene didn’t usually make the beds until she finished cleaning the downstairs. The woman’s routine was never changing. She always dusted first, then did the laundry, then vacuumed. Rosa never understood this order of housekeeping. She figured if vacuuming created dust, then why not vacuum first, and then dust? Nevertheless, she never cared enough to put it to question.Rosa pulled her father’s door shut, went downstairs to the kitchen and sat her bookbag on top of the blue Formica table. It had already been set in the usual way with a small bowl, a box of cereal, a glass of orange juice and a picture of milk awaiting her arrival. She let out a long sigh, her eyes watering with self-pity. When she looked down at the service-for-one place setting on the table, meaning that she would be eating breakfast alone again, somehow she did not feel hungry anymore. Nevertheless, she rounded the table, took her seat on one of the heavy blue vinyl padded chairs, and began pouring an avalanche of Crispy Critters into a three-legged blue plastic bowl, filling it three-quarters of the way, covering it with milk. One bite of the cereal was all it took to know that the box had been left opened to the air. It was as stale as the milk was warm, meaning it too had been left out for some time. Grudgingly, she swallowed what she could, then did her best to wash it down with a mouthful of bitter orange juice. Rosa released a weary breath, stood up, and went down the hall to get her coat from the closet. Before she got to the main door, she heard music coming from the library and turned back to see who was in the room. Easing the door open she saw Georgene dancing on the tips of her toes like a ballerina, twirling in circles around the center of the room. Her arms were arched in such a way that one would almost think she was dancing with a ghost. Rosa guessed the imaginary partner was her father. “What is she doing?”Georgene swayed back and forth, while long stands of black fringe from a century old black tea length dress bounced against her hips. Her hair had not been combed, but was pulled up on top her head and held fast with bobby-pins. Across the room, on a small round table were at least a half dozen white glowing candles, a bottle of red wine and two glass stem goblets, one for her and one for her fantasy friend. On and on she swung to the beat, spinning circles around the room, moving her lips to the music. At one point, she even pulled a red rose out of a vase, and then wedged it in between her breasts. Trying not to give it away that she was spying, Rosa cupped her hands over her mouth, laughing behind them. She didn’t know which was more hilarious; the outfit Georgene was wearing or how silly she looked in it. When the clock chimed, she could hardly pull herself away from the door. Yet, as much as she wanted to stay and watch her a little longer, she crept away from the door without a backward look and left the manor. It wasn’t until she was outside that she finally broke out in full laughter, thinking about how crazy the woman was even though she loved her, even with all her quirks.At the end of the driveway, Rosa waited twenty long minutes for the bus before she finally saw it pull out from Pear Street, a quarter mile away. Getting on the bus today would be dreadful, she thought, because every year at this time it was the same thing. All the kids would be excited with the upcoming holiday and looking forward to the long break in between. Christmas and New Year’s was supposed to be a joyous time for family and friends to get together. It wasn’t supposed to be a day like any other day. Yet, to Rosa, it was exactly that. She couldn’t decide what was worse, that her father never liked the house being decorated with lights and garland, saying that a pine tree was too messy to be in the house, never having the pleasure to smell the aroma of turkey cooking in the oven or seeing pumpkin pie cooling on the counter, or never getting any gifts on the so-called enchanted season. The holidays certainly were nothing more to her than a reminder of how lonely she was.With her eyes pinched tightly shut and her face burrowed in her coat to keep the cold wind from ripping down her neck, Rosa waited for the bus. When it stopped and the door opened, she stepped inside, glided between the narrow row of seats and took the first available one near the back, sitting down with two other girls who hesitantly squeezed together, allowing her only enough room to balance on the edge. With the help of her teeth, she removed her mittens, and then propped her book bag on her lap. Behind her head, she could hear Alexis constantly whispering something about her and Joey. When she turned around, Alexis was grinning with her eyes crossed.“Stay that way, you look better,” Rosa said, then turned back around. Alexis hissed, got a handful of Rosa’s hair and pulled it hard enough that it made her head hit the back of the seat. “Knock it off!” she bawled.“Boo hoo hoo, what are ya gonna do, huh? Get your big bad ghost to beat me up?” Rosa stood up in the aisle and for the first time towered over Alexis like an angry Gorilla. “I don’t need a ghost to fight for me,” she said. “ I can take care of myself.” Even though all eyes were upon her, Rosa could not hold herself back from hitting her. As hard as she could, she open-highhandedly hauled off and slapped Alexis across her face. “Now, did that feel like a ghost?” As Rosa felt her heart hammer inside her chest, she wondered where she got the courage to do that. Enraged with anger, she prepared to slap her again. But when she lifted her arm in the air and Alexis cowed and covered her face, Rosa felt a twinge of sympathy for her, remembering the bruises and swollen lip inflicted by Amos, and withdrew the well-deserved slap. It suddenly occurred to Rosa that Alexis’s tough girl act was nothing more than a cover-up for whatever she was going through at home.Even though the fight ended, the excitement had stirred the over-crowed bus of kids to stand at their seats and holler for more. “Finish her off!” one boy yelled.“Come on witch girl, hit her again!” said another.“Do it witch girl!”“Shut up!” Rosa yelled, waving her clenched fist in the air. “Unless you want some of this too!”“Ooh, watch out, the witch girl’s getting mad.”“Run, before she casts a spell and turns us all into toads.”As everyone laughed and ridiculed her with their snide remarks, egging her on to fight, Rosa stood firm in her defense. When she looked back at Alexis, who then glanced away, she sensed how badly the teasing was hurting her, as well. Rosa tried to forget about the bruises, tried to put everything the girl had ever done to her out of her mind, tried to do the impossible, but after all these years, it was hard.“What’s wrong with you witch girl, why are you just standing there?”Rosa’s stomach twisted. Part of her wanted to throttle Alexis. Another part wanted to dig deeper and find the truth behind her two-sided personality.“I changed my mind.” Now, as she stood motionless in the aisle, feeling beaten in a fight she had regretfully already won, she felt ashamed. It was all she could do to not turn around and tell her life-long comrade that she could not do this anymore. “Come one, witch girl, put up your dukes and fight.”“No!” she shouted.Everyone, including Rosa quickly sat down when the bus slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. After it came to a complete stop, the driver put the vehicle into park and stood at his seat facing the back. “Come up here,” he said, pointing directly at Rosa. Abruptly, she gathered her things, pushed herself through the crowded aisle, lowering her brows at the snickering kids as she passed, and slammed herself down on the front row seat.“This is where you’ll be sitting for the rest of the school year if I catch you fighting again.” Without a response, she threw her bookbag down on the floor in between her feet. “Your behavior will be reported to your folks.” Go shave your nostril hair, old man….Sitting alone in the front seat of the bus, Rosa had some time to think about what had just happened. She never hit anyone before today. That made her more angry with herself than it did with Alexis. How could she have let things get so out of hand? Didn’t Ms. Penny, her first grade teacher once tell her that it took a certain kind of person to turn the other cheek? At the time, she did not know what all that meant, but now she did, and it made her sick to think she was not the kind of person she thought she was.The bus continued making its way through the sparsely snowplowed back roads of town. From time to time, Rosa sensed the driver’s eyes watching her in the mirror, thinking that at any moment he could easily stop the bus and kick her off. She pushed away such thoughts and kept starring blindly out the window, allowing more pleasant thoughts to take her mind off of the driver and everyone sitting behind her. But just as a smile came to her lips, it soon vanished quickly when her eyes drifted back to the mirror and saw the driver watching her. Even if she told him that it was Alexis who started the fight, he wouldn’t believe her anyway.When the bus arrived at the school, the door opened and the kids immediately crowded the aisle, pushing their way off. Since Rosa was in the front seat, she had the best chance to get off first. Outside, though the sidewalks were recently shoveled, snow continued to fall making them slippery than ever. Nevertheless, she made it to the front door and did not look back once to see if Alexis was behind her. Chapter 8 When the school bell rang, the students weaved around each other, trying to get to their classes before they were late. Rosa was still in the hall at her locker yanking on the handle to try to get the door unstuck, which always seemed to be a problem. She grabbed her books, and was on her way down to first period music class when she detected the scent of pine coming from the twelve foot Christmas tree standing along the wall. If she hadn’t been thinking about the fight on the bus, she might have smiled, even though the holiday was silly and insignificant.Ellen Dickson was at her desk writing when she entered. Alexis was standing next to her, but never said a word, even though the thought did cross her mind. “Good morning everyone,” Ms. Dickson said, lowering her head to look over her bifocals to scan the room. “Get to your seats, and make it quick.” In a stern businesslike voice, she spoke and all ears heard her, heeding to obey and taking their seats.“Well, Rosa Lynn, I’m so glad to see you. Do you have a note?” Rosa nodded when she should have answered.“Nodding your head is no way to answer someone,” she said, as her tone grew with condemnation. Does she really want me to answer that? Rosa wasn’t about to confess that she had been in the girl’s restroom the whole time. Or, better yet, that she could come up with a hundred good excuses why she preferred hiding in the restroom than being in her music class. Nevertheless, she chose to lie and take the chance that Alexis would not open up her big mouth and blow her cover. “I must have left it on the kitchen table,” she said. “See that you bring it in tomorrow.”Alexis shook her head, smiling. Should she tell the teacher that Rosa had, after all, lied about hiding in the restroom the entire period? She toyed with the idea, then discarded it. As much as she and Rosa had been at war with each other, she was still trying to understand why, when Rosa had the opportunity to rearrange her face, that she backed down instead, especially when the whole bus was cheering her on. More confusing than that, was that she almost had a look of genuine sympathy in her eyes, as well. Even now, when she gave her a quick look, there was no malice in her face. Only a certain kind of watchfulness in her eyes, as if she didn’t trust her, which wasn’t without good reason. “Take your seat next to Alexis,” Ms Dickson said, “So that you and she can practice the piece you two will be singing.” Rosa’s brows raised when she looked back at Alexis, relieved that she didn’t let the cat out of the bag and tell.“People, this program is very important, so we have to practice, practice, practice. If anyone doesn’t understand what you’ll be doing the night of the program, see me after class.” As the students geared up to rehearse the first number, Rosa sat aloof in her seat with her elbows on the desk and her head propped in her hands, mulling over the agonizing realization that she and Alexis had to actually perform the most important number of the program, and in front of the entire auditorium. What could be more ridiculous than that, she thought. Looking up at the teacher, Rosa tensed, wondering if she should ask to be excused to go to the restroom, where she could slip into her favorite hiding place. Though, as she studied the square-jawed woman standing in the center of the room with a pitch pipe between her lips, her foot tapping three times before firing off the first note to White Christmas, she knew she better not interrupt her right now, or she might very well get hit over the head with the gavel. The ritual of producing the school’s Christmas Pageant has long been the motivation that brought Ellen Dickson to the high school for years. It was a special joy for her to be so involved with the one thing she loved more than anything else, her music. Yet it did not come without a price. To insure the best possible program, it took a lot of determination, hard work and patience on her part. And being infinitely older and more experienced in music than the other educators, it was best left to her to get the job done right and insure a successful pageant. By the end of the hour, the class had rehearsed at least four of the six numbers they were scheduled to perform. When they finished, there was a tiny pause that told Rosa that she and Alexis would not be rehearsing their number today. She knew that unless they learned their parts, that getting up on stage would be suicidal. She shrugged, unconcerned by the thought, and watched the clock. With two minutes to go, she stacked her books on top one another and counted down the seconds. “Class, before you leave, I want to remind you to give your parents the announcements that I handed out about the Program. Also, it’s important that you all wear the colors we talked about. Dark on bottom—white on top.”She walked around her desk and tamped the pile of music on the desk. “The sheets on your desks are my originals. Please leave them here. If you need one, I can make a copy for you.” When the bell finally rang, the students stampeded to leave, mindlessly tossing the sheet music in a disorderly mess onto her desk. “We only have one more class before the program,” she yelled behind them.As Rosa walked down the decorated hall toward her next class, she stopped to read the large hand-written announcement on the bulletin board. “COME ALL YE MERRY GENTLEMAN AND MERRY LADIES TO THE TENTH ANNUALCHRISTMAS PAGEANT SPONSORED BY THE GLEE CLUB.”DECEMBER 18,1964 Rosa knew her father would not be at the program. He never came to any of her school functions because he was usually in some other part of the country on business. The enthusiasm she once had about being part of the program wasn’t as important to her anymore. And the thought of being partnered with Alexis only made it worse. She hurried to the locker room and made her way down two flights of stairs to the large double doors that said Girls Locker Room. She flung one door open and quickly walked past six rows of lockers until she found #76. As always, the locker room smelled musty and damp like old socks and perspiration. And since she hadn’t taken her gym suit home the last time she had gym, it didn’t smell very good either. Even her bar of soap she kept wrapped in a wash cloth was still wet and sticky. After changing into her gym suit, she sat down on the bench and tied her sneakers, then pulled her long black hair into a ponytail and secured it with a beret. When she finished, she sat quietly waiting for the buzzer, listening to the constant chatter of the other girls in the next row. Her eyes lifted to the clock hanging on the wall, wishing the hands would spin around and end the school day. Folding her arms over her chest, resting her chin on her chest, she sighed. If it had not been for the fact that her siesta was interrupted by the soft nudge of someone’s hand, she may have nodded off and missed gym class completely. “Hey girl, I heard what y’ all did on the bus this morning,” Chantel said, lifting her foot onto the oak bench and pulling her shoestrings to tie them into a knot. Giving them another tug, she checked to make sure the knot was securely tight. “So tell me what happened.”Rosa signed. Talking about it wasn’t going to make her feel any better. And as much as everyone knew that Alexis needed to be put in her place, she was not looking for the credit.“Who told you?” she asked, keeping her voice down. Chantel’s face brightened. “You’re kidding, right? Around here everybody knows yer bizness. You should know that by now.” The buzzer sounded so Rosa immediately got up and walked with Chantel to the gym, hoping she’d drop the subject. Instead, she laughed. “I wish I could have been there to see that. For all days for my dad to bring me to school.”Rosa liked when Chantel laughed at her because it had been hard for her to make friends. Even being a freshman in high school didn’t stop the cruel jokes.“Ya know, one of these days you and I outta get together and play a trick on her.” “What kind of trick?”“Nothing dangerous,” Chantel said. “Just something to knock her down a peg or two.” Before Rosa had a chance to tell her she didn’t want anymore trouble with Alexis, that she thought the girl had been knocked down enough at home, the rest of the girls came barging through the door behind them, moving fast.“Let’s go,” Chantel said. “We’ll talk about it later.” Everyone was now in the gym, including the teacher who was waiting with a whistle strapped around her neck, a basketball wedged under her armpit, and another one planted firmly on the floor beneath her foot.Kathryn West was a stocky woman about five foot two with a boyish figure and hair cut so short that her oily scalp shone though. She tossed one of the balls to Rosa and the other rolled over to the middle of the floor, but quickly picked up by Alexis. “Come on,” Chantel said to Rosa. “Let’s practice our hook shots awhile. “Pass me the ball.” Rosa skipped down the court with her and caught her pass, dribbled, stopped and turned, then tossed the ball at the net.“I missed!” she said. Chantel sprinted to grab the ball, then dribbled it back to where Rosa was standing. “Got to be smooth, girl. You can’t just stop dead then shoot. You have to turn and hook.” Rosa looked confused. “What do you mean?”Chantel stopped bouncing the ball and held it tightly between her hands. “Let me show you.” She bounced the ball three times, dribbled it down toward the net at the opposite end of the court, and Rosa ran along side concentrating intently on her technique. “Now watch me,” Chantel said. “You have to dribbled the ball to about….right…..here. Then you turn….hook….and …..” With one hand Chantel tossed the ball in a perfect arch. And without touching the rim, the ball went in, only tickling the net.Rosa clapped. “That was great!” “I practice all the time at home with my brothers,” Chantel said. “If you practice, you’ll get it too.” Chantel snapped the ball to Rosa. “Give it another try.” Rosa caught the ball and held it snugly between her hands, bounced it several times and held it again. “I don’t have a way to play at my house,” she said. “And I don’t think my father would approve of me having a basketball net in the driveway. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he likes sports.”Chantel didn’t know what to say to that because basketball had always been such an obsession for her. Nothing else mattered when she was on the court. With little to do in a small town, she couldn’t imagine what life would be like without her ball. What an honor it would be to be the first black student to be given a scholarship in the otherwise uneventful town. “I need two team captains,” West said. “Who’s it gonna be?” She smiled and was pleased to see how eager everyone was to participate. Deciding whom to pick was going to be harder than she thought, especially since she already had most of these girls in her class the previous year, and knew for certain how competitive they were. As she stood over the girls, who were sitting in a circle around her, West snapped one basketball to Chantel and the other one to Rosa. The girls knew without question that Chantel would make the best team leader, but when Rosa was chosen, all mouths dropped. What was West thinking?“All right, we have our captains,” she said. “Chantel, you pick your first player first. Then Rosa, you follow, and so on until everyone is placed on a team. And let me mention that if any of you are chewing gum, you better get rid of it now.” No one moved. “Go ahead Chantel, pick you first player.”Chantel pointed to Carol Zell, who quickly responded and happily jumped to her feet and moved to stand behind Chantel. But as Rosa inspected the small group of girl’s sitting on the floor, their fretful faces spoke volumes as to how they felt about being on her team. When she pointed to Norah, the girl hesitantly got up grumbling, but nonetheless, took her place behind Rosa. Rosa shrugged and looked over at Chantel.The trouble with being a team captain is that the first couple of people that are picked are usually the better players. The ones left standing will most likely not be very forgiving of you, though. Rosa wasn’t so much concerned with that as she was with how unwilling they were to even give her a chance. Her lack of popularity was really showing here. She would gladly trade places with any one of them right now if it would mean wiping off that sick sorrowful look planted on their faces. Even though Chantel tried not to notice, Alexis was beginning to get annoyed that she had not yet been picked. Her face was tight with misery and she was inching herself forward where she could be better seen. Rosa noticed Alexis’s mood too, but nonetheless, pointed to Linda. Now, even though there were only four girls left to select from, Rosa suspected that not one of them wanted to be on her team. Chantel knew it too. But she figured if she picked Rianna, Rosa would undoubtedly pick Suzanne, leaving Alexis and Macy for last. It was at that time that Chantel decided to sacrifice the team and take Alexis, simply out of pity for Rosa. After the girls finished picking their players, West blew the whistle. “Okay, we have our teams, so let’s play.”As they took their places on half court, Rosa sensed how confident the opposing team was. Probably because they knew full-well that their team stood the better chance of winning, especially since Chantel would most likely carry them to the winning victory. Rosa wasn’t going to let that discourage her. She told herself that no matter how things turned out, that at least she did the best she could. It would have to be good enough. “Chantel,” West said, “Your team will be red. Rosa, yours will be blue. Now decide which girl on your teams will be doing the tip-off.” West stood outside the center court ring waiting for the girls to make up their minds when Chantel and Rosa both stepped up. Everyone starred and observed how comically obvious Chantel loomed over Rosa. “Wait a minute girls,” West said, shaking her head with a slight giggle. “Why not start with two players of equal advantage?”Everyone laughed. “Rosa, you can stay here,” West said. Chantel nodded and walked off. Even though Alexis still looked so forlorned, Chantel knew she could not pick her to tip off with Rosa. That would be like letting two cocks loose in the ring to do battle. If she knew anything at all about the girl, she knew there would be a fight. As Chantel stood pondering, Alexis jumped forward and stood in front of Rosa in center court. “I’ll do it,” she said, gazing into Rosa’s eyes. Before Chantel had a chance to react, the whistle blew. With one hand level under the ball, West tossed it into the air above their heads. As high as they could, both girls quickly leaped off the floor, trying to knock the ball to their team. Alexis reached for it, drew her arm back, and when she came down, her fingernails caught Rosa in the eye, momentarily blinding her. Since neither one touched the ball, and it came straight down on top of them, West had to blow the whistle for a rejump. “Come on girls,” she said, picking up the ball. “Try again, and this time, without killing each other.” Alexis took her place, but Rosa’s eyes stung too much to see the ball. “Norah,” she said. “You’ll have to take my place.” Norah came forward and waited for the ball to be tossed. Alexis gave the girl a vague smile, but when the gesture was not returned she felt slighted.“Ready?” West said. When she chucked the ball into the air this time, Alexis and Norah sprung into action, stretching and reaching. The blue team had the ball, but it wasn’t long before the red team gained control and Chantel came rushing in to steal the pass. She could have easily taken it to the net and scored, but West hated it when a player hogged the ball from the other team members. So she dribbled down the court and waited for the right opportunity to pass it. Coming up fast behind her was Carol Zell, who signaled to her to pass her the ball. Carol caught the pass and took it to the net, but as soon as she was about to toss the ball, Macy jumped in front and blocked her. “Give me the damn ball Carol,” she snorted, forcefully prying it from her grip. With the ball loosely held against her hip and she turned to run, Macy lost her grip and clumsily dropped it. When she fumbled to try to get it again, the ball rolled backwards between her legs and Carol kicked it out of her reach. Macy turned and threw back her fist to sock Carol, but West blew the whistle. “Girls!” West picked up the ball and went to the base line. “The blue team has control,” she said. Macy also went to the base line. West chest-passed her the ball. When she saw that Chantel was open, she quickly snapped her the ball. Chantel caught it firmly in her grip, pivoted, faked a pass to Alexis, and threw the ball to Rianna, who didn’t see Rosa acting as a pick, and ran into her. As soon as she regained her footing, Rosa stole the ball and started dribbling down the court. Chantel was gaining on her until Linda, acting as defender, successfully blocked her, momentarily giving Rosa a little more time to get to the net to try to score. As she dribbled the ball to the blue teams end of the court, Rosa was thinking how wonderful it would be if she could only get it in the net just this once. At least the next time if she was going to be a team captain, at least the girls wouldn’t be so desperate to hide behind one another in an effort to not be picked. Did it really matter, she thought? At this point, nothing was ever going to change how they felt about her. She was always going to be the freak that lived in the haunted house.Chantel managed to get around Linda and nearly upon Rosa, who had been contemplating on trying the hook shot she and Chantel practiced earlier. But she wasn’t sure if now was the best time to try anything fancy. Besides, she’d probably trip and fall flat on her back. With only seconds to decide, Rosa had no choice but to do the hook shot. It was the only thing she learned how to do. As the blue team yelled for her to shoot, her gut twisted with nervous tension because Chantel was now in front her with her arms raised in the air, trying to block her from shooting. Rosa ducked and got around her and underhandedly tossed the ball at the net, then watched it bounce twice on the rim and drop into the net. After that, she didn’t score again the rest of the class, and, as it turned out, was defeated by the red team with a score of 8-2. When the bell rang, the girls promptly exited the gym, but Rosa stayed behind to relive the events as they just happened. Using the ball as a seat, she sat starring at half court, then drooped her head into her hands. “Hey girl, y’all did great,” Chantel said. “So whats y’lookin so down ‘bout?” Rosa didn’t answer. “It ain’t y’fault ya lost. Y’did great.” Chantel squatted to look at Rosa’s face. “That’s what’s buggin you, ain’t it?” Rosa stood up. “Why can’t my best ever be good enough for them? No matter how hard I try, those girls are always gonna find a reason to hate me. They didn’t even say anything to me when I scored. What’s wrong with me?” Chantel wrapped her long dark arm around Rosa’s neck and began walking her toward the exit. Rosa fell in line with her steps. “Forget them,” Chantel said. “Ain't not one of them worth carin’ ‘bout. Theys all just a bunch of snobs.” Rosa nodded. “I guess your right. Chapter 9New York“Have a seat gentleman, and we’ll get this meeting started,” said Frank Bayard, President of the F.C. Bayard Toy Company—a company he founded in 1916. Born in Brooklyn to middle class German parents, Frank grew to be an earthy up-by-the-bootstraps kind of man, rising to become one of the countries most successful doll and toy merchants. But he hadn’t always been so befitting of the respected and prominent social stature he is well known for today. In fact, when Frank was only twelve, he quit school and started carving musical pipes out of wood, and then sold them on the street corners of New York. At fifteen, even after getting a job as a counter clerk for a shoe distributor on Broadway where he quickly learned the basics of retail management, he continued making and selling his hand-crafted toy and included puzzles, board games and kites, as well. By the age of twenty-two, when Frank felt as though he had learned as much as he could from the shoe distributor, he set out on his own. With the income he made selling his toys he had come up with enough money to lease the two story abandoned building across the street. After he finished with the renovations, he painted his company name on the side in giant letters large enough for everyone to see. The F.C. Bayard Toy Company206 BroadwayLater that same year when Frank heard that a famously known candy shop had closed its doors and moved out, he immediately contacted the owners and had them show him the property. Despite the fact that it was housed in a basement, the shop was located in one of New York’s more prestigious buildings. Still, before Frank agreed to leasing the property there were several other factors he had to consider. For one thing, there were no windows in the underground shop, and the heating system had not been updated for years. More than that was the fact that the rent would cost him twice as much as he was used to paying at the previous building, adding an element of risk to the mix. Aside from all of this, Frank knew that if he didn’t seize the property and move further into the city, any chance he had of expanding would be like standing in quick sand. So, being the risk-taker he was he signed the contract and took his business to the modernized basement shop and his toys slowly began taking the market by storm. The move had been a good one for awhile, but as new ideas emerged, even the new shop had become too cramped with all the incoming orders. Frank knew he was going to need even more space. As soon as the storefront upstairs became available, Frank contacted the agency in charge and had them immediately set the wheels in motion to close the deal. The property upstairs was much larger and had a separate work area from the actual shop, giving it a more business-like atmosphere. Better than that was the large picture window in front where he could finally display his merchandise and show everyone what he was selling. Having both shops upstairs and down proved to be another good move for the young entrepreneur.By now, Frank was unstoppable. Yet, even though things were going better than he had hoped, he undoubtedly wanted more. That was when he set his sights on the doll making industry. Exploring the possibilities kept him up nights researching the market and spending countless hours calculating the cost of a factory, industrial sewing machines, necessary supplies, employee wages, insurance, and advertising costs. For awhile, Frank stayed in the storefront shop where he maintained a successful business, and he even kept the basement shop below to store his merchandise. But once his factory was revamped and operational, he flew to the German doll capital in Nuremberg, and then to a factory in Thuringia where he bought wholesale lots of bisque doll heads, thus importing them to his factory in the states. His employees applied human hair wigs to the heads, then attached them to composition bodies, and dressed them in period clothing. The dolls were produced in increasing numbers and shipped to merchants around the globe. Eventually, when German prices became too expensive, Frank had to come up with a more durable and less expensive material to offset the rising costs of the bisque heads he was importing. He met a talented sculptress named Florence Newton who lived in London. Together they developed the ingenious idea of molding doll heads from the same components of wood and glue that the body’s had been made. Having explosive results, this revolutionary idea spread quickly to other doll manufacturers. Frank became the pioneer of composition doll making which turned out to be the frontier of the industry lasting two and a half decades. When his new venture started taking over so much of his time, Frank had no other choice than to phase out the toys and keep only to his dolls.“Gentlemen, one at a time,” said sixty-nine year old Frank Bayard sitting at the head of the board table, listening as the company’s accountants argued over current market conditions. Forty-five years after the time when Frank first picked up a carving knife and created his first toy, he still cuts an impressive figure today standing at six foot two inches tall and weighing just shy of two-hundred and ten pounds. His steel gray hair and dark blue eyes surround a mind still tuned to creating new ideas, never failing to impress the young and young at heart. And though much of his vital years were behind him, Frank’s unrelenting love for what he does has kept him alive and ready for new challenges.Frank took a few totes from his pipe, pulled it from his lips and then tapped out the tobacco into a glass ashtray. Settled into his high-back chair, he listened while the men conversed over the news that had made today’s headlines. Two of the markets biggest toy companies had merged, making them one powerful threat. Frank began to worry that his company could be next, or worse, be faced with a hostile takeover. Frank hated the thought of merging with another company, but he didn’t want to lose it completely to a takeover either, not after having the business for most of his life. The market was on a downswing. That was a fact. So any decision the board made right now could mean the difference between survival and failure. One wrong move, Frank thought, and we’re sitting ducks. Now was not the time to make any dumb decisions.“I have an idea,” Frank said, setting caution to the wind, as he took a quick mental synopsis of the newest board member’s faces. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but the sluggish market is killing us, and I don’t think its going to get better anytime soon.”“What do you have in mind, Frank?” said company accountant, Ron Zehring.“I think some of us need to go to New Mexico and meet with a few of their marketing big guns. I was told they’d be worth us getting to know. It could be just what this company needs to get back on track. I could have my secretary set us up at the Hotel Sienna. I hear the accommodations are real nice there.” “Who exactly are these big guns?” said Mitchell Swank, F. C. Bayard’s youngest board member. Frank scratched his head and slowly tapped his fingers on his briefcase and studied the young executes overly enthusiastic face, wondering if he was even old enough to shave yet.“They’re what we need up here if you want to keep your job, Swank. The company they’re working for is big—real big. I don’t know much more about them other than that they came highly recommended. So you can see how crucial it is that we go down there and talk to them. Wait until we get more information Swank, then I’ll set a time and we’ll all discuss it. My secretary will get a memo out next week to let you all know what’s what. But for now, just sit tight. Now if there’s nothing else, this meeting is adjourned.” The men nodded and began gathering their notes and pens and tossing them into their brief cases, then promptly cleared the boardroom. Kyle remained in his seat with his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head lying turned in his hand.“Bennett,” Frank said through a whirling cloud of pipe smoke. “Those young blood-suckers are so eager to get ahead that I think any one of them would step over their grandmothers to get there.” He pressed the latches on his brief case until they latched, then gave him a leveled look. “I’m telling you Bennett, I’ve seen it all too many times. They’ll drain the life out of this place if you let them.”“What do you want me to do about it Frank?” Kyle said. “Just keep you nose to the ground and don’t take you eyes off of them. I don’t trust any of them and neither should you.” The room fell silent for a moment while Frank took another toke of his pipe, disappearing behind yet another cloud of smoke. “Did you see Swank’s face when I mentioned the guys from Sienna?” Kyle nodded and looked over at the empty seat where the young board member had just been sitting, his ashtray still smoldering a thin line of gray smoke from his filtered Marlboro. Kyle cleared his throat. “I didn’t like him the minute he walked through the door—so smug and sure of himself. I just thought it was my insecurity talking.” Frank shook his head. “No, you’re feelings were right,” he said. “I don’t think that boy’s ever got a damn thing that his daddy didn’t get for him. Even got him a job here, you know. The son-of-a-bitch talks so much bull shit that I often wondered why he hadn’t taken up farming for a living instead. I guess his daddy didn’t want that for his baby boy.” Both men laughed and stood to leave. “My biggest fear,” Frank continued. “Is that these children here are going to run this company right into the dirt with all their brainy ideas. They can’t always hide behind those damn college degrees. You and I both know that. They want everything done their way…and in a hurry.” Kyle nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right Frank. But two thirds of our most trusted board members have retired and are now replaced with those kids. To be honest, I’m not only worried about how their lack of experience will affect the future of this company; but how it’s going to affect my future, as well.”Frank clenched his lips and shook his head. “I’m well aware of what you saying Bennett. Seems to me some of them would do better to trade in their neckties for diapers.” Kyle smiled, his eyes lighting from the amusement in Frank’s humor.“But let’s get serious, Bennett,” Frank said low. “You’ve been working for me for the past twenty years or more. And after all that time you and I understand each other pretty well. Am I right?” Kyle didn’t know it yet, but for weeks Frank had been meaning to confide something to him that he knew would hit him hard. Even now, as Frank stood before him, he wasn’t sure how to begin. After they talked a little longer Frank couldn’t wait another minute so he began to say what he hoped his lifelong friend and employee would graciously accept. This was business, after all. Frank inhaled deeply and looked directly into Kyle’s deep eyes. “I have something to tell you, my friend, that can’t go any further than this room.” Kyle’s eyes widened with anticipation. “What is it Frank?” he said, considering that his news may have something to do with the aging man’s failing health, or maybe he had more information about New Mexico and just didn’t want to say anything in front of the other men.Frank picked up his hat, positioned it on his head and adjusted the brim.“I never liked beating around the bush, Bennett, so I’m just going to spit it out. I’m retiring at the end of the month.” While Frank stood there smiling with what he thought was supremely good new, Kyle starred at him with his mouth gaped open and his face flushed. “What the hell are you saying, Frank?” Kyle felt the hair on his neck rise, his gut twist. He wasn’t ready for this kind of news, never even thought about it for that matter. He had worked for Frank for more than twenty years—known him even longer. It happened in New York City when he was at the World’s Fair trying to get a story for a publishing firm that he had been working for. Frank was impressed with how strong-minded Kyle was and he offered him a job in the shipping and receiving department of his company. Frank took young Kyle under his wing and worked him hard, never letting on as to why he was doing it. Kyle lowered his head and mumbled the word, retire?“You can’t do this to me, Frank,” he said. “ Not now—not when all those kids out there are depending on you—on us?” His words began to quiver. “You can’t retire, you’re Santa Claus for God’s sake! Besides, what about New Mexico? You’re not thinking about sending me down there to meet with them punk executives alone, are you? They don’t want to hear anything I have to say. Goddammit, they want you!” Kyle pounded his fist on the table. His head was numb with shock. Before he hyperventilated, he had to take a deep breath. “Now what?” he childishly moaned. Frank placed his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “I’m not going to live forever, you know,” he said. “I’m an old man now—too old to play with toys anymore.” He chuckled at his own humor. “Just think, you’ll be Vice President now. That’s nothing to sneeze at, son. But don’t get your britches in a bind just yet. I still have until the end of the month to clear out. Before I do, I’ll call an emergency meeting and let the rest of the board members know my plans. I just thought it was only fair that I told you first.” Biting at the skin inside his mouth, Kyle took a moment to compose himself, then let out a short whistle. “I don’t know Frank. They’re not going to like it, me being Vice President of the company and all.” Frank shrugged his shoulders. “Those pussies don’t have to like it—it’s my company. I’m still in charge around here. Oh, there’s something else you need to know. I had my attorney draw up a legal document entitling me the sole right to elect whomever I saw fit to head my company when I stepped down. That way, if anyone dares to give you any trouble, you’ll be legally protected.” Frank stretched out his long arm and pointed to the doorway where the board members exited and demonstrated his unyielding authority in a sharp tone. “Whoever doesn’t like it, can let the door paddle their ass on the way out.” It was clear that Frank had been thinking about retiring for some time now. And even though Kyle was nonetheless grateful that he had gained so much confidence in him, putting him in charge of his empire got him to thinking that maybe he wasn’t the right man for the job. After all, he had depended on Frank for most of his important decisions. And now that he was retiring, how would he possibly manage without him?Kyle grunted. The bombshell that Frank had just dropped in his lap was totally unexpected. Out of the blue, he was suddenly faced with the monumental responsibility of being Vice President of a company that he had only ever worked for. Just thinking about it made his head spin, almost as if he were free-falling and didn’t know where he was falling to. It definitely threw him off balance. Yet, as much as Kyle felt he might not be the right man for the job, he knew that if he turned it down, any one of the less experienced board members would grab it before Frank’s seat even had a chance to get cold.“Why me Frank?” Kyle asked, slumping down into his chair, looking up into the man’s aging blue eyes. Frank grinned and grasped the leather handle of his brief case, then slid it off the table and walked past Kyle, totting his pipe as he headed for the door, then pausing in the threshold. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Bennett?” Then he turned to gaze at the back of Kyle’s head. “I trust you’ll take care of my baby like it was your own.” Kyle finally understood why Frank had driven him so hard all these years. He was secretly preparing him for when he could no longer run his own company. Since he never had any children, it only made sense to leave the company to someone who loved it as much as he did. Kyle proved that everyday in more ways than one. Frank, who had loved him like a son, knew the company would be safe in his very capable hands. On the other hand, he had Rosa to think about. Swallowing back the hard lump that had formed in his throat, Kyle sank further into his seat and was suddenly overcome with silence. It just occurred to him that the extra responsibility would keep him away from home even more than he already was.Wishing the subject of Franks retiring had never come up, Kyle knew it had to sooner or later, though he preferred the later. Still, he had to voice his concerns about how he didn’t think it would be good for Rosa to be spending so much time on her own. How would he even begin to explain that to her? Being a representative of the company has already kept him away far more than he had originally expected. When Kyle turned around to tell Frank the uneasy feeling he had about his proposal to take over for him, Frank had already left the room and was moving down the hallway toward the elevator. Kyle immediately got up and went to the doorway where he stood examining the aged man’s physique, realizing that he hadn’t noticed before how the years had crept up on the once vibrant man. After he saw Frank step into the elevator and disappear behind the closing doors, he turned back to the room and let his eyes fix on the empty chair that would soon become his throne. He stood there several long minutes rattling the change in his pocket, trying hard to feel the awesome power that awaited him. What if all those years as Frank’s right hand man had not been enough to actually run his multi-million dollar company, he thought. His heart flew against the wall of his chest merely by the notion. “No, I can’t do this to her,” he said. That evening Kyle went down the street to Mike’s Tavern to grab a sandwich and coffee before heading to the motel where he planned to spend the night. Though it never occurred to him, it was the same room he had stayed before when he came to New York fourteen years ago on business. Waiting at the bar, Kyle changed his mind and ordered a bottled beer instead of coffee and asked if the bartender would mind having it brought to his table, along with a ham sandwich and some pickles. Walking past a bar row of faceless patrons, Kyle found a private table in the corner. Through a haze of smoke appeared a waitress carrying a tray with an opened bottle of beer, a glass, napkin-wrapped utensils, and a ham sandwich with pickles, which she proceeded to arrange in front of him. “Will there be anything else, sir?” she asked.Kyle took one bite of the sandwich then looked up when he heard her emphasize the word, sir. The second he walked through the door Jenny knew exactly who he was. And now that she was standing this close to him, the familiar scent of his cologne confirmed it. Maybe he hadn’t completely forgotten about her, after all, she thought. Putting it to the test, she walked blindfolded into conversation with him to see for herself if she was right.“Hello Kyle,” she said. Lightening flashed through his veins when he stood up in front of her. Jenny nodded and smiled. The rhythm of her heart had picked up, hammering against her breasts. Jenny, his voice uttered beneath his breath, eyes swelled with fear.“I’m afraid you have the wrong guy, lady,” was all he could come up with to say.Inches from her face, Jenny could feel the heat of his breath, reminding her of that bitter-sweet night fourteen years ago. Even though she only backed out of his shadow, all her instincts were telling her to run. Instead, she stood looking up at him feeling like a scorned victim. “You’re right about one thing, buster. You were the wrong guy.” Kyle smoothed back his hair, reached for a napkin to wipe the mustard from his mouth, and threw enough money on the table to cover the bill. Without looking back, he immediately filtered through the smoky bar and went barreling out the door like he had just seen a ghost.Jenny’s first thought was to go after him, but in his urgent state to get away from her, she figured he was already halfway to China. How could she have been so blind to fall in love with a man so completely wrong for her? It was what she asked herself a thousand times. And every time she did, her answer was always the same—the passion. Jenny had never experienced that kind of passion with another man, and yet, she never allowed herself the chance to compare it to anyone else. But now that she saw him again, it was important that she keep her head on straight and remind herself how much he had hurt her. She couldn’t let that one single night in time change what he had done. No! Fourteen years of unclaimed love was more than enough to alter the way any woman would feel. The only emotion she could permit herself where he was concerned was pure hatred. As soon as Jenny turned to gather the dishes from the table, she noticed a black leather briefcase lying on the chair next to where Kyle had just been seated. If she reacted with her heart, she would grab it and run like hell to catch up with him before he got too far. But using her head, she knew that would only be an excuse to see him again. Jenny cocked her head and starred down at the briefcase. Wanting to know what was inside played devilishly on her mind. Finding out could answer a lot of unanswered questions, she thought. People were moving all around her, but none who seemed to take notice when she tucked the briefcase under her arm and carried it back to the supply room, nearly knocking over a customer in her urgency to get there. Wishing she’d at least have a chance to look inside before anyone else saw her with it, she plopped the briefcase down on the supply table and began working on the latches. Having Kyle’s briefcase in her possession gave her a certain kind of power. So, even if someone did come in, it would not matter. Nothing or no one could stop her now. Jenny slid the latches sideways and they both opened without any difficulty. Good thing, because she didn’t want to have to break the locks, even though she surely would have. After several minutes of fumbling through a pile of papers, Jenny did not find anything that made any sense. What would be the purpose of him carrying around a bunch of half sketched designs that resembled what looked like the faces of children? During their brief time together, Kyle had never mentioned to Jenny that he worked for a doll manufacturing company. As Jenny pawed through the briefcase, she did not hear when Margie came into the room. “Here you are,” Margie said, closing the door behind her. “Table six wants their check.”Startled by the sound of her voice, Jenny closed the lid, then opened it again when she saw it was only Margie. “What are you doing?” Margie asked. “And whose briefcase do you have there?” Margie and Jenny had been friends ever since Jenny came to waitress at Mike’s. At forty-eight, Margie didn’t look a day over thirty, which she proudly attributed to by staying out of the sun during the peak hours of the day when it did most of its damage. Jenny shrugged and kept clawing through the papers like a dog digging a hole. From beneath all of the sketched drawing she pulled out a single sheet of bright pink paper that read something about a high school Christmas Pageant. Jenny jerked her head up and looked through Margie, realizing at that moment that it had to belong to her daughter.“Finally,” she said, holding it to her chest.Jenny sniffed back tears of joy as she read the announcement again. This simple piece of paper was the first concrete thing she found that could very well be a clue to lead her to find where her daughter was.Margie got a chair and pulled it up alongside her, then sat down and gently patted her hand. “What’s going on Jen?” When Jenny still didn’t answer, Margie leaned back and lit a cigarette, taking in a long drag, then blowing the smoke into the air above their heads. Jenny just sat there in a daze, impervious to her presence. But as soon as Margie began as if to get up, Jenny reached for her arm and Margie relaxed in her chair.“Have you ever heard of a school named Rachael?” Jenny asked. Margie shook her head. “No.” Jenny stood and walked around the room and read the announcement aloud to her. “Doesn’t ring a bell, does it?”“Sorry kid,” Margie answered, stretching across the table and sliding back the ashtray. “Is that what you were looking for in that briefcase—a school?” Margie shook her head and tapped her cigarette ashes into the ashtray. “You don’t understand,” Jenny insisted, still eluding her original question. Margie’s brow tightened, her face twisting with confusion. “That’s because you haven’t told me anything yet.” “Does Mike have a map around here?” Jenny asked.“Okay,” Margie snapped. “That’s it. If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m going to tie you to this chair until you do. So far, the only thing I know for certain is that you just chased away the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen in my life, and now you’re going through someone’s briefcase.” Margie gasped. “Oh, please tell me this isn’t his.” A faint mischievous smile crossed Jenny’s mouth. Margie’s eyes widened, her face blushing when she giggled. “You stole his briefcase?” “Shh,” Jenny whispered. “Keep your voice down. Someone will hear you. I didn’t steal it. He left it here. I’m merely looking for an address so I can return it to him.” “Now try the truth, girlfriend,” Margie said, taking another drag from her cigarette.“Later,” Jenny said, as she headed for the door, folding the pink paper and sliding it into her apron pocket. “We better get back before someone comes looking for us.” Margie followed, then stopped and looked back at the briefcase still lying open on the table. “But what about…,” “Forget about it,” Jenny said. “If he comes back, we’ll have Mike handle it. Now stop worrying or you’ll get stress lines on your face.” “All this secrecy,” Margie said, throwing up her arms. “I’m beginning to think you got yourself into some kind of trouble.” Jenny pretended not to hear her. “Well,” Margie prodded. “Are you, in trouble?”Back at the kitchen, Jenny turned and looked at her firmly. “No trouble, so you can stop with all the questions. You’re my friend, not my mother. If I need confession, I’ll go down the street to St. Margaret’s. I hear they’re open twenty-four hours.” Margie held her smirk, then threw a wash towel at her, barely missing her head before landing on the meat slicer. “Don’t be so damn smart,” she said. “You don’t even go to church, let alone a Catholic one.” Jenny picked up the towel and threw it back. “Maybe it’s time I did.”Margie laughed. “Yeah, that’ll be the day. Mother Teresa by day, barmaid by night.” Jenny wasn’t as amused. “Come on, quit making jokes, this is serious.”Margie lost her giddy expression. “See, I knew something had your tail feathers ruffled.”“Look,” Jenny said. “It’s nothing—nothing at all. My tail feathers are fine. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.” She pulled her coat on over her apron and fastened the button at the neck. “Do me a favor, will ya?” she said. “Close the bar for me tonight. I’m really tired and I’d like to catch the next bus going to Queens so I don’t want to have to wait forty-five minutes for another one.”“Sure sweety, no problem,” Margie agreed. “You go ahead.”“Thanks, I’ll owe you one,” Jenny said, reaching over the counter to grab her purse before heading for the door.“Hope you know what you’re doing?” Margie said at her back. Jenny stopped before leaving and turned to look her stupidly in the eyes. “What are you talking about?”“I wish I knew,” Margie admitted.Jenny sighed, then turned into the wind and left the bar.It was half past midnight and the streets of Manhattan were still alive with the busy sound of cars, taxis and people flooding the streets and sidewalks. As she stood outside the bar, incoherent to how cold it was, Jenny didn’t flinch a muscle when a sharp gusty wind caught her wool scarf and curled it around her face, twisting her hair to dance upward over her head. The only thing she could think about was her daughter. She gripped the sides of her thin wool coat to keep it from flapping open as she meandered through the current of the city traffic to get to the bus, thinking all along the way how much she wanted to see her daughter again, even if it was from a distance. Fourteen years had been too long to wait, and not knowing where she was or how she had grown had been so unbearable. Chapter 10The school auditorium was busy with parents and relatives arriving for the Christmas program. The student clubs worked harder this year than ever before to create the perfect atmosphere for the guests by decorating the ceiling with paper-m?ché Christmas bells in bright colors of red, yellow, orange and blue, tacking the words Merry Christmas to the bulletin board, and putting up a twelve foot Christmas tree in the vestibule, ornamenting it with silk ribbons and gold balls that winked to the beat of every twinkling light. To set the holiday mood, songs of the season were being played by the band and would continue until the program began. Ellen Dickson was fumbling through her notes to make sure everything was in order when the last student came into the room. This year’s program was going to be her best one ever, so every phase of it had to begin and end precisely on time. Trying to keep calm, her emotions controlled, Ellen scanned the room, inspecting every student to make sure they were dressed the way she had instructed them to. The girls were wearing dark colored skirts with white blouses and had their hair neatly combed or pulled back, and the boys were dressed in black pants, white shirts and dark ties. So far, everything seemed okay, she thought.“Everyone, hurry up and take your places in line,” she said, excitedly. “We’re almost ready to go down to the auditorium.” In her usual tone, Ellen gave the orders and the students listened. “When you get to the end of the hall wait for me. Don’t go inside until I say so.” Before she said another word, the teens were moving down the hall toward the entrance to the stage. This gave Ellen a second chance to check them over one more time. Once everyone was at the end of the hall and were standing outside the door that would lead them to the stage, the musical instruments of the band playing and the muffled voices of people talking could vaguely be heard. “We’ll be going in in just a minute,” Ellen informed her assembled group. A tall fleshy man with a pudgy face and a close-cropped cap opened the door and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Mr. Swank was the program director and not a man who would smile so easily. Ellen responded to what he said and clicked her finger in the air.“People, listen up,” she said. “Mr. Swank said it’s time for us to go in. Now remember, your parents are just on the other side of the curtain, so please keep the noise down. Just simply go in, get to your places and wait quietly. After the band finishes playing, the curtain will open and that will be our cue to begin.” The students passed by her in a single row formation and entered the stage. “Shh,” she whispered to three rowdy boys. Then she stretched her neck up to find Alexis and Rosa, who were scheduled to sing the second number together. See didn’t see either one of them. Maybe she had simply missed them in all the commotion? She spun around and made her way onto the stage to see if she were right. To her relief, she saw Rosa who was standing stiffly in the front row like she had just been stuffed and mounted. But as she looked around the rest of the stage area, she did not see Alexis anywhere. Where the hell is she? she cursed wordlessly, since she wasn’t one to let such talk slip from her tongue to young impressionable ears. In a state of alarm, she turned on her heel and left the stage and started walking swiftly down the hall, nearly breaking into a stride to get to the classroom where the students had been gathered prior to entering the stage. When she got to the room, she found it empty. A look of total disbelief crossed her face. Lifting her wristwatch to her face, she checked the time and began to wonder if the girl was going to make it at all. Thinking back to when Alexis had come to class with her face bruised and lip swollen nearly double its size, all feelings of anger and disbelief turned to confusion and concern. Ellen sighed, yet tried to remain calm, but as long as the disturbing image kept replaying itself like a broken record, she wouldn’t be able to forget it. As much as she wanted to go out looking for the girl, she still had an obligation to the rest of the students who were waiting for her. How could she let them down? Her worrisome mind was beginning to drain what little energy she had and the pangs of disheartened disappointment was threatening to over-shadowed all of her hard work, until anger returned and cleared her senses. If her intuitions were right, and Alexis was being beaten by her stepfather, there was nothing she could do about it right now. Blaming her would be pointless. If anyone was to blame, Ellen knew it was herself. She knew it was happening and never said anything. Mostly because she had been letting her own tragic experience, the heartbreaking murder of her sister Emmy, keep her from doing what was right. So often she had wanted to get counseling, but talking about it would have been like reliving it all over again. The violence. The blood. Though the wounds had never healed, opening them up again was too much to bear. Nevertheless, it racked her with quilt to know she could be helping another girl from the same thing that Emmy had gone through. Concealing what she suspected was as bad as if she were the one committing the crime. Yet, unless she had sufficient proof to lead to the arrest of Amos, the law would not do anything until he actually killed her.With a mixed fury of emotions running through her body, Ellen went back to the stage, hoping that when she got there she would see Alexis, but all she saw instead was an empty spot where she was supposed to be, and Mr. Swank waving his arms in the air, trying to instill silence over the unruly bunch of excited teens who were waiting impatiently for the program to begin. With another look of weariness, she whirled across the stage like a twister out-of-control, clutching to her music. The principal, Mr. Harper who also sensed that something was wrong, followed. “Is everything all right, Ms. Dickson?” he asked.“I’ll know in a moment,” she replied, looking directly into Rosa’s eyes.“Rosa, have you seen Alexis?” Rosa shrugged. “I don’t know where she’s at Ms. Dickson. All I know is she better get here soon because I don’t want to sing by myself.”“Does either one of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Harper asked.Without answering the principal’s questions, Ellen grabbed Rosa’s shoulders with both of her hands. “Honey, you don’t have a choice,” she said. “Alexis isn’t here.”In an even nonchalant tone, indifferent to the so-called emergency, Harper said, “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” Then he coolly turned and walked to the edge of the stage where he prepared to do his introduction speech.Suddenly the band stopped playing. On the other side of the curtain, Mr. Harper entered the stage and walked to the podium and began his opening speech, giving all those involved in the production of the Christmas program their proper credit. Behind the curtain, Rosa rocked back and forth with nervous energy, hoping he’d get smart and cancel the whole thing. “Ladies and gentlemen, parents and friends…welcome. We’re here once again to introduce to you the gifted young people that have helped make this program possible. In the first several rows of the auditorium you can see is our school band. They were playing a composition of songs for you as you arrived.” [The auditorium clapped; a few whistlers joined in, and one boy in the band proudly waved his violin in the air.] “Behind the curtain, is our high school chorus, a talented mix of young vocalists I’m sure who are excited to lift you holiday spirits with their music.” He turned to the next page of his notes. “The students also will be performing a play that I think you will find especially entertaining.” He lowered his head to review his notes, turned the page again, then looked to the audience. “So, without further ado as they say in Hollywood, let the show begin. Please put your hands together to give a big warm welcome to the Rachael High School Chorus.” Mr. Harper led the audience to clapping then walked away from the podium toward the side of the stage, disappearing behind the curtain. “Okay, here we go.” Ellen rolled her eyes, then hurriedly kept in step with the curtain as it opened. “Ms. Dickson!” Rosa whispered with her hands cuffed around her mouth. “Ms. Dickson…wait…” Looking out into the colorful auditorium Rosa thought how everyone looked like a bed of flowers. Rather, a bed of flowers swarming with bees to inject her with poisonous jabs of paralyzing criticism the moment she screwed-up. She could already hear their deprecating laughter and feel their toxic sting. Her heart began pounding wildly against her chest. It wasn’t just the arena of proud-struck faces that bothered her. It was the seventy-five kids behind her that she feared the most. The minute I fall apart, she thought, they’ll be all over me like sweat on an athlete. She could only imagine what they would do the minute she made a complete jack-ass out of herself. Wasn’t it bad enough that she was already the blunt of their jokes? Given the opportunity to add humiliation to insult, the never-ending teasing would forge on and on like a run-away train. The piano started to play, then the violins and trumpets joined in. God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman was the first number and when it finished the audience clapped, faded to silence and waited for the next song to begin.Rosa shifted restlessly at her place on stage, then got down right sick when she heard the piano start to play the first few notes of what was supposed to be her song. Instinctively, she thought to run, but her feet felt nailed to the floor. It suddenly occurred to her that Alexis could be sitting somewhere out there laughing at her while she stood on stage stupidly tongue-tied in the throngs of what was probably going to be the worst night of her life. This was exactly the sort of thing the empty-headed little bitch would do, she thought. The teacher nodded in the direction of the microphone and Rosa hesitantly walked over to it and firmly griped the stand, pinching her eyes against the bright overhead lights. If her father was out there, she was not able to see him. She remembered slipping the program announcement into his briefcase to remind him, but that was no guarantee he came. Agreeing to do this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done, she thought. So was thinking she could ever depend of her father for support, which convinced her even more that he had no parenting skills whatsoever. And what about Alexis? How incredibly smug she must be feeling right now to be sitting out there witnessing this display of humility. The harder Rosa tried to remember the lines to her song, the more the words chaotically scrambled through her head. She had to plan for the worst now. To her front Rosa could hear the audience whisper. Behind her, short outbursts of laughter. The more the kids giggled, the more she panicked. When the piano began to play, every tap sounded more like gunshots than notes. And as eyes widened with horror she felt as though she was waiting to be executed. When her smooth olive-colored complexion turned taut with worry, it was painfully obvious by the expression on her face that she was about to drown everyone in a flood of tears. The pianist stopped and looked up at Rosa, gave her a gingerly smile, then started over again. The audience watched in saddened pity. Soon everyone would know what a fool she was, she thought, disappointed that she had not studied the music. She sighed and rubbed her burning eyes. Without knowing what else to do, she opened her mouth to tell everyone, including Mr. Swank, Ms. Dickson and her peers that she was unprepared to sing for them tonight, and that she was sorry for ruining the Christmas Pageant. She wondered if they had been right about her all along, and that she was indeed the foolish girl they had always believed her to be. Struggling with what to say, she figured it wouldn’t matter anyway. One way or the other, she was doomed and it would be a long time before the kids let her forget it. There was no easy way out. She would just have to tell them the truth as politely as possible, then deal with their chilly response later.Hoping Rosa would pull a miracle out of her hat and remember the words to her song, the pianist continued to play. But just as Rosa was mentally bracing herself to put an end to her misery, something totally unexpected happened. A woman in the back row stood up and started singing. In fact, she was singing her song with a voice so angelic that it filled the room and captivated everyone, thus drawing all the attention away from Rosa. Stunned in cold emotion, Rosa curiously peered into the crowd through narrowed eyes, but could not see who it was. With vague surprise on her face, she sang along, mechanically moving her mouth to “What Child is This?” When Rosa and the stranger finished singing, the audience stood at their seats and clapped for a full minute. So did Mr. Swank, Ms. Dickson, and the entire chorus. Was this a dream, or was it real, Rosa thought. Why did it matter? It was over and she got through it without self-destructing. Luckily, someone had taken pity on her. Later, when the program was over, she would have to thank her for that.After the audience settled back down into their seats, Rosa promptly walked to her place in front of the bleacher on wobbly legs. The program continued, and when it finished, she took in a deep releasing breath, straightened her clenched fists, and was glad there had not been any further surprises. Angrily, she thought about Alexis and why she hadn’t shown up, though she was convinced that the girl had planned to make a fool out of her from the beginning. When the program finally ended and the curtain closed, the kids hurried off the stage to find their parents, whom were all waiting out in the outside hall to take them home. “Well, Rosa Lynn, it’s a good thing someone cared enough to pull your little fanny out of the fire,” Ellen said, with an innocent scolding in her voice. Innocent because the program actually went better than she imagined, considering. Otherwise, she would not have been nearly so understanding. “It would be advisable for you to practice your music before getting on stage the next time—if there is a next time. Why didn’t you come to me earlier and tell me you were having trouble with your song? I would have been glad to help you. Taking responsibility for yourself is a big part of growing up, you know.” Rosa dismissed her firm disapproving lecture. She always made her feel like a child. And that was enough punishment for one night.“Tell me,” Ellen asked. “Do you know who was singing with you?” Rosa shook her head. “No I didn’t, unless it was my guardian angel,” she said. “Everyone’s supposed to have one.” Ellen forced a dim smile when a thought came to her. There was one person, at least, who needed one even more than either one of them did. She paled, and cast a troubling look toward the stage, her mind filling with anxious concern over Alexis. Before she left she stopped and put her hand on Rosa’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas dear.” Looking into the woman’s worrisome eyes, Rosa was unaware of all that lied behind them. “Merry Christmas to you too Ms. Dickson.” Except for the band members who were still putting their musical instruments into their cases, and a few students who had volunteered to tear down the stage and fold away the bleachers, the auditorium was emptying quickly. A familiar face pushed his way through the last of the assembly line and nearly ran into her. “Good job kiddo,” said Russo, beaming with his usual excitement. “You were brilliant tonight.”Rosa gasped, unsure as to what he was comparing the travesty to. “Thanks…I think.”“You’re a born natural. I always knew that.”Rosa smiled, and he returned a smile, then turned to leave. “Wait,” she said, her voice upbeat with exhilaration. “I almost forget. I’m allowed to have the cat.” Russo smiled and gave his hands a clap. “Good for you….another victory tonight.” Rosa laughed. “I guess you could say that,” she said. “So, it’s okay to come down tomorrow and get her?”“You bet’ya,” he said. With that said, he turned and steadily walked up the incline of the aisle as Rosa looked on while thinking how he had always been such a caring friend to her over the years. When he stopped and looked back, he glared at her a moment, waved, and had thoughts of his own. She was as pure today as she was when she was a baby. And it made him glad to see that she hadn’t starting using a lot of makeup like so many other girls her age had. The principal, Mr. Harper and the program director, Mr. Swank had just finished talking, shook hands, and left the auditorium. Every time someone opened the door, Rosa looked out into the jam-packed hallway to see if her father was out there waiting among the other guests for her. She paused and reconsidered the thought. “Probably not.” Feeling hurt that he had not shown up, she sobbed. Maybe it was just as well that he hadn’t come after all, she thought. That way he wouldn’t have had to witness what a dud- of-a-daughter he had—unless, of course, he already knew it.Rosa grabbed her coat and headed for the nearest exit where she knew no one would see her leave, and where she knew Georgene would be waiting in the parking lot to take her home. As always, the car was parked right where she expected. When she got in, neither Georgene or her said a word, which wasn’t unreasonable for Rosa in light of what she had just been though, but it was uncharacteristic for Georgene to be at a loss of words. The very least she would have asked was how everything went tonight. Nevertheless, Rosa was glad she didn’t. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Besides, thinking the word disaster was hard enough without having to come right out and say it. So as long as Georgene didn’t want to talk to her, she was perfectly content with that. As soon as they pulled up to the house, Rosa immediately took notice that her father’s car was parked in the driveway. “When did he get home?” Not waiting for a reply, she unfastened her seatbelt and leaped from the car before it had a chance to completely stop. It was unlikely that he had come to the Christmas Pageant, though she didn’t want to think about that right now, but maybe he was running late and couldn’t make it and was waiting inside for her to tell him all about it. Since he wasn’t there, a few white lies wouldn’t hurt. There wasn’t any reason for him to know the truth.Rosa ran to the house, up the steps pushing open the heavy double doors, and when she got inside, she saw no sight of him anywhere, all though she did hear his muffled voice coming from inside the library. Pressing her ear against the door to try to make out his words, she listened hard until Georgene came up from behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Stop that,” she said, moving between her and the door. “If the door is closed, it means he’s on an important business call and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Why don’t you run upstairs and get changed for bed? When he finishes, I’ll let him know you’re home. I’m sure he’ll want to see you right away.” When Georgene stood firm with her arms crossed over her chest, looking down into her eyes, she knew there was no point in arguing with her. “Okay,” Rosa said. For nearly an hour, Rosa waited patiently at the top of the stairs listening for her father to come out of the library. The longer she waited, the sleepier she became. Her head began to loll on her chest like a bobble-head doll until it finally rested against the banister where she dozed off and on until being startled awake by the slamming of the front door. Rosa sprung to her feet and barreled down the steps in an effort to get to the door. It took a lot of experience to run up and down the curved stairway in the dark, but over the years, Rosa had learned to mastered it well and was now a pro at skipping and counting every one without falling. In the shadows of the foyer, she fumbled frantically for the doorknob until she had it in her hand. Quickly, she opened the door and bolted out onto the porch in her long nightgown and bare feet, but only to see from a distance at the front porch step, the taillights to her father’s car speeding down the drive barely breaking at the gate before exiting. She sighed. This, on top of everything else she had gone through tonight was more than any thirteen year old could bear. “I hate you!” she wailed into the night’s cold air, throwing her head back, half-falling the second time she repeated it, stumbling to sit on the icy step. Leaning forward, pressing her chest into her lap, she cried. “Don’t come back.” After a few moments of wallowing in self-pity, she wiped away the tears and went back into the house to stand in the idle silence and blackness around her. With her back placidly pressed against the door, and her eyes fixated on the swaying of the clock’s pendulum, she heard someone crying. It seemed to be coming from the direction of Georgene's bedroom, which was adjacent to the kitchen. Rosa remembered how quiet she had been on the way home and when she thought more about it, she realized that she had not even offered her anything to eat. That wasn’t like her at all, Rosa thought. Normally, she would at least put something out on the table for her. Another more unlikely thought was that maybe the parable’s that had made the house a legend were true, and the place was really haunted, after all. Learning what she had never known before made even nighttime creepier than ever. Still, her own common sense wouldn’t let her believe it. With her jaw clenched tight, Rosa walked slowly down the hall, sliding her hand along the wall as she followed the sound that led to Georgene’s bedroom. For a moment she paused outside the door listening intently, then turned the knob. What she saw when she opened the door was more disturbing than anything she had thought she heard. Georgene was not in her room. So, who was crying? Rosa’s eyes burned with fatigue. It was late and since she was already overly tired from the emotional roller coaster she had been on, she wasn’t able to make sense out of anything anymore tonight. She reversed out of the room and went upstairs to her room, keeping in mind all the way that something weird was going on. The next morning when she woke, she waited in bed, listening for Georgene to come in and wake her for school, the way she did every morning. Rolling onto her side, she curled up tighter under the blankets and gave more thought to the bizarre events that happened at school and at home. She thought about the woman who had signed on as her guardian angel and who had ultimately saved the Christmas program, and her, as well. Heaving a sigh of relief, she returned to lie on her back and watched the shadows dance on the ceiling from the morning’s light, trying to sort things out in her head. What could have possibly caused her father to go tearing out of the house so abruptly last night? Why had Georgene acted so peculiar? Would solving one mystery, solve the other, as well? And there was still the question of who it was she heard crying. It was all too much to take in. Just thinking about it made her sick. Other than the ticking of the minute clock on her bedside table, everything was perfectly quiet. When ten minutes went by, Rosa began to wonder why Georgene hadn’t shown up yet to drag her out of bed for school. Usually, she was right on time.“Except…..”Rosa sat up and shook the cobwebs from her head. “Except for when it was Saturday.” Beaming with relief she fell back on the bed and snuggled with her pillow and started to fall into a deeper sleep, until her peaceful serenity was broken by a loud shrieking sound that shot out of nowhere. Rosa jumped out of bed and staggered to the door to get out, but only to discover that it had been locked from the outside, which meant there was no way to get out. With her arms clutched around her head she was not able to lessen the intense shrieking that had now elevated to decibels so loud that it nearly severed her eardrums. In fact, the high-pitch sound was enough to rattle and crack the windows. Locked in the room, thinking what to do, she stood holding her head to protect her brain from oozing out. This was not the way she wanted to die. Her idea of death was more like her body instantly transiting into a better place, not this. For what seemed like endless cruelty the head-splitting sound continued, yet, as suddenly as it started, it stopped, but only until another, more equally disturbing sound followed. When Rosa looked up at the vent on the wall, where she assumed the sound was coming from, she noticed the wall was beginning to swell as thought it was being blown up like a balloon. Since she couldn’t get out of the room, the only thing she thought to do was jump back into bed, draw the blankets up to her chin and watch the wall exploded. When it did, she blinked away when the vent plate pop off and went slicing though the air like a knife. Momentarily she hid her face under the blankets, but when she looked up again, she wasn’t ready for what came next. Out of the ruined wall where the vent plate used to be poured hundreds and hundreds of screaming black bats big as crows. Rosa screamed and thrashed her arms in the air to keep them away, but there were just too many. She hadn’t felt this scared since the time she had accidentally locked herself in the cellar and had to wait for nanny number three to let her out. Every part of her was saying run, but she knew if she got up, the bats would surely bite her until their mission to kill her had been served. So as they flew though the air, swiftly darting around, biting and scratching her, it wasn’t long before she became so exhausted and couldn’t keep them off any longer. Since she was going to die anyway, it wouldn’t matter if they tore out her hair, but because she didn’t want to go to heaven and not be able to see the beautiful things that God’s word had promised, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow so the bats couldn’t peck out her eyes. At this point, she felt as helpless as an infant. Just before the mass of rubber-winged birds put an end to her life, something shooed them away.“Rosa, wake up!”Rosa opened her eyes and poked her head out from under the blankets twisted around her body. “I could hear you the whole way down stairs,” Georgene said. “Are you all right?” Rosa looked around the room and at the vent still fastened to the wall exactly where it had always been. Everything was calm. There were no bats attacking her or trying to poke out her eyes. She was fine.“Yes, I’m okay,” she replied, still seemingly out of it.“As long as you are, I’m going to go back downstairs and get ready to go to town.” Georgene started for the door, then stopped and turned. “How are you making out with that birthday list I gave you? Did you invite anyone to your party yet?”Rosa shrugged. With everything’s that been going on the past few weeks, when would she have possibly had the time to think about some stupid party? As a matter of fact, she had completely forgotten about it, just like she figured her father had. “Not yet.” Georgene looked at her with wide eyes. “Well, hurry up!” Rosa nodded. As soon as she heard Georgene say she was going to town, the little box in the chandelier came back to mind. A birthday gift from her father, perhaps. The last time she tried to find out what was inside it, the lights of his car pulling up to the driveway had stopped her. Now, once again, her curiosity would lead her back to try a second time. As soon as Rosa heard the front door close, she ran to the banister and looked down into the foyer to make sure Georgene had really left. She had. The coast was clear. With nothing on her feet and still in her nightgown, she wasted no time making a bee-line to the library. In all its glistening fascination, the crystals on the chandelier twinkled in the rays of the sun. And, as it hung so gallantly, it reminded her of a soldier entrust to guard and protect something special, maybe something as special as a little white box, she thought. Rosa felt quite small standing beneath the massive fixture now, and she remembered how challenging it had been the first time she tried to reach up inside it. Before, when she hauled the trunk over in such a hurry, it took almost all her strength to get it across the room. But this time, since Georgene was going to be gone for awhile, she could take her time and pace herself. Once she got the trunk and ottoman back to the chandelier she could get inside the chandelier and get the box once and for all.As was previously done, Rosa also climbed onto the truck, then the ottoman, and balanced as high as she could on her tiptoes, and though she was able to reach up inside the chandelier without difficulty, all her illusions of finding the box ended when she discovered it was not there. “Gosh darn it,” she protested. With a thud, she jumped off of the ottoman, unintentionally kicking it off of the trunk and rolled twice across the floor. “Ouch!” Rosa knew that Georgene had just left, so there was still plenty of time to look for the box. Hopefully, it was somewhere in the room, she thought, as she began rummaging through the desk, on the bookshelves, inside the umbrella stand, under the chair cushions, behind the curtains and even on top the fireplace mantle. Her opinion was that to find a little box in a house the size of Brynwood would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. It was going to be almost impossible, she knew, if Georgene had been really serious about hiding it so that no one could find it. There had to be at least a thousand places to hid it. She sighed when she looked at the clock and saw that forty-five minutes had gone by. Time was running out. Feeling like a private eye, she marched down the hall, through the dining room, then the kitchen, and to the threshold of forbidden territory. Trespassing into Georgene’s bedroom was forbidden, yet worth the chance of getting caught if in the end she found what she was looking for. Justifying her desperate need to know if the box was a gift from her father, Rosa crossed the line and enter the room. After she went in and started looking around, she wondered how anyone could live in such a pigsty. The bed wasn’t made and there were shoes sprawled all over the floor. Across the room, piled in the corner, was six empty booze bottles. Silly, was the red lipstick kisses on the mirror and a hairbrush with a broken handle that was packed so full of hair that it almost looked like a wig. And the television had a thick layer of dust covering the screen. All this did was conclude to her that Georgene hadn’t cleaned her own room for so long that it wouldn’t surprise her if something were growing in it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the smell was. “It stinks in here,” she said, grotesquely twisting her nose and wiping her hands onto her nightgown as she walked to the dresser, opening the drawers and gently moving the clothing from side to side. When she didn’t find the box, she kicked though the pile of shoes and went to the closet to search the pockets of every stitch of clothing the woman wore. “Of course, it wouldn’t be here,” she thought, trying to rationalize Georgene’s thought process at the time she hid the box. “That would be way too easy.”“If I was a tiny little box, where would I be?” The answer led her to the bed where she got down on her knees and began running her arm back and forth between the mattress and the springs until touching something that felt more like paper than a box. Being very carefully to not tear it, she pulled it out and noticed that it was an old newspaper clipping. The more she read the more she realized that what she was reading was something about the murder of a man named, Earl Pinkett. The article said he was found dead in his car after being pulled out of Timblewalm Lake. As she read on, it mentioned the man’s wife, a woman named Georgia Pinkett. She had been held for questioning, it said, something about suspicious evidence they had found at the scene of the crime. Rosa cringed after reading the words. Why was all this so important, and why was Georgene hiding it? When Rosa reached her hand under the mattress again, she found another paper clipping. This time, it was a different newspaper, but the same information about the same murder. None of this made any sense. Who was Earl and why hadn’t Georgene ever mentioned him before? The more she thought about it, the more she didn’t like what she was thinking. The names were not exactly the same, but they were certainly close enough. No! Georgia Pinkett was the murder suspect, not Georgene Pritchett. With a sigh of uneasiness, Rosa put the clippings back under the mattress and went upstairs to her room, completely forgetting about the box. What she thought she had stumbled onto in Georgene’s room was more than she wanted to find. She had only wanted to find the box, not a murder suspect. No wonder Georgene adamantly insisted that no one be allowed in her room, she thought. She was hiding something and she didn’t want anyone to find out what it was. This was pretty damn serious, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Georgia Pinkett and Georgene Pritchitt were one in the same person. Rosa thought that after six years that she had known the woman, that she knew her as well as she needed to. She wasn’t dangerous. Of course, she killed him in self-defense. Otherwise, she would still be in prison.An hour later, Georgene returned home and yelled up the stairs for Rosa, who, by the sound of her voice immediately came running down the steps. It seemed apparent by her tone that she was in a good mood. What a relief, Rosa thought, especially after last night.“Rosa, guess what I’ve got in these bags?” She said, smiling proud, holding two brown grocery bags in her arms.“I don’t know.”“Come on, guess.”“Ah, food?” “Of course it’s food,” Georgene cynically replied. “You’re supposed to guess what kind of food?”Rosa looked at her, and then at the bags, baffled. There was an odd immaturity about the way she was acting.Georgene sighed. “It’s your birthday party food, silly. Let’s go in the kitchen and I’ll show you what I bought.”Rosa followed her to the kitchen and watched her toss the bags onto the table, turning one of them upside down until everything inside spilled out. “See,” Georgene said. “I bought enough groceries to make you a fabulous birthday meal, and then I’m going to bake you a cake and even write your name on it.”Rosa chuckled. “When have you ever baked a cake?”“Plenty of times,” Georgene answered. “And I’m sure your father will love it.”“But my father doesn’t even like desserts, remember?”“Oh, he’ll like mine!” she insisted loudly. “You’ll see.” Then she smiled and reached inside the other bag and pulled out a sack of flour, sugar, eggs, milk, butter, several different types of cheeses and a box of crackers. There was enough fixings lying on the table to make a king’s meal. “Wow, you’re serious about this party, aren’t you?” Rosa said, picking up a tiny loaf of pumpernickel bread. “What this?”“They’re for making finger sandwiches….” Georgene answered, gently taking the loaf out of her hand. “…with liver pate.” Rosa wrinkled her nose. “Liver patties?”“Not liver patty, liver pate. It’s a French meat paste.”Rosa pinched her nose. “Then let the French eat it.”“Oh, hush,” Georgene said, flipping her hand. “Don’t knock it till you tried it.” Rosa let out a groan and watched Georgene neatly fold the paper bags and stuff them between the cabinet and the sink. “It’s Saturday, so why are you hanging around the house anyway. Go out and find something to do and leave me alone for awhile.” Rosa nodded. “Okay, I’ll be down at Russo’s.”Georgene rolled her eyes as if to say she wasn’t one bit thrilled about her going down to the bakery. She knew Russo was an ex-cop, and that made her edgy.“What in the world do you see in that old fool?” Rosa turned and shook her head. “I like him. He’s a nice man.” “Well I think he’s a dirty old man,” Georgene snarled, shaking her head as she apprehensively watched Rosa walked down the hall and leave the house.Chapter 11Queens, N.Y.It was 6 a.m. when Margie knocked on Jenny’s door. She hadn’t seen her for several days and was concerned, especially since the last time they spoke they had argued and Jenny left the bar without telling her that she had not planned on coming to work the next day. What else she didn’t know was that Jenny had known the man she had words with at the bar several nights ago and more so that she had been involved with him as well. More importantly, the fleeting encounter produced a child, which they both had been keeping a secret for the past fourteen years, but was about to be revealed. Little did Jenny know, that beneath Kyle’s perfect good looks and fat bank accounts, were brazen lies and deceit. The last memory of her child was when she wrapped the infant in a blanket and watched Kyle walk out of her apartment, not knowing it would be the last time she would see either one of them. After a few minutes, Jenny finally opened the door wearing a long night robe made of terry cloth because she had taken a shower and washed her hair. “Good morning,” Jenny said, as Margie pushed her way in and stood with her hands on her hips, looking her over and wanting to give her one of her famous motherly speeches again. “What’s so good about it?” she said with a sarcastic undertone, taking off her coat and hat and tossing them across the back of the sofa. Then she stood idly in the middle of the room, with her hands propped on her hips, almost like a scorned parent waiting for an explanation.“Where have you been?” Margie asked sharply. “I’ve been worried and so has Mike.” “Now why would Mike be worried about me?” Jenny replied, walking to the tiny kitchenette just off of the living room to pour herself and Margie a cup of coffee. “Don’t you think you’re stretching it a little? He’s never questioned me about my whereabouts before.”“Well, you’ve never been gone this long before without telling someone where you were going, so naturally I’m going to worry. Don’t forget, it was just a few days ago that I saw you in the bar having it out with some guy about God knows what.” Several times Jenny had come close to telling Margie about the troubles from her past, but was never quite sure how she would take hearing that she had given away her newborn baby. In fact, when they had taken a bus trip to the Museum of Fine Arts, she had noticed a stunning painting of a mother pushing her daughter on a swing, which hung by the branch of a Sycamore Tree. It was also at the time that she remembered when Kyle had told her of his love for drawing.“I’m sorry,” Jenny said calmly, “I guess you’re right. I should have told you I was leaving, but I was worried that you wouldn’t understand.”Margie looked at her puzzled. “There you go again, being secretive.Jenny handed her a cup of coffee, although the steaming cup didn’t break her gaze. “Understand what?” Margie said.Bit by bit she continued to interrogate her with questions, hoping to wear her down long enough to get to the truth. “It’s not that I wanted to lie to you,” Jenny said. “It’s just that there’s some things, personal things, that I haven’t told you about me.”“But you can trust me with anything,” Margie said. “Don’t you know that? If something were troubling me, I’d like to know that you’d be there if I needed you. How long do you plan to carry this monkey on your back?”Before Jenny had a chance to answer, the buzzer on the door sounded. They paused and stood stiffly in the middle of the room, looking at each other and waiting to see if the knock came again. In her night robe and bedroom slippers, Jenny moved toward the door. She looked back a Margie.“Yes?” she said, talking through the door.“Jenny!” said a deep, hard-spoken familiar voice from the other side of the door. Jenny’s mouth dropped and her eyes began to swell with panic. She turned back quickly and looked at Margie, the looked back again at the door to see if the deadbolt was still latched. But she remembered unlocking it to let Margie in. No one spoke, but the thought of what was inevitably going to happen was going through her mind. She had to confront Kyle sooner or later if she was ever going to overcome her fear of him. And he wasn’t going to go away as long as he was suspicious of her intentions. It was difficult for a woman so passive as Jenny to be face to face with a man determined to protect his reputation. “Jenny!” the voice said again. “I can either talk to you from out here so your neighbors can hear everything I say, or you can open the door and talk to me in private. It’s up to you.” “Do you want me to call the police?” Margie said, putting her coffee cup on the table and reaching for the phone.“No, don’t do that,” Jenny said. “If I don’t let him in, he’ll only come back.”“Are you sure?” Margie asked.“Yeah, at least you’re here in case anything happens.”Jenny unlatched the deadbolt and began to open the door. And just as she did, Kyle pushed the door open, knocking her to the floor, her night robe gaped, exposing her frail legs. His anger temporarily subdued, he reluctantly held out his hand to help her to her feet, pretending he had not seen between her legs. She sensed the movement of his eyes and grabbed the sides of her robe, draping them over her body then securing it with a belt. On the other side of the room, Margie watched closely from the kitchen. “Oh my God,” she whispered to herself. “That’s the same guy that I saw in the bar.” Her lips tightened at the sight of him. The scent of his cologne, the same cologne that permeated the bar, a man’s cologne, strong, yet inspiring, filled her nostrils and drenched her throat while the alluring aroma stimulated her libido. As men went, this one was without question one of the finest of the species; a true instrument of what a man should be. And he spoke with confidence as he stood gallantly over Jenny. She thought it doubtful that Jenny could be involved with a man his caliber. Jenny pulled herself to her feet, Kyle towering over her a good eight inches.“What do you think you’re doing?” Kyle said sharply in an annoyed voice. Jenny looked up into his burning eyes, assuming that he was referring to her being at the Christmas program.“I had every right.” she barked. “The hell you do,” he said. “No one has a right to go through someone else’s personal property.” Jenny was confused.“What are you talking about?”“You know damn well what I’m talking about. I left my briefcase at the bar, and when I went back to pick it up, it was gone.” Jenny was relieved when she heard him going on about the briefcase. She was sure he had seen her at the Christmas program, or worse, heard her singing Rosa’s song, and was there to raise hell. She reached up on her tippy toes and put her face as close to his as she could.“For your information, I do not have your briefcase.” She got back down on her heels and turned to where she could safely see Margie standing in the kitchen. “It’s true,” she continued. “You did leave your brief case at the bar, but when you didn’t return right away to pick it up, I gave it to Mike and he put it in the back room. Don’t worry, your precious briefcase is safe and so is everything inside. In fact, I checked it rather carefully to make sure there was nothing of any great urgency that might need immediate attention.”Kyle paused and tried to think back on exactly what he could have put in his briefcase that would alert her to his and Rosa’s whereabouts, but nothing came to his mind.“You mean you actually opened my brief case and went through my papers? His face was stone. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and looked at her firmly. “And what did you find?”She didn’t answer.He took his hands out of his pockets and walked close to where she was standing and sat down on the sofa, spreading the back of his tailored coat over the cushion. “You should be more careful,” he said. “That kind of inquisitiveness can get you into all kinds of trouble.” Jenny bent over and starred him in the face and couldn’t believe what she heard herself say. “Yeah, so can stealing someone’s kid.” She straightened up and looked in the kitchen at Margie who was fascinated by the way Jenny stood up to him.Klye was bowled over by her implication. He rose from the sofa and approached her, gripping her arm in his large hand and holding it tightly as he starred into her eyes. Jenny jerked her arm free and took refuge behind the living room chair. The last time he used that kind of strength on her, they had spent the night making the most unforgettable love she had ever known. It was hard to believe that the man who was once so adoring, had turned out to be so mean-spirited. Margie took a few steps into the room, realizing his anger, just to reassure Jenny she was nearby.“Careful lady,” he said, his brows tight. “I don’t like being threatened.” “I don’t think I care what you like,” Jenny said. For the past fourteen years, I’ve done nothing but wonder how she’s been doing, what kind of food she likes or who her friends are. I checked the mailbox constantly hoping to get a letter or phone call from you telling me where you’d taken her, and why. Somehow, I thought you cared about me too.” Kyle threw his arms in the air. “For Pete’s sake woman, you were just a one night fling. What did you expect, that I’d fall in love with you?” He turned and faced the wall and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have ever known you were pregnant if I hadn’t accidentally run into you six months later.” He turned to her. “And I can bet you weren’t going to tell me either were you?”Jenny bolted from behind the chair and stood at an arm’s length from him. Kyle’s body stiffened as he stood face to face with a woman he was likely seeing for the first time. He was unprepared by her stand against him.“Oh, so now it’s my fault,” she snorted. “Seems to me that you were the one that made the decision to cut me out of her life with you lies. You took advantage of the fact that I had been living on a limited income and wasn’t financially able to raise her myself. I couldn’t afford a lawyer or even a private investigator to track you down. And you knew it. Tell me Kyle, were the hell do you get off playing God with people’s lives?” Kyle backed away and moved swiftly toward the door. He put his hand on the knob, then turned slowly to look at Jenny. The sharp lines of anger between his brows softened. “She’s not a baby anymore,” he said. “If you interfere now, it’s only going to cause a lot of confusion for her. Is that what you want?” Jenny hesitated a moment, weighing what he had said.“Why, what did you tell her about me?” she asked. “Does she even know I’m alive?” They stopped and looked at each other without speaking. Then Kyle left. Jenny had her answer. She lowered her head and sniffed back her tears. “He’s right,” she said. “It’s been too long. If she thinks I’m dead, maybe it’s for the best.” Margie came into the room and pressed Jenny against her, letting her cry long and hard without asking her to explain.Kyle listened from the other side of the door, feeling a bit deflated by the sound of her cry. At the time, he thought, telling Rosa her mother was dead seemed like the right thing to do.Margie took Jenny to the sofa and sat her down and handed her a cup of steaming black coffee. Then she slid herself down alongside her. “Jenny, I’m so sorry,” she said, smoothing her hair. “I wish you would have told me about this a long time ago.” She reached over to the end table next to the sofa and pulled out a few tissues, placing them in her hand. Jenny wiped her nose and rolled the tissue between her fingers.“Is it wrong?” Jenny asked. “Wrong for me to want to be her mother?”Margie took Jenny’s hand and leaned over to look at her face. “No,” she said. “It’s the most natural thing in the world for a woman to want to be a mother.”“Then why did I give my baby away?” Jenny began to cry harder. “Listen honey, you were young. You can’t keep blaming yourself. Sometimes we all do things we regret later. It’s part of growing up, I guess. But what matters now is that you want to be part of her life.”Jenny stopped crying and took a deep breath, then rested her head on Margie’s shoulder. “You know, every time I see a child on the street, I try to picture what my daughter would look like at that age. I just can’t seem to help myself.”“Oh honey, stop beating yourself up,” Margie said. “Of course you’re curious. Like I said, it’s only natural.”Margie lifted the cup to Jenny’s face. “Now try to relax if you can and have a little coffee. It’ll make you feel better. We can talk some more later.” Jenny took a sip from the cup then placed it on the end table. Her voice dropped sadly. “I’m so tired,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll lie my head down.” Margie stood up from the sofa and swung Jenny’s legs on top the cushions. Since the arms on the sofa had been worn through to the wood, exposing the cotton, she went into the bedroom and brought out a pillow. “There you go,” Margie said, gently easing Jenny’s hair aside in one hand and placing the pillow beneath her head with the other. “Is that better?” Jenny looked up and hazily smiled, her state of distress still present. “Yes, thank you,” she replied. “How about a blanket too?” Margie asked, heading back to her bedroom. “He changed her name to Rosa,” Jenny said matter-of-factly, as if she were speaking casually about a mere acquaintance.Margie turned to meet her eyes. “What?” Jenny did not answer, starred blankly ahead, her mood calmer now. “I named her Grace, after my grandmother, but he changed it to Rosa.” Forgetting the blanket, Margie went back and sat on the floor next to the sofa and began smoothing her hair again.“Shh,” she whispered. “Just let it go for now. We can talk about it later.” Margie looked at Jenny’s pale, tired face as she slept and wondered why she had not seen it before. She was probably stricken with guilt from what she had done and too ashamed to tell anyone; even her best friend. It was at this night that she realized the agony Jenny had endured for so long as a result of Kyle’s misguided notion to live in secrecy. When Jenny woke, the two spent several hours sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee to stay awake, Margie listening intently while Jenny revealed what she had done and how Kyle had been involved. Kyle went back to his room at the Cheshire Hotel and stayed there all day and into the evening, mindfully reconstructing the words he had with Jenny. He sat in the dark, vaguely listening to his conscience telling him he had done the right thing, not realizing that the underlying reason was his conviction to protect his reputation, which was unconsciously dominated by his ambitions. He was beginning to wish he had never come back to Manhattan on business fourteen years ago. The only way he was able to cope with his mangled life was to try to justify the purpose behind his actions. There was the element of concern that Jenny was black. And knowing how judgmental people could be, he worried that Rosa would essentially be the one most scorned. Then there was Frank Bayard—his employer. For years Kyle had told Frank that Rosa’s mother had suddenly died, and knew full well that if his lie ever got out, chances were that he would never hold the reins at F.C. Bayard’s. The one thing Frank Bayard despised more than anything else was dishonesty, especially among his employees. His stomach started to churn. Everything he had worked for was at risk, his job, his reputation, possibly his freedom. Unsure as to how much Jenny had learned about him while spying through his briefcase caused him alarm. Maybe she learned all that was needed to prosecute, he thought. Tomorrow at first light he would go back to the bar and retrieve the briefcase to find out.A blinking neon sign across the street at the Rendezvous nightclub flashed an irritating red light on his face as he starred out the window. Watching the people walk up and down the sidewalks in herds, appearing as though they all had somewhere important to go fascinated him. Everyone has an agenda, he thought, and life goes on with or without us. Then he turned his head to his tiny dwelling composed of four walls, a bed, a dresser, a nightstand and a bathroom no bigger than a closet and looked around, realizing his loneliness. He moved away from the window and fumbled through the dark to find the small lamp sitting on the dresser in the corner of the room. He found the switch and clicked it on, giving the room a soft glow. He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face and dried it with a towel, then brushed his teeth and rinsed out his mouth. In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself and noticed deeper lines around his eyes and how much more his hair had grayed. When he came out of the bathroom, the towel around his neck, he returned to the window and looked out onto the brightly-lit city, watching as a car sped down the street, totally disregarding a pedestrian crossing, swerving and blowing its horn, the driver yelling profanities as he passed. He shook his head, believing his instincts about people to be true. He had always hated the city and the hullabaloo that goes with it. He wished he could spend more time at Brynwood where sometimes the only sound heard was his own breathing. Kyle turned around and sat on the windowsill, his mind locked on the episode at Jenny’s apartment, faintly recalling the time when they had been passionate lovers. Her dark skin had a velvety softness that reminded him of a delicate leaf, her pink lips flaming with intent, her passionate face finely accented with perfectly arched brows and gentle brown eyes. She was young and fresh, about fifteen years his junior. He thought of her as the tender seed of fruit; sweet, yet fragile. She had been a nightclub singer at Romeo’s in downtown Manhattan, doing three sets a night for a modest wage. For nearly a week he frequented the club to watch her perform, and each time he did the power to resist her was overcome by desire. Before the night ended, a passing look or wordless invitation lead them to her apartment where they first embraced, voices filled with pleasure, moving in silent unison, too intense to speak a word, yet able to understand at a glance. Temporarily, they were disconnected from the rest of the world, neither one knowing the impact of their lust. A look of humor crossed his face when he remembered the less than appetizing meal she had made him the following morning. Admittedly, she confessed she had never been much of a cook, which was obvious when she had come into the bedroom carrying runny eggs, burnt toast and the morning paper saturated with coffee stains on a serving tray.Kyle raked through his hair with his fingers and sighed. There was no right way to undo what had been done. And he felt uncomfortable crowding his mind with useless memories from the past. It made his head throb. He went to his travel bag, the one he always used to carry shaving cream, razors, a toothbrush and paste, and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He twisted the cap off, removed the cotton, lifted the bottle to his mouth and shook two or three pills onto his tongue, washing them down with a mouthful of water from the bathroom faucet. Next, he took off his necktie and shirt, hung them on a hanger, pulled off his pants, folded them neatly on the crease, and hung them up as well. Afterward, he lied down on the bed, still disturbed by the echo of his own thoughts and fell to sleep.Chapter 12BurrillvilleIt was a raw day, with a little snow falling and gusts of wind sweeping the ground. Wrapped tightly in her coat and mittens, Rosa was headed for Russo’s bakery, knowing if she made it there early enough, she could beat Alexis and Macy and be the first to pick from the free-sample trays. As she glided through the snow in her red rubber boots, she noticed how fresh and clean everything appeared. The clouds in the distant sky were gray and she knew it meant another storm was brewing. A truck pulled up alongside her and the driver rolled down his window.“Top of the mornin’ to ya,” said the driver cheerfully, gentlemanly touching the brim of his hat. “And where might we be go'in on such a shivering day?” Rosa stopped and smiled when she saw it was Bernie McDonough (a.k.a. Bernie Backup), a private man, one who kept to himself, never needing to engage in useless gossip and only speaking of nonessential things like the weather. The old Irishman was different from anyone else that she had ever met before, but he was one of the good guys; the kindness man she had ever known. Rosa looked over at him and smiled, giving him the rest of the customary Irish hello that he had taught her. “And the rest of the day to you Mr. Mc D,” she said, joyfully. “Head’n somewhere special are ya?”“Yeah, the bakery,” she replied. “Ah, the bakery,” he said, revving his engine. “Sweets for a sweet; a delightful combination.” He fumbled for the gearshift and nodded his head to the back of the truck.“That old fool back there’s me dog, Boner. He’s got an appointment to see the vet; picked up an awful itch he did. Look at him, almost got all of the hair scratched off his back.” Rosa looked at the dirt-ground dog starring at her with its mouth gaped open and slimy saliva dripping from its tongue. It was her opinion that the poor thing had never had a good bath. He had to be the ugliest mutt she had ever seen. His head appeared two sizes too big and he had a pink and black spotted nose. It was too funny to keep from laughing as she stood at the side of the road, looking at the two of them. Rosa wondered if it was true that dog and master really do begin to resemble each other after a while. Bernie shook his head, regarding the dog, and started rolling up his window and slowly pulling away; his bald tires spinning on the frozen road while his dog stumbled around in the back. Rosa held her breath from the fumes and waved as the truck drove off. Seeing his old dog reminded her why she was going to the bakery this morning and the excitement to get there was exhilarating because it was the first time in her life that she had ever owned her own pet.Outside the bakery, Rosa yanked the mittens from her hands then turned the doorknob and went in. Just as she suspected, the baked goods were finished and had already been neatly displayed. The succulent smells swaddling her nostrils and the sight tormented her taste buds. She looked around and was glad to see that Lane was not there entertaining himself with his unmannerly cracks, malicious in content and verbally course. No one was around, not even Russo.“Hello,” Rosa yelled into the still room. “Is anyone here?” In an instant, Russo came out from the back, wiping his flour-covered hands over his apron.“Oh, Rosa” he said, smiling. “Hello dear, you’re right on time.”“I am?” she said, questionably.“Yeah, I just got done milking the cats. I’m sure as soon as they’re done they’ll all be out here running about the place. Why don’t you take off your coat and wait a spell while I go into the back and bring out something that I’ve been wanting you to try.” He turned and went to the back room and brought out peppermint candies in different holiday shapes and colors. He had red candied bells and stockings and green candied wreaths and trees, each with a ribbon attached making them ornamental in nature. He dangled one at her face. “Go ahead, try it,” he said, encouragingly. Rosa took it, of course, and licked it slowly.“Well?” he prompted, curiously. “What’d you think?”Rosa nodded. “Not bad,” she said, easily. “Not bad at all.”Russo took a deep breath as though he was relieved, then spun around.“Don’t move,” he said. “I have something else to show you.”“What?” she asked.“Wait here, I’ll be right back. It’s a surprise.” As Rosa stood by the counter slobbering on the candy waiting for Russo to return, the door opened, and with a gust of snowy wind that blew in, so did Lane, stamping the snow from his boots onto the floor and tossing his cigarette outside. He stopped, looked at Rosa and with a backward shove of his foot, he kicked the door shut.“What’s ya got there sweet thing?” he said, moving toward her in slow threatening steps. “Looks awfully good.”Rosa did not move. She met his eyes from a point blank range and did not change her expression as he drew nearer. “You want something even sweeter to lick?” he said, making as if to unzip his pants, but stopped when he heard his uncle’s voice.“Okay,” Russo said, approaching the room, his attention momentarily averted to his nephew. “Oh, Lane, I need you to go out to the wood pile and bring in some more logs for the stove. Try to get the pieces from underneath that aren’t wet.” Lane hesitantly nodded, his expression fading to resentment because he was not one to take orders lightly. Rosa looked at him fully, seeing the angry flash of his black eyes turn red, which always meant trouble for somebody. He didn’t like most people. He was introverted and he had a bad temper and a sarcastic manner when people irritated him. He stormed out of the bakery and slammed the door hard behind him. Russo shook his head. “It’s hard to believe that boy used to be an athlete,” he commented. “I can hardly get him to do even the smallest of chores. I told him if he wants to take over this business one day, he’d better start showing a little more enthusiasm.” He laughed. Respectfully, Rosa flickered a smile. “Anyway,” he continued. “How would you like to come down here and work for me a couple of hours in the morning…on Saturdays? Once you turn fourteen, I can legally hire you to work a few hours a day.” His beaming eyes indicated that he was quite serious about the offer. And when he lifted a clean white apron in front of her face with the initials R.B. sewn in the upper left-hand corner, she knew he wasn’t joking. Ironically, the apron was the right size, small. When she did not respond, he lowered the apron and could see by the blank look in her eyes that she was not enthused by the idea. And just as she was about to tell him so, the front door swung open and Lane came back in and up to his neck with an arm-load of wood. With a thrust of his shoulder he jerked the door shut and walked to the corner of the room where he dropped the wood onto the floor, blasé to the fact that when he did he broke several jars of homemade preserves the church had made.“Careful son,” Russo said, “Or we’ll have those ladies down here giving us a preaching. Now clean up the glass before anyone steps in it.” Lane’s face went rigid. He let out an irritating sigh and went to the storeroom to get the broom. As he swept the floor, moving the glass back and forth, he leered at Rosa with dark savage eyes. Rosa tried to ignore what she suspected was going through that infernal mind of his and turned her head back at Russo, trying to think of a way to let him know that she had no interest in working at the bakery; not as long as Lane was around anyway. Looking back over her shoulder again she wondered why Lane wanted people to dislike him so much. She turned back and looked Russo in the eyes. “Sorry,” came her instant reply. “Georgene says that animals need a lot of attention, so I don’t think I’ll have time to work for you.” Russo searched her eyes and sensed her reluctance. “That’s all right kiddo,” he said, as he turned to hang the apron on a hook. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get someone else once I put out a sign. Speaking of signs, I think it’s time we let folks know we’re open.” Rosa followed Russo to the front door and when Lane took the broken glass back to the storeroom she seized the opportunity to ask why he needed another employee.“Excuse me Mr. Russo, but what about him?” she whispered, gesturing in Lane’s direction. “I thought he was helping you. Are you going to fire him?” The expression on her face spoke volumes about what she hoped he would say. “No,” Russo said solemnly. “I’m thinking of retiring. And when I do, I suspect that boy’s going to take my place. I just thought it would be a good idea to get someone in here to learn the business and cover the register once in a while, that’s all.” Rosa gasped. “But he’s…….”She thought to tell Russo everything she knew about Lane, a thief and a liar. She hated him and everything about him, especially the way he abused his uncle’s loyalty to him even when he didn’t deserve it. Why, she asked herself, why can’t he just get the notion and leave this town. Not even the Winslow boys compared to his despicable behavior, even on their worse days.“What?” Russo asked. “He’s what?”Rosa paused and whispered through her hands. “Well, first of all, he’s not very nice. And second, he has bad breath, probably from smoking. You really should make him smoke outside.” Russo smiled and nodded agreeably. “But he’s family,” he said, sympathetically. “He’s all I got. Ever since my brother and his wife put him out, he’s been living with me and I’ve sort of taken him under my wing. I know he’s still a little rough around the edges, but I feel responsible for him. It’s not easy for him being the kid of the town’s drunk and all.” He showed no emotion in his face when he talked about his brother. And it was the first time she had ever heard him speak of his family. “I think after awhile he’ll come around. I just need to work on him some more, that’s all.” Russo patted her on the back. “He could use a friend, ya know. Why don’t you try to talk to him? Maybe you two could get to know each other better.” “No!” Rosa quickly protested. She looked over her shoulder and felt Lane’s seedy eyes following her to the counter as he pretended to be organizing jars of honey on a shelf across the room. She turned to Russo and looked up at him with pitiful eyes. “Can I just take ?clair and go home now?” “Sure thing kiddo,” he said with a wink. “Let me go back and get her.” When Russo was out of earshot, Lane bent forward and started laughing ruthlessly, then lifted his head to see if he had caused Rosa to react.“Why don’t you try to talk to him,” he said, sarcastically mocking his uncle. He spit the toothpick that he had been gnawing onto the floor, then lit a cigarette and took in a long drag. A menacing look crossed his face as he moved toward her, and when he opened out his hand as if to be offering his friendship, Rosa, not being emphatic to his phony gesture, turned and started walking to the storeroom to find out what was taking Russo so long. As she walked away, she vaguely heard his voice at her back saying, “Maybe you ought to be a little more polite next time bitch.” His remark was just an attempt to take another shot at her, but she refused to let it spoil her mood. It was only a matter of time until she would find a way to revenge the horrible ways that he had treated her for so long.In the storeroom Rosa saw Russo attempting to stuff the over-grown cat into a box. “Mr. Russo!” she exclaimed. “Stop, you’re going to kill her.” Startled by the tone of her voice, he dropped the cat and it ran out into the storefront. “Well, my dear,” he said, sitting down on a sack of flour. “I wouldn’t be putting her in the box if I thought it was going to kill her.” He stood and brushed the cat hair from his apron. “Come on, let’s hurry up and get her before she gets outside; then she’ll be gone all day.” Together, they hurried to the storefront where Rosa saw Lane holding the cat in his arms, stroking its back and wearing a gnarly grin on his face.“Give her to me,” she ordered, angrily. Lane smiled. “Why don’t you come over here and get her.”“No,” she replied sharply. “Just put her down, right now.”“Okay,” Lane said, forcefully slamming the cat down on the floor. Rosa felt herself panic when she did not see the cat move and rushed to its side. “What’s wrong with you boy?” Russo said with a brisk wave of his hand. “Now get out back and cut some wood before I call you a cab.” Lane’s eyes met Russo’s and he looked at him daringly as though he was mentally challenging his authority, prepared to fight if he had to; giving in to the wild animal behavior to which he had become accustomed. His eyes were strained and red and he refused to blink. His brow became wet with perspiration and ran in rivulets over the bridge of his nose. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead then looked over his shoulder when he heard Rosa crying. “You killed her you hateful bastard!” she screamed, kneeling before the cat, her hand stretch to touch its still body, her gaze fixed on his, waiting to hear him tell her he regretted what he had done. “Too bad,” he said icily, and there was no sound of sympathy in his voice. She watched him with sad eyes as he walked away and the sight of him made her want to kill him when he looked back over his shoulder grinning from ear to ear.Russo rushed to her and knelt down on his knees to the other side of the cat. He drew in a deep steady breath and tried to comfort her. “That boy’s really getting out of hand,” he said, lifting his eyes to her shaking body as she cried in her hands. “I’m sorry, he had no right to do that.”Rosa leaned forward and slammed her hands on the floor. “You see what I mean?” she cried out. “He’s not a nice person at all. When word gets around that he’s in charge around here, people will stop coming and the bakery will close.” She looked up at him through a pool of tears. He caught her hand in his and held it tight. “Don’t worry dear. You just leave him to me.”She lifted her eyes to his. “Now you know why people don’t like him?” she said. “It’s because he’s so mean.”Russo nodded and looked down at the cat. He knew she was right about everything she said about his nephew. Lane was his problem and he shouldn’t be hers. It was time that he faced what he didn’t want to admit before, that he had failed to help the troubled teen become an honest and hard working asset to society. Perhaps the years he had spent growing up in the environment his brother had created had done irreversible damage. He was very concerned about what to do next and thought to call him in and make him tell Rosa that he was sorry for what he had done, but he knew some thing go beyond apology. He looked at Rosa and smiled. “I think she just had the wind knocked out of her,” he said. “Look, she’s still breathing.” Rosa looked wide-eyed at the cat and noticed a faint up and down motion of its body, indicating life. “Yeah, you’re right. She is breathing.”Within a few seconds of stroking the cat’s body, it opened its eyes and unsteadily began to get up. “Ah, ?clair, you funny cat,” she said, taking the cat into her arms and gently pressing it against her chest. “You’re okay.”Russo let out a deep sigh. “You can wipe those tears away now,” he said. “I think she’s going to be all right, now let’s get her into the box.” He picked up the box and handed it to Rosa and she carefully placed the cat inside and folded the flaps down, locking them over one another to insure that the cat could not get out as she carried it home.“There you go precious,” she said, lightly tapping the top of the box. “Pretty soon you’ll have a new home with me and no one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” Russo moved forward and hugged her.“Can I give you a lift home?” “No thanks,” she replied. “I don’t mind walking.” She stood there for a moment, blinking back the tears that had not yet dried and took a deep cleansing breath.“You understand this box is going to be quite heavy, don’t you?”“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” she said.“Oh, I’m not worried,” he said laughing. “I’ve seen what you can do when you put your mind to it. You’re a survivor, I’ve always known that.” She figured he was referring to the Christmas program the night before, but was in too much of a hurry to leave that she didn’t bother to ask him to explain what he meant. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, the door opened wide and Lane stood in the doorway towering over her, still holding the ax in his hand and the butt of his cigarette dangling from his lips. He turned his head, flicked the butt outside then took a fresh cigarette from his ear and propped it on the corner of his mouth. He did not light it. He smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile that comforted. “So, heading home with your pussy huh,” he said with the same type of sexual innuendo he always had. She lifted her face slowly, not allowing a hint of emotion to show in her eyes.“Leave me alone,” she said starkly, pushing her way past him.He half-laughed and gripped the doorknob firmly and did pelvic gyrations at her, forcing her to move even quicker.“Ten bucks says that cat gets eaten by a spook,” he mumbled at her back.“Shut up,” she said looking back. “No wonder nobody likes you.”“I enjoy my own company,” he said stoutly, fingering the fly on his trousers. “Wanna see?”“You’re disgusting,” she said wrinkling her nose. “Don’t speak to me.”He pushed out his lower lip as though he were insulting her mood, “Ah, poor little baby.”“That’s enough Lane,” Russo scowled. Lane stood in the open doorway smiling; his crooked tar-stained teeth showing and watched her leave. “Come on back now, ya hear,” he yelled, then slammed the door and idly watched her from the window. Rosa was furious, but she compressed her lips and bit back the temptation to respond. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. He frightened her when he looked that way; cold, hard and uncaring. Next time, she promised herself, she wouldn’t let him get to her so.As she made her way down the snow-covered road toward the manor, she began to feel concern because she realized she had not seen even one of ?clair’s kittens the whole time she was at the bakery. It made her feel sick in the stomach to think that they had succumb to one of Lane’s demented pranks, a theory best pushed from her mind since she knew there was nothing she could do about it. Her voice was calm and steady as she talked through the box to the cat hoping to settle its constant meowing. When she made it safely to the manner she rested a moment on the porch then went inside. There was no one home because she had noticed that the El Camino Georgene drove was not there. The minute she was inside the manor, she began lifting the flaps on the box and when she did, the cat, frightened by the unfamiliar surroundings, leaped out and began hissing and scurrying up and down the hall, meowing uncontrollably. Rosa followed slowly behind and waited for her to settle. Finally the cat took refuge in a corner between the grandfather clock and the wall and when Rosa approached and stood over her, the cat lifted its head and opened its mouth to meow, but nothing came out. Rosa laughed and reached down and pulled the cat up into her arms and kissed its head. “Oh ?clair, you funny cat, you don’t have to be scarred.” Swaddled lovingly in her arms, she took the cat upstairs to her room, which would essentially be its home, and placed it on her bed. “There you go,” she said, gliding her hand along its arched back to the tip of its erect tail. “Home sweet home.” Then she got down on her knees and looked directly into the cat eyes. “You must never leave this room without me, you hear? My father will not be very happy if he sees you. Not that he doesn’t like cats. It’s just that…..” She paused. Her father never really told her that he forbade animals in the house, or that he didn’t like them. Somehow it was understood though.“Maybe you’d like a tour of the house before anyone gets home. It’s big and spooky and I know all the best places to hide.” With that, she picked up the cat and began walking down the hall, stopping when she got to her father’s room, then continuing onward past the vacant rooms, down the long stairway, through the corridor and down the hall past the dining room and into the kitchen. “I bet you’d love some milk,” she said, placing the cat on the kitchen table and walking to the refrigerator. She turned when she heard the cat growl; a sound she never knew a cat could make. “?clair, what’s wrong?” Suddenly the cat bolted from the table and started running down the hall toward the front door.Rosa followed after her. “Get back here!” When she caught up with the cat, she saw it pacing back and forth at the front door. She could not tell whether it was frightened or just wanted out.“What’s wrong with you,” she said, lifting it up and carrying it back to the kitchen. Again it wiggled out of her arms, scratching her on the chest with its hind claws and ran back down the hall to the front door again. She could not figure out what was causing it to behave so peculiar. One thought was that it was homesick and wanted to go back to the bakery. Another was the known fact that animals can sense things like earthquakes and storms long before they happen. And she also read somewhere that they may possibly sense the presence of spirits. One thing she knew for sure was that something had spooked it. She paused for a moment and began to feel a bit nerved herself when she recalled to her mind what Lane had said earlier about spooks. “Let’s go back up to my room?” she said, rubbing her face against the cat; its eyes large and black with expanded pupils; its heart pounding rapidly. In her room the cat seemed relaxed and playful. There was something about its strange behavior that implied that there may be something eerie going on in the manner that was not of the living presence, but rather the spiritual past. Could the stories she heard about Brynwood be true? From her window she noticed how different the Mausoleum looked during the day than at night; unreal perhaps. At night, the blackness seemed to bring it to life; a phenomenon of imagination unaccountable and based purely on speculation. Spirits from the great beyond believed to be calling from an alternate world; heaven or hell, possibly. The intensity of her gaze had left her shaking inside. In a flash she reached for the curtains and quickly drew them together and tried to ignore the unsettling thoughts by flicking a string on the cat’s face to get it to play. About an hour later, Georgene came home. Rosa was standing at the top of the stairs when she arrived. She said nothing as she stood there gawking at the new look Georgene was sporting. It was obvious that she had been at the beauty parlor because her hair had just been dyed an awful shade of reddish orange and it was twisted in a beehive and held in place with cheap plastic barrettes that sparkled. Plus there was that weird chemical smell in the air.Rosa gasped as she leaned over the upstairs banister, watching what reminded her of a nightmare she once had when the dust balls under her bed began swirling together like an out-of-control storm. But this one was real. It had legs and it was humming and heading for the library. Rosa laughed. Oh, if only she knew what goes through her head. Georgene entered the library and poured herself a Bloody Mary and stood there a moment with her eyes gazed at the mirror on the wall. She reached out and began conversing with the image, though no longer was the reflection starring back, her, but rather a figment that her psyche had created. The power she gave it controlled her unconscious mind and told her what to do and how to act. At this moment she was its servant, and more than that, its victim. She cried and begged to the mirror to tell her what a good girl she had been. “I have done everything you said and yet I am still ugly,” she cried. “Look at me…I’m ugly….my whole body. No wonder he doesn’t love me.” Without saying anything more, she fell back on the leather chair and panted like she had just run a ten-mile race. Then she leaped onto her feet and starred into the mirror, almost like she was fixedly studying her reflection. She spoke to it again, this time with a more disturbing intensity. “Why in God’s name should I even try to go on?” Her voice was high pitch and trembling. She took a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right,” she said weakly. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Please don’t be angry. If you give me another chance I—I promise I’ll……” At that moment there was silence. It was almost as though she let the image finish the sentence. Rosa felt a little shiver run up her spine as she watched from the keyhole. Her housekeeper was completely crazy at best, but there was still something about her, a wildness, a sorrow that only she could relate to. She didn’t care. They had spent so many years together in the manner that her mental status didn’t seem to matter anymore. She sensed how great her pain was, her need, and she knew who it was that tormented her unfulfilled desire….her father. But the bitch of it was, he didn’t really give a damn and it was costing her a piece of her soul more everyday. Rosa got up silently and walked away from the door and waited upstairs until she thought the episode had passed then went to the stairway banister and looked down into the stillness of the corridor. She could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the silence. The whole idea about her housekeeper and her father getting together was crazy, she thought, and wondered if Georgene knew it but couldn’t seem to help herself. She also wondered what would happen if her father found out how disturbed his housekeeper really was and the fact that she had kept her true identity hidden for so long. For now her secret would be safe. While lost in thoughts, a hand touched her back, startling her to quickly turn around. “Rosa,” Georgene said sharply. Rose looked into her eyes and stared as if she had just seen a ghost. Her mouth trembled. “Oh my gosh,” she said, catching her breath. “I thought you were in the….”“I was, I just got home a little while ago,” Georgene said. The look of pain was gone from her eyes. It was softer now than it had been a half an hour before and she had combed out her hair and washed the makeup from her face. Except for the color of her hair and her brightly painted fingernails, there was not a hint that she had ever been to a beauty parlor at all. But she was lovely in a dark sort of way.“Is everything okay,” Georgene asked. “You look a little pale.”Rosa nodded, thinking she should have been the one asking the question.“I’m fine,” she said, looking up at her housekeeper’s bleached face. She wished miserably that she had never followed her to the library. Strangely enough she didn’t feel trapped, alone or vulnerable in her presence. Rosa’s face beamed. “I have something to show you if you want to see it.” As usual Georgene followed. When they got to Rosa’s room, the cat jumped off of the bed and made for the door. Rosa quickly stopped it by blocking the doorway with her foot.“Oh no you don’t,” she said. “You get back in there.” When Georgene entered fully into the room, Rosa closed the door and knelt before the cat, scratching its back.“Isn’t she sweet?” she said, through glistening eyes.“Sweet I guess,” Georgene answered, with her ritualistic replay. Then she repeated, “Sweet! Just don’t let me catch it running around the house stinkin’ things up or I’ll make me a violin out of its innards.” Rosa looked up in surprise. She thought about the newspaper articles hidden under Georgene’s mattress and thought if she was capable of killing a human being, she could no doubt kill a stupid cat without blinking an eye. Nevertheless, she didn’t think the remark meant anything. By now she felt she knew her well enough to know when she was kidding around and believed her tough-girl come backs to be just an act. Oddly enough, Georgene was very special to her because they shared each others lonely lives, gradually building a bond as the years passed, almost like a wild animal to her cub. She moved into the house just to take care of Rosa, but ironically, she was the one most in need of needing looked after.“She’ll stay in here,” Rosa said. “I’ll make sure of it.” Georgene turned and opened the door to leave. But as she looked away there was a sad shadow lurking in her eyes. Rosa only caught a glimpse of it and she knew the trouble that weighed on her mind. There was pain in her own eyes as she spoke to her. “You’ll never see her beyond this door,” she promised. It was as much of a promise as she could make.“See to it,” Georgene said. Smiling for her was an effort. “But remember what I told you.” She seemed a thousand miles away even as she talked to her. When she became distant and starry, Rosa pulled her back by speaking of anything she could think of that sparked a positive reaction in her.“I’ve been kind of wondering about my birthday party, Georgene.” “Oh, yeah, that reminds me. After dinner, I’d like to show you some ideas I’ve come up with for your party.” Rosa’s brows raised, finding it hard to believe how all of a sudden her mood shifted back to normal, especially after everything that she had witnessed down in the library. Rosa smiled. “Okay, you win,” she said, reluctantly agreeing to let her have her own way by making the arrangements for her party and understanding it was her alternate avenue to yet another world of make-believe; a place of fantasy where she could be queen-for-a-day and sit at the head of the table like she were sitting on her throne. Rosa, of course, would likely be a guest at her own party along with a dozen or so other guests created out of her psychotic imagination.When Georgene left Rosa’s room, the phone rang on the table in the hall and she answered it. It was Kyle on the other end calling to let her know he would be leaving immediately for New Mexico on business and would not be home for Christmas. Her eyes were fixed ahead, her mouth stretched, smiling as she listened to his strong voice speaking, pursing her lips on the receiver to mentally touch his. She replied tenderly to him while thinking of a way to remind him of Rosa’s birthday coming up in two weeks.“Oh that,” were his exact words. Then he said his business in New Mexico could not wait and he would try to tie things up quickly and get back within the week. She flushed after he thanked her for letting him know about his daughter’s birthday, which wasn’t a position he took with her often. At this moment she felt a twinge of compassion coming from him that she had never felt before and sadly mistook his humanity for something more. The thought amused her. When they hung up, she gracefully glided down the curved stairway, looking at the array of displaced faces framed on the wall, touching each one as she passed and finally taking one last step onto the main floor. She knew now what she had to do.Chapter 13Queens, N.Y.Christmas day had got lost among the others. Jenny woke in the cold twilight of her room with a sense of new found reassurance for the first time that she could remember. It had been a long time since she could say she was truly a peaceful person.She rose from her bed and lounged in her robe, sipping coffee and starring from the window—the only window to her inexpensive but comfortable apartment; a choice far less glamorous than she would have liked, but it was well put together and she made it quite homey; always enjoying the simple pleasures. Looking across the street to the park, she noticed that there were already a number of people jogging briskly up and down the snow-trampled path in a steady pace to get their morning exercise before the next storm hit. It amused her to see that not even a holiday like Christmas could persuade the most health-conscience individual to take a day off. There was no getting use to the freezing temperatures of New York, she thought, looking down at the street traffic. Some winters seemed to last longer than others and often enough she wondered why she ever put up with it when she could be living on the west coast where people lived in a more stable climate all year long. Even her apartment felt icy cold with its thin walls and drafty windows. “Christmas is so over-rated,” she admittedly mumbled to herself. It was at this time of year that she found it hardest to bear. Fourteen years ago, Jenny had spent Christmas Eve in the hospital after experiencing what she thought were labor pains, but instead, was diagnosed with false labor and then sent home the following day. Two weeks later her water broke and her best friend Margie drove her to the hospital where she remained for seven days after having delivered an eight-pound girl. The moment she held her brand new baby in her arms, she found it hard to believe how anything could be so perfect; ten tiny fingers and ten little toes and a head full of black curls. She named the baby Amelia—her mother’s name; a godly woman with strength and compassion for others, born in Johannesburg, Africa, but exiled from the family when she met and later married a white missionary visiting from the United States. After her mother’s sudden death, Jenny, no more than seven, moved in with an aunt who lived in Brooklyn and remained there until she was eighteen. College was not an option because her father’s modest income was never enough, so as soon as she finished high school she got a job in a tavern waiting tables, smiling for tips and working long hours on her feet. At twenty-one, Jenny applied at Romeo’s Nightclub as a lounge singer and began moonlighting on her days off from the tavern in order to supplement her income. Then in March of ‘52, while on business, Kyle entered the Club and was immediately awestruck by the talented beauty’s charm and magnetism; temporarily humbling his otherwise abrasive personality in order to ingratiate himself into her bed. Eight months had passed before he had returned to New York, discovering to his surprise that she had become pregnant. Jenny, being much younger than Kyle and working two jobs to make ends meet, not to mention the tight living conditions in her tiny apartment in downtown Queens, hesitantly agreed to let Kyle raise the baby in order to give the life that she knew she could not. Shortly after the baby was born, Kyle had gone to Jenny’s apartment and took Amelia home to live with him. Everything else after that day never seemed to matter. Until recently, Jenny had no idea where he had been living or even that he had renamed the baby, Rosa. For years she has relived the memory of that day over and over again.Jenny pressed her forehead against the cold glass of her window. She smiled, thinking that this year was going to be different. The person most important in her life was now within her reach. The night of the Christmas program was a revelation for her. She made contact with her daughter, even if it was through blinding stage lights. It would have been a major coup for her to yell up to her, I’m your mother. But she knew Kyle was right when he said that her interference would only cause their daughter harm. That was the last thing Jenny wanted to do. If Rosa was ever going to know who her mother was, it would have to be done with a great amount of understanding and a well thought out plan. Since the bar was closed for the Holiday, it gave her the day to think—think about everything. She thought about Kyle. Physically, he had barely changed from the last time she saw him. His hair was beginning to gray and dark circles had formed under his eyes indicating he had been working long hours. Her relationship with him was brief, even though to her it was a night filled with love. There had never been a time in her life when she felt more connected to another person than she was the night he held tight in his masculine arms; his warm breath panting in her ear as they made love. The memories caused her muscle to tense and shiver. As Jenny looked to the horizon where the sun would normally rise, she realized a storm was closing in. The sky had turned dark and snow began to dapple lightly on the window. She drew her robe tight, walked across the room to a lamp and switched it on. Curling her feet under her she sat on the sofa, opened a book to a marked page, and began to read. “Jenny!” a hardened voice shouted from the hallway outside her apartment. She paused, then laid the book aside and instantly leaped from the sofa, untied the belt to her robe, allowing it to drop to the floor. In her nakedness she pranced to her bedroom, quickly slid her thin legs into the pants of her jeans, then pulled on a sheer white blouse, working to close the buttons as she approached the door.“What do you want, Kyle?” she said, talking through the door.“I have to talk to you,” he said insistently.Jenny let out a long sigh. “What about?”“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”“I don’t have time for any more of your shenanigans. “Five minutes then I’ll be gone. For a moment there was silence, then the door opened and Kyle came in, carrying both his briefcase and a suitcase as well. He was sharply dressed in an expensive woolen suit, polished black leather loafers, and the same long winter overcoat he had worn the last time when he had come to her apartment. “Going somewhere?” Jenny asked inquisitively.Kyle nodded. “It’s a business matter,” he replied, putting on a careful expression and a determined smile, his eyes shifting down to her russet-colored nipples, which were visible through her delicate blouse and becoming progressively harder in his presence. She crossed her arms to block his gaze. Her legs quivered like jelly, while her head swam from the potency of his cologne; an aroma she had once delighted in. She blushed a dark red, then blurted, “It’s Christmas, why aren’t you at home with our daughter.” The slip almost revealed what she did not want him to know. She knew if she had said Rosa, he would have known that she had discovered information that he had been trying to keep hidden from her.He stood very still for a moment before responding, then looked over her head toward the ceiling as though he was too ashamed to look into her blaming eyes.“I told you, I have business,” he said. “But it’s really none of your business what I do. You’re not my mother.” Jenny sensed his guilt, though it had been her opinion that he didn’t seem to be the sentimental type. She gestured to the sofa and they sat down on opposite ends.“Okay,” she said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “Say what you came to say, then get out.” Before Kyle spoke, he looked past Jenny to the window. The dappling sound on the glass panes was more like a clicking as ice began to fall. The room was becoming darker as the storm’s conditions increased. Fire sirens blared by on the street below. Outside, visibility had worsened and the city was now a total whiteout. “Very well,” he said, constantly moving his eyes to the window to recheck the weather’s activity. His eyes fell back to hers. “I’m considering sending our daughter to a boarding school. It’ll do her good.” He advanced closer to her and pressed his hand on hers and she reacted by pulling away. “What’s wrong with the school she’s going to now?” she asked. “Is she having problems?” He didn’t answer. He stood from the sofa and began to walk toward the window were he saw the falling snow. Jenny’s eyes followed him. She stood and approached the window and realized that the storm had worsened significantly from the last time that she looked out.“It’s getting really bad out there, isn’t it?” she said.Kyle nodded. “Yes, it is. I think I’d better go before I can’t get out at all.There was a sudden silence as they both gazed outside at the parked cars and garbage cans being drowned by the sudden blizzard. Kyle went to the door and picked up his suitcase and briefcase and stood blankly, his face without expression, his eyes dark and hollow. “I suspect the airports are closed,” he said, watching Jenny as she moved away from the cold air seeping through the cracks of the window where the caulking had broken away. She ignored his concern about the airport. “You idiot,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kyle looked at her confused. “Why didn’t I tell you what?” he said. Jenny moved next to where he stood and looked up at him. “Where you took my daughter?” she said. “How could have you been so cruel? I can’t understand it.” “You’d have done exactly the same thing, maybe worse,” he retorted.Jenny’s mouth gaped. “Oh I hate it when people act so damn innocent.” He actually didn’t look one bit guilty, smiling, and the expression in his black eyes made her want to hit him, but as her body heated to the roots of her hair, she was able to hold back the impulse. “Not even a twinge of conscience, huh?”“We’ll have to take this up another time,” he said, as he turned to leave. Just then there was a loud booming sound like something had fallen on the roof. Immediately, the bulb on the lamp flickered, then went out. Jenny wrenched. Her wide eyes met his.“What was that noise?” Kyle bent to put his cases down, then moved to look out the window. The entire city, for as far as he could see was dark. Even the light on the church steeple at the end of the block was out. “A transformer must have blown,” he said. Jenny felt hard fingers feeling for her arm. “Come sit down. It’s not safe to walk around in the dark.” Jenny jerked her arm from his grip. “I know my way around my own apartment, thank you very much. Maybe you’re the one who should sit down while I look for some candles.” “Don’t be so damn difficult,” he said. “Just tell me where the candles are and I’ll get them.” Jenny thought to pull away, but for some reason, which she herself did not understand, seemed to enjoy his authority. “Fine,” she barked, pretending to be irritated by his need to take charge “They’re in my dresser; top drawer on the left.” Kyle nodded. “I’ll be right back.”As Jenny watched the outline of his masculine body glide through the dimness of her living room, she covered her mouth with her fingers to stop the trembling. A moment later, Kyle returned holding a red and white stripe twisted candle left over from last Christmas, and held it to her face. “Is this okay?” Looking at the candle, she distinctly recalled the last time she had used it; the only time, but she would not tell him and she wondered how long it would take until he remembered. Jenny nodded and wiped the misty memories from her eyes. Maybe he did recognize the candle, she thought, but didn’t want to admit it so she decided to play along. “Anything will do to get some light in here,” she said. “I’m just glad I didn’t throw it out when I meant to. A stubby little candle like that isn’t much good, is it?” He had to fight the temptation to tell her what he genuinely thought; that he knew why she had been saving it. His eyes skimmed the room.“Okay, do you have any matches?” “No,” Jenny answered. “All I have is a lighter.”“That’ll do, where is it?”Jenny moved to stand up but the force of his hand pressed her back down.“Just tell me where it is and I’ll get it,” Kyle said seriously. Jenny didn’t argue. She took in a deep breath and let it out with a short groan and pointed to where she last saw it, which led him toward the kitchen where he vaguely spied it lying on the table. “Found it,” he said in the distance. “You know,” he continued. “If you have electric heat here, this place is going to get cold real quick.” Jenny turned and looked at him.“Thin walls,” he said, shrugging his shoulder. “Plus, I think the electric is down.”“Well,” she said. “That explains why the radio isn’t working. I thought I could get a weather report. No matter I guess, we can see for ourselves what the weather’s all about.” Kyle moved slowly into the living room holding the candle with his hand cupped around the flame and placed it on the coffee table in front of Jenny.“Not much light, is it?” Then he sat down on a nearby chair.“It’ll do for now until the storm passes,” Jenny said, blowing warm air into her hands.Kyle stood, making as if to return to her bedroom. “You’re cold, let me get you a blanket.” Suddenly, Jenny began to feel suspicious of his motive to be so nurturing. There may have been a time when she would have welcomed this kind of attention from him, but that time had long passed and there was nothing he could say or do now that would change the past.Jenny jumped quickly to her feet. “Stop right there!” she insisted. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing mister, but it won’t work.” Kyle stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Jenny felt her insides shaking as she continued to verbally give him the venom bath of his life. “What makes you think you can come to my home and act like nothing has happened? You must really take me for a fool. I’ve waited fourteen years for an explanation, any explanation, but so far I haven’t got one. When I look into your eyes, I can’t help but wonder what went through your head when you thought you could run off with my child, and worst, hide her from me. You can’t imagine what it’s been like for me, living all these years, wondering and waiting and not knowing. And now when you have the chance to try and redeem yourself for what you’ve done, all you seem to be able to think about is the damn weather. My biggest mistake in this whole thing was to ever trust you in the first place. Look at you, all puffed up in your three-piece monkey suite, looking like you’ve just step out of some glamor guy magazine, acting as though you don’t have a care in the world—like nothings wrong. Well, something is wrong; very wrong. And I can’t believe you don’t see it. Guys like you really make me sick. Now before I forget I’m a lady, I want you to get the hell out of my apartment before I throw you out myself. Better yet, why don’t I call the police and have them throw you out instead.”The strong tone of her voice indicated she meant what she said and he knew she had every right to feel the way she did. He had given her his word and he lied. The pride and honor that he so much wanted to preserve had caused tragic consequences. “There’s no need to get so huffy,” he said, calmly. “I was only trying to help.” Standing close to him in the dim room, she looked up and focused on his smug face and suddenly felt sick to her stomach. He was beyond contemptible. She hurried to the door, picked up his briefcase and threw it at his feet. “Get out!” When his briefcase hit the floor, the lid opened and his sketches and pencils spilled out on the floor and she watched him drop to his knees, feeling the floor to put everything back inside.“Get this straight,” she shouted. “What you did to me can’t be forgotten by a few simple kind acts on your part. If that’s what you were hoping for when you came here today, you couldn’t be more wrong. I think you better leave, right now or I will call the police.” “Go ahead,” Kyle said, “Call the police if you want, but I bet the phone line is dead.” He could not help smiling as he watched her become more hysterical. The outspoken woman standing before him so adamantly outraged with fire in her eyes was certainly not the same woman he had known years back.“No,” Jenny retorted. “The phone line can’t be dead.” When she raced across the room to get to the telephone, she did not see his briefcase sitting on the floor and unknowingly tripped over it, hitting her face against the coffee table; the fall knocking her out. The next thing she knew after opening her eyes was that she was in bed. Her head was pounding and she had been undressed. “What happened?” she said, modestly pulling the sheet up to completely cover herself. “Where’s my……?”The voice she heard was soft and the words caressing. “Welcome back,” Kyle said facetiously, looking down at her from the side of the bed. “I haven’t really known you very long, but I wouldn’t think flying could be one of your better attributes.” He eased the wash cloth slightly from her forehead just enough to check to see if the bleeding had stopped.“That’s some gash you got there.” “M-my clothes. D-did you….?”“Oh that. Hmm. Yes. Well, since you were bleeding all over the place, I put them in cold water to soak out the blood. I hope that was the right thing to do.”Jenny wanted to nod agreeably, but her entire body felt like a truck had hit her. “That’s fine,” she whispered slowly, her voice fading. “Water won’t hurt my clothes. I don’t own anything expensive.” Kyle turned from the bed and went to the bathroom to re-wet the wash cloth with cold water. When he came out, he folded it twice and placed it gently back on her forehead. “I’m not sure, but you may have a concussion,” he said frankly. “Just in case, I’m going to have to wake you several times through the night.”Jenny looked up at him and attempted to smile. “How do you know to do that?” she asked.Kyle shrugged. “One of the guys I work with use to be a med student before coming to work at my company. I guess I learned it from him.”“Oh, and what company would that be?” she asked.Kyle did not answer. He held her off by examining her face. “Wow, that’s some gash you got there. It might need stitches.” When he saw that her face was flushed and the sheet moist, he went into the bathroom, carrying the candle with him, and opened the door of the medicine cabinet. The usual things were there. Behind a bottle of cough syrup was a small square tin that said aspirin. He pinched the edge until it open, and removed two pills, then filled a small paper cup with water and went back into the bedroom. Jenny’s eyes were closed and she was still. Very gently he felt her pulse and accepted that she had fallen asleep. She was pale, but breathing naturally.Kyle hung around Jenny’s bedside all night, drinking cold coffee to stay awake. Off and on he woke her to make sure she was all right. And each time she was aware of his kindness and unselfish attempt to nurse her bruises, which to her, was certainly out of character for him because before this she didn’t think he cared one way or another about her. It would be a long night.The next morning after the sun rose, the sky was the color of blue ocean water and the snow sparkled in the brilliant light. The streets of New York were half covered in a meadow of rolling whiteness. Every window was a sheet of ice. The power had come on some time during the night and the phone lines were back in service. When Kyle looked in on Jenny, she appeared to be resting peacefully. His eyes slid down her body and back up to the dark skin of neck and to her red supple lips. Desire kindled again somewhere in the black debts of his soul. If it were another day and another time, perhaps it would have been very natural for him to lie next to her, and lazily run his fingers along the silken curves of her naked body. But years of heartbreak when she did not know where he had taken her child had devastated her and he knew there was no going back. Only when it was too late did he realize what he had done. But as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom gazing at her as she slept, it was as if the past fourteen years had never happened and that they had just met for the first time. The enormity of his desire could not bring him to tell her what he had been feeling all along. He stilled for a moment, watching her, detecting an arousing heartbeat in his flesh below, knowing with uncertainly that he wanted her.He pinched his eyes closed, then moved away from the doorway and quietly left her apartment without a word.Chapter 14BurrillvilleRosa spent much of the afternoon in her bedroom entertaining Eclair the cat and listening to music on a small transistor radio. It was the last day of Christmas break before school returned to session. Christmas—another ordinary day. If it was not for a simple postcard sent by her father, the entire holiday would have been completely uneventful. The postmark on the envelope was a dead giveaway that he had likely picked it up in a gift shop in New Mexico. Dear Rosa, Merry Christmas, Be Home Soon, Dad. She lay with her head propped on a pillow while the cat slept on a folded blanket at the foot of the bed. The rhythmic tunes of the transistor were just beginning to surrender her to sleep when she felt something calling to her. Startled, she opened her eyes and looked down between her feet at the cat still asleep at the foot of the bed; eyes partially closed, head twisted, whiskers twitching. When she sat up and rolled off the bed, the cat woke, yawned and stretched its body long and stiff, then licked its paw. Although she had not actually been asleep, her head felt clogged with remnants of a dream. Or was it a dream? She went to the window and looked outside at the soft new snow glistening in the twilight sun. She stood perfectly still and gazed all around the grounds for as far as her eyes could see. The cat jumped off of the bed and onto the windowsill, looked up at her and meowed. When she looked down at the animal, it’s eyes were not the same as they had been a moment ago, swollen and beastly.The wind picked up again. It was almost as though it were growling. Her breathing became labored and a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. She turned from the window, toward her closet and opened the door. The prospect of going outside on such a frigid afternoon was the last thing she wanted to do, but something or someone was summoning her. Again, her curious nature would prevail, leading her to uncover the mystery. She hesitated, but soon pulled on her coat and boots and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving the manor. As she tramped across the snow-covered ground toward the unkempt five-stall stable, which was an exhilarating six hundred-yard walk when challenged with knee-deep snow, she stopped when she noticed other footprints marked in the snow. And they led in the direction of the stable. She knew they could not be hers because she had not been on the lawn since the last snowfall. These prints were new, even though the wind had blown a thin crust of snow over them. She lifted her foot and stepped inside the print. A perfect fit.As she stared straight ahead at the stable, knowing someone may be inside, she moved forward at a snails pace through the deep snow, as irregular gusts of wind lifted and tangled her hair around her face and in her mouth. It was essential that she not allow her mind to over-exaggerate what she was really thinking, so she forced herself to concentrate on the possibility that maybe a homeless person had crept inside to seek shelter from the cold. Too bad, she thought, trying to make light of the situation. He certainly would not get much warmth inside that drafty old place. At any rate, she propelled forward, following the tracks until she found herself further and further away from the main house. From this distance the big house looked half drowned in an ocean of rolling whiteness. Every window sparkled from the falling sun, and the chimney piped a banner of vertical gray smoke. Once at the stable’s door, she waited a moment, then reached for the handle and pulled hard, tugging at it until it opened just enough that she could push her small frame through. As she stood alone inside the dilapidated building, she suddenly thought of something; something that she hadn’t thought about before. What if a crazed angry lunatic had been lurking inside, ready to pounce on her the minute she stepped one foot inside the door? Not a sole would hear her scream. What if the madman dragged her to an isolated spot and buried her underneath the frozen ground? It would be months until the warmth of Spring melted it enough to reveal her mangled remains.Looking around, she was satisfied that she was alone, yet, her hands quivered. Think good thoughts! Think good thoughts! No other time when she visited the stable did it occur to her to pay attention to detail, so now when it had mattered the most, she was unable to recall whether or not anything was out of place. Though, as she stood motionless gazing around the drafty quarters, everything seemed perfectly normal. And it smelled typical of moldy decomposing bales of straw, which were piled everywhere.The hundred-year-old stable was constructed of thick wooden planks—now warped from time, allowing the frigid cold air to seep through. In fact, when it snowed, the inside parameter of the floor would get a thin layer of white dusting every time the wind kicked up. On sunny days, heavenly streams of light speared through every spaciously positioned board from the ceiling to the ground floor, which still had a light covering of straw. Most of the original windows were still intact. On the furthest wall were five stalls. In one stall was an abandoned flat-bottomed wagon with four broad iron wheels and a single wooden hitch, once pulled by horses or mules to transport and haul goods. In front was a wooden bench-seat , and on it lay a man’s shabby old hat and a leather whip. Mother Nature had been her cruelest. The weather-decayed vehicle was caked with cobwebs and the wood warped by years of neglect. Still, a certain aura of strength and pride was cast over the wreck, even in its ruin, as it stood patient as a faithful dog waiting for its master to return. Suddenly, Rosa was startled by a sound. When she turned her head to look up, she saw a barn owl lurking surreptitiously in the rafters, eyes wide, waiting. The nocturnal bird of prey had very keen eyesight, necessary when hunting for food. Today, a field mouse would be its unsuspecting target. With precise timing, the bird swooped down, wings flared and level, gliding, aiming; movements instinctive to the creature—the remarkable hunter, intelligent and efficient with a razor sharp beak and sword-like talons, sinking deep into its unsuspecting prey, ripping and tearing at the dying cuisine. Then, it flew back to the rafters where it would wait again.Yuck, Rosa mumbled and looked away. Her eyes moved around the rest of the area. She had never paid much attention to the pitch forks and barn brooms and picks and oil lanterns, the horse-drawn plow and the rusted chains hanging on rusted hooks, the watering troughs and all the tools depicting of a time when earlier farmers did not have the advantage of gas powered engines and electricity like the farmers today. It wasn’t just a dirty old stable with cobwebs, a leaky roof and owl’s eating field mice. It was a magical place—a bit unnerving at times when the wind pounded, creaking and lifting the unnailed boards, but nothing worse than that—not until recently when rumors of the mysterious deaths and murders, which were said to had taken place on the grounds and in the manor years ago, began to play on her mind. During the day, the weathered structure was seemingly tranquil, but at night it was as if everything which was supposed to be unreal, was not. At night, the wind became a voice and the planks—arms, the windows, eyes. The thing was alive, but only for awhile until the sun rose. But what if the wind was speaking? What would it say? Would it confirm what everyone had been saying all along about Brynwood and that the place was truly haunted? Or, was it just a case of common folks wanting to believe in something as mundane as witches and poltergeist merely to spice up their otherwise futile and inanely boring lives. Nevertheless, in spite of what she heard, Rosa tried very hard to not let such thoughts get the best of her. Not now. If she did, the stories of the manor would hold her victim like they had all the others. Brynwood was home. Always had been. It would be unnatural to fear it now after all these years.Night was setting in quickly. Pretty soon there would be no light at all inside the stable. Rosa looked outside the window and saw that the sun had fallen halfway behind the trees, and knew it wouldn’t be long until there was complete darkness. It unnerved her to think about being in the stable alone at night. She turned to leave, but was stopped by a rustling sound. Sounded like it was coming from one of the stalls.“Who’s there?” she said, reaching for the pitchfork. “You better show yourself right now. I have a weapon.”A dark figure began to move slowly from the shadow of one of the stalls. Rosa backed against the door and lifted the pitchfork up in case the assailant tried to attack. Her mouth quivered and she could no longer feel her lips; not by fear but more by the sub-zero temperature in the stable.“Come out where I can see you,” she muttered boldly. When the perpetrator finally showed it’s face, Rosa could not believe what she saw.“Alexis, what are you doing in here? Gosh you scared me. I thought you were a murderer.”The girl had been hiding in the stable for two days. She was shivering from head to toe, and she had not had anything to eaten in that time. Her face was streaked with tear-stained dirt. And pieces of yellow straw were entwined in her hair; her clothing ripped. Rosa lowered the pitchfork and dropped it to the floor. She approached Alexis, who was obviously too frightened to speak, her fearful eyes just starred right through her.“If you’re in here smoking, you’d better get out right now before I call the police.”Alexis did not answer. Rosa walked closer.“Did you hear me?” she said with intent to get a reaction. “I said I’ll call the police.” No reply. Rosa was completely bowled-over by her somber mood. It made no sense that with the opportunity to fight back, she did not. Frustrated, she turned to the door.“Okay, I’m leaving, and when I get back, you’re butt’s getting hauled off to jail.”“Wait,” Alexis said, smearing dirt across her face with the back of her hand as she wiped her tears. “Don’t go.” She sat on her legs with her head in her hands and started to cry. Rosa knelt down in front of her and sat there for a moment.“It’s your father, isn’t it?” she asked.Alexis pulled her face out of her hands and looked Rosa in the eyes. “He’s not my father,” she said matter-of-factly, sniffing back the tears. “He’s my stepfather. And I hate him. I hate him so much. I wish he was dead.” Rosa sat down and crossed her legs Indian-style. “What did he do now?”Alexis sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”“Why not?” Rosa asked. “It’s no secret that he’s been hitting you. Everyone knows it.” She straightened her legs and pressed them together, then leaned back on her hands. “Well, you can’t stay in here, it’s too cold. Besides, he’s going to come looking for you sooner or later.”Alexis inhaled deeply. “Yeah, and when he does, he’ll kill me. He always says he’s going to kill me. I just want to to somewhere far away where he can’t find me.”A strong gust of wind blew the door hard against the metal latch. The girls jumped and turned to see if someone was there. Rosa shuddered. Seeing the dark demonic image of old man Winslow’s body blocking the doorway was such a frightening thought that she too was genuinely terrified. And she had always believed the man was beyond human, born out of darkness, a servant of Satan. She knew it for sure. It was only the wind. Feeling relieved that they were safe in the stable, Rosa cautiously negotiated her next question.“Why did your mother ever leave you with him in the first place?” She asked.Alexis began to cry harder. “I don’t know. One morning I got up and she was gone. Since then, my stepfather has threatened to kill me. I guess he thinks it’s my fault that she left. I hate her too.”Rosa shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell someone that he’s been hurting you? Why didn’t you tell the police?”“Alexis lowered her head. “I can’t tell anyone about it.”“Yes you can,” Rosa said. “If you don’t, then how is anyone supposed to help you?” Keeping a watchful eye, she turned and looked back at the door. They were still alone. “He said he’d kill me if I told anyone, anyone at all. And now I’ve told you, my worst enemy. If you open your mouth about this to anyone, he’ll come after me, and he’ll do what he said. He’ll kill me and it’ll be all your fault. My blood will be on your hands. You have to swear that you’ll keep your big mouth shut. Swear to me, dammit. Swear to me right now, witch girl or I’ll…..” She drew a fist then started hyperventilating. With great effort she tried to catch her breath.“Relax. I’m not going to tell anyone.” Rosa said, watching the girl fight to resume easier, more controlled breathing. Ordinarily, she couldn’t have cared less about all of her problems because for as long as she could remember, they had hated each other. Even tonight as she patiently listened to the girl talk about the vile things her stepfather had done to her, there wasn’t much of a chance that they’d ever be friends.Rosa stood up from the cold, hard floor and brushed the dirt and straw from the seat of her pants. “So what are you going to do?” she asked. “You certainly can’t stay in here forever. There’s no food, no heat, and no toilet. Besides, sooner or later he’s going to send the hounds out to look for you, if he hasn’t already. Alexis stood to looked her straight in the eyes. “Can you hide me?”“Hide you! Where? No, I can’t hide you.”“Come on,” Alexis begged. “There has to be lots of good places to hide in that castle of yours.”“Yeah, but when Georgene catches you, she won’t hesitate for a minute to send you home. And then she’ll punish me.” Alexis looked at her with a pitying glance, being especially careful to not mix her words with what she was feeling. Her thought was that she didn’t care if Rosa was punished. All she cared about was herself. And right now what she needed most was food and a warm place to hide. “Please,” she pleaded. “Just hide me for tonight. I promise I won’t tell anyone you helped me. I won’t be any trouble.” Rosa nodded. “Okay, but just for tonight, and you have to do exactly what I say.”Alexis agreed, then pulled a cigarette out of her pocket, stuck it between her lips and struck a match to light it. She drew the smoke deeply into her lungs then blew it into the air above both their heads.“Hey,” Rosa said, disgustingly. “What are you doing?”Alexis took another quick drag.“What’s it look like I’m doing?”Rosa let out an annoying sigh. “Well, hurry up and finish it, will ya? I don’t like being up here after dark. And don’t think you can do that at the house. If Georgene smells tobacco smoke, she’ll get suspicious. When you’re done, throw it outside in the snow and make sure you cover it up in case the cops come looking for you out here.”“Who’d come the whole way out here?” Alexis said, lifting the cigarette to take another drag. When she sucked on the filter, an orangy glow shown in the darkness.“I don’t know, maybe no one. But let’s be smart and not leave any traces, all right?” Alexis smoked the cigarette down to the filter and held it pinched between her fingers. “Okay, I’m ready now,” she said, walking to door to flick it into the snow.“Wait,” Rosa said. “I just thought of something.”“What?” Alexis asked, turning before she got to the door. “Footprints—”“Huh?”“Footprints. When I was walking up here, I knew by the footprints in the snow that someone was up here.”“So,” Alexis said, puzzled.“Since the snow was so deep, I walked in your footprints to keep it from getting inside my boots. At the time I didn’t think anything about it, but now I’m glad I did. Don’t you see? There’s only one set of footprints in the snow….mine. If I had walked alongside the footprints, yours that is, then there’d be two. If the cops come looking for you, they’ll never figure there was two of us up here.”Alexis starred at her darkened figure. “What are you, a detective now?”Rosa laughed. “Lucky for you I am tonight.” She walked past her and looked outside to make sure no one was coming. “Okay, let’s go, and make sure when we walk back to the house, that you walk in my footprints. And be very careful about it. You don’t want to overstep or understep me. That would change the size of my foot, and make the cops suspicious.” Leaving the safety of the stable, the girls trudged slowly through the deep snow and onward into the pitch darkness of the night. Alexis clung tight to Rosa’s coattail, thinking how incredibly clever she was; more so than she ever knew or would admit. Rosa’s mind was fixed on where she could hide the girl, though any one of empty rooms would do. But then, of course, there was the secret room behind the library wall that no one except she knew about. She resolved that she’d allow her unexpected comrade one night of refuge in the hidden room, then at first light, she’d toss her out.As gusts of wind blew across the snowy lawn, they traveled every miserable step in their own silent thoughts.Once they approached the big house, the girls fell exhausted in the snow at the foot of a huge pine tree where they waited to catch their breath. It had been a long journey and their hands and feet felt frozen. Rosa got up and walked around the side of the house and noticed the front porch light was on, so with a crook of her arm, she gestured to Alexis. “Over here,” she whispered, pointing to a heavy ladder-like trellis that dominated the whole west wing of the house, towering upward to a second floor window, which she kept unlatched for just such emergencies. Hesitantly, Alexis got to her feet and followed.Noticing that the trellis was thickly covered with entangling ivy vines, Rosa suspected the climb would be much harder than expected. She went first, latching onto whatever she thought would hold her weight, then began pulling herself up, one careful step at a time. This was the first time she had challenged the trellis in complete darkness. But never had it failed her before so there was no reason to think anything would go wrong.“Come on,” she said, looking down at Alexis. “Grab onto the vines and pull yourself up.” Alexis was not the tomboy Rosa was, nor was she as adventurous, but she wasn’t about to show any fear in front of her enemy. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had looked so foolish back at the stable? The hard, mean-spirited exterior that she wanted everyone to see was an armor; her protection. By the time Rosa reached the windowsill, Alexis still had not advanced much from the ground, but she was with great effort. (Food and warmth being the motivation.)“I’m stuck!” she cried, tugging with her foot. “Dammit, I’m stuck!”“Sh-h-h,” Rosa said. “Be quiet.”“I can’t help it, I’m stuck.”“You better shut up or Georgene’s going to hear you.”“Do something,” Alexis said, looking up at Rosa.“I’m not coming back down there to get you. So either get your foot loose yourself, or you stay right there all night.”“I hate you Rosa.” “Good,” Rosa responded. “I hate you too, now move it!”Eventually, Alexis freed her foot from the jaws of the snarled vines, then pressed onward, climbing at a snail pace up the trellis, while Rosa looked down from her frozen seat on the sill. When the girl was within safe reach of the window, Rosa pulled at the ice-locked frame until it opened, falling inside to the floor.“Give me your hand,” she said, stretching her arm out of the window as though it were a Styrofoam lifesaver.“No,” Alexis said, proudly “I can make it, I think.”“Well, all right, but if you fall, you’ll do more damage to yourself than your stepfather could ever do to you.”“Oh really,” she said, grunting. “If you think that then you don’t know my stepfather very well.”When she made her way onto the sill, she lay on her belly and nudged along with her knees until she, too, dropped inside the room. “See—“ Rosa said. “—piece of cake.”Alexis lay on the floor on her side, breathing like a bull. “Piece of cake, my ass. I thought the thousand mile walk from the stable was bad until I had to climb Mt. Everest.” After a moment she sat up, looked through squinted eyes at the unbeknown surroundings. “What room is this?” she said.The furniture, which had remained as part of the original sale when Kyle bought the estate from the government, was covered with ghostly white sheets. Essence of wood and linen lightly scented the air.Rosa turned to answer. “It’s just a room.”Alexis stood. “Just a room!” she said. “It’s huge!” This was the first time she had ever been inside the mansion. As she walked down the darkened hall behind Rosa, passing a dozen or so other vacant rooms, then down the stairs and into the library, her mental synopsis determined that even the corridor was bigger than all the rooms of her house put together. She marveled at the spaciousness and complexity of the manor, the detailing of the carved woods, the picturesque wallpaper, and the fabulous light fixtures. It was more like a photograph in a magazine. Nothing like the haunted house that she imagined.“Where are we now?” Alexis whispered.“We’re in the library,” Rosa said.“What are we doing here?”Rosa walked toward the bookcase. “You’ll see.”In a moment, a panel on the bookcase wall opened. Alexis gasped. “Wow!”“You can hide back here for the night,” Rosa said. “But you have to promise that you’ll never tell another living soul about this place.”Mouth gaped and astonishment, Alexis nodded in agreement. She stepped inside the musty little hideaway, her eyes examining the cracks in the walls and the unevenness of the floor. “But it’s so dark in here.”“Scared?” Rosa said, tilting her head.“No, I’m not scared,” Alexis lied.“Good. Then here’s a flashlight, a canteen and enough blankets to make a bed.”“Yuck,” Alexis frowned. “I think I’d rather be back in the stable.”“Go ahead,” Rosa growled. “Go back to the stable and freeze your butt off, see if I care.”Alexis took in a deep breath. “Look,” Rosa said. “At least it’s warm in here.” She picked up the canteen. “I’ll get you some water and some food. Wait for me in here, okay? I’ll be right back.” She walked to the door, turned, and gave her a glance, then left the secret room, pushing the panel behind her until it was fully closed. “Look through this crack,” she said with a light tap. “And you’ll be able to see out into the library,” That did not make Alexis feel any easier about being tucked inside the tiny quarters. She sat rigid on the pile of wool blankets. Watchful. Alert. Ready. She knew about the stories that had poisoned the reputation of the manor, and they scared the hell out of her. She heard about the man who hung himself in the basement, and others that had been buried in shallow graves alongside the mausoleum. She began to wonder if they could see her now, sitting helplessly behind the wall. What if they appeared before her and ripped her eyeballs out of her head, or pinched her neck so she could not scream? What if they walked the manor at night in search of bodies to possess? She laughed softly to avoid crying because it was so ironic to be more afraid of something dead than something alive. She began thinking of her stepfather and what he would do to her when he found her. She couldn’t think about that now. Getting through the night would take all of her the strength, and she knew that she was better off here than at home.In the kitchen, Rosa quietly prepared a fanciful feast of leftover meatloaf, bread, pickles, chocolate milk and a canteen filled with fresh water. She also found a ripe apple, crackers, cheese and a package of licorice. This ought to last her until morning. Heading down the dark hallway, and back into the library, she tapped on the wall and pulled the panel forward. Alexis was still sitting on the blankets until she saw the food. Urgently, she jumped up and grabbed the food and drink, mutilating the bread and meat as she ate and spilling the chocolate milk onto her blouse. Then she put the apple, the crackers and cheese, and the canteen under the mock bed of blankets for safe-keeping. After being without food for two days, she had developed an unnatural fear of starving. “I feel sick,” she said, holding her hands over her mouth.“Sick?” Rosa asked.“Yeah, I think I need to use the bathroom.”Rosa had not thought about that, but she didn’t say anything more.“Come on.”Together, they quietly emerged from behind the wall, Alexis following close behind Rosa, who led her to a washroom at the bottom of the staircase. Inside, was a toilet, a basin and a mirror. She fumbled for the chain, and pulled it, turning the light on.“Hurry up, would ya? Remember, if Georgene catches us, she’ll—,” Alexis went inside and closed the door. Rosa waited outside with her back pressed against the door, watching like a guard dog in case Georgene came in. The sound of running water confused her because she wondered why the girl was wasting time when she should be peeing. Come on! Come on!The next sound she heard was rather alarming. Gagging. Choking. Coughing. Then silence. A moment later, the toilet flushed, the light clicked off, and the door opened slowly. Alexis came out smoothing her hair away from her face and wiping the sides of her mouth with toilet paper. Rosa strained to see her face. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned.Alexis winced. She was sure Rosa had heard her throwing up. Not even the running water was enough to muffle the sound. This time she was very careless and afraid she would have to admit that for years she had been plagued with an eating disorder. The worst thing was that now Rosa might know. She had to think of a way to use the events of the day to cover up her secret and substantiate her story. “Of course I’m not okay. With everything that’s happened to me the past two days…..I mean, well, you know, running away from home, hiding in the stable and climbing trellises. It’s all made my stomach a little queasy. Naturally, I’m going to feel sick, right?”Rosa accepted her excuse wholeheartedly and didn’t say anything more about it. She had enough to worry about; one being to get back to the room before getting caught sneaking around.“All right then, let’s get back to the library.”The girls walked slowly through the dark like thieves in the night, alert to any suspicious movements, then back to the hideaway that would again become a safe refuge, the same as it had been many years ago for Theodore McClement. With the panel closed, it was totally dark.“Where’s the flashlight?”“I don’t know, you had it last.”“Did not.”“Did so.”“Wait, here it is, I was sitting on it.”Click.“That’s better,” Alexis said. “I hope the batteries last all night.”“They should, I just put new ones in.” Rosa stood and handed her the flashlight. “Well, I’m going to bed now, I’m beat.”“When will you be back?” Alexis asked, shining a beam of light on her face. There were so many questions that needed answers, but Rosa knew there was no point in pressing for them anymore tonight. Both girls were exhausted from the events of the day. A good nights sleep would clear their heads and give them both a better perspective of things in the morning.“I’ll bring you some food in the morning before I go to school, then you have to leave.”“No,” Alexis cried. “I can’t go.”“What do you mean?” Rosa said. “That was the deal.”“I can’t go home, he’ll kill me.”“If you stay here, Georgene will kill me for hiding you.”“No she won’t. Not if you explain—”“Explain what? I thought you said he’d kill you if you told anyone about the beatings.”Her thoughts became confused. She held her head and starred down at the floor. Rosa knelt down on her knees and looked at her sorrowful face.“You’re going to have to face him sooner or later. You’re only fourteen and that’s too young to be on the run. And what about school?”Alexis looked up at her courageous face and felt completely at her mercy. It was a feeling she hated. Her stomach churned. If she had not vomited earlier, she’d run to the washroom right now and puke her guts out. There was no way she could tell her how much she needed her help, not even tonight in her most fragile state of mind. She looked at the floor, the walls, the blankets and even the red button on the flashlight—everywhere but at Rosa’s face. She did not want to humiliate herself any further by coming off as a helpless victim. She had to remain strong and untouchable, even in the face of her own death.“Don’t worry anymore tonight,” Rosa said, pushing at the panel. “Just try to get some sleep.”Abruptly, the wall closed. Behind it, Alexis could not hear even the slightest sound of Rosa’s footsteps when she crept out of the library. Now, her tiny quarter was quiet and dark again, except for a single beam of light shining from the flashlight, which would remain on all night long. At least the room was not airtight. That had been her first concern when she went inside. But she was more comfortable now. Somehow she felt a little better even though she knew she would have to return home in the morning. It took awhile, but soon her tired eyes became heavily drawn, surrendering her to a restless night’s sleep.Rosa looked at the clock on her bedside table. The big hand was on the twelve and the little hand was on the three. She sighed. Three o’clock? She was worried about Alexis and afraid that someone may have seen them sneaking into the house last night. But she wasn’t so much worried about the cops coming to the house as she was of the fact that old man Winslow would be with them. All she could think about was how horrible it must be for Alexis to have to live with such a hateful man. With everything the girl had just told her about how he beat her, it was no wonder she wanted to run away.She threw back the covers, got out of bed and started pacing back and forth through the dark room. She switched on the light and noticed the top of the cat’s head peeking out from underneath the covers, totally forgetting that it was on the bed. Minutes turned to hours. Now, sitting on the bed, she stared at the clock but didn’t really see it. Her mind was whirling with what-ifs and other uncertainties. “What if bringing Alexis to the manor was a mistake? What if he does kill her? What if the tyrant already knows she’s here? That madman might be crazy enough to kill us all.”She slid off of the bed and walked to the window, listening to some more jagged thoughts. “Maybe he’s out there right now, watching me standing here at the window.” She walked to the other side of her room, switched the light off and went back to the window. “He could be out there anywhere.”As she quickly skimmed the snowy lawn, there was no sign of movement except for swaying tree branches and light sweeps of drifting snow. Uneasiness had turned to fear, a feeling that she had never dealt with before in her own home. Moving away from the window, she returned to her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, chanted a prayer, and eventually fell into a trance-like sleep. The cat was still motionless and undisturbed at the foot of the bed. By morning, the January sky was like a morgue—cold and gray. The faint smell of bacon cooking hung in the air like perfume. Normally, Rosa would get up, dress, grab her school things, and head to the kitchen. But this time, she crept into the library to check on Alexis.“Psst,” she whispered, tapping on the wall. “Are you okay?”A moment later, dark eyes peered through the thin crack in the panel. “Yeah, I’m fine, but starving.”“Okay, I’ll bring some more food, but then I have to go to school.”“Okay, but remember, don’t tell anyone where I am.”“I won’t,” she said. “Listen, Georgene’s in the kitchen making breakfast, so when you leave, be very careful that she doesn’t see you. Go out the library door, through the corridor, and down the hall. You’ll see a door that leads to the outside. Now, the only way to get to the main road is by walking down the driveway, but at least you’ll be able to duck behind the trees if you see a car coming. Are you going to try to go back home?”“I don’t know yet, the last time I ran away, the bastard beat me silly when I did.”Rosa gasped. “You mean you’ve run away before?”“Yes, lots of times.”Rosa gasped again. “Oh my gosh.”“Don’t worry about me. Just get me some food before I starve to death.”Rosa nodded, went to the kitchen and sat down to a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, which was never one of her favorite foods.Georgene was standing at the sink, washing the dishes and drying them with a towel. Rosa sipped at her orange juice and looked up at her, not knowing if today was going to be a good one for her or a bad one. As the woman moved around the kitchen, Rosa’s eyes followed. The moment she stepped into the laundry room, Rosa grabbed two pieces of white bread, made a sandwich with her bacon and eggs, and rushed to the library where Alexis was waiting with her arm stretched out of the door.“Finally, she said. “I’m famished.”Rosa pushed the panel closed. “Keep this shut until you’re ready to leave, will ya?”Alexis was too busy devouring the sandwich to respond. “I guess I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow, right?”“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.”A vague response. Walking down the long driveway to catch the bus had always given Rosa the same ailing feeling every time she did it. Now that the holidays were over, the anticipation of the arrival of spring was beginning to make her impatient for the warm weather that followed. But, winter was only half over, and while she stood in the throngs of Mother Nature’s most betraying weather conditions; she saw no sign of even the tinniest bud on the trees, or a hint of grass on the ground. The majestic snow-covered landscape was sprouting no daffodils, there were no Robins sitting on the fence, and no overly ripe apples were lying at the foot of the huge apple tree across the road—just white hills and dirty snow at her feet. In the distance, the familiar roar of the bus could be heard. When it stopped, the door opened and she took the first available seat next to a deaf mute girl reading a book called, Red Horse Hill. (The Rachael Middle School had just started to offer classes to handicapped students needing special education. Before that, they were bused to Harrisville, a neighboring town.) Rosa took her seat next to the deaf girl, who ignored her by keeping to her book and moving her lips as she read.The bus pulled out and snaked back and forth down the winding road. Senseless chatter laced the inside of the riveted metal coach. When Rosa looked to her right, she noticed Macy sitting in the next seat, starch-faced and starring unblinkingly straight ahead. For a moment, she almost wished Alexis was sitting there next to her exhibiting her usual bad manners and gross insults. A patrol car passed by, lights flashing, and it turned at Clover Road, which was opposite the direction of the manor. She thought for a moment, “What if they’re heading for old man Winslow’s place? What if he found out where Alexis is? What if he—” More what-ifs. There was no way he could know, was there? Behind, a hand lightly touched her shoulder. Rosa turned around and saw Chantel leaning close to the back of her seat, whispering.“Did you hear?” she said, speaking low. “The man beat her up again and this time he kept her locked in a closet for two weeks.”“What?” Rosa said. “Who?” Chantel continued. “Everyone knows he’s been knocking her ‘round. Can’t believe he’s not in jail? Man’s a drunk; a smelly ole drunk. Hear he's been down at Pete’s garage bragging ‘bout it.”At this point, Rosa had a pretty good idea that she was talking about old man Winslow.“He hates our kind….,” Chantel said. “…so do his boys.”“What kind?” Rosa asked.“Niggers. Da'man says niggers ain’t got no business here.” Chantel leaned back on her seat, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head, scowling. “Ain't no cops gonna to do nofin ‘bout it either. They all scared of them boys of his.” She shook her head. “Girls gonna wake up dead one of these days and ain’t nobody gonna miss her. Theys all bad blood in that house if you ask me.” Within a couple of minutes, the bus pulled up and stopped alongside the curb to the main entrance of the school. One by one the students began herding toward the front to exit, gathering like sheep on the sidewalk. “Chan,” Rosa said. “Wait.”Chantel stepped out of the aisle and into the empty seat in front of Rosa.“What?”“How do you know all this?”Chantel fixed the strap on her bookbag and tugged it back onto her shoulder, standing again when the last students passed by, leaving only she and Rosa on board.“Told you, he been bragging about it. My brother heard him.”When Chantel left the bus, Rosa remained in her seat and watching her back as she left. Her words pounded in her head. “Alexis never mentioned anything about being locked in a closet for two weeks.” What if—More fearful thoughts played on her mind that someday the man would actually follow through with his threat and kill the girl. It was not an unreasonable thought to have judging the extent of bruises, neglected wounds and gashes on her face and body. Like Chantel, Rosa wondered why he had not been turned over to the authorities for his attacks against his stepdaughter, unless it was true and they really were scared of him and his boys. And if that were the case, there would be no stopping what else he might do. Rosa was beginning to understand that there is a degree of goodness in everyone, no matter how hard you have to look to find it. She understood that Alexis was afraid most of the time; afraid to love and trust. And she wondered how much more the girl would take before lying down and dying? Rosa shivered, but not because she was cold. Fear. Standing in the aisle of the bus, an eerie vision suddenly flashed in front of her face. She saw a girl falling. She could not see her face. But she sensed it was a child, younger than she, perhaps. Then, there was silence, and a cold empty room, and music. Rosa’s neck suddenly felt hot and tight, her breathing labored. She opened her mouth to scream, but there was no sound.“Rosa,” the driver said. “Let’s go.” The vision faded and was replaced by the bus driver’s face starring at her from his seat. She blinked, then blinked again and was afraid to move, afraid to speak.“Time to go,” the driver said, his hand gripping the handle of the door as if to be urging her to leave. Her eyes were fixed on his hand as it tightened around the handle, then relaxed and tightened again. She did not feel threatened by him. “Sorry, Mr. Miller,” she said, moving forward. The vision was gone for now, but that didn’t stop the reoccurring thoughts she had about it the rest of the day.* * *Back at the manor, Alexis had not been able to leave the hidden room, so she sat quietly waiting. The room was no longer a sanctuary. Now it was a trap. Georgene had come into the library and was resting comfortably on a large button-tufted red leather chairs, penciling in the names of a dozen or so respected guest she planned to have attend Rosa’s birthday party. She hummed and tapped the eraser end of her pencil on the tablet, thinking, jotting down names, alternately sipping brandy from a glass goblet, smiling. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Fairbanks, Dr. and Mrs. Jonathan Whitman, Cassidy Churchill, Francine and George Kennedy, Abigail and Lord Alexander Smyth, Marian and Edwin Armstrong, Bessy and Robert Powell, Alice and Henry Bernstein, Sarah and Nelson Barrymore, Mary and Sebastian Byrd, Jane Margaret Burnett and guest, Bridgett and Aaron Chisholm, Emily and Joseph Fitzsimmons, Elisabeth and Samuel Demuth, Alisha and Pierre Guido, Victoria and Woodrow Wellman.After she finished the list, she went to the desk and jerked the stopper from another bottle and poured herself a half-full goblet of more brandy. She drank quickly. The liquid was smooth and it felt warm on her throat, down to her stomach. In the calm early morning hours, the only sound in the library was the incessant ticking of the clock’s pendulum. She was unaware of the girl’s presence behind the wall. The constant hypnotic rhythm of the clock, along with the brandy, was beginning to make her feel heavy-eyed and drowsy. She stumbled to the mirror and studied her reflection, smiled, examined her teeth, touched her face and drew back the loose skin. Her youthful beauty had been distorted by years of alcoholism and depression. Outside, finger-like branches from a tree startled her as they scratched at the window like claws whenever the wind whipped. An earlier weather report said the powerful strength of the wind had torn down a few trees along the road, and done severe damage to several rooftops. Holding the brandy glass against her chest, Georgene walked to the window to examine the landscape. The line of evergreens, which bordered the grand estate, barely visible from the distance of the manor, were heavily laden with snow and stood tall and straight as soldiers. The sun was hidden behind the thick gray clouds, but not enough to allow any sunlight through. A path of footsteps meandered from the front door, down the steps and all the way down the long driveway as far as she could see. From the peaceful security of the room, the wind and the weather was of no significant concern to her. Yet, being alone in the manor day after day and listening to the creaking shutters, trees limbs clawing at the windows, occasional sun-rays casting hazy mysterious shadows on the walls, not even the strongest mind could ignore the electricity the massive Graystone expelled. Much to her relief, there was always plenty of alcohol. She sighed and relaxed slightly, taking the last drop of brandy from the glass. She reached into the pocket of her robe, cupping her hand around the brown pharmaceutical bottle of Chlorpromazine, lifting it to her eyes. The instructions said take one 200 mg. dose four times a day. The bottle was full of expired medication. Still, she popped the cap off and removed two pills, rested them on her tongue and went to the desk to get the brandy to wash them down with one hard swallow. The winds had calmed down, giving serenity to the wintry day. In one corner of the library, Georgene sat with her back against the wall, dozing. Her legs were stretched out on the floor in front of her and spread open; the bottle of brandy propped vertically between them.“The weak shall die. The weak will be punished,” said a voice. Georgene opened her eyes and lifted her head to the sound. “Who’s there?” she said, rising from her comfort. When Alexis heard the woman’s voice, she got up from the bed of blankets and pressed her face against the peep-hole in the panel. What she was about to witness would be the most alarming, yet amusing thing she would ever see or hear.“What do you want?” Georgene said to the air.Instinctively, she was drawn to the mirror where she did not see a reflection of herself starring back, but instead an image more vile and relentless than ever before. It overwhelmed her, badgered and criticized. It told her she was ugly and unloved. Georgene cried and began frantically pounding her hands against the wall like some kind of lunatic prisoner trying to break free from a padded cell. The imaginary voice taunted and lifted to a more threatening tone, repeating its every miserable word in her head. “The weak shall.”“Stop!” she cried, sliding her body downward along the wall, to the floor below. Nothing was more frightening than the mirror. Nothing.Alexis’s breath caught in her throat as she watched in amazement, gasping when she heard the woman scream at her own image to go away, unable to take her eyes off of her. Georgene hugged herself, listening intently for the voice to continue. She was more scared than she had ever been before because this time when she looked into the images loathing eyes, there was a distinct, almost disquieting desperation in them that she had never seen before. What did it mean?The next ten minutes were silent. It was early morning, but the room seemed dark as a cave. For a long she waited for the death-rattling voice that told her that she was nothing more than a lowly unloved woman, stupid and weak….very weak.“Hello?” No response.Alexis watched, looked at the mirror, but saw nothing except the woman’s face.The woman hesitated, then crawled like a dog to the red leather chair and pulled herself onto the seat, slouching forward, her head in her hands, listening. She looked up, looked at the mirror, but was too stiff with fear to approach it. “Hello?”Nothing. She sank back into the large button-tufted chair, her hands gripping the leathery arms to anchor herself down, afraid that at any moment she would be swept up by the servants of the mirror and would be killed at it’s command. She bit her bottom lip until it bled, then licked the blood with her tongue until the bleeding stopped. Since there was no wood burning in the fireplace, the large room felt cold, dead cold. She hugged herself tighter, moving her eyes over the dimly lit room. Right, left, right.Something was different; unreal. Suddenly, every object on the wall seemed to flutter like flags on a ship. The books were alive with motion, pictures of strangers somehow smiled sinisterly. And even though the room was very large, it now seemed almost claustrophobic. She swallowed and could faintly taste blood in her saliva. She couldn’t remember why there was blood. It was inconceivable for her to think that the mirror, the very thing that had guided and protected her had now ordered the room to spin violently around and around like a tornado. Her, trapped inside and about to be swept up into its enforcing jaw and ripped apart like a rag doll. No, it just didn’t seem real. There had to be another explanation, a phantom living in the manor, perhaps. Surely, she thought, the image in the mirror would not allow her demise now, not after she proved her loyalty to it so many times before. She thought about her husband, Earl, and the affair and the lake and the knife and the cops, and the nightmare, a crow with the human face, her face, picking maggot-infested meat from the rotting carcass of her mother, and Kyle and how much she needed him to be with her at this moment, inside her, kissing her, pressing down on her, petting her flesh, feeling him descend deeper inside her, whimpering, then erupting with complete satisfaction.Suddenly, she felt her heart beating in her thighs. Then she remembered the image. It made her feel cold all the way to the bone.She closed her eyes and jerked her head into her hands and twisted her body deeper into the leather chair, a fleshy knot, heart pounding, shivering like a tormented puppy. Even as a child she was afraid of hobgoblins like the boogeyman. Her mother had told her they lived under the bed and would take her away if she were bad. Fearfully, she began stuffing anything she could under her bed so the boogeyman would have no room to hide. Every night she struggled with the thought that at any moment she could be ravaged by the make-believe specter that ruled the floor beneath her bed.Georgene’s mother was a grossly unattractive woman with fleshy legs and rolls of extra skin that hung over her ankles like droopy stocking. She had a long oval face with a mouth that never smiled, her hands were wide and scaly, and at the ends of her knuckles extended fat banana-like fingers. And even though she was a beacon of poor parenting techniques, she was very clever. She constantly hammered cruel paralyzing remarks into Georgene’s young impressionable mind by telling her that weak people will be punished. You’re just a blister on the hand of society, she’d say. An unimportant vessel at sea. You’re weak. Jesus was like that once; beaten down by the hands of his own people. They assumed he was weak. But he fooled them all. After they killed him, he rose from the dead merely to punish anyone that had betrayed him. Again and again, she continued to brainwash her daughter into believing that living life was like playing your hand in a card game. Never take your eyes off your opponent. He’ll cross you in your moment of weakness; even kill you if he can. You must stop him before he attacks. If you don’t, you’ll be punished. On a deep, instinctual level, Georgene grew up believing that somehow she had become her mother. She was short-tempered, guarded and a convincing liar. Eventually, she sought the help of a psychiatrist, but that only lasted until she began to fantasize that beneath his skin lived a many-legged wasp-like creature sent to earth to destroy her. His eyes turned cat-like, and when he spoke he made a hissing sound. It was the same sound she had heard so many times when she overheard her mother talking in her sleep.The doctor tried on several occasions to change her medication, hoping to find the right antidote to free her of the beast that dwelled inside her, that ruled her life, but it was too late. When the lines of communication were cut, she became completely dislodged from reality. Her delusional mind plummeted downward into an unparalleled world of more make-believe, ultimately igniting uncanny episodes of disconcerting behavior.Shortly after she ended the psychiatric sessions, the nightmares began. So did the mood swings, the outbursts of anger, the hysteria, the voices, and the image in the mirror. She was a ticking time bomb wired for mass personal destruction.Ordinarily, the transitional episodes only lasted ten, maybe fifteen minutes at the most, leaving her numb and semi-conscious. Afterward, she usually would not remember anything that had happened, or that the image in the mirror that taunted and possessed her, was just a figment of her own delusional imagination; a remnant of her past. This episode was far worse than any other that she ever experienced before. It left her exhausted, shaken and frightened. The image teased her and spoke to her callously, telling her she was nothing more than a silly disobedient child, and that she would be punished. This time, she sensed its wrath was angry enough to kill her, and she feared it would succeed. As Georgene lay curled in the chair, dissolving in her own sweat, waiting for the stinging voice to call to her, there was silent. The only sound was the intense grinding of teeth from her own fear-wrenched jaw, because she knew the voice would return. It always did. Until then she would have to think of a way to be redeemed back into its good grace, or ultimately be killed.The words, weak and punish played repeatedly in her mind like a song, and she knew she would have to find a way to repair whatever it was that she had done to have caused it to rebel against her. But how? What? Idly, Alexis continued to watch from the crack in the panel. If her intuitions were right, and having had seen it a thousand times before, the woman was cold stone drunk. In any case, since it seemed that the coast was clear, she pushed at the wall panel until it opened, permitting her freedom from behind the bookcase. She had just finished closing the panel when the clock chimed, nearly scarring ten years off her life. “I got to get out of here.” She remembered what Rosa had told her about how to leave the manor safely, so she tip-toed to the door, turning once to look back at the pathetic human balled-up in the chair like something that had stepped out of a Twilight Zone movie. Looking beyond the corridor to the darkened hallway to which she was instructed to exit, she stopped for a moment and thought how exhilarating it would be to take a personal tour through the manor and steal whatever she could find. First, she went to the kitchen where she found the cookie jar stocked full of cookies. Then, she packed herself a small lunch of cupcakes, fruit, a bologna and mustard sandwich, and whatever else she could stuff into the paper bag that she had found in the cabinet beneath the sink.As she wondered through the manor, touring the upstairs first, every inch of the place was neat, orderly, and even quite lavish in its décor. Nothing seemed familiar, even though she had just been through this part of the house the night before.Had she fallen into an ancient time-warp? Every inch of her body was telling her to run like hell. “So this is what Brynwood looks like? Creepy.”As she stood at the bottom of the curved stairway, her mind’s eye followed each step up to the second floor where they seemed to disappear into the clouds. She blinked to clear the vision, then placed her foot onto the first step, following with another step and another until she reached the top. From the second floor banister to the large corridor, the grandfather clock looked like a toy. She turned to decipher where to explore next. The floor in the hall was carpeted with an eighteenth century Asian runner, slightly faded and worn from age, and even though it muffled her footsteps, she still kept a watchful eye for anything that moved. After all, this was not just an ordinary house she was exploring. The first bedroom that she came to was Kyle’s. It smelled of cologne and was handsomely furnished with a strong poster bed, a dresser with a hazy mirror, and a chest of drawers with large glass knobs. She walked around the room and looked closely at all the pictures hanging on the walls, wondering who the people were. It was evident that they lived during a time long before her own just by the way they wore their hair and the style of their clothes. She looked in the closet, searching Kyle’s pants and coat pockets for cash, and in all the drawers too. She only found a handful of loose change. Better than nothing, she thought.As she moved further down the hall, opening and closing every door, she finally came across Rosa’s bedroom. She went in, closed the door, and noticed that a cat was sitting on the windowsill licking its paw; though it stopped the minute it saw her and scurried under the bed.“Here kitty,” she said, dropping to her knees to look under the bed.“Here kitty, kitty,” she said again, trying to draw it out.When the cat backed-up, Alexis crawled further under the bed and was now lying flat on her belly with her hand stretch out to touch the cat.“Hey, I know you,” she said, recognizing that the cat was the same one from Russo’s bakery. “What are you doing here?”The cat was cornered. Alexis was able to nudge her way closer to it until finally touching its paw. “See, I’m not going to hurt you.” The cat neither moved, nor purred and she thought it was just plain dumb. Slowly, she backed out from under the bed and sat on the floor, gazing around the room. It all seemed pretty much the same as the rest of the house and all quite spectacular. Then she saw Mr. Bill, Rosa’s stuffed giraffe sitting on the vanity. The only time she ever received a stuffed toy was on her third birthday; before her mother had remarried Winslow. Hers wasn’t a giraffe, but an adoring white plush elephant with a big pink ribbon around its neck. She remembered the birthday card pinned to its trunk. A tear rolled down her face when she recalled how mortified she was when her two stepbrothers used it for target practice during archery season.Alexis took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then stuffed the giraffe into the paper bag along with the food and cash, then left the room.She continued down the hall, opening and closing more doors, realizing that the rest of the rooms had been unoccupied by the way everything was covered in sheets. And there was no heat. She came to the end of the hall, turned, and made her way back to the staircase, taking each step down slow and cautious until she reached the first floor. Once there, she stopped and listened for any sound that would indicated she wasn’t alone. It was quiet. Not a sound at all, except the tick-tock of the hall clock. She rechecked the woman in the library, who was still curled in the chair just as she had been earlier. Good, she thought, more time to search more rooms. Grab whatever supports the cause and make a clean getaway.Since she had already raided the cupboards and refrigerator, she bypassed the kitchen and boldly opened the next door. “Oh, pugh,” she said looking around the unsightly collection of garbage and piles of wrinkled clothing. She looked at the bed. It had not been made yet.The fitted bottom sheet was torn and popped loose at two corners and it smelled like urine. Drawers were slid all the way out and clothes spilled onto the floor below each one. The dresser mirror was cracked from one corner to the other and was covered with red lipstick kisses. She jerked back when she noticed the hairbrush sitting on top, stumbling, throwing her off balance. For a split second she thought it was a rat or other rodent, but when she leaned closer to take another look, she realized it was just a hair-filled brush. She hoped the thing wouldn’t be granted life and the ability to attack. “Yuck.”Searching this room was a boring waste of time. If the rest of the house didn’t have anything worth stealing, surely there would be nothing of any great value in this one. How could such a muddled-up jungle be part of this magnificent house in the first place? When comparing it to the rest of the manor, it was as if this room were the joker card in a deck with kings and queens.She began searching through everything in the closet with intense anticipation of finding something; cash, money—anything. But so far, there were only mismatched shoes, pieces of stale bread, empty booze bottles and mice droppings. As her hand floated through the closet, it inadvertently touched something hard. She grabbed it and held it in her hand. It was inside of a man’s sock. “What’s this?” When she removed the mysterious thing from the sock, in her hand lay a blued 38 Special with wooden grips. And it was loaded. Studying the steel piece, she drew back the hammer and spun the revolver wheel. Hearing the click, she left the hammer back down gently so the weapon would not discharge. This was only the second time she had ever been this close to a weapon with so much power, yet she understood its functions perfectly.She held it tensely, smelled it, aimed it at the wall. “Bang!”At this moment, it was finally clear to her what she had to do. It was time to stop being a victim; time to stop the pain. Finding the revolver was a revelation, and it made all the sense in the world to her that she should have it. So without hesitation, she stuck it back inside the sock and put in the paper bag. She looked around the rest of the cluttered room, glanced at the bag, and believed that now she had found what she needed. No more skepticism.Alexis scrambled to her feet and held the bag close. She headed for the door, did a visual check for any sign of movement, then quietly glided down the hall, through the corridor, and out the side door just as Rosa had told her to do so she wouldn’t be seen. Once she was outside in the grips of the cold air, an electrifying energy was coarsing through her veins. It was enough to keep her warm. But it was a malignant energy; the worst kind. She was going home.When Alexis arrived at the tiny hut, which next to Brynwood looked like a shoebox, she was shaking so uncontrollably that she slightly peed herself. She knew if she went inside, he would be waiting to ravage her like he had done so many times before. Every muscle in her body ached; every ounce of sweat ran down her chest and face. All the way home she had justified her intentions. She was convinced that there had to be a reason for her having been drawn to Brynwood, regardless if it was to seek help from her worst enemy or not?Tension was building.She was beginning to feel like an overcharged battery. “It’s now or never,” she said, gallantly. She opened the bag and looked down at the sock. Trembling, teeth chattering, gripped by fear by what she was about to do, she reached inside, lifted it out, and pulled the revolver from the sock. “I’m coming for you, you fucker!” she ranted, waving the gun in the air as she marched over the snow-covered pathway that led to the front door. Her frozen hand gripped the knob and turned it until the door eased open. She did not see him on the sofa or the chair or even the floor, but she knew she had to find him before she completely lost her nerve.Then, as she was about to look in the kitchen, the drunken fool stumbled into the living room, twenty feet from where she was standing. Hatred boiled up in her. Everytime she tried to look away from his revolting eyes, something forced her to look back. Her breathing became heavy, like a bull scratching in the dirt before it charged. Surely, the gun would frighten him, she thought. But there was always that horrendous possibility that he would be either too drunk to notice, or too stupid to think she would not use it. When he spoke, the tone of his voice rocked the house. She clutched the wooden handle of the revolver as he dared to approach. She aimed and said, “Get back or I’ll shoot!” He did not seem at all threatened by the weapon in her hand. When he got too close, Alexis stepped back, tripped on a throw rug and hit the floor, slamming her head against the wall. She lost her hold on the gun. It fell from her hand and was now lying on the floor next her feet. Momentarily dazed, but able to quickly refocus on the gun, she reached for it and held it firmly in her hand; aiming the barrel directly at him again. “Get back or I’ll shoot you!” she said. The man laughed insultingly and called her ugly names. Things like: She didn’t have the guts to shoot, and that she was just like her mother; a cheap whore. Worst of all, he could not hold back the morbid compulsion to tell her how much he enjoyed screwing her more than he did her mother. Alexis had expected to just frighten him with the gun; to warn him to leave her alone. But after listening to his vile words reminding her that it was him who caused her mother to leave, and him who inflicted countless other despicable acts of violence, she raised her arm, aimed the gun and fired; the jolt of the blast throwing her against the wall. The bullet hit him in the right side of his chest, puncturing his lung. He lunged backward, knocked over a lamp, rolled over the arm of the sofa and onto the floor, twisting and moaning from the pain. Alexis screamed at the possibility that she had already killed him. She just wanted to frighten him, not kill him. But a terrible thought crossed her mind and for a moment she was glad that he was dead. No more pain. No more torment. No more rape. She ended it. But just when she thought it was over, he got up from the floor and started laughing sharply while blood ran down his shirt. He was fondling his genitals as he moved toward her. She aimed, more carefully this time, and fired off two more rounds, hitting him once in the shoulder and once in the arm. Still, he just kept coming and she wondered why the bastard would not die. Again, he told her she was just like her whore-of-a-mother, and again she pulled the trigger. If her aim would had been an inch higher, the bullet would have hit the wall behind him, emptying the revolver. But this time, it hit him in the forehead, threw him back against the wall and down to the floor. There was a second of silence, then a gurgling sound, then complete silence. The walls and the floor and the ceiling were splashed with blood, brain and hair. Astounded by the man’s resilience to die, and realizing what she had done, Alexis began to cry violently.Suddenly, the temperature of the room was like a refrigerator and she felt very cold. The image of the vicious bastard coming back to life and raging toward her rushed through her mind. She stood in the middle of the room, gagged and vomited. “He’s dead. Got to be dead,” she thought, though she did not have the courage to check him to see. She began to think that maybe he was not dead. And she knew there were no more bullets in the revolver. She crawled on her hands and knees, inching slowly around the sofa. She reached her hand out to feel his wrist and was relieved when she did not feel a pulse. “Definitely dead,” she said. For two hours she sat on the floor with her arms cradled around her legs, looking at the corpse. She knew she had to find a way to get rid of it before her stepbrothers came home. It was either that or face the consequences of her actions.The basement floor was made of dirt, so it made perfect sense for her to bury him down there. It would have to be in a shallow grave for now until she could think of a better place. But how was she going to drag a two-hundred and sixty pound body to the basement? Not easy, but it was the only option she had at the moment.Shivering with increased adrenaline, she approached the dead body, grabbed both his pant legs, and began tugging and pulling him along the floor until reaching the cellar door. She let go of one pant leg, opened the door, got hold of the pant again, and began pulling the body down the steps one hard thud at a time. The sound it made as it hit each step made her wonder if the force was enough to wake him, dead or not. One more step and she was finally at the bottom. Hot air rushed through the heat ducts, then stopped. She walked around the dusty dungeon-like basement until she found a shovel. This was not a good digging tool, she thought, as she examined it, because it had a straight edge. She looked around again and found one that had been recently honed and not too heavy. She started poking at the dirt, but it was no use. The ground floor was so hard that she suspected it would virtually take all night, maybe longer, to achieve the size hole necessary to bury the body.“This is worse than a nightmare.” Glancing at the body, blood still oozing onto the dirt. If digging wasn’t the answer, the only other thing to do was burn the son-of-a-bitch.She looked at the furnace, blazing with a fierce roaring fire. She had the soul-withering feeling that putting him inside would most likely cover up any evidence that she had murdered him. But the thing was, she did not know how to get the body into the small compartment. Any common sense and the ability to think straight left her the moment she pulled the trigger.She stood helpless over the body, then crouched alongside it, visually measuring it the opening size of the furnace chamber. A voice inside her head said, If you cut it, it’ll fit. Twenty minutes later, she was still sitting next to the body, entranced by the bright glowing flames and the hissing sound of the furnace, still thinking about what to do.Suddenly, she heard a sound coming from up stairs. It was the clanking sound of western boots walking across the floor. “Oh, shit,” she said. “They're home.” Positioned just beneath the living room floor, her ears followed their footsteps. Walking. Stopping. Walking. Then the wail of voices pierced the air. “Oh, Christ!” one said. “What’s happened here?” said another.“Someone’s been shot!”“Dad?” “Alex?”Alexis shook with terror. Now that her stepbrother’s were home, they’d search the premises until they found out what had happened. With no place to hide and no other way out of the basement, she waited for their footsteps to stop at top of the stairs.The boys followed the trail of blood to the basement door and yelled, “Anybody down there?”In all, they knew by the volume of blood splashed all over the walls and puddled on the floor, that something terrible had happened. Still crouched by the body, Alexis could see the outline of two figures standing in the doorway at the top of the steps, motionlessly looking down. Then, the light switched on, providing them with ample opportunity to get an eye-full of the blood and gray matter splattered on the stairs. It also gave Alexis the horrifying chance to review the mangled corpse, as well. She turned her head away. Soon, she would be dead, too.“Holy Christ!” Alexis heard one of them say as they started down the stairs, being especially careful not to step in the blood.“What the hell……?”Growing even more concerned about her own safety, Alexis scurried backwards until the cinderblock wall stopped her; her back pressed against wall.There was no secret room to hide in this time.Glen and Lynard Winslow were now in the basement, heads bowed to the morbid half-headed figure of their father lying dead in the dirt. Together they began to speak so frantically and loud that their words seemed to run together. Alexis’s voice rose clear and strong over them.“I didn’t mean it,” she cried. “I swear.”She looked at them through tears of confusion, and they returned her gaze with serious expression. Glen approached her and bent down to meet her face-to-face. His voice was calmer and unruffled.“Did you call the cops?” he said.“No,” she answered, shaking all over. “It’s a damn good think ya didn’t,” he said.Alexis stopped crying and rubbed the tears from her eyes. “What?”“What the fuck are you saying,” Lynard, the younger brother interrupted. “Look what the stupid little bitch did, man? He’s dead! She blew his Goddamn brains all over the living room.” His heart was hammering. She had always feared him more than she did Glen. Turning his gaze to Lynard, Glen said, “I can see he’s dead you asshole, now shut the hell up so I can think.”“Think all you want, I’m calling the funkin’ cops.”“Like hell you are,” Glen said, stopping Lynard from going up the stairs.The two started punching at each other, one brother against the other. Finally, Glen managed to pin Lynard to the dirt and straddled over him.“If you would just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen, you might agree with me.”Lynard struggled and knocked Glen off. “You’re crazy.”“Don’t you see, man?” Glen said, walking to the body and giving it a kick with his foot. “We were all victims of this fuckin’ parasite. He beat us too, ya know.” Lynard got up and brushed the dirt from his hands. “So what the hell are you saying, man? That you’re okay with this?”“What I’m saying,” Glen said. “Is that I’m not sorry she did it.”Lynard moved next to Glen, next to the body, starred at it.To Lynard, Glen said, “If you call the police, they’ll arrest her. You and I will be sent to foster homes until we’re eighteen. But, as long as we keep our mouths shut, no one will ever know what happened. We can live here in peace and do whatever the hell we want so long as we don’t get into anymore trouble. The last thing we want is for the cops to come out here looking for him because of something we did.”“What if they do come looking for him?” Lynard asked.“When was the last time anyone came out here for no reason, huh? The fuckin’ mailman won’t even deliver the goddamn mail. Birds don't even fly this far out here.” He forced a laugh.“You’re crazy,” Lynard said, walking away, then turning back. “So what are we going to do with him?”“Cut him,” Alexis said, still frightfully pasted against the wall and dazed.There was a moment of silence.“What?” Glen said curiously as he slowly walked to her. “Did she say what I think she said?” Lynard said.“Yeah, I think she did.”Alexis spoke with enough conviction that they knew she was serious about what she had said. She continued. “Before you came home, I thought about cutting him up and putting him in the furnace.”Glen nodded, lifting his brows, giving the notion some thought. “Yeah, that’d sure hide the evidence, wouldn’t it?” He studied her face. “And exactly how were you going to do the dirty little deed?”Alexis shook her head and sniffed back the tears. “I don’t know, a knife I guess.”Glen thought a moment. “All right, listen up, both of you. What’s done is done. If we’re going to pull this off so that no one ever finds out what’s happened here, then we have to work together. Alexis, you start by looking for some paint, any paint. Lynard, you help her. Then both of you get some buckets of hot soapy water and lots of rags. Tear sheets if you have to. Then start cleaning the blood off the floor and the stairs. We have to hurry before it dries. Put the bloody rags down here and I’ll burn them. We’ll burn everything if we have to.”“What are you goin to do, Glen?” Lynard asked.Glen didn’t answer right away. He looked at Alexis, then Lynard, then the body. For him the decision was easy.“I’m going to get the ax from the shed, cut the mother-fucker into pieces and put his ass in the furnace where he can burn in hell. That’s what I’m gonna do. Anyone have a problem with that?” He looked at Alexis first.“No,” she said stiffly. She would have been grateful to him if she had not known he was only out to save his own ass.“Good, what about you?” Glen asked Lynard. “Do what you got to, man. Just get it over with.” Determined to hide any trace of the murder, Alexis and Lynard scrubbed the blood-streaked walls and floor, tore down the curtains for burning, cleaned the windows, and painted every room a light shade of blue. Then they rested. They were sitting at the kitchen table, slumped over from physical, as well as metal fatigue when Glen came in looking tired and weary himself; clothes and skin patterned with blood. His face looked sunburned from the heat of the furnace. Alexis got up and poured him a glass of water, then set it on the table.“Here,” she said. “Drink this before you keel over.” She returned to her seat. No one said anything.Icy silence.Although Alexis and Lynard were able to hear the distinct chucking sound of the ax from upstairs, and smell of burning hair and flesh, if either one of them would have gone to the basement and witnessed the grizzly slaughter of the corpse, it might have been enough to cause irreversible mental trauma. Glen sat down at the table and drank from the glass, bloodying everything he touched. “Looks different up here,” he said, taking another sip of the water.Lynard shook his head.To Alexis, Glen asked, “What’d you do with the gun?”“It’s still on the living room floor,” she answered.“Make sure you put it where no one can find it.”Alexis nodded. She was curiously rigid, wanting to know if it was done; though she worried if she asked, he’d give more detail than she wanted to hear. She glanced at Lynard and saw the same question in his eyes as well.Glen turned his head to the small living room.“You guys finish cleaning in there yet?” Glen asked.“Except for the sofa,” Lynard said. “Can’t get the blood out of the upholstery.” He starred into Glen’s eyes. “What'd ya want me to do with it, man?”Glen stood and began to walk out of the kitchen. “I’ll chop it up and burn it with the other stuff.” Lynard nodded as he watched Glen leave the room to go back to the basement where he worked several hours more until finishing. Chapter 15Brynwood The clock in the corridor chimed seven times. Unaware of the morning’s events, Georgene still managed to prepare supper. “Dinner!” she called up to Rosa. A yellow glow shown on the ceiling over the blackness in the upstairs hall, then disappeared by the sound of a door closing. “Coming!” Rosa ran down the curved stairs and into the dining room, pulled her chair back and sat down stoutly, shifting squarely upon the seat. Her taste buds danced at the picturesque display of food set before her. Surprisingly, everything was hot; steamy mashed potatoes, a mouth-watering meatloaf, a bowl of plump wet corn and a basket of fresh cut bread. This was the best meal.She looked up and smiled across the table at Georgene, who’s face looked the color of a white porcelain sink, except for the gray circles around her eyes, and the red lipstick caked on her mouth, feathering beyond the lines of her lips.Her hair was matted with hairspray except for a few stray pieces that stuck straight up like a welcome mat. Her wrists were coated with a musky smell of cologne; the scent strong and almost nauseating. At first glance, she didn’t seem at all threatening. Rosa reached for the potatoes, but before she touched the spoon, Georgene let out a chilling screech and slammed her down her hand, ramming her silver-plated ring into Rosa’s knuckles. “We don’t eat until we say grace,” she said. “Now bow your head please.” Suddenly, the woman seated across from her, the same woman she had known for half her life, was now a stranger of unquestionable peculiarity, dangerous. Rosa winced and fell back into her chair, lowering her head as she was ordered, while Georgene proceeded to say grace. “Dear Lord…or God…or Jesus. I guess I should thank you for this food, but I didn’t buy it. In fact, when I drove to town to get it, some asshole driving a snow plow nearly ran me off the road and killed me… Rosa swallowed hard, pulled in her lips and pressed them tightly together, suppressing the urge to laugh at the urgency in Georgene’s voice. She opened her eyes, lifted her head and watched as she continued to pray, her hands doing undulating movements like a Polynesian dancer and speaking as if she and the Lord were bosom buddies.“… and I hope you teach that Mr. Winfield and his snotty wife a lesson. They have no business accusing me of stealing anything. Besides, those stupid trinkets were junk. Anyway, don’t be surprised if you don’t see me in church seated among all those stuck-up money-grubbing phonies come next Sunday…Amen.”She paused and whispered something too low to hear, then lifted her head.Except for the blood-shot eyes and greedy smile, she seemed oddly normal again—refreshed. “Let’s eat!” Agreeably, they both began tearing into the food like starving animals. Rosa noticed that for the first time in months the meatloaf had been made exactly the way she liked it; layered with cheese and tomato sauce. With two hands she picked up the platter, sat it down in front of her plate and carved off a nice size chunk, then doused it with ketchup. Next, she took two large scoops of mashed potatoes, burying them under brown gravy, probably the kind found in cans on the grocery store shelf, though she was too hungry to care. She tossed her head back, throwing her long dark hair over her shoulders, leaned forward and took the first bite from her fork. It was good.For the better part of an hour, the two conversed in non-essential chatter; Rosa told silly juvenile jokes and Georgene laughed hysterically; food spewing from her mouth. Marveling at the woman’s jovial sense of humor, Rosa wondered if the newspaper clippings could have possibly been a mistake. Georgene seemed intelligent and quite charming; not the psychologically challenged murderous the newspapers wrote about. It was inconceivable for her to even think there was any truth to what the columnists had accused her of. No, there was no way she was connected to that crime. Yet, why would she be hiding them? Rosa chewed and swallowed hard, hating all the thoughts.“Everything taste okay?” Georgene asked, taking a bite of meat and sliding the fork from her mouth. “Yes, very good,” she remarked. She didn’t say anything more, but was startled when Georgene laughed out loud and reached across the table to touch her hand. Her fingers felt glacial and her eyes large and starry, like something dead had uninvitingly passed through her. Was she living in an invisible capsule, a world that no one except she understood?“You’re a good girl Ms. Bennett,” she said. “You always know the right thing to say, and just when I need to hear it too.” Rosa smiled sincerely for she knew that she was loved, and that knowledge compensated for the woman’s psychotically disturbing behavior. Abruptly, Georgene gathered her utensils and placed them on her dinner plate, then slid them aside with the back of her hand. She reached for her wineglass, but withdrew the temptation to drink and folded her hands in a mannerly way on the table. Preferably, she enjoyed drinking alone in her room or when the house was empty. For now, she forced herself to settle for cold tap water. “Since you’re returning to school tomorrow,” she said, pouring water from a green patio pitcher. “You can hand out all the birthday party invitations I made.” Rosa slouched in her chair, frowning. “No, no, no.”She was afraid to tell her that she had no friends, except for Chantel. And even with that she wasn’t sure how her father would react to her bringing a black girl to the manor. The only bright spot was that if her father was there, it didn’t matter if anyone else came; a thought she was sure Georgene shared.“Are you all right?” Georgene asked. Rosa nodded. Her bubble of energy was slowly passing. “Yeah,” she lied.Georgene slid her chair back and stood. “I’ll get them for you now so you can put them in your bookbag. I left the envelopes blank so that you can write the names of your friends on yourself.” When she left the room, Rosa stayed seated at the table, awaiting her return. She caught her reflection in the mirror on the buffet cabinet against the wall behind Georgene’s chair and sighed. With no friends to invite, the party would be a fiasco. She felt cold, cold in the pit of her stomach. She hugged herself and leaned forward, and propped her forehead on the table, wishing she could beam herself out of Brynwood and further. Maybe sprout long powerful wings like a frigate bird, able to fly to the enchanting city of Paris and sit atop the Eiffel Tower, gliding freely over the earth, drifting on a cloud to wherever it leads. Sailing. Drifting. Floating.Approaching footsteps interrupted the travel guide in her mind. She lifted her head to the stack of invitations plunked down next to her plate. “Here,” Georgene said, gathering the dishes and scraping all the uneaten food onto one plate. “There’s enough there for a least fifty guests.”“Fifty!” Rosa said. “You don’t really think I have fifty friends do you?” More like none was her thought. “Just hand them to anyone who you think will come,” Georgene replied, taking the first stack of dishes to the kitchen, her voice fading beyond the swinging door. Rosa shook her head. She wanted to get up, march into the kitchen, and tell her once and for all that she did not want the stupid birthday party; that she had no friends or family who gave a damn if she lived or died, and that the whole idea was a big waste of time.Well, that would surely be the direct approach, but not necessarily the best.She took in a deep breath, grabbed the stack of invitations, and headed back upstairs toward her bedroom. When she got to the top of the stairs, she paused and looked down into the corridor and thought about Alexis. She even thought about going back to the library to check to make sure that the girl had vacated the premises like she was told to do this morning. Though, in the back of her mind she half-expected she had. She told herself that she would wait until later, when Georgene had gone to bed, to verify that the hidden room was, indeed, empty.Rosa entered her bedroom, switched on the light and closed the door. The cat was no where in sight. When she called to it, it poked its head out from under the bed; its eyes squinting from the light.“What are you doing under there?” she asked, pulling it out. “What’s got you spooked this time?”As she gazed around the room, everything seemed quite normal, except for the mussed bed that had not been made and the fact that there were no newly washed clothes folded on the vanity as there usually was. The vanity. Yes—that’s it, something was different about it. But what? She starred long and hard until it finally hit her. Mr. Bill, her stuffed giraffe was missing and she knew right away who took him. “Damn her,” she said. “…and after everything I just did for her.”Glancing at the cat, now laying on the bed, she wondered why she hadn’t tried to steal it as well. She had always been so mean spirited and jealous. Despite all their differences in the past, Rosa thought the girl should at least be a little more respectable. After all, she did hide her from her stepfather by letting her stay at Brynwood. That had to count for something. Nevertheless, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough to find out why she stole Mr. Bill.Later that night, as she sat on her bed with her back against the headboard, doing homework, she heard the crying sound again. It was the same sound that she heard the night of the Christmas Pageant. No sound was more disturbing to the natural silence of a house than that produced by the supernatural. And somehow the darkness made it seem all the more haunting.As far as she knew, no one else was in the house except for the housekeeper and herself. If her father had come home, there would be no mistaking the loud clanking of his heels, whether he was wearing his western boots or his leather loafers. Both made an undeniable racket on the hard floors. Hesitantly, she closed her history book and, one leg at a time, rolled off the bed, sliding her feet into her comfortable fuzzy slippers. The cat was no longer lying peacefully on the bed, as it had been when she first started her homework. Since the door was closed, it was probably under the bed again. And probably just as spooked by the crying sound as she was.Her curiosity led the way, to the door, beyond the door, and into the hallway where she found herself standing in the darkness. The only light was that coming from the partially opened door behind her.The crying continued. She sensed it was far away. Then, a chill ran up her back as though something had touched her. She shivered. The last time she heard the sound, she remembered being downstairs at the front door. She headed to the direction of the stairs and looked over the banister to the openness of the corridor below. She could still hear the crying sound. What she did not understand is that the volume of the crying was the same whether she was in her bedroom behind a closed door, or in the openness of the hall.She turned and was walking back to her bedroom when the crying elevated to a much higher pitch. She told herself not to over-react, that it was nothing more than the wind hammering against the eves. When she returned to her bedroom, she rushed to the window and looked outside, but did not see any movement of the trees nor rolling snow on the ground. Clearly, it was not the wind.Rosa’s intention was to search the rest of the house because she was beginning to suspect what everyone else in town had already known; that the manor was haunted, after all. An unnerving thought.The minute she stepped back into the hallway, the phone on the small circular table rang. It rang only once. When she picked it up, she heard the sound of someone crying.“Hello?”Crying.“Who is this?” she asked.Crying.“Alexis, is that you?”Crying.She let go of the receiver and it dropped to the floor. She picked it up, pressed it to her ear again, and was surprised to hear a normal dial tone. She placed it back on the cradle. This occurrence caused an even greater mystery. Why would the phone only ring once? Normally anytime someone called, the phone would either keep ringing until someone picked it up, or it would stop after about a half dozen or so rings letting the caller know that no one was home. But that did not happen. It was as if the one ring was more like a signal of some kind. Maybe it’s the only way the spirit could make a connection. Stupid thought. If she had not heard the crying twice before, once after the pageant and again tonight, she would almost think someone was trying to play a prank on her.The mansion was a maze of twists and turns; all halls leading to rooms very different from the other. As Rosa crept down the long dark hallway, she stopped outside each bedroom door to listen for the unexplainable sound. As far as she could tell, she was not getting any closer to finding it than when she first started. She crept further along in total darkness, stopping when she noticed a light on in one of the empty rooms at the farthest end of the hall. Her inquisitiveness peaked. Pacing slowly, with one foot in front of the other, her slippers glided over the wool hallway runner until she was standing outside the room. The door was ajar, as though whoever was on the other side was inviting her to come inside. With an open hand, she pushed the door open, revealing the unoccupied room, unfurnished except for an old rocking chair. She had never noticed this particular chair before and wondered if it had been always been there. All of the furniture in the unoccupied rooms had always been covered with sheets for as long as she lived in the manor. Surely, she would have noticed it before if it hadn’t. But if it were covered, why was it not now?Another mystery. She looked at each blank wall, went inside, ran her hand over the wooden rocker, sat down. Oddly, the seat was warm, and so were the arms. “Someone was just sitting here,” she said.Nothing made sense and she was beginning to have the strangest feeling that she was being watched. Like someone could see her but she could not see them. A sudden, cold chill passed through her body. Whoever was in the room sat down on the rocker as if she was not there. Then, like an Ouija Board, the chair began to rock back and forth on it’s own and a music box began to play what sounded like a child’s lullaby. But there was no music box in the room anywhere as far as she could tell.Rosa could not decide whether to run or to stay and find out who it was.“Hello?” she said in the hollowness. “Who are you?” The rocking stopped. That surprised her and she knew that whoever it was, was listening.“What is your name?” She told herself over and over not to be scared, but the realization that someone from the spiritual world was present in the room, was just too unnerving.For the first time, she realized that the room must have been that of a child’s at one time. On every papered wall were prints of pink unicorns with a white-spiraled horn projecting from the forehead. When she took a closer look she thought they looked more like goats than horses. All of the woodwork was carved with an eighteenth century European motif, painted white.She waited, somehow managing to stay calm, but so far there was no further contact from the spirit.Then, she stood, turned, and faced the fireplace. And, as if being led by the hand, she began to walk toward it, glancing behind at the rocker. It was still. Now she felt it. It, being the apparition. She felt it all around her like a veil, and she could see vague hints of its shape next to her. Sitting on the fireplace mantel was an old book. She opened it to the pictures inside. Pictures of men and woman and babies and children and houses and a garden and a stable—her garden and stable. “Wow,” she said, pulling her eyes closer to the book, stunned. “That’s the stable? Looks so new.”She continued turning the pages and examining each picture closely as though she was being compelled to do so. When she tried to turn the last page, her hand, for some obscure reason, reached back and took the page again, turning it back. There had to be something about this particular page that someone wanted her to see. Rosa studied the pictures intently, back and forth, but found the old exposures faded and hard to make out. Strangely, her eyes repeatedly focused on one single picture; a little girl with long brown curly hair wearing a plaid dress and a white pinafore. Rosa gasped at the uncanny resemblance of the girl in the pictures to those taken of her at that same age. “Oh my gosh,” she said.This was not merely a coincidence. Someone or something wanted her to go to that room to find the book and to see that picture. Alarmed by what she suspected, Rosa quickly closed the book and ran from the room, down the hall, and back into her bedroom. She knew there was no point in locking the door because whoever it was in the empty room was not of the living. It could easily vaporize through the door, as if it were not even there. Nevertheless, she slammed the door, startling the cat to stand erect on the tips of its paws; its eyes radiating the same grotesque way they had earlier. It hissed and carried-on until it finally hacked up a thick black mucus-like substance onto the floor, then began lapping at it. Happens sometimes when you feed them sugary treats, she thought, trying to talk herself out of the notion that the cat was possessed too.Watching the cat’s tongue pull the pungent smelling mucus into its mouth made her sick. She tried to shoo it away, but it hissed at her again and began swatting back with it claws. She backed-up.“Bad cat,” she said. “Stop that.”She took off her slipper and threw it in the cat’s direction, not to hit it, but to scare it away. When it did not move, she took off the other slipper, lifted it, aimed it, but did not throw it. It was too late. The cat had licked the spot clean, leaving absolutely no trace of the black mucus anywhere. What’s more, it was acting perfectly normal again; eyes clear, meowing sweetly, rubbing its body up and down the bedpost.By now her nerves were wound tight, emotions strained. Doubts of Brynwood being haunted, surfaced. She could not get the little girl’s face, her face, out of her mind. She told herself she had to be imagining things; that she was not herself since she had dealt with Alexis the night before. She kept watching the door, uncertainly. “I know what I saw. At least I think I know.” If there were anyone out there who wanted to hurt her, surely they would have come for her by now. Convincing herself of that helped fade the tension.The night’s silence began to pour over her like an oceanic wave. The cat was sitting pleasantly on the bed as if nothing happened. It purred and stood when Rosa approached. “You were a bad kitty,” she said, stroking the animal’s head between the ears. At the same time, she looked at the window, wanting to look outside at the forbiddingly dark mausoleum, wondering if the little girl who everyone claims to had seen dancing around it at night, and the one in the photo album were the same person. The only way to find out was to have a séance. The upstairs storage closet was well-equipped with lanterns, blankets, flashlights and candles; everything necessary in the event that the electricity was down due to a storm or other mishap. Rosa grabbed a blanket and six candles and headed back to the vacant room at the end of the hall, constantly looking behind to see if anyone was following. Beyond the door was silence. The crying had stopped. So did the music and the rocking of the chair. In fact, it was covered with a white sheet. She blinked hard several times and refocused, heart thudding. “What’s happening?”Mouth gaping, she rushed to the fireplace to find the book, but it was not there or anywhere else in the room for that matter. Rosa was beginning to have doubts about her own sanity. Had all of this just been another dream?Glancing around apprehensively in the middle of the room with a blanket in one hand and candles in the other, she could not believe that she had actually contemplated having a séance to talk to the dead. Irrational thinking! Summoning spirits from the grave can be a big mistake if you don’t know to whom you are calling. A poltergeist or some other wicked evil-doer could emerge and dwell in the manor for eternity—anything’s possible. Since she wasn’t about to let that happen, she left the room and closed the door, leaving the witchcraft to the experts. After tonight, Brynwood would never be the same.Chapter 16 New YorkAs the bus slowed to a complete stop, the door opened and Jenny got out, the extreme cold air biting at her face, turning and lifting the collar on her coat. The sub-zero degree temperature did nothing to distract her mind from thinking about Christmas Day when Kyle had come to her apartment. She felt better about the fact that he had not been as hostile as before and amazed by his need to hover over her, nursing her like she had been mortally wounded. Yet, as much as she wanted nothing more than to give him the benefit of the doubt and to tell him how much she appreciated everything he had done, forcing to convince herself there was some goodness in him after all, she remained suspicious of his motives. One thought was that he was just there to relieve his own guilt. People don’t really change, she thought. Not that much anyway. Once a liar always a liar.Gusts of wind continued to gnaw at her face as she walked down the snow-drifted sidewalk. With one cold hand she reached inside her coat and cupped her breast, trying to imagine his touch, and more so, the look of his eyes and skin and hair and the smell of his expensive cologne that night fourteen years ago. But even though the vivid play going through her mind brought back some of the memories, the rest was not complete. For one thing, Kyle never discussed himself, his family or where he was from. He did mention, however, that he worked for a large doll and toy manufacturing company with its main headquarters being in New York, and the reason he was in town was to attend some big corporate meeting. She knew he was from out of town, but she did not know where he actually lived and he never offered the information. Nevertheless, the time she spent with him was like a fantasy dream. A perfect beautiful fantasy dream. By the time Jenny reached the corner, moving briskly through the cold crisp air, pausing at a red light blinking, Do Not Walk, she had mentally constructed another fantasy dream more colorful and vivid than before. And even though it wasn’t the first time she allowed such junk to clutter her mind, this time the dream seemed very real. She hesitated, thought about it, but then the light changed to, Walk, and she sashayed across the street, bursting through the door of the tavern where she worked.It was two o’clock and she was glad the lunchtime crowd had thinned out, leaving only a couple of regulars still seated at the bar. At one table, Margie was counting tips, separating bills from coins. “Well, look what the wind just blew in,” Margie said, smiling as Jenny approached the table. Jenny pulled out a chair, sat down and watched Margie wad a modest stack of bills together, folding and tucking them into the pocket of her apron.“Had a pretty good morning, huh?” Jenny asked.“It started out slow,” Margie replied, proceeding to count coins by sliding and dividing them into groups of quarters, nickels and dimes. “But by eleven, things began to pick up. Did you have a nice Christmas?” Propping her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand, Jenny grinned like a mischievous child. Unsure as to what her silly expression meant, Margie paused and stopped counting the coins.“Okay, girlfriend,” she said. “What are you up to now?”Jenny started giggling and holding her hands over her mouth as if to not explode with the words. When she spoke, her response came so quickly that nothing she said made any sense what-so-ever.“Slow down,” Margie said. “You sound like a machine gun.”Jenny sat stiffly straight, took in a deep breath, and pinched her eyelids tightly closed, wanting to say only what really happened and not what she had engendered in her head just moments ago.“He came to see me on Christmas Day,” she said, exuberantly.“Who?” Margie asked, alternately looking over her reading glasses and moving her mouth as she counted the coins: twenty-five...fifty...seventy-five...a dollar.“You know,” Jenny said, making as if to quiz her. “Him.”“Him who?” Margie asked, confused.“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Jenny blurted, her head sloped forward, whispering the word, Kyle.Margie was not as excited by the news as Jenny obviously was, because her philosophy was that to find a good man is like fishing in the ocean, you never know what you’re going to get until you’ve reeled him in. But don’t be fooled by his smooth silky skin and dark mysterious eyes. Check his teeth before cutting him off the hook in case he bites. From what she had seen and heard about Kyle, he was definitely one that would leave a few nasty bite marks.Margie sighed and removed her glasses and gave her a leveled look.“Dammit, Jenny,” she scolded. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”Jenny lowered her head. “You did, didn’t you? You slept with him again.” “No, I didn’t,” Jenny answered. “Don’t blow a lung, okay? But if he—,”“Don’t say it,” Margie said. “Don’t even say it.”Although Jenny was aware that Margie was scowling at her in disapproval, she continued to listen. “I don’t understand you,” Margie said. “The last you were with that guy, all was about himself, strutting like a pugnacious rooster. Don’t you find that just a little bit irritating?”She stood from her chair and looked down at Jenny. “Why you’d let a guy like that back into your life, I’ll never know. Seems to me he’s caused you so much trouble in the past.” She reached around and tightened the bow on her apron, shook her head, and got up to leave. Jenny’s eyes followed her. “But, there’s something different about him.”Margie flung her arms in the air not wanting to listen to anymore. “Do what you want. But don’t come crying to me when he hurts you all over again.” In spite of the difference the two shared about Kyle, Jenny couldn’t blame Marge for the way she felt. Over the years, time after time, she had instilled into her how much she hated Kyle, and the way he used her, then walked out.The swinging door to the kitchen slammed behind her. Margie refused to speak to Jenny the rest of the afternoon, busying herself with nonessential projects just to let her know that she was still peeved. But it wasn’t so much the avoiding glance that was so disturbing to Jenny. It was the begrudging silent treatment that was beginning to make her crazy. And just when she was about to break the ice and confront her, Margie untied her apron, tossed it at Mike, and without speaking, waved him goodnight and left. The bar seemed dead inside. Mike turned his gaze to Jenny, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to towel-dry newly washed beer mugs and said, “She’s right ya know.” Of course, at this point, Jenny had no idea to what extent Margie had discussed Kyle with anyone, but it seemed Mike was privy to something, so she figured she might as well get a man’s perspective.“Okay, Mike,” Jenny said, taking a seat at the bar. “Since you and everyone else in here seems to know what’s going on in my personal life, why don’t you give me your opinion. I know you’re dying to.”Mike threw down the towel. “Fine,” he said. “First of all, he’s got a bad temper. Isn’t he the one who was in here a little while back decked out in those expensive European threads, looking like he had a hankering for some fresh blood.”Jenny nodded. “Yep, that was him.”“Thought so,” Mike said. “He’s too old for you, sweet pea. I mean, come on, the guys at least ten years older than you.” By the fading sparkle in her eyes, Mike knew that he had said too much.“Look, I’m not saying you’re not good enough for him. It’s just that, well, you know, some men are only looking for one thing. You know what I mean, don’t you?” He leaned forward and touched her hand. “Listen, sweet pea, you’re a beautiful talented woman now; not the na?ve child you might have been way back when you first met that guy. Get on with your life and forget about him before he hurts you again. Remember how long it took you to recover the last time? Remember? Margie and I worried you’d never get over it. Have you?”“Have I what,” Jenny asked.“Gotten over him?” Mike repeated.Jenny recoiled from him and got up from the barstool. “Of course I have.”There was a mad gleam in her eyes.“What do you and fancy pants have in common with each other anyway?”Mike asked, holding a glass at an overhead light to check for spots.“Obviously, Margie hasn’t told you everything,” Jenny said, leaving to go to the kitchen where she spent the rest of her work shift pondering over their conversation, wondering if maybe Mike was right and that all Kyle had really wanted was to have someone to spend one selfish night with. The thought was inconceivable beyond words. She had been so sick with love for him during that time that it never crossed her mind, not even for a moment, that his intentions were anything other than honorable, excusing his thoughtlessness for never calling or sending a postcard or a letter, allowing herself to be blinded by a love that, after months and months of no communication, only existed in her fantasy dream.But he did return. And though it was up to her to find out why, knowing he was back terrified her.It was a lot to process. Minutes turned into hours as she dredged up a hundred different scenarios to uncover why he was back again after all these years.It was a quarter past nine when Jenny came running out from the kitchen.“Mike, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, dashing toward the door. “Okay,” he yelled in her wake. “But just remember what I said.”Late to leave, she did not respond. It was Tuesday, her night to quit early. With her coat draped over her shoulders, she rushed through the door, across the street and up the sidewalk, meandering around people in a hurry to get to the bus stop on time. Finally standing at the corner, without a moment to spare, Jenny saw the bus and heard the heightened roar of its diesel engine as it pulled out from the stop before hers. It cut through the night, impervious to the wind and the snow, manifesting larger as it drew near. Studying it intently, making sure it was the right one that would take her downtown, she raised her hand, motioning for it to stop, and it pulled up alongside her; the doors opening. Bus 13 was never crowded on a weeknight, especially going into the city, and that gave her an opportunity to choose just about any seat she wanted without having to squeeze herself next to anyone.Inside, the bus was warm, but outside snow flurries were still falling and a wind had risen to the point that it caused the traffic lights to bob like dolphins on the wires. She feared they would snap and fall to the street blocking traffic in every direction, making her late for her opening number at the club.When the bus neared twenty-second and Broadway, she reached for the stop cord, indicating to the driver that she wanted off and it slowed, then halted at the corner a half block away from where the Rendezvous nightclub’s flashing neon lights blinked an iridescent pink glow into the night sky. Jenny paid the bus fare, got off, and was walking briskly up the sidewalk to just outside the club when a car pulled up alongside her and a man’s voice called to her from the passenger window. “Hello!”On the streets of Manhattan, especially after dark, it wasn’t unusual for pimps to cruise up and down the circuit, scouting for new recruits. But, from all the years of living in a major city like New York, Jenny had acquired street smarts and knew exactly how to handle these situations. Before she was able to respond to his forthcoming proposition, the man got out of his car and called to her over the roof. “Hello!”Suspicious of the his intentions, she turned to him, strictly out of reflex; ready to bluff him into believing she had a black belt in tai kwon do. She would then trick him into thinking she was a force to be reckoned with. But the second she turned to focus on the stranger’s eyes, peering at him through blinding sheets of falling snowflakes, her mouth gaped in total dismay. “Kyle,” she said, voice faltering.Just saying the word “Kyle” was out of sync with everything going on in the logical side of her brain. She was unaccustomed to the sound of it and the way it felt on her tongue.When he walked around his Cadillac, moving stoutly toward her, she hoped he would not hear the frantic thumping of her heart.This is crazy, she thought. He’s just a man.He was on the sidewalk now, standing in front of her, starring down into her awestruck eyes.“I stopped by the Tavern,” he said. “But the bartender said you’d already left.”Jenny was speechless as she looked into his eyes.There were no words to describe what she was feeling except that his presence still made her feel quite vulnerable. And although she barely knew him, the fact that he fathered her child connected them forever.He extended his arm as if to urge her to walk with him. Clutching the lapels of her coat and folding them over one another to block the cold night air from her chest she reluctantly withdrew the temptation. “How did you know where to find me?” she asked, wishing she could crawl into his coat and feel the warmth of his body. He took her arm and tugged on her lightly until she voluntarily walked along with him. The streets were still busy with people even though most of the businesses were closed. As they came upon the Rendezvous nightclub there was already a dense crowd of people sprawled all over the sidewalk talking ordinarily, their voices muffled by the gripping wind, and others pushing their way through the doors. As always, the number of people that gathered in droves to the club shocked Jenny. She stepped aside and waited for her chance to effortlessly slip through the door.“Your boss wasn’t really thrilled about telling me where you were tonight,” he said, pulling up the collar of his coat and trying to stand against the wind.“Mike’s a good man, a little fatherly at times, but a good man,” Jenny said, watching the door.“I sensed that,” Kyle said.“You now, I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “Why didn’t you wake me the other morning and tell me you were leaving? I could have made you some coffee.”“Because, you needed the sleep to heal,” he responded.As the line inched along, Kyle moved ahead three more steps, then stopped and turned around when he realized Jenny was not beside him. He studied her expression. “What’s wrong?”“You are,” she said. “What’d I do?” he said, stepping out of the line, allowing the others to pass.“Goddamn you, Kyle. Why can’t you just be honest with me for once in your miserable life? I’ve had it up to here with all the mystery.”“What in God’s name are you talking about?”“You know what I’m talking about.”She finished in a lower tone by saying, “Why did you…..care?” He starred, unsure how to respond, felt the pressure of her demanding eyes shoving their way through to his soul, searching his brain for the answer, an answer he did not know himself.They both shivered from the bitter cold wind. Neither spoke. Jenny lifted her wrist to look at her watch, 9:45. There were only a half dozen or so people left who hadn’t made through the door yet, but paranoia began to set in and immediately, saying nothing as she went, she forced her way through, vanishing beyond the doors.Moving just as swiftly, Kyle tried to catch up to her, he reached for her, unsuccessfully nevertheless, because the compressed crowd standing directly inside the door, pushing against him, blocked his arm. A momentary glimpse of her thick black coat fading from sight and he knew any further effort was fruitless. The next thing he knew, he was inside the club’s main room looking at every woman that remotely resembled Jenny. Cigarette smoke nipped at his nose as he pressed his way through the overloaded room. He figured the club’s owner had to be breaking at least a dozen laws just by the massive number of people jammed in the place. Every chair at every table was taken, as well as all the barstools, all the loungers and all the booths. If there was any available space, it was by mere standing room only. Barely any room to breathe. The thing that worried him the most, as he gazed around the dingy, claustrophobic-like room, was that he knew there was no possible way everyone would make it out alive if a fire ever started, especially those clustered on the farthest side of the room. Other than the main doors from which he entered, the only other means of escape was one black-painted door nearest the stage, though it was carelessly blocked by a pillar of stacked chairs, making any reasonable attempt to bolt impossible. A grizzly thought indeed.He had no use for such places.After twenty minutes of being pushed and shoved by the crowd, Kyle found himself crammed next to the restroom doors. It was here that he studied the mob of fashionably dressed men and woman who evidently thrived on booze, cigarettes, and sex. He noticed a short, round-faced man with tiny black eyes sitting at the bar doing his best to make a play for two incredibly good-looking women. One women was wearing a mini-skirt, a half-buttoned multi-stripped blouse, and white go-go boots; the other was taller with green Polka-dot bell-bottom pants, heavy jewelry, and a tightly fitted polyester halter top over plump perky breasts. As he observed the two women listen while the man bragged on and on about some VIP position he supposedly held at a local law office, he laughed when he overheard him mention Crowell, Schmidt and Wright’s, a law firm F.C. Bayard kept on retainer for years. They’re known throughout the country for their shrewd top-notch lawyers proven to be quite capable when dealing with the legal problems common in big companies. Being well acquainted with all their attorneys, including the legal assistants and law students, Kyle knew Mr. Watermelon face is not one of theirs. Love endures, he thought, looking at the empty faceless crowd. It has always been around in one form or another, binding us together, like a fetus in the womb of its mother. From the beginning, it was by God’s will that we have love. But, as he stood with his back against the wall, he realized his chance at love’s destiny had forsaken him, the same way it likely did every fashion conscience do-gooder in the place without an ounce of honor left to their name. The place was a smorgasbord of flesh and the smoke was so thick it could choke a cook stove. If love did exist here, he thought, it was not for each other, but rather a selfish kind of love for themselves. It left a strange augural feeling, like he had been here before even though he knew he had not. Sadly, he did not want to think of himself as one existing in this self-mutilating kind of life. Even with his faults, countless as they seemed, he did not believe he should be lumped in with these social misfits. Not anymore. He wanted to change—knew he had to change if he was going to keep from wasting away, sinking deeper into a universe of inevitable painstaking loneliness. He would find Jenny and confess to her every terrible thing he had ever done in his life, including why he kept her away from her daughter for fourteen years. He’d take back every rotten thing he ever said. He’d forfeit his pride and tell her how much he had always loved her—whatever it took. And he would do his damnedest to make her understand.The words flooded through his mind and onto his tongue. For half an hour, as he wondered around the tightly crowed room looking for Jenny, he rehearsed everything he would say. For the first time in years, he was at peace with the man he wanted to be. He was ready to stop hiding, ready to make a difference. Now, more than ever, he wanted to be with Jenny, marry her and take her back to Rhode Island where they would live the rest of their lives. Of course, he knew it would be her decision, but he also knew she loved him with the same intensity that he loved her.Continuing his search for Jenny, his gaze moving around and around the smoke-filled room, Kyle’s attention was suddenly drawn to the stage where he saw a soft white light casting over a woman wearing a fitted red sequins gown. Swiftly, she glided out and began singing the Motown hit, Jimmy Mack, to an impressive backstage sound system.“Jenny!” Kyle murmured. Even though the chaotic noise was making it nearly impossible for him to hear her clearly, as her voice washed over the smoke-hazed room, strangely enough Kyle was embraced and caressed by it’s sound; a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. After about three or four minutes of putting up with the impertinent noise, anger grew as the crowd’s inconsiderate behavior continued, and he wished he could send five hundred volts of electrical current through the room to shut them up. He tried to stay calm, not come apart, determined to not come apart. For a quick moment he thought he was getting sick as his throat clenched and tightened; forehead burning with fever. He swore someone was speaking to him, an inner voice, telling him to hold on. But as hard as he tried to listen to the voice, the only thing he could hear was the relentless chatter all around him. “I can’t take this anymore,” he scorned, grabbing the backrest of a nearby chair and pulling himself up onto the seat until he was now standing over every person’s head in the room. His throat became thick with emotion. In a faint voice, in a strange place he said, “Now listen, you people!” There was only a second of momentary silence from those directly around him, but the majority of the room laughed and ignored him. As far as they knew, he was just another drunk. More anger stirred. Before he knew it, he was shouting so loud that his words rained over the room like a siren. “Now God Dammit!” he shouted. “The lady’s trying to sing. You people are nothing but a bunch of uncivilized heathens! Now shut the hell up!”As he stood over their heads, pivoting on the chair, waiting for the disobedient predators of flesh in skirts and suits to respond, he realized his attempt to bring a little order to the place was totally ineffective. No one neither cared nor noticed him. Not except for two young security guards, determinedly bumping their way through the herd in an effort to stop the alleged drunk from any further disturbances. As Kyle observed the guards approaching, while remaining perched atop his four-legged post, he hoped to be able to talk some sense into to them by convincing them that something had to do about the noise and the over-crowded room. But in a sinking twist of fate as they circled the chair, a quick synopsis told him that they, perhaps, misunderstood his plight. Immediately, they grabbed him by the woolen sleeve of his coat and yanked him down from the chair. One guard, muscular in build with a shaved head, caught him by the wrist, painfully bending his arm back behind his hip. While the other, a short slender man, no more than twenty, offered his support and positioned himself alongside his partner, but didn’t make as if he was going to use any physical force of his own. Kyle suspected both men were trainees new to the club. Neither exhibited the slightest indication that they understood what was going on, other than the fact that someone was causing a disturbance and their job was to extinguish it the way in which they were trained.“Get your hands off me,” Kyle ordered to the guards. “I was just…...”The two guards said nothing and they were not interested in listening either.Both were like a pair of mechanical soldiers from an animated cartoon, able only to move and speak by the flick of a pencil. Kyle knew there was no point is trying to reason with them. The guard that held Kyle by the wool sleeve of his coat began escorting him to the nearest exit; while his younger counterpart walked close behind. All three plowed a path through the crowd, toward the door.In this most embarrassing moment, all senses proving that if anything can go wrong, will go wrong, soured by the determination to do right by Jenny, but now hopelessly entangled in a mess that he feared she would not understand, Kyle felt beaten by the mob of pathetic humans unworthy to even be in the same room with her. Anger built. His otherwise serene temper was about to explode.Sparing no strength, using the weight of his body, Kyle pushed back hard against the guard that had been holding him by the arm in a death grip who, in turn, fell into the guard behind him. Using both arms to brace himself from falling, the guard’s hold on Kyle’s was released.Although the room was humming with a loud hissing sound, all Kyle could hear at this moment was eerie silence; his eyes seeing tunnel vision of complete blackness. He felt as though he was in one of those old black and white movies that had no sound. In what seemed like slow motion, he watched as the 5-foot-nine, 150 pound guard did a two-step pirouette, twist, then cannonball onto a table of beer bottles, glasses, and two or three ashtrays filled with cigarette butts. Since the table was unable to withstand the weight and force of the man’s fall, the legs split and it collapsed to the floor with a loud crash, taking everything down in its wakeThe four men that had been sitting at the table were in no mood for fun and games as they quickly leaped from their chairs to avoid being cut by the broken beer bottles and glass flying around them.In a fit of drunken anger, one of the men, a tall hoarse-voiced man built like a lumberjack on steroids, kicked the young guard to the table’s edge using the heel of his boot. He reached down, took the tabletop by the corner and flipped it into the air. For some reason, everyone found his drunken display to be amusing as they gathered and clapped like school children when the Formica top dropped to the floor like a lead weight, nearly pinning the security guard underneath.Kyle looked over his shoulder at Jenny who was standing stiff and silent behind the microphone, unmoving, watching the rowdy crowd become even rowdier. Her expression was troubling. When he turned back, one of the men hit him square in the face, blooding his nose, spinning him around. He lost his balance and fell onto a table opposite the one in ruins. The impact momentarily took his breath away.Without hesitation, Kyle felt himself being pulled back off the table by the scruff of his coat where he was subjected to feel more pain when the man struck him in the gut with a balled-up fist. Kyle leaned forward, coughed, and began experiencing a severe sensation of nausea. Tiny droplets of blood trickled from his nose to the floor. Twice he felt himself stiffen and wrench with pain. No one tried to help. He could not help himself. He hadn’t the gumption, or the guts to fight back. He blamed his father for dying too soon and not having been around long enough to teach him how to fight. Until now, he never did fight, never had to fight, not even as a child when fighting may have meant defending his families good name, and his name as well.At the mere thought of survival, and without an ounce of strength, Kyle began to feel himself whither as he took half breaths, still feeling the gut-wrenching agony inside. His breathing labored and he thought his ribs had been broken. “Get up you pussy,” the angered man’s voice slurred. When Kyle looked up at the man who wanted nothing else but to impair him physically, he tried to imagine what could make any human act so damn crazy, regardless of the amount of alcohol he consumed. But he figured at this hour, more people than not had ingested enough of the firewater to float a submarine.Kyle lowered his head, his body jolting indicating the need to vomit. Instead, a long string of thick saliva oozed from his mouth, stretching almost halfway to the floor.“You wipe that up, pussy,” the man ordered.Kyle knew something bad was going to happen.The unsteady drunkard drew back his fist, ready to throttle him to a pulp until the lights suddenly turned on. With his body slumped over, knife-like pains stabbing in his abdomen, swallowing back the thick throaty secretions, eyes to the floor, Kyle noticed that the hate-driven maniac pumped with ninety-proof adrenaline rushing through his veins had stepped back.Two loud taps sounded on the microphone.“I don’t care who started this shit,” a strong heavy-accented voice rang over the sound system. “But it better stop right now or someone’s going to jail.” Instantaneously, the room became silent and everyone moved away, breaking the circle that had formed where the two had fought. Kyle felt a vague uneasiness as a giant distorted man gazed at him from the stage with an unspoken warning that he was more than able to handle any situation. He was one nasty looking son-of-a-bitch. His appearance was more that of a twenty-first century warrior than a nightclub bouncer, except he wasn’t wearing an armor of metal. His clothes were sloppy and wrinkled as though he had pulled them out of the hamper and just threw them on. His nose was shaped like an “s,” and he had bulgy bull-dog eyes.He had no neck, but a square postage-stamp head over wide bulky shoulders. If it weren’t for the massive arms that accentuated his upper torso, giving him that wedged look, he could almost appear overweight. Even from across the room, as he stood with them cocked by his sides like a western cowboy ready to draw his guns, Kyle could see the power behind them, particularly his hands. They were hooked and ready to claw the bark off a tree.He was a wedge-shaped figure of a man. Overall, a gruesome sight who seemed unlikely to spare anyone that pitted against him. Kyle turned from the man’s gaze and wobbled to his feet. He needed several minutes to regain himself. Now that the fighting was over, Kyle headed for the restroom to check if the bleeding had stopped. Although he had not lost much blood, he was weak and in a lot of pain. As he starred in the mirror, aghast at the bruises, he thought about Jenny’s troubled face and what she must be thinking about him right now. He needed a miracle. But most of all he needed his father to come back and teach him everything he needed to know about self-survival. Until now, the only thing he did learn from him was how to hide his shame, leading him to live his misdirected life in guilt. Nevertheless, for reasons that he could not understand, he was ready to put the past to rest and hopefully achieve the one thing in his life that did make sense. If he didn’t, the monster that imprisoned him would swallow him whole. His life would be a wasteland of misery.Kyle had just finished wiping the last of the blood from his lips and under his chin when the door to the restroom swung open, slamming hard against the wall. Though he did not look up, his keen peripheral vision told him who it was standing in the doorway, this time accompanied by possibly three more assailants. Tonight, his only companion was fear.Forbidding himself to look away from the mirror, he kept his eyes at his reflection. Before him was a man he never saw before, a pathetic jellyfish of a man with not enough spine to save his own life. Trapped inside the four walls of the restroom, feeling unnerved by the predator, Kyle waited at the sink, waited for the silence of death from the merciless beating he was about to receive from the ascending Piranhas. He wondered if any of them were ex-military men trained to snuff their enemy without a single sound. He suspected the killing would be quick, maybe messy, though he assumed he had already lost every drop of blood he had. If this was going to be his last night on Earth, the least he should do is stand face to face with his assassin.He took a towel from the dispenser and wiped his hands, hesitated, then wiped them again. He considered moving into one of the toilet stalls, but it was too late. The men had already started toward him. He turned to a host of four men approaching him, each one embalmed with the notion to kill him.“You’re dead your buckskin pussy,” the man said, leering at him with beams of infrared eyes.Kyle did not speak, nor he did not move away from the sink. As he watched the hideously angry men get closer, he could almost count the minutes to when he’d take his last breath. He thought about Jenny because he knew he would never see her again in this life, not even the next life because he did not believe he was worthy of the glorious promise of God’s love, to die and live in a place high above the stars, a world where only love and goodness exist, a land so perfect that only the angels dwell. No, he knew the only punishment suitable for his sins would be to suffer in a fire burning hell along with his attackers, or a gloomy forest where nothing would be heard except the haunting whisper of voices crying in the night, reminding him of the selfish life he lived on Earth.Suddenly, nothing seemed more important to him right now than as to where he would be the next time he opened his eyes, Heaven or Hell, except that he wished before he died that he could go to Jenny and tell her why he had been so deceitful all those years. The worst thing was that he didn’t have time to tell her that he’d always loved her. It was doubtful that he would ever see the light of day again because he was in no way going to get past the cold-blooded killers coming at him with an appetite for death. He had no place to hide and he figured running for shelter would only make things worse, probably stimulate the attackers enjoyment to kill him even more. So in his weakened condition, he had no choice but to accept his fate.Kyle knew that this time, the man who had initiated the first blow to his face and gut would not have to exert nearly as much energy to finish him off. He was drained both physically and emotionally.Killing him would be quick and easy. Now, as the man stood three feet away, Kyle had no choice than to look him in the eye, feel his breath and smell the beer on his clothes. He knew that at any moment his life would be over. This man was a killing machine, sent here to search and destroy, unrealistic thinking, perhaps, but somehow he thought it was possible. The hostile situation grew worse when the man shot out his arm and was squeezing him by the throat, cutting off his airway to the point that his lips turned blue. He gasped for air and tried to pull the man’s arm away, but it was no use. He hadn’t the strength.Blackness was beginning to set in and now the man’s face was just a blur. He was losing consciousness. In fact, he was beginning to feel disconnected from his life, yet he struggled to stay alive. If he didn’t soon take a breath, he would be dead, the restroom a smoky grave. He could feel himself floating, plunging deeper into darkness as the man proceeded to suffocate him. The afterlife, wherever it would take him, was waiting. He hoped it would be Heaven.The mere thought of death was frightening. He thought about Rosa, and the horrible secret that he had kept from her. Even if he lived, he would not be able to justify what he had done or give back the years with her mother that he stole away.Suddenly, with what little sense he had left, fading closer to unconsciousness, a passing thought crossed his mind that being choked to death in a bar room restroom was more than he deserved. As each second became increasingly critical, so did his will to live.Surprisingly, the man let go and Kyle dropped to the floor, gasping for air like a fish out of water. He didn’t respond or look up, but retreated to the floor while his attacker kicked him with his boot. “Fuckin’ pussy,” the man’s voice fired, grabbing him by the collar of his coat, pulling him to his feet, and shoving him against the wall, trying again to take him by the throat again. Any effort to strangle Kyle was stopped short when the giant bouncer came in, plowing his way through the restroom and through the other three men. With each large hand, fingers hooked, he grabbed the attacker and Kyle, ushering them from the restroom to the door where they were both forced out onto the sidewalk. “Don’t either one of you cock-suckers come back here, got it?” he said. “Now get goin!”Kyle was relieved when he saw the man who wanted him dead walking down the sidewalk away from him. Luckily, as the bouncer starred level at Kyle, figuring he’d had all he could take for one night, he turned around and disappeared through the door from which he had just come.Outside, standing with his back pressed against the building, feeling achy, but glad to be alive, Kyle waited a good forty-five minutes until he saw Jenny come out of the club. She was now transformed from the Cinderella appearance back to the normal everyday look he was used to seeing. Nevertheless, even with all the make-up washed away, she was a startling beauty.“Jenny,” Kyle said, nervously. “What took you so long?”Jenny turned away.“Jenny, I’m sorry,” he said. “This sort of thing just doesn’t happen to me. I’m really not that kind of person. I had absolutely no idea that I’d cause so much ruckus, honest.”Jenny turned to him and burst out laughing. “You’re damn right you’re not that kind of person,” she said. “You’re the most up tight man I’ve ever met in my life. What’s more, you’re a coward. That bloody nose actually looks pretty good on you.” She continued laughing uncontrollably.Kyle resented her reaction, even though he knew she was right. Nothing could have prepared him to actually hearing it said aloud. Her words sounded in his ear like ten thousand trumpets being played. In as much as he admired her passion, her courage, her astonishing beauty, he hadn’t expected her to be so bluntly brutal.After giving her a weary look, he said, “My God woman, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?”“Yes I am,” she said, breathlessly with firm conviction. “The only part I’m not enjoying is the fact that I wasn’t the one that gave you the bloody nose.”“I’m down right insulted,” Kyle said. “You may not realize it, but the reason I sustained these injuries in the first place was because I was trying to instill a little law and order in that meat factory.”Jenny calmed, then studied his face. “What do you want me to say?”“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe…..”“Maybe what,” she said.“Oh, never mind,” he said.“I think you just went a little too far,” she said, turning to leave. The bus made one more stop at the corner then wouldn’t return for another forty-five minutes, so her mindset was to get to the corner, not that Kyle’s effort to apologize wasn’t a milestone worth sticking around for.“This is the second time in just a couple of weeks that you’ve been overly nice to me. What’s going on? Why are you really here tonight?”“Well, it wasn’t to stir up a lot of trouble if that’s what you think,” he said.“Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking,” she said.The lights on the bus were visible now so Jenny quickly gathered her things and moved to the curb. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked looking back, unaware that the worst of the fight had nearly cost him his life. “Because you don’t look so good.”“I’m fine,” he said, taking in deep welcoming breaths into his freezer-burnt lungs, trying to remember what he rehearsed, that he loved her, probably always loved her, wanted nothing more than to make love to her, make her his wife, promise her the sun and the moon and the stars, beg for her forgiveness, eager to show her that he was a changed man, changed by grace of God, hoping that she believed in God and that using his name in his plight for forgiveness would not make things worse tonight than they already were. But as he opened his mouth and spoke, ready to humble himself to her mercy, the voice that came out was his own, yet the words left a sickening feeling in his stomach.“The trouble with you, Jenny, is you won’t shut up long enough to listen.”From the night sky poured a negative energy. Jenny overflowed with anger. “Go to hell!” she said, clutching her bag against the wind and immediately boarding the bus. For a moment she almost expected Kyle to follow behind, of course, he did not, though she wished he had. He was exactly where she left him; standing next to a streetlight under a halo of white falling snow. In the streetlight’s reflection on the bus window, she could see his sullen face gazing steadfastly at her through the window. It took considerable effort to pretend to not acknowledge him, but in the pit of her stomach raged a boiling inferno that rewarded her the strength to resist the temptation to look back. Her mind was strewn thick with conglomerations of vintage memories, compromising any good sense she might have salvaged. Hating him was just a matter of principal. And she was triumphantly determined to not make the same mistake that her mother did. Loving the wrong man must come from a congenital anomaly in the womb, she thought remembering her mother, even in the conflicting opinions of the church and family. She forced a smile. Her determination to dislike him had given way to admiration tonight. At thirty-eight, she had never known anyone else whose soul desire was to earn her approval. When the bus finally pulled out, Jenny gave a quick glance back at Kyle with eyes like a camera, focusing, adjusting, until the black of the night and the distance between them faded him from site.As the bus forged ahead, the engine roaring, stopping to pick up and drop off riders as it went, Jenny gazed hypnotically outside the window at objects passing by while visions of the past and the present collided and crashed in her head. THE LOVE. THE PASSION. THE LUST. THE PASSION. THE PASSION. THE PASSION. “Stop it!” she said, pinching her eyes shut as if doing so would squeeze the thoughts from her head. She knew allowing her imagination to run wild was exactly how she got herself into this mess in the first place.By the time the bus made its scheduled time of arrival at Jenny’s apartment building, pulling along the curb, Kyle had already been waiting patiently in the warmth of his Cadillac, parking it on the opposite side of the street, parking lights on, windshield wipers set at slow intervals of rotation. The pain in his ribs was much better now and he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend the night in the emergency room, possibly laid up for most of the night and into the morning. That would only postpone the opportunity to apologize for his stupid remark. This time, what he meant to say would transport from his head to his tongue and come out right. After Jenny got off of the bus, it pulled away from the curb and drove off. The motion of the Cadillac’s windshield wipers caught her eye. When she looked over at the misplaced car parked across the street she trembled with excitement. She knew unquestionably that it belonged to Kyle’s, especially since there was no one in this part of town who could afford as fine of a vehicle as that. He had class and style.Nonchalantly, she crossed the street, keeping the Cadillac in her peripheral. As soon as she heard the door close, her heart began beating arrhythmically, the thud shooting through her chest like an arrow. Jenny stopped and turned to his approach, preparing to be blistered with more of his objectionably crude remarks. “Hi,” he said, in the middle of the street, waving upon approach. Within a few more steps he’d be on the sidewalk. “Listen, I forgot to tell you how sensational you were tonight. I mean it, you were absolutely fantastic.”Jenny starred.“Excuse me?”She said, baffled by his sudden bout of amnesia, half expecting him to fill her head with more of his opinionated nonsense.“What’s wrong….,” he said, grinning. “….trouble hearing?”“No,” Jenny snapped. “I heard you.”When he took her arm she stopped talking and looked into his eyes.“May I?”“May you what?”“May I help you inside? Damn sidewalks can be treacherous when they’re icy.”She found his touch to be unexpectedly tender and less authoritative.“Ah…well,” she said, stuttering. “Dammit Kyle, what game are you playing now?”“What do you mean?” he said. “As I told you before, I went to the tavern to talk to you. Since you weren’t there, I figured I’d drive around until I found you.”“Well, that’s obvious,” she said. “You even followed me into the club, which, by the way, you should be grateful that you’re not in jail.”“Would you’ve bailed me out?” he asked.Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Probably not.”“Goddammit, Jenny. Why are you being such a bitch? I’m here aren’t I?”“I can see that,” she said. “But why—to ease your conscience?”“No, I’m not here out of guilt or anything like that. I just want to…I mean, have to talk to you.”Kyle’s voice was brisk with confidence and remarkably free of sarcasm.For the first time, she truly believed he was being straight with her. Anyway, the bruises on his face needed peroxide and iodine, and since the drug stores were closed for the night, it wouldn’t hurt to let him in and return the favor. “All right,” she said, working her key in the lock, hesitating, turning back to his gaze. “But I’m warning you, any tricks and I’ll make you wish Bear did throw you in jail.”“Who the hell’s Bear?” he asked, blowing warm air into his hands.“The bouncer.”“You know that guy?”“Yeah, he’s a pussy cat.”“Yeah, well, that pussy cat nearly killed me tonight.”“Ah, poor baby.”Kyle pressed his body closer to hers, vigorously rubbing his hands together.“Not funny,” he said. “Now would you hurry up and open the door, it’s freezing out here.”The lobby door opened, and soon they were climbing six flights of stairs, exchanging glances as they went, until finally reaching the door to Jenny’s apartment, # 6-A.“Good heavens, woman,” Kyle said, winded, clutching his chest. “What a hike.”Jenny laughed. “You’re old and out of shape.”“Oh, you’re such a riot tonight, aren’t you?” he responded. “But you’re probably right.” When they were inside, Jenny walked blindly through the dark room toward the table lamp, next to the sofa, knowing exactly how many steps it took to switch it on. “There we go,” she said, looking back at Kyle who had followed behind. “How about I make us some coffee?”Kyle started for the kitchen. “No,” he responded, as he proceeded to take a chrome percolator coffeepot from the dish rack and filling it half way with clean faucet water. “How about if I make the coffee? And you do whatever women do after a hard days work.”Jenny’s apartment was one big open room, kitchen and living area combined. And though the openness made the quarters seem larger than they were, she would have preferred them to be separate, giving each room the ambiance of cozy. A swinging French door would be nice for the kitchen; carpeting in exchange for throw rugs and freshly painted walls in the living room and bedroom, each room with its own design. Since cost was a factor, the quaint apartment served her well so she learned to put up with it’s lacking amenities and overcome the offensive shade of green and white linoleum ceramic in the bathroom, the peeling drywall and the drafty windows hidden under sun-stained drapes. Still, a roof over her head and a warm place to sleep was compensation enough for the less than perfect domicile.Just beyond the border between the two rooms, Jenny watched in puzzled amazement as Kyle struggled to untwist the cord on the coffeepot. She was almost willing to bet that he had never done anything remotely domestic like making coffee in his whole life. Had she grossly underestimated him? Fourteen years had passed since they first met and there was every chance that he had managed quite well. “What’s the matter,” Kyle said, comically. “Haven’t you ever seen a man make coffee before?”Jenny shook her head. “Not like that. You’re supposed to put the filter in first, then the coffee.”“Well, hell,” he said. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. What would be the purpose that?”“So the grounds don’t seep into the water, Einstein.” Rolling her eyes, gentle amusement written on her face, she headed for the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and just finished removing the last piece of clothing when she felt a presence at her door. When she looked up, Kyle was standing in the doorway, reading the directions on the back of the can, indifferent to the fact that he’d invaded her privacy.“This is ridiculous,” he said, holding the coffeepot in one hand and the can in the other. “The directions say—,”“Excuse me!” Jenny snapped, fussing to grab the nearest thing to cover her body. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” “Well, for Chris sake!” he said, lifting his eyes from the coffee can, momentarily catching a glimpse of her buttocks. “How’d I know you’d be naked.” He let out a soft chuckle.“I don’t want to hear your stupid explanation,” she said, ripping the top sheet off the bed and wrapping it around her body. “You didn’t have to barge in here like that, ya know. It’s not very polite.”Kyle chuckled again. “But—the coffee.”“Fuck the coffee!” she yelled in a hard edge tone, frustrated at his coy attitude. “Just get out!”Having nearly been struck by a black high heel shoe targeted for his head, Kyle ducked before it was able to make contact. The shoe whizzed by, disappeared behind him, and hit the wall before landing on the floor in a short dark hallway. “I have another,” she said, holding up the matching shoe.Disregarding another one of her attempts to throttle him with ladies footwear, Kyle said, “The coffee….how do we….I mean…how do I…the directions say to….oh hell, I don’t know what the directions say. In fact, I don’t know what I’m saying. I can’t think with you standing there half naked.”Suddenly weakened with vulnerability, tripping and stumbling over his words, train of thought lost, arms dropped by his sides, coffeepot dangling in his hand, Kyle was oddly too dumbstruck to speak. To Jenny, the innocence of his blushing face enticed her. She suspected that his walking in on her was simply his way of flirting, and it made her wonder how he’d react if she flirted back.Toward him she slowly walked, unwrapping the sheet and letting it fall to the floor as she went. Naked and close enough to smell a faint aroma of perspiration, in addition to a lingering odor of stale cigarette smoke from the club, Jenny anxiously awaited his reaction. As she gazed into eyes that glimmered like the Milky Way galaxy, she waited with intoxicating suspense watching as the blood drained from his battered face. All at once, Kyle realized what was going on but was not about to be reduced to nothing more than her personal gigolo.Gently pushing her back, he bent down and picked the sheet off the floor. “What’s wrong with you, Jenny,” he said.“What’s wrong with you?” she mocked.There was definitely something wrong all right. Jenny knew it just by the way he hadn’t responded the way she was sure he would. Funny, that somehow it seemed that less than two hours ago Kyle was ready to risk life and limb to be her hero. Even then there was questionable doubt to his sudden bout of heroism, but nonetheless, convincing. So why was he lingering on a path between mystery and confusion? The truth is that neither one of them know enough about the other to begin a relationship; always pointing the impervious finger. In some ways, though Jenny never stopped thinking about Kyle, the clock had stopped ticking fourteen years ago when she last saw him. She was stuck in time and stuck on a man she knew could destroy her. Since his return, a roller coaster of uncertainty races out of control, moving backwards and forward. It stops only to visit the past, then wends into the present, but not the future.Suddenly repulsed by humiliation, Jenny snaps the sheet from his hand and wraps it around her body. She wanted nothing more than to scream at him for his stupidity, arrogance, and gull. The rejection caught her totally off guard. The unpleasant feeling of being reprimanded reminded her of being a naughty child. She suspected he was not the same man that she had once known. The likelihood of a self-gratifying romp in the hay was the farthest thing from his mind. And she beginning to think that Mike was wrong about him after all. If nothing else, at least that much was clear. The conversation she had with him echoed in her mind.Her breathing grew heavy and the wind outside even heavier. Startled by the hammering sound the loose fitted window made, Jenny turned and saw the curtain flutter from the seeping air, then shivered. On the dresser, a lamp emitted a soft dim glow, capturing in its light only nearby objects while casting shadows over the rest of the room. A doily, white with feminine laced edging stretched from one end to the other; a small clock and glass candy dish on top. This room was becoming claustrophobically smaller by the minute as Kyle and Jenny stood three feet apart face-to-face in a tangled web of emotional turmoil. “For pity sake,” she said, in a spasmodic fit of anger, swaddled from the chest to the floor in the sheet, silhouetted against twenty-five watts of light. “One minute you’re hot, the next you’re cold. What in God’s name is your problem?”“My problem?” Kyle said, in a whimsy voice, shaking his finger, finding her behavior to be somewhat devilish. “Who came on to who?” “As if you weren’t begging for it,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles on her makeshift gown.“I was not.” “Liar!”“Okay, I didn’t come here tonight to upset you; quite the opposite.” Jenny’s face was molten with a fire so hot that the inside of her mouth felt dry and sticky. “I’m not upset. I’m Goddamn furious!”“Why?” Kyle asked, in a finer tone. “Because I didn’t jump your bones and fuck you like your were some kind of whore I picked up on a street corner?”“Oh, shut up,” Jenny’s voice scorched as she sat down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed at an inanimate object on the floor.To Jenny Kyle said, “I respect you more than that.”“Ha,” she snarled, looking at the window, but not really seeing the snow clicking at the glass. Whip-quick she turned her head to his direction, but did so without looking into his eyes. “Since when?”With two fingers under her chin he lifted her face. “Okay, maybe I deserved that,” he said. “But wasn’t tonight a clear indication that I’m not out to hurt you?”Evidently softened by his gentle touch, even though it would still take some time to banish all feelings of rejection, Jenny remained poised on the edge of the bed, cramped with limitless movement like a peanut in a shell, face up, but looking blindly to the side to intentionally avoid direct eye contact.She inhaled deeply as though to purposely take in every molecule of oxygen inside the room. Then she relaxed and let it out slowly trying to hold onto just enough to stay alive.Kyle moved around her in a half circle and sat next to her on the bed. The profile of her face was something more than pitiful. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you,” he said, respectfully.Jenny rose from the bed and walked like a penguin to the other side of the room, a short distance, but far enough where she could blend in with the shadows of the lamp that mocked a carnival of images on the walls. From only a few feet away from where she had been sitting on the bed, a feeling of bitter regret past through her body like a cold ghostly breeze. Normally, crying would be automatic. Lately, though she cried more times than she had since that day long ago when Kyle took their daughter and mysteriously vanished without a trace, she convinced herself that the act of weeping was merely a state of being controlled by the hand of life’s fateful dealer, a state she forbade surrender. She promised to never cry again. One of the prerequisites required in winning your battles is to have courage and strength against your enemy whatever it may be. Next, is to identify it. Know who or what it is that you’re fighting against. Jenny’s believed that crying is for losers and losers like to cry, so crying must be the enemy. This was a problem for Jenny because fighting back the urge to cry made her feel that life’s knocks had hardened her against ever being able to feel love for another human being, including her own daughter, Rosa. Circumstances beyond her control had left her bitter and hollow. Once, a fight for self-survival technique meant respecting her new found freedom from waging war against herself by declaring herself childless. That strategy failed before it even got off the ground. Any attempt to rid herself of the bond that mother daughter share, no matter the time and distance, only added to her pain. With the exception of Margie and Mike, she was as lonely as one human being could get. Most recent analysis: life’s most mortal sin, loneliness. Jenny’s problem-solving techniques were limited, thus threatening to provide the Amazon with enough water to adequately supply its Rain Forest. Yet, she struggled against the urge and was able to slow the rising dam from breaking. “I’m assuming you’re referring to our daughter,” she said.Even though talk of Rosa was not the forefront of their conversation as late, sooner or later Kyle knew it would have to be. One of his main objectives was to set things straight, besides clearing his conscience. “It was selfish of me to think that you weren’t curious about her whereabouts. But it wasn’t until recently that I realized myself why I acted so horrendously. I thought I was keeping her safe.” Jenny knew she had to be very careful about not letting him know that she had discovered her daughter’s whereabouts by breaking into his briefcase and finding the Christmas Pageant announcement, which led her to Rhode Island. As she stood paused by the dresser, surveying his bewildered mood, it didn’t appear that he knew. Apparently, he had something else on his mind.“I’ve lost the most important years of my daughter’s life because of you,” she said. “And now your trying to tell me that it’s taken you fourteen years to figure out why?”She looked at the ceiling and began clapping her hands with such a display of insensitivity that you’d think she was in a back street alley watching illegal cock fighting.“Hurray for you,” she cheered. “So you’ve had a revelation—big deal. And now I’m supposed to…what….be happy for you?” She reached to the dresser for the candy dish and threw it at him. Glass crashed around his feet as hatred burned in her eyes. “How dare you?” she scorned.Nothing would please her more than to belittle, reject and torture him the same way he had done her, yet in all her anger, she ached for him, a feeling totally unacceptable of a man so unworthy of her love. It was another enemy to fight, another cross to bear.Kyle brushed the broken glass aside with his shoes.“If you’re through acting like a child,” he said. “I like to explain.”Jenny leaned against the wall. “Be my guest,” she said. “Seems to me that you’re used to doing what ever you damn well please.”As a speech formed itself in his mind, briskly sanding the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks with the palms of his hands, he was ready to unleash the demons of his past. With everything else that happened tonight, Kyle knew he teetered on the edge of loosing control. “Well, first I’d like to begin by telling you something that I haven’t told anyone before.”Jenny wrapped the sheet tighter around her body as the wind whistled, which tricked her mind into thinking it was colder inside than it actually was. She listened.Kyle remained stiffly seated on the edge of the bed as if to be balancing blindfolded on an emotional tightrope, thinking, hoping that what he was about to tell Jenny would retreat her anger and pluck the thorns from her heart. He told himself that now more than ever he would have to use every ounce of intelligent logic that his misguided brain could muster if he were going to drain the pools of guilt that he had been wadding in for the past fourteen years. Not knowing how this would turn out did not matter to him anymore. The truth would be his revelation; a new beginning. After fourteen years of being bewitched into hiding from his shame, the same way his father had hid from his, he would break the spell that stole three lives.Kyle hesitated momentarily. He licked his lips to ease the stiffness and began to speak. Jenny remained propped statuesque against the wall appearing quite enchanting in the softness of the lamplight like a Roman Goddess dressed in a Toga. Her silence signaled she was ready to listen.“Many years ago,” Kyle began. “My grandfather owned a plantation in Georgia. He had slaves do the farming and all the housework. I was told they were quite devoted to him, especially one. Mizzy Jean.”Jenny tilted her head in puzzlement and whispered, “Mizzy Jean?”Kyle nodded.“Yes, Mizzy Jean. She was my grandmother.”Still bemused, Jenny responded, “Grandmother? Are you telling me that….?”“Yes.”“Which makes you….,” “Yes again. Shortly after I was born, my mother, Marilee Bennett, died of consumption as they put it in those days.”“Wait a minute, Jenny interrupted. “What ever happened to Mizzy Jean?”Kyle shrugged. “Don’t know. No one really knew much about her. She may have been sold at auction.”“But—how did you find out about her?”“I’ll get to that,” Kyle said, looking at her curious face.“Somewhere along the way, after my mother died, my father met a woman named Suzanne; a stuck-up, money-grubbing hustler that wanted nothing more than to take him for every penny he was worth.“Did she?” Jenny asked.“No,” Kyle said. “The irony is that my father knew exactly what kind of woman she was from the very start. On the outside she was glitzy and glamorous. But on the inside, she was shrewd and cleverly cunning; a real gold-digger. I never did understand why he married her.”“Love?” Jenny answered as though she was being quizzed.“That would be one sick kind of love,” Kyle said. “Suzanne was a stone, incapable of loving or being loved. I’m sure my father couldn’t have loved her. Her only motive in life was to find, search and destroy.”“Pity,” Jenny said. Meant it sincerely. “Then what happened?”“Well, a few years later, after my father died, Suzanne was left to raise me by herself.”“Poor Suzanne,” Jenny chuckled, with a spark of cynicism in her voice.“Stop it,” Kyle scolded. “In a sense, she was—poor, I mean. The second my father took his last breath, poor Suzanne’s world changed forever.”“How so?” Jenny asked.At this point, Kyle sensed Jenny’s genuinely interested. He wondered if telling her all of this was futile. Maybe his timing was off. Maybe assuming forgiveness in this peripatetic life was too much to ask for, he thought. Hell, he sounded more like a Catholic confessing his sins to the priest than a man trying to salvage his tortured conscience. He believed that a clean conscience would be like the sun coming out on a rainy day. And if he could get past this last pitfall keeping him dead inside, a beautiful rainbow would follow. The next time he’d take a breath of air into his lungs, the lies, deceit and shame would be filtered away.Still, one more fact remained. Time. Keeping the faith that Time heals all wounds, Kyle continued to unload.“Because she found out that my father had drawn up a will naming me as the sole beneficiary to his estate—the plantation, the money, everything. She got nothing, except me, a conciliation prize, or should I say, a constant reminder of the good life left behind. God, she hated me.”“Oh, poor Suzanne,” Jenny said.Kyle gazed at Jenny through squinting eyes. “Why do you keep saying poor Suzanne, poor Suzanne? Poor Suzanne indeed. She was a ruthless bitch, and she made my life a living hell. If only my father hadn’t put the stupid clause in his will stating that poor Suzanne could remain in the home and continue living in the manner to which she was accustomed, which was very comfortable, maybe my life, and yours would have been very different.” “That was very generous of him,” Jenny interrupted. “But why would he do that?”“There was no one else to raise me. What choice did he have?”“But if Suzanne knew this, and she hated you so much, then why do you think she stuck around?”Kyle smirked.“Suzanne was a lot of things, but she was no fool. She never worked a day in her life. With no skills she wasn’t likely get a job. No job, no money. She was broke.”“How awful for you,” Jenny said. “To think any child would have to suffer so much.”“Yes, it was awful. But it only lasted until I turned eighteen when I became sole owner of the estate lock, stock and barrel.” “Oh my God,” Jenny said. “No wonder she hated you so much.”“It was more than hate,” Kyle said, crossing his arms over he chest. “See, my father never wanted me to know about my heritage--that I was a descendent of a negro slave. I guess he felt that it would disgrace the family.”“Times were tough back then,” Jenny said. “People were ignorant.”“Yes, and Suzanne knew how my father felt about his heritage. Spreading it all over town would accomplish exactly what she set out to do—ruin him and me.”“But he was dead,” Jenny said.“So what. Suzanne didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to tell me about my grandmother, and anyone else who would listen. I bet my father wasn’t cold in his grave when she started spreading it around that I was, as she put it, the misfit offspring to my grandfather’s Niger lover.“Oh my God,” Jenny said, scratching her neck. “What kind of person…..?”Kyle continued. “She made me do all the housework from the time I was five to the time I was almost eighteen. I was so little when I started washing dishes that I had to stand on a chair just to reach the faucet. She made me use the rear entrance to the house, saying I was her own personal slave. Before long, she had it spread all over town about Mizzy Jean the slave, and the kids teased me terribly. They called me little Niger boy, raisin head, monkey face—you name it. I was the brunt of their jokes. The teacher had to sit me in the front of the class to keep the kids from hitting me with pencils and pulling my monkey ears.”“God, I’m beginning to see it,” Jenny said. “Beginning to see what?” Kyle asked, bemused.“You,” Jenny answered. “You’ve been protecting our daughter because of what Suzanne and the others did to you.”“Yes,” Kyle said, nodding his head agreeably. “In a way I guess I was—still am. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that.”Jenny walked across the room and sat down on the bed next to him. “Yeah, but it seems imprudent, even senseless, for you to sit here and try to convince me that that was the reason why you purposely kept my daughter from me for fourteen years.He bent forward to hide his bruise-stained face in his hands. “I guess I’ve been living in a time warp completely away from the real world. Maybe I was afraid that one day Rosa could come home crying because some kid called her little Niger girl or raisin head or monkey face. I couldn’t bear it.” His sophisticated facade was momentarily deflating in self-pity. “Those were some pretty awful days.”Jenny stood from the bed. “We would’ve dealt with it if that ever happened.”Kyle shook his head. “We? There was no we. There was only me and Rosa.”“Whose fault was that!” Jenny reminded, in harsh tones.“I told you. I didn’t realize then what a horrible mistake I had made. I was afraid that people would see you two together and—.”“And what?” Jenny asked, sharply. “Find out that her mother is a Niger?”Kyle twisted and shivered almost continuously. He was a bundle of nervous tension. “No,” he said, violently shaking his head. “I mean—yes.”“What happened to me?” she asked.Kyle looked up into her eyes knowing that beyond this question lied a thousand more. “I’m not sure what you’re saying,” he said.Jenny repeated. “What happened to me? What did you tell our daughter happened to me? She must have asked about me at some point in her life.”Bitterness rose in his throat as he choked out the answer, “Dead.”For a moment Jenny could not speak, but she was not at all surprised by what he said. Dead was the best excuse. It’s open to sympathy, yet closes to silence. Plus, the element of this degree of loss and sadness for which a person can hide, becomes an armor.After a while, Jenny said in disbelief. “Did you lie and tell her that you and I—?”“Were married?” he interrupted, finishing her sentence. “No, she never asked. I guess she assumed….”“Is she happy?” Jenny asked, wiping her eye before a runaway tiny tear broke loose and ran down her cheek. “I guess,” he replied. “You guess?”His eyes landed a soft glancing blow to hers.Jenny turned and was heading for the bathroom to splash cold water on her face when she was suddenly pulled back, spun around and embraced by Kyle’s powerful arms.“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he said, crushing his mouth hard onto hers. His tongue was amazingly soft as it commanded its way into her mouth, gliding back and forth over her lips and back into her mouth again. She could smell the perspiration of his skin, feel him growing with desire as he caressed her spine with one hand, tearing the sheet away with the other.“Tell me you’ll forgive me, Jenny,” he said desperately, moving his lips over hers, feeling her mouth with his as though he could perform a little voodoo and magically force out the words.“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head, a little more circumspect than before. “We haven’t finished talking.”“Don’t trouble you head about it,” Kyle said. “Not now.”In the splendor of the growing tide, and not having been with a man for longer than she wanted to admit, Jenny threw herself against him willingly and began grabbing and unbuttoning his shirt and buried her face in the soft black fur on his chest. Before she knew it, she was lying helplessly on the bed under the bulk of his perfectly erect masculinity, breathing heavily as she sensed the coming pleasure. Kyle had the feeling there was something beyond love here, something more amazing and powerful than that, something that was propelling him to see what lay ahead. The feeling washed over him, body and soul. He could almost feel himself rising to a dimension that he had never felt before as his mind sank deeper into the depths of sheer ecstasy, his lips tasting the sweet nectar of her skin. He looked down and peered into her eyes and knew she had never stopped loving him. And he knew that she would forgive him, just by her willingness to let him touch her.He stopped, looked at her face again, smoothed back her hair. She raised her head and kissed his throat, pulled him down, gripping his back with tight clenching fingers. She was afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to see she made a terrible mistake. After all, he was a liar. Said so himself. Wore the title.But when she opened her eyes, what she saw was not regret, but years of pent up love and compassion. It tore at her resilience. It was as if a curtain of destiny had just opened and the stage was set for the inevitable show to begin.Jenny fumbled to unfasten his belt, working feverishly to unhook the damn contraption. Once his pants were unzipped, contortedly, Jenny arced her foot up between his crotch and slide them down to his ankles. She could feel the rawness of the man.The two lay looped together, virtually twisted like mating snakes. Tiny beads of sweat dripped onto her breasts with his every rhythmic motion. Happening too fast! By the time she could savor in the moment, her lips became numb and tingly and aroused to a climax. She released her hands from his back and clutched tightly onto the sheet. He cupped her breasts with his hand and pressed his lips against her neck. With each pulsating stroke he became lost from all else around him. When it was over, tears of both pleasure and pain ran down her face and she was filled with a bountiful joy so incredible that she could not believe it wasn’t a dream.Still propped atop her body, arms wobbly, Kyle looked into Jenny’s eyes, his face inches away from hers. “I feel drugged,” he said, rolling off to the side. Jenny turned her body to face his. “I wish we had more than just this night,” she said. Kyle leaned back and switched the lamp off. In the dark of the room, he found her eyes, pressed his lips against them and said, “Don’t trouble your head about it.” Then wiped away a runaway tear from her face. “Tomorrow we will talk about our daughter. She wants me to attend the birthday party my housekeeper is planning. I’d like very much if you would attend as my guest.”Excitedly, Jenny said. “But—I thought you said if she knew about me she would hate you for lying.” “S-h-h-h,” he whispered. “It’s not about me anymore. It’s about all of us. Don’t worry, everything will work out. We’ll discuss the details in the morning. Now get over here and keep me warm.” Chapter 17 BurrillvilleBy mid afternoon, Georgene had slept off most of the effects of the Brandy and Chlorpromazine, and was able to pull herself out of the confines of the leather chair. She went to the kitchen and opened the freezer to look for something for supper, but suddenly remembered Rosa telling her earlier that she would be at a friend’s house until at least nine o’clock. Alone again.Slowly, she closed the freezer door.A cascade of quietude washed over her as she walked to the kitchen table, pulled back a chair and sank like quicksand into the seat. Seemingly embalmed in a deadened trance-like stare, she wasn’t even aware of the spider dangling in front of her face on a long sticky string-like web. All her focus was on thoughts of being alone. Thoughts of death. For some reason it affected extreme fear in her. She wondered what it would be like although she felt as if she already were. Her only comfort was that she believed death was like a two-way mirror. That the state of being dead meant that in all actuality you are still alive, but existing in another form, watching, hovering over earth’s atmosphere. Not heaven. Not hell. Somewhere in between. Maybe the Dead are on the other side right now waiting for their next citizen to cross over. Who would it be, she wondered? In the gloomy trenches of her past she can still hear her mother’s voice telling her that some day the sky will crack open and from it will ooze a benign serpent so vile, and it will come to spread its venomous dominion all over the world. Another uninspiring thought was that maybe death wasn’t much different than living.She sighed. The stillness of the manor made such a monstrous sound that it made her want to scream. Drawing on what little reserves she had left, she got up from the table and went to her bedroom, turned the television on, and fell onto her bed. For the next twenty minutes or so, her eyes were unblinkingly focused on the flashing screen. In another five minutes she would fade into a night of fitful dreams.As the night unfolded a new day, inch by inch streams of yellow sunlight began to cast over the horizon simulating a clear spring day. But the temperature had only changed a few degrees from the night before. The bitter cold wind still continued tossing and littering the snow-covered ground with tree limbs and debris. This morning, Georgene lay asleep in her bed until rudely awakened by the sound of a man’s rough assaulting voice. When she opened her eyes and realized where the voice was coming from, it was then that she remembered leaving the television on. It was a teeth-grinding experience to get your morning wake up call hearing the Channel 8 Anchorman broadcasting the day’s weather report in his loud bone-rubbing voice. He sounded more like Santa Clause when he spoke, even though he did not resemble the jolly elf at all. No, this man was skinny as a bean with brown balding hair, big bushy eyebrows, and a wax-twisted mustache.“Jack!” she chuckled, thinking about Jack and the Bean Stock.Interrupted by a hairspray commercial, her train of thought was lost, otherwise, she would have continued to insult Jack the Anchorman until she ran out of ways to amuse herself.“Psst….Psst,” she mimicked, holding an imaginary can of hairspray at her head. Once again she was interrupted from a knock at the door. The one-knuckle kind of knock that hardly makes a sound. A voice called to her from the other side.“Georgene?” Slowly, the door eased open, and in it peered a one-eyed prowler.“Good morning,” said the eye.“Who’s there?” asked Georgene, as she reluctantly pulled herself away from the television to open fully the door.“Oh, Rosa—it’s you,” she said, smoothing back her tangled hair.Being that her clothes were wrinkled, shirt half-buttoned and pulled out of her skirt, shoes and nylons still on, Rosa suspected she had slept the night in them. And she also suspected booze was to blame.“What time is it?” Georgene asked.Standing in the doorway, Rosa replied, “The hall clock says six.”“a.m.?”“a.m.”Georgene lowered her head. She couldn’t remember anything about the previous day, or that there was a previous day.“I’m sorry I missed you last night,” she said, backing away from the door. She returned to her bed while Rosa remained standing in the doorway. The last time she had crossed over the forbidden line was to find the little white box that had been secretly hidden in the chandelier, but then mysteriously disappeared. But something told her that the box was somewhere in the squalor of the room. Nevertheless, to hazard beyond the threshold now would mean kicking aside a jungle of shoes, newspapers, booze bottles, clothing, and one hair-filled brush—and the smell.Remembering that she had once been inside the bedroom alone with God only knows what underneath the clutter, maybe a corpse, maybe Earl’s corpse, suddenly made her skin crawl. Not possible, she rationalized, because if the smell had been coming from something dead, surely the stench would have drawn out the rats by now. No, this smell was more like regurgitated garbage. A little air freshener would be welcomed. Looking around the room, she suspected that if she threw in a grenade, the blast would only improve the unsightly conditions. Satisfied with her convincing theory that Earls hideously disfigured corpse was not lying under the pile of unidentifiable muddle, she relaxed.Georgene sat on the edge of her bed and rocked back and forth, her hands clenched together between her knees. “So, how’s school?” “Okay, I guess,” Rosa replied.“Did you hand out the invitations I gave you?”“Yes I did.” Georgene looked at her with wide eyes. “All of them?”“All of them.”“Well then,” Georgene said, gleaming. “We’d better get busy and start making this place looking party-worthy. Is your friend coming?”“Who?”“The girl you visited last night. What’s her name?”“Oh, Chantel? Nah, she’s too busy with basketball stuff.” If she had said what she really believed to be the truth, she would have said she didn’t think her father would approve of her bringing a black girl to the house.“Ah, that’s too bad,” Georgene said. “I’m sure you have plenty of other friends who would love to come.” As she reached for her robe and slid her feet into her slippers, she said, “How would you like it if I made you a nice hot breakfast before heading off to school? They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. A well-fed mind is a healthy mind.”Mused, Rosa chuckled under her breath. She didn’t have the heart to explain to her that the philosophical phrase a well-fed mind meant reading, not eating. Still, she loitered behind and met her in the kitchen. The two talked and ate and talked some more, then afterward Rosa left for school while Georgene stood in the open doorway watching her young companion slowly stride down the long snow-covered driveway, becoming smaller and smaller until she disappeared beyond the iron gates.With the door still opened to the great outdoors, Georgene inhaled the clean morning air deep into her lungs. Daylight was still hidden behind the trees, but in another half-hour, the sun would rise in the sky spearing its rays through the clouds and ricocheting off the ice-hardened snow. She soundlessly closed the door and turned around, pressing her back against it. She remained perfectly motionless for a minute or two, exuberantly thinking about tomorrow night’s birthday party.She began to pace around the downstairs to look for clues to what room would best serve the birthday party. Finally, her search ended when she realized that the dining room would be the most ideal place. The massive table would comfortably seat at least twenty guests or more. And though this room’s chandelier was not nearly as handsome as the one in the library, it possessed an aura of great character. It was extravagantly appointed, the way it overlooked the room like a thorny crown, and properly decorated it would be as elegant as any one found in the finest of New England’s homes. As she searched through the buffet, opening and closing more doors and more drawers, taking note to all that was inside, she discovered behind one door a stack of beautiful gold rimmed serving dishes. Above this door was a drawer. Inside, were tarnished silverware, candle holders and napkin rings. And behind another door were two dozen gold-rim lead-cut goblets and their matching water pitcher. Sitting on the floor in front of the open doors and drawers of the buffet, Georgene gazed in amazement, clutching her chest, astonishment by the victory of her hunt. Valuable antiques now, but everyday housewares to Clara McClement in 1850. Carefully, she placed everything on the table.But, in as much as all of these things would measure up royally for the party, something far more impressive had not yet been detected. Easing out the last drawer she uncovered a twenty foot cotton embroidered table scarf; a true example of Europe’s most superb hand-stitched lineage. Rosa had found it years ago in one of the McClement’s old trucks. And it was still wrapped in the original paper. Door to door, drawer to drawer, she continued to search until she was satisfied with her previous findings. Turning to the table, she calculated the total number of place settings available by the number of invitations written, verifying the count to be sufficient. At first she thought that since some of the lead-cut goblets with hairline cracks would be unusable, a closer inspection determined that perhaps they would hold be just fine, after all. Picking up two goblets, one in each hand, she raised them in the air, clinked the rims together and toasted herself the Matron of Ceremony. The telephone rang, interrupting her moment of vanity. Without regard to the fragility of the goblets, she lowered them to the table where they met the hard wooden top with a solid thud. Foolish, but neither one broke.Picking up the receiver she said, “Hello?”A long moment of silence, then a fresh reply, “Yes sir, tomorrow night.”More silence, less enthusiasm, “Yes sir, we’ll see you then.”She placed the receiver on the cradle. “Oh no!” In a panic, Georgene rushed to the kitchen to re-check the food supply. Everything was as ready as it was going to be because the party had been planned for weeks. At the right moment, the meal’s preparation would begin with precise timing. Making the cake would have to wait until tomorrow, but the roast could begin thawing tonight. Ice tea is Kyle’s favorite, so only fresh-brewed would do. Everything fresh! She rummaged through the refrigerator and found a moldy container of pate, which she had forgot that she bought several weeks back. Kyle loves pate, she remembered, so another trip to the general store would be included in the day’s agenda. Frantically, she began scratching through the kitchen cabinet, like a dog burying its bone, until she found a small notebook. After tearing off one clean page, she pawed through the drawer again and found a stubby yellow pencil. Although the pencil was broken, and the point was too, gnawing at the end brought the instrument back to a state of usefulness. With the teeth-constructed lead tip she wrote:PateMilkButterBreadCarrotsTo the closet she raced, grabbed her coat, inserted her arms into the sleeves, checked her pockets for the car keys, and dashed out the door, mindlessly forgetting that she was still wearing her robe and slippers. A second later, the door reopened. Georgene was back inside the house. In a whirlwind frenzy, she spun around looking for her boots. Didn’t see them.She whizzed across the foyer to check inside the coat closet.Didn’t see them. After fifteen minutes of searching, she realized that she did not have any boots. She jerked her left foot forward, snapping off the slipper, then repeated the same with the right foot. The only protective footwear she owned was an old pair of goulashes. They would have to do.Quickly, she ran back to the closet, slid into her penny-loafers, then into her goulashes. Over the robe she put on her long wool coat. Then off she went to the general store where she bought everything on the list, including candles for the cake, food coloring, a fresh supply of eggs, thirty-five millimeter film, one pair of cheap rubber boots, a festive assortment of party favors, and one package of matches.The only thing the general store did not carry was the pate. So before going home she would make one more stop at Winfield’s Deli.By noon, Georgene had just about everything she needed for the party. The trip to town and back went smoothly. Even her visit to Winfield’s Deli was a devilish treat since Mr. Winfield and his wife had left the store in their nephew’s charge. The thought made her smile as she trotted up the front porch steps carrying the two grocery bags. She stopped and pulled a small elephant trinket out of her coat pocket, held it high and let out a laugh so wicked that it echoed in the wind. “Why, thank you,” she says, as if it were Mrs. Winfield to whom she was speaking. “This trinket will look simply darling next to the others.”This time, she pretends that Mrs. Winfield is responding back. “I’m so glad you like them.”She laughed another wicked laugh, opened the door and went inside. Smiling proud as a naughty child, Georgene went to the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the table, and proceeded to remove the items she purchased. A moment’s recheck confirmed that everything on the list was here.Next on the agenda, and after years of being in the buffet, the dust would have to be washed from the dishes and the sterling would need to be polished. Tying a string around her thumb was a reminder that the roast had yet to put out in the sink to thaw. She smiles. It’s a beautiful day and she feels good about life.As the grandfather clock donged, striking the top of the hour, the reverberation echoed hollowly through the hall. A minute later, as she watched the gentle sway of the pendulum, Georgene suddenly found herself dispirited by the ubiquitous silence of her surroundings. The kitchen always did seem to be quieter than the rest of the house, probably because there were no ticking clocks or rattling windows to rouse its peaceful tranquility. It was sandwiched between a laundry room, which was built later as a new addition, and the dining room, which was sandwiched between the kitchen and the library. It was well isolated from the rest of the house.Feeling the full weight of the silence, Georgene picked up the elephant trinket and left the kitchen to go to her bedroom. Once there, she went to the windowsill and placed it next to the five other elephant trinkets that she had previously stolen from Winfield’s Deli, positioning them in a circle formation, each one a mere representation of devious pleasure. As she delighted in the six tiny ceramic pieces, she schemed with intent to swipe another. Slowly from the window she turned, stumbling through a thicket of whatnot and turned the television on, cranking the volume up as loud as the older model would allow. This way, not only would the noise take away the insufferable feeling of loneliness, it would send sound waves through the hollowness of the downstairs to strangle the silence. Being alone inside the quiet of the house day in and day out was like being buried alive.But it had not always been that way.In the beginning, Georgene expected that the move to Rhode Island would be fresh and promising. At first glance of the great estate she felt as though she had finally found the one place where she could hide from the menacing gossip of her self-destructive life-style in Louisville, and the memories of her tormented childhood. But though she embraced the move with great expectations she was now more alone than she had even been in her life. Despite the rarity for one to live such a tranquil existence in today’s world, day after day and night after night, eventually the dead-stillness could begin to take its toll. It didn’t matter anymore that the manor had distanced her from Louisville and the home where she and her mother once lived. All that mattered was that the vintage memories kept pounding away in her brain like a jackhammer. Nevertheless, as loneliness prevailed, sounding constantly in her head like ten cannons being fired, everything changed, she changed, was reincarnated into a parallel world of being. Before long, the only friends to whom she shared her world were scotch, brandy and gin. Their anesthetic effects helped to kill the pain and cease the blaring noises within her head. Drinking herself into oblivion was the only thing that made any sense in the world in which she now lived. Kill the pain before it kills you. Griping to this philosophy, she would eventually succumb to a much greater fate. Because along with this new sense of perilous thinking and the alternate universe of which she visited, her destiny and the destiny of others would entwine. Into her life had entered a boding evil far more threatening than the cops and lawyers in Louisville and more damaging than any of the heartless misguided teachings of her mother. Chapter 18When Rosa opened the door to the bakery, she walked in and saw Russo arranging mason jars on a wall of shelves. Since she did not see anyone else she assumed they were alone.As usual, the bakery was warm and it smelled like cinnamon and chocolate. “Rosa!” Russo said, turning to the sound of the door’s bell. “I haven’t seen you in a month of Sunday’s.”“Hi, Mr. Russo,” she said, politely.“My goodness,” he chuckled. “ I was about to start turning rocks over to find you if you didn’t soon show up. Where’ve you been stranger?”“Busy,” she blurted.“Busy?” he said, placing the last jar on the shelf. He stepped back to survey the inventory. As high as the wall was, so were the narrow shelves, each spaced about eleven inches apart. The highest shelf was bare, except for a fine layering of dust. But the rest of the shelves were packed with decorated colors of purple and gold preserves, red and white lettered cracker tins, beige and blue oatmeal boxes, yellow sugar bags, and an assorted variety of brightly painted ceramic coffee and hot chocolate mugs. “See that space there?” He said, pointing to a frontal wall. “That’s where my café is going to be come Spring. I may even get one of those fancy ice cream dispensing machines. What’s ya think about that kiddo?”Rosa grinned and shrugged her shoulders. Every year about this time she has listened to Russo toy with the notion of building a café. But so far, to her knowledge, no estimate has been given from trained construction workers. AndBob Russo is a retired cop, after all, not a man skilled with the finesse to take on such an undertaking as that of a qualified carpenter. So it was unlikely that he was capable of delving into such a task on his own, especially at his age. By now, the whole idea seemed more like a pipe dream than a real honest to goodness game plan. But each time that he brought it up, Rose went along with him as though the wheels of construction were in motion; walls tumbling around their feet, tiny café tables and chairs set in place, and music playing softly on the jute box.As she turned and walked in the direction of the large pastry case, she gazed at the new supply of cream-filled and other sugary donuts, while Russo continued silently moving his lips and counting the empty mason jars. He had no idea that she moved to the other side of the room, because he spoke to her as though she were still standing right behind him. “Don’t know what I’d do without all these shelves,” he said, as his head moved left and right and up and down at the plank rows of knotty pine. “Strong and sturdy they are; like big arms. Will hold just about anything from whatchamacallits to thingamajigs.”He turned again to face the frontal wall with real thoughts about the coming café. Walking with one foot in front of the other, like a drunk walking a chalk line, he counted in oversized arithmetic measures of twelve inches for every step he took. “It’ll be quaint,” he said. “But folks will flock to this place like ducks on a pond once the word gets out. Business will boom.” Now she thought he was going too far. “In this small town?” Russo laughed. “Maybe your right, kiddo,” he said. “Burrillville’s not getting any bigger. I guess I can put the idea of the café on hold for one more year. Maybe by then, the town will have grown some.”Rosa laughed too, but only because she knew they would have the same conversation next year, like they did this year, last year and the year before that. It seemed whenever Bob Russo got the notion to do a little Spring cleaning, whether it was Spring or not, he would conjure up new ideas that he believed would churn up more business. Such delusions had made him think that the little small town pastry shop was more than just a little small town pastry shop. In a faraway place of boyish dreams, he allowed exaggerated thoughts to invade his head, morph him from the traditional small town pastry-cook he was to the innovative big city chef he was not.Rosa snapped her fingers, drawing him back from the magical world that occasionally suspended him. Shaking the cobwebs from his head he excused himself to the men’s room where he would sit upon the throne to stargaze some more.While Rosa waited in the storefront for his return, she helped herself to a day-old doughnut hole, licking the sugar and popping it into her mouth. Swallowed it, she licked and popped in another. Suddenly, and without warning, a pain shot through her back so knife-like that it made her think that she had just been stabbed. Possibly by someone who had crept into the bakery unseen and was now looking to rob the place. She fell forward, holding her hand over her doughnut gorged mouth, coughing and choking until the soggy hole ejected into her hand. When she tried to take in a breath, she coughed some more as her body instinctively fought to purge the remaining crumbs. Finally, her airway passage was completely free of any trace of the doughnut and her breathing had returned to normal.But before the anonymous assailant had another chance to stick the steely blade of his knife into her back, though she did not see a knife, thought it was because nothing else could have caused this kind of pain, she dropped, rolled on the floor and looked up into the eyes of her rival, Alexis Winslow.“I should of known it was you,” she said. “What are doing sneaking up on me like that?” She looked at her hand for the knife, but only saw a broom. “Is that what you hit me with? I oughta break your kneecaps for stabbing me in the back with that thing.”Alexis did not act as though she was the least bit ruffled by the threat of having her kneecaps broke. Her mannerism was calm and uncharacteristically pleasant for someone who had just taken a man’s life, even if that man was like Swamp Thing, the Beast who had preyed upon beautiful woman.But the man, the beast, did more than that. From between the thin walls of the house was heard the spine-chilling cries of her mother and stepbrothers. Eventually, Alexis lived to hide and hid to live. From behind her own wall of demoralizing abuse she waited for the day when she could banish the beast from his miserable existence.“Before you decide to pound my kneecaps to the backs of my legs,” Alexis said. “I think you should know that it would do no good for Russo if I were to be made crippled. Then I couldn’t work. Besides, it’s your fault. I caught you stealing.”If it weren’t for the fact that the girl had already been beaten enough in her young life, a good dose of knee-shattering would be exactly what she deserved. Surprised by the news, Rosa got up from the floor and stood before her in disbelief.“What do you mean you work here?” she asked. “Since when?”Alexis began sweeping at the floor. “Since this morning. Russo hired me as his assistant. How do you like my apron?”It was the same apron Russo had offered to her not too long ago.“I hate it,” Rosa barked. “And I hate you too.”The prospect of beating the girl’s kneecaps to a pulp was becoming more and more appealing, but she did not want to live with the guilt of crippling her, even if the temptation was tugging at her naughty side. Her not so naughty side was telling her that the girl had dealt with enough trouble in her life. With that she began to reflect on the night in the stable when she found her hiding in one of the stalls, covered with straw, hungry and frightened. Somehow, it made the childish arguing seem so trivial. Maybe it was time they made peace with each other. After all, in the stable, the two had bonded unknowingly but most definitely.“So this is why you weren’t in school today?” Rosa said.“Sh-h-h-h, I don’t want the old man to find out?”“Who?”“Santa Clause, stupid. Who do you think? If Russo finds out that I cut school today, he won’t let me work here anymore. I need this job.”“Okay, I won’t tell him, but I still can’t believe he hired you.”“Why not? He needed the help and I needed the money. Besides, he said he offered the job to you and you didn’t want it.” “What about your stepfather? If he finds out you cut school, he’ll….”“Shut up about him!” Alexis whispered sharply, sweeping the area again. “You’ll mind your own business if you know what’s good for you.”Rosa grabbed the broom by the handle.“Let go!” Alexis said, trying to jerk it free.Rosa gazed steadily at her face, into her eyes. “Why were you in my bedroom?”The girl gazed back, sheepishly now, because she worried that her adversary had the bewitching power to see through her eyes into the abyss of her soul, able to forcefully pluck the truth from her tongue. Disregarding her clairvoyance suspicion, she responded. “I didn’t steal your stupid giraffe.”Rosa released the broom and folder her arms, head cocked. “I never said it was a giraffe.”Beyond the first lie came another. “Yes, you said it was a giraffe.” She turned her back and began sweeping. “Maybe that mirror-crazed lunatic took the stupid thing and hid it in her smelly old bedroom. Maybe she’s going to stick it with pins or something and put a voodoo curse on it.”It was with this remark that Rosa suspected Alexis had journeyed to other areas of the manor, including the housekeepers quarters. Yet, unbeknownst to her, it was there that the murdering weapon was found.In the presence of her comrade of ten or more years, who before her wore the markings of a killer, Rosa spluttered with anger, chewing at the inside of her mouth.“You’re the one that’s crazy.”Unfortunately, before she had a chance to formulate another argumentative response about the mirror, a scene of which she herself had never been privy to witness, Rosa was distracted by the sound of the flushing toilet; the door to the bathroom opening. Russo had returned, wiping his dampened hands on both sides of his jelly-stained apron.“Kiddo, are you still here?”“I was just leaving,” Rosa said, moving toward the door, her eyes fixed on the girl’s eyes with an “I know you did it” look of intimidation, hoping it would make her surrender the reason why she lied about stealing the toy. But, it didn’t.Outside, on the other side of the door she waited. A moment later, she walked around a dirty mound of snow to peer though the large display window. But regardless of her attempt to get the girls attention, a layer of condensation made everything inside look like an unidentifiable blur. She pulled away from the window, away from the snow mound, back to the cement sidewalk that made a pathway to the road. Sloshing along the shoulder, Rosa look back at the bakery, eluding herself with thoughts that Alexis would come pouring out of the door, run to her side and breathlessly confess that she had lied about being in her bedroom and taking Mr. Bill, the giraffe. But the further away from the bakery she walked, the more unlikely it was that she would get that confession. She could not understand why Alexis would choose to take a silly old stuffed toy when she could have taken possessions far more valuable. Since the two girls are close to the same size, you would think that an article of clothing, a hairbrush, a diary, or even a bottle of toilet water would be the more advantageous choice. The only rational thing that made any sense at all was that the toy had a spiritual meaning. And though the girl took it with cunning cat-burglar expertise, its spirituality remained. To her, Mr. Bill represented more than just a lifeless toy. It gave her back a sense of lost innocence that had been ripped away. In as much as the giraffe was machine-made, constructed of cotton and plastic with a felt tongue and button eyes, it symbolized a risk-free friendship that, in her make-believe fantasy, would never forsake her or leave her wondering alone in the ruins of her life.While Rosa continued down a snowy course for home, an unsettling feeling of sympathy rammed head-on into her chest, and she began to see the mystery unfold.Now, in the dawning of her teenage years, Mother Nature had done her part. Rosa, matured with the ability to analyze things as an adult, rather than that of a child of eleven or twelve. She was beginning to understand the complexity of the girl, even though she was still disconcerted over her pitiful need to steal a twelve ounce toy of cotton and fake fur. Yet, it did explain why she acted so sheepish back as the bakery.For the first time since she had known Alexis, Rosa could feel the razor’s edge of life on which she balanced, the brutal existence she had described so vividly. After all, that night in the stable she told her every grizzly detail.Confession is supposed to cleanse the soul. At least that was what she had been told, remembering now that it was either nanny number three, or four, who she heard it from. But that was so many years ago and at an age when she was too young to know what it meant.That night in the stable, after spending hours revealing what living a life as a Winslow was really like, there did not seem to be any indication that Alexis was any closer to such a cleansing. As a matter of fact, in her observation, Rosa suspected that the girl had actually worsened after reliving the events. So, maybe all that talk of soul cleansing was just a bunch of mumble jumble, after all.Back at the bakery, Alexis peered from the window, hot tears burning down her face, watching the one person to whom she knew she could trust shrinking to a tiny black dot as distance faded her from sight. Feelings of remorse over the lie had reduced this, otherwise, pugnacious girl into remission, who was as guilty of her crime as any thief standing outside the bank holding a bag of money was of his.Then she turned away from the window and looked down at her hands that were still firmly fixed around the handle of the broom. A horrible crime was committed by these hands, she thought. These are not the hands of a child anymore. These are the hands of a killer. Surely if anyone were to find out what these hands were capable of, life in prison would be inevitable. The defense attorney would say that a man was murdered in cold blood—too drunk to know what he was doing—could not fight back. Of course, she would plea self-defense. But since the years of the beating and rapes were kept secret, who would believe she killed him in self-defense? From this point on Alexis vowed to existence only to work and go to school; speak only when spoken to. No more friends because that could prove to be a problem. It would do no good to have folks snooping around and asking questions that could lead to the discovery of the cold-blooded murder of Winslow. Certain adjustments would have to be made in order to continue with the delusion that everything was fine. A good fugitive must never let it slip, not for a moment, that he or she committed a crime. Luckily, since she was in no danger of becoming one of those born again church-going fanatics, or had any religious moral standings in the community, living with the guilt over what she had done would not require an immediate conversion. Besides, the last time that she stepped foot into a church was when she was forced to attend her Aunt Pearl’s funeral. Even then she was not moved by the presence of a Higher Power.The sky was beginning to cloud and snow was lightly falling as though it were being sifted through a salt shaker.Normally, this would be the time of day when Alexis would head home because she knew Winslow would be waiting with a host of chores to keep her occupied all evening. Like most kids, she complained, but for the most part, she accepted the work because she knew what the price for disobedient behavior would be. Some days, when she felt particularly lucky, she would come home from school and find him lying on the sofa in a drunken daze after he had immersed himself in enough booze to drown a rat. Her icy stare was so cold that the temperature could migrate birds to fly south in the Spring. Alexis turned and looked outside the window, into the sky over the scatter of trees that hid the little hut-of-a-house where she lived, recalling the events of the previous morning when she had taken his worthless life. He was a man incapable of human kindness, nothing more than a meaningless blur on the Richter scale of humanity, missed by no one. Still, the fact remained that it was by her hands that he had ceased to live, his soul tossed to the fiery depths of hell to burn. But no hotter than the tears that scorched her cheeks. Looking back, she feared the very moment she pulled the trigger, that she had become the product of this man, Winslow: brutally incapable of human kindness.At only fourteen she is a child living in an adult world with oceans of constant turmoil stretching her beyond the sandy dunes of time. Through the glass and into the void she gazed in disbelief of her shambled life. But beyond the panes where everything seemed hopeless their formed a peaceful beauty cast in the darkening sky. It was a welcoming sign that followed on the heels of such a terrible event, and it gave her every reason to believe that one day she would deliberate on this moment and understand what it all meant.Chapter 19BrynwoodStanding at the bottom of the porch steps, Rosa’s eyes washed over the house as if she were expecting something eerie and unexpected to suddenly occur, noting that something eerie and unexpected had occur the previous day. The vacant room down the hall from her bedroom, without any explanation, was occupied by a presence that she believed had been living in the manor all along. The presence did not seem threatening in any way, not that that made a difference, but it did have a strange affect on her. Something told her that whoever it was possibly knew her, met her before, or had her confused with someone else because it led her to a book of century old photos; one that held a striking resemblance to herself. In all the years that she roamed and explored countless number of rooms in the mansion, she could not remember ever seeing the book before last night.As she stood in the cold air, her mind reflected on the music that she heard play a child’s lullaby, a rocking chair that moved to the beat of its tune, and the strange scent of lilac. Part of her wished she had never journeyed to the end of the hall to the vacant room, discovering what would have been better left undiscovered. The fact is that mysteries intrigue her. Always have. But she never expected, nor wanted to believe, that she and the child in the photo could in any way be connected. In all that is logical, could the two be related?Fifteen minutes had lapsed before Rosa finally ascended the steps, crossed the porch, paused another moment, then opened the door. In as much as she feared the manor would never be the same, once she was fully inside, felt its calming serenity again, admired its ancient charm, suddenly, it was no mystery as to how easily someone could become so attached to such a magnificent place. The ghost must have good reason to be here, she thought.“But it isn’t fair,” she said. “Whoever’s up there can see me, but I can’t see them.”Beyond the corridor, down the hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen Rosa guardedly walked until she came upon Georgene who was busy separating three tangled rolls of pink, yellow, and white crepe paper. Standing in the entrance, she looked back over her shoulder and noticed the dining room had already been decorated quite elaborately. Taking a step back, she walked along the mahogany table, smoothing her hand over the newly polished wood. Above, she noticed the cobweb that had been entwined on the chandelier was now wiped away, and there were strands of white ribbon in its place. On the table was a long embroidered runner. On it gallantly stood a sterling silver candelabrum waiting like a soldier to illuminate the room with its radiant fire. The antique dishes were clean; the silverware too. It was obvious, to her, that the woman had put a lot of time and energy into planning the party. Rosa smiled and dabbed at her tears, then turned and went back to the entrance of the kitchen where she remained motionless, watching the middle-aged woman sitting before her trying, but failing, to untangle the paper. Although Rosa suspected Georgene’s main motive in throwing such a fancy shindig was to gain approval of her father, she knew in her heart of hearts that the woman loved her too, taught her more about self-survival than anyone else ever did. Somehow, it seemed important that she knew. And though Georgene would never succumb to a full confession about what really happened in Louisville with the cops, and the growing up years with her mother, between every word unveiled tiny fragments of history. It was in her eyes and her haggard face. Momentarily, Rosa was swathed in feelings of empathy, struggling to keep herself from crying. She turned to leave.“You caught me!” Georgene said, looking like a child sneaking sweets from a cookie jar.“Sorry,” she said, apologizing for the interruption. “I didn’t mean to peek.”Georgene focused again on the tousled crepe paper. “It’s okay,” she said. “Besides, I could use some help. If I don’t get this crepe paper untangled soon, I’m going to scream.”Rosa pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She picked up a roll of yellow crepe paper and tried to find the end. “Where did you get this stuff?” she asked, giggling as she looped dangling tails of yellow paper around the rolls of pink and white.She watched as Georgene struggle to unravel hers as well. To Rosa, she said, “I found them in an old box of junk. I guess they belonged to your previous housekeeper.”Rosa shook her head, still trying to decipher where the roll stopped and where it started. “I don’t remember her,” she said, with her eyes still fixed on the roll. When she looked up, she couldn’t help but notice how carefully Georgene worked to free the paper from its knots. Using her fingers, the otherwise quick tempered woman delicately handled the fragile crepe as though it were an egg. “What do you think of the dining room?” she asked, head bowed, eyes fixed, still concentrating on the task at hand.“It looks great,” Rosa answered, honestly.“Finally!” Georgene exulted, as she pulled her roll free from the rest, ironing the wrinkled paper over the table with the palm of her hand. The previously connected rolls of crepe paper were now three individual ones. Rosa raised her arms over her head and hailed the victory. Both began rewinding the loose tails and securing them with scotch tape. “I think this should do it,” Georgene said, placing the three rolls on the table.”Rosa nodded. “Anything else you need me to help you with?”“Not right now,” Georgene replied. “You go ahead upstairs and get your homework done and I’ll start making supper. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”Georgene rose from the table and walked across the kitchen, opened the freeze door and stood stiffly starring at the stacked packages of frozen meats as if they would jump out and into the frying pan on their own power. She paused, her mind searching for anything that would best cook quickly since working on the crepe paper had turned the evening so late. “How about a hamburg and macaroni casserole?” she suggested, talking with her head halfway in the freezer. “Or, should I make……?” She hesitated, waiting for a reply, then turned and saw that she had been talking to herself. Obviously, Rosa had taken her advice and was on her way upstairs to her room. With no one to protest her menu suggestion, hamburg/macaroni casserole it was.At the bottom of the stairs, Rosa rested her hand on the balustrade, looking at the darkened shadows on the wall ahead. She felt as though she was being watched. Even the pictures seemed to predict her movement, which made the journey up the long stairway even more nerve-racking. Suddenly, she was focused on objects that never held much significance before. When she finally made it to the top, she looked down into the dark corridor, which took on the appearance of a bottomless black hole. It sent a chill down her back.As she glided along the hall, pacing cautiously, passing every room, glancing into each one, she hurried when she finally came to hers. Outside the door was a sign that read: Enter at your own risk, which she posted as a joke, but now thought it would be a good idea to take down since the reality of doing so was no longer funny.Inside, the room was the same as always, with the exception of one furry whiskered animal stretched out on the bed, and one furry stuffed animal missing from the bed.“?clair, you funny cat,” she said, relieved to see the ghost had not trespassed into her room and made off with her purring companion. “You hungry?” With that said, the cat stood and stretched, arching its back so high that it nearly lifted off its pads. Along the wall stood an old chest of drawers, which had been in the room since the manor was built, and in it was were Rosa kept the cat’s food. When she opened the drawer, the cat jumped off of the bed and landed softly with a thump onto the thick-carpeted floor. After stretching again, it dashed across the room and began eating from the bag as Rosa tried to pour the food into a metal dish. Then she picked up a plastic water bowl and took it to the bathroom to fill it with fresh water. When she returned, she noticed the cat was no longer eating at its dish. “Okay, where did you go?” Rosa called to the cat.Since the door was closed, she knew it had to be in the room. She knelt alongside the bed, pulled the cover up, and was shocked when the animal hissed at her. “What’s wrong with you?” she said, offering her hand for reassurance. Stroking the top of its head, she wondered if the cat’s show of unusual behavior had anything to do the ghost. It’s here, she thought. The cat can sense its presence. Rising to her feet, she cleared her throat, whistled, and started humming a made-up tune in order to calm her nerves, wanting to believe that it was nothing more than the cat not being used it its new surroundings. All she could think about was the room at the end of the hall and what she had witnessed there.Rosa’s earlier years of exploring the manor had never unveiled anything that would cause suspicion that the place was haunted. Sure, there was time when she dreamt of bats flying around the room, heard the sound of someone crying, and saw the wicked look in the cat’s eyes, but they were nothing compared to what happened in the room at the end of the hall, nor as exciting. But, along with that excitement generated a considerable degree of unsettling apprehension.She was still trying to figure it out when she heard a knock on her door. The cat growled and pulled itself further under the bed, invisible now to whoever would come inside. “Rosa, are you ready to eat?”Relieved that it was not the ghost, Rosa replied, “Yes, I’m coming.”When she heard Georgene’s footsteps fading down the hall, she quickly ran to catch up, not realizing how strange her own behavior was. And as she followed close behind, pausing to glancing back over her shoulder to the door of the vacant room, she was again relieved when she did not see the glow of light, assuming the ghost was somewhere else in the manor, or floating between its spirit world and the world of the living.After dinner and clean up of the kitchen, Georgene retired to her bedroom and Rosa hesitantly returned to hers. This time, the cat was curled up in a ball on the bed pillow. When it heard the squeaky hinge of the door, it got up and began licking its paw. Oddly, it was acting normal again.From the window, Rosa found herself starring at the mausoleum, wondering whether the entombed corpse had come back to take control of the manor; either by force or by waiting until she and the housekeeper was asleep, slaughtering them in their beds. What would her father think if he came home to such a bloody butchering? She shuddered to think.Near the edge of the bed the cat lay purring with its eyes closed, tail flopping. Rosa wished she could be so relaxed. But as long as her father was out of town, there would only be her and ?clair, the cat, occupying the upstairs. Tonight, she would sleep with the light on.Chapter 20Pop!! Awakened by the sound, Rosa opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It was six o’clock the next morning and she was thankful to have made it through the night, uninterrupted by the apparition from another world trying to do whatever apparitions do to small girls and cats.Pop! Pop! Pop!Pulling herself from beneath the warmth of her blankets, she walked to the window. Outside, the wind was calm, so the “popping” was not coming from the branches blowing against the window. Besides, branches would not make that kind of sound. No, this was distinctive of a “pop.” As she argued with herself over which theory best suited the sound, she found herself gathering her robe and slippers, leaving her bedroom, sashaying down the hall, and hurriedly descending the long curved stairway. At the same pace, the cat followed.Now, at the bottom of the stairs she listened again in silence while the cat rubbed its body serpentine style around her legs. Another “pop” sent it back upstairs as if it had been shot out of a canon.The sound was close enough now that she was able to distinguish that it was coming from either the kitchen or the dining room. Leaving the corridor, she glided down the hall in her slippers and stood outside the threshold of the dining room watching as Georgene attempted to inflate air into a balloon. The table was covered with balloons in a variety of colors: blue, green, red, yellow, white, orange and pink. Rosa ran her hands through her hair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.“Have you been up…..all night?” she asked, yawning.To respond, Georgene allowed the balloon to slowly deflate between her fingers. “Not all night.”At the end of another mouth-gaping yawn, Rosa asked, “What’s that popping noise?”Immediately after over-inflating another balloon with the warm air from her lungs, Georgene pulled it away from her lips, tied it in a knot and……pop!“Dammit,” she said. “These balloons must be too old.”Rosa entered fully into the dining room and was now standing in the middle of a dozen or so of the surviving bouncing balloons. “I think you have enough,” she said. “But you didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I’m fourteen now, and that’s too old for balloons.”“Hogwash,” Georgene said, taking another balloon from the bag. “You’re never too old for balloons.”“Alright,” Rosa said, agreeably. Pop!“Ooooooo! Damn worthless………”Rosa chuckled under her breath when Georgene threw pieces of red latex against the wall. Then she stepped out of the threshold. “I better get ready for school.”“Good idea,” Georgene said. “And after you get home, you’re father and all your guests will be on their way to help us celebrate your fourteenth birthday.” “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. What difference does it make?”Georgene stood from her chair and walked a path through the bobbing balloons and wrapped her arms around Rosa’s shoulders. Every now and then, she let it slip how she truly felt about her young companion. “It makes a big difference to me,” she said. Over the years the two had meshed in such a way that they found themselves oddly comforted by one another. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you all these years,” Georgene said. “You’re like a daughter to me.”For a moment, Rosa did not know whether to laugh or cry. More often than not, she did not experience this kind of closeness with another human being so she wasn’t sure how to react. Nevertheless, her response would be what she wished to be true. “I am your daughter.”Chapter 21 Flushing, New York 4 p.m.At first, as she stood in the lobby of the LaGuardia Airport, waiting for Kyle, who was still at the ticket counter buying boarding passes, Jenny wondered if going to Rhode Island with him was a good idea, after all. Weighing heavily on her mind was the fact that he never told Rosa about her and wondered if there ever would be a right time to tell her the truth. Certainly not tonight, she thought, since tonight the child would be celebrating her fourteenth birthday. And a child’s birthday should be a happy occasion.Reflecting on a recent conversation, Jenny recalled how concerned Kyle was about telling Rosa the truth and how it may devastate her, turn her against him. He could be right, she thought. A teenage girl needs her father to be a good role model if she’s going to grow up and marry the right man. She sighed and gazed up at the ceiling, aching aware of what the magnitude of this kind of news could do to her daughter if she wasn’t properly prepared. Of course, when the time is right, telling her that she has a mother is going be to awkward, but she has to learn about her roots sometime. Isn’t it every person’s right to know where he or she comes from? And who is to decided when that time should come? For years, Jenny loved to imagine the look on her daughter’s face when she tells her she’s her mother. More times than not, she pictured her little girl’s eyes light up, her arms open joyfully. Tonight, when she comes face to face with her, she wonders if the girl will feel the special connection between them that she had so often seen on television when loved ones are brought together for the first time after being apart for so long.A nudge on the shoulder loses the image.“This is the worst airport to get anything decent to eat,” Kyle said, dangling a cranberry muffin at her face, breaking her train of thought. “And the coffee tastes like mud.”Jenny took the muffin and flashed him a smile. “And how do you know what mud tastes like?”Kyle blew over the surface of the hot liquid. “You’ve tasted my coffee,” he said, taking a sip. “Dare you argue that it doesn’t tastes like mud.”Jenny nodded. “I dare not argue,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It does taste like mud. Mississippi mud.”“Stop it,” he said.Both laughed, ending the conversation of muddy coffee, then proceeded toward the holding room where they could better listen for their flight to be announced.“Why are we flying to Rhode Island?” Jenny asked. “Why not drive?”“Driving would get us to Burrillville way too late. And with this crazy weather, there’s no telling what the road conditions will be like. Besides, flying will give us a chance to relax and talk.” She inhaled deeply and let it out slow. “Okay…..I guess.”“Come on, it’ll be fun. When we get to Providence, we’ll rent a car and run the hell out of it.” Pretending to be sixteen with the keys to daddy’s car did nothing to lift her spirits.“Hey, Jen, what’s wrong?”Fretfully pulling a few strands of hair into her mouth she said, “I’ve never flown before. Will we be on one of those big airplanes?”He looked at her petrified face and chuckled under his breath.“No, just a teeny weeny DC-3.”She paused. For a moment her eyes dropped, but came back to him again.““Are they safe?”“Very.” “How long did you say it would take us get to Providence?”He could tell she was nervous about flying. To boost her confidence, he took her to an area where she could actually see the airplanes taxing up and down the runway, watch the ground crew load and unload the baggage compartments, fuel the engines and remove garbage. His hope was that she’d see for herself how the system operated and that it would put her mind at ease.She trembled with exhilaration. “Seems so organized,” she said, gazing through the window. Then she pointed to a Boeing 707. “Why is that one just sitting there?”Looking at the jet, he said, “It’s probably waiting to be cleaned for it’s next flight.” Then he laughed. “You have good taste in airplanes, my lady. That Boeing is one fast puppy. It has four turbojet engines, more than 10,000 pounds of thrust to get it off the ground, cruises at a speed of almost 600 mpg, and can soar to 40,000 feet. And check that 130 foot wing span.” She glanced up at him, impressed that he knew so much about airports.“You sound like an expert.”“I’ve always been intrigued with aviation. I’ve flown in a bird like that a couple times. There’s nothing like it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.“Come on, we’d better get back to the holding area or we might miss them calling our flight.” Jenny nodded and followed alongside. The holding room was located adjacent to the men’s room, so while Kyle answered a call from Mother Nature, Jenny went ahead to wait for him there. The room was buzzing with anxious travelers tending to last minute details. From stranger to stranger, it was ironic to see everyone gather together in one room for one specific purpose. To leave for destinations unknown; never to see each other again. The world is such a big wondrous place, she thought.Across the room, she watched as a woman brushed the backside of her daughter’s coat, turned her around, dabbed a little spit onto a handkerchief and wiped it across her cheek. The expression that overcame the woman’s face, as she looked into the eyes of her giggling child was one privileged only to a mother. Warily, Jenny watched the mother and child, and the undeniable closeness they shared, and could only imagine how it would feel to be in the woman’s shoes, be that woman. For a moment, she felt that if Kyle were standing next to her, she might lash out at him for making it impossible for her to be like her. Nevertheless, although he was still largely to blame for having lost her the opportunity to be a mother, back at her apartment, he made his peace with her; and she with him. They were here today to mend their broken lives, heal the wounds from the past, and begin their new lives. Verifying the time on her watch to be the same as the clock on the wall, Jenny realized that Kyle had been gone for over twenty minutes. In the back of her mind she started to imagine the worse, that Kyle had left the airport, got in his Cadillac and left the airport, leaving her stranded and alone for another fourteen years. It was just as well, she thought. This way their lives could stay unchanged; no strings, no high expectations, no broken promises to worry about. Maybe his leaving was a good thing, after all. At least he wouldn’t have to bother constructing more lies to cover the dozen or so he’s already told. In an airport this size, Jenny could soon become lost in the crowd. Common sense told her to go home, but finding the door from which she originally entered would be like walking through a field of corn. Besides, her suitcase contained all of her personal belongings and her medication. On a daily basis for the last ten years, she had been self-injecting insulin into her veins to control her diabetes, an inherited condition that she hadn’t told Kyle about.Pacing back and forth in the doorway of the holding room, Jenny began to panic, constantly looking at the mother and child, then at the clock, then her watch, back to the mother and child, the clock, her watch, still contemplating what to do. In the midst of despair she heard a voice on the loud speaker say:Ladies and Gentleman, for those holding confirmed tickets for non-stop service to Chicago, flight 124 will begin boarding at gate ten in a few minutes. Swiftly, she moved out of the doorway to clear a path for the anxious passengers stampeding toward her to catch their flight to the windy city. After the room had half emptied, she decided to search for the nearest payphone so she could call either Mike or Margie and ask one of them to come to the airport to pick her up. Just when she was about to reach into the pocket of her coat to find some change, she heard a voice behind her say, hey beautiful, and momentarily she became paralyzed by the way the two little words nibbled at her eardrums. Even before she turned, she smiled just listening to the sound of his voice. Kyle’s return had halted the stop-go-stop-go maze of negative thoughts going through her mind. When she finally turned and saw him holding one single red rose and a small box of chocolates, she wondered how she could have ever been so mistrusting. Instinct, would be a reasonable guess. For years she had driven herself to hate him because of the bad choices he made, which left her scared for years. But everything has changed. And in some fundamental way that she herself could not define, as she looked at his boyish smile, there was no longer a question that he was a new man. “Right on time,” she said, taking the rose. But the words right on time could have one of two meanings. Either: “You’re right on time because I was thinking the worst of you” or “You’re right on time because I was about to walk out and make a complete fool of myself.” With the rose and the chocolates in her left hand, she then gestured to two available chairs with the right. And as they walked across the room, Jenny hooked her arm with his and simultaneously they both sat down on the vinyl-coated seats to sample the assorted variety of chocolates.“Mmmmm. I love the smell of chocolate?” she said, drawing in a deep breath.“I never connected the aroma of chocolate to pleasantries before,” Kyle said. “As a child, I did not have the occasion to indulge in such treats. I’m glad you like them.” He handed her the box and one-by-one she picked up each piece, trying to guess which ones were peanut butter, jelly, or coconut filled. But no sooner had they relaxed, contently eating the mystery chocolates, than Kyle heard the announcement for their flight to Providence over the speaker. “That’s us!” he said.Closing the box and squeezing his hand, Jenny said, “Already?”Her eyes widened with nervous energy and there was a constant tension in her muscles squeezing beneath her skin, getting tighter and tighter. Almost as tight as the rubber bands wrapped around the core of a golf ball, which, to release the tension would require ripping away the outer shell, slicing the bands and watching them rapidly unravel. Not wanting to be reduced to the simple mechanics of a golf ball, Jenny tucked the box of chocolates under her arm, grabbed the rose, and sprung from the chair. “Let’s go.” After taking two short steps, she stopped and turned to face Kyle, but if he hadn’t the quickness to stop, he would have collide head on into her. “What now?”“I’m scared,” she said. “I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of the plane. I’m scared Rosa will hate me. I’m scared you’ll…..” She took his hand, hugging it against her breast. “I’m scared you’ll leave me again.”Kyle laid his hand over hers. “I’m not going to leave you so you don’t have to be scared.” Taking several short breaths to prevent herself from hyperventilating, she said, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask that you not let go of my hand until you bring me back home.”Kyle grinned, feeling her apprehension. “What makes you think I want to bring you back home?” With that, Jenny knew they had a chance to really make a fresh start together. But as much as she knew it, she also knew the road ahead would be bumpy, and would require lots of healing for herself, Kyle and Rosa. Surviving this unknown journey would mean they would all have to find a way to trust each other.Kyle did a half-circle dosido around Jenny, locking his arm with hers, and together they leisurely promenaded to the gate, where they had their tickets checked, then along with the other twenty-eight passengers waited in line to ascend the airport ramp.When Jenny stepped inside the aircraft she noticed that it was actually larger than she expected it would be. But it was only due to the fact that she had never been on another airplane, which would have provided her with the ability to use it as an instrument of comparison. The twenty-eight passenger twin engine DC3, with its two single rows of double seats and a narrow aisle in between, could have easily left her feeling a bit claustrophobic if she would have had the good fortune to experience the more spacious Boeing jet she saw earlier. Immediately, she was taken by the hand and ushered to her seat by a young savvy steward who was no more than twenty and who seemed remarkably eager to take a personal interest in making her comfortable. A gentle nudge of Kyle’s elbow and quickly the young stud was persuaded to perform his Boy Scout routine somewhere else, momentarily diminishing his bedazzlement. Jenny pretended not to notice, but was nonetheless flattered with all the attention. Kyle took his seat beside her.It was another forty-five minutes before the engine turned on with a roar. Seated in front, she was able to look outside and see the props spinning on the wings. As the DC3 taxied down the runway, anticipation of it lifting from the safety of the ground was almost as terrifying as it was invigorating. Turning to Kyle she reached out her hand and he held it with a firm, reassuring grip. Once the two-engine aircraft climbed to 23,500 feet, cruising at a maximum speed of 207 mph, Jenny was able to relax. Through an intercom the pilot’s authoritative well-mannered voice spoke, supporting the opinion that he was the right man placed in charge of the aircraft’s cockpit.“Feeling better?” Kyle asked, pulling his strangled hand from her grip, shaking it to return the flow of blood back into his fingers.“Sorry about that,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was holding on so tight.”Holding hands with the woman he loved was only part of what he wanted these days. He gazed at her natural beauty, sensed the warmth beneath her smile. He didn’t say anything, but then, he didn’t have to. The fact that she felt the same way was enough for now.“This baby has a wing span of ninety-five feet,” he said, gazing through the window past Jenny. “The first time I rode in one of these, I was about twenty years old, when I started my apprenticeship with F.C. Bayard.” Sighing, he continued. “Seems like a long time ago.” He then pulled his briefcase onto his lap and flicked the locks until the lid opened. Inside were drawing papers, unfinished sketches, colored pencils in different shades of black, blue, orange, yellow, green and red, and a tablet with scribbled lines. Without a word, Jenny watched him quickly bring to life the face of a child.When he was finished drawing, he slid the materials back into the briefcase, closed the lid, and sat speechless. The weight of Jenny’s stare almost brought him to laughter. To her, his behavior was very strange.Trying to read his thoughts, she said, “Alright, if you’re not going to tell me who you were drawing, don’t expect me to ask. Or, maybe you’re waiting for me to pry it out of you. If that’s the case, forget it. I’m not going to beg.”Relinquishing herself the embarrassment of begging did not stop her curiosity, nor did it get an immediate response from Kyle either. Holding back a flood of hysterical laughter, he couldn’t help conceding once more that a woman’s need to be such a curious creature must have been stamped on a universal template sometime long before man ever evolved. There’s nothing like watching a women suspend on tiny well-measured portions of mystery, he thought, relying on that theory, rather than to give it to her all at once. Still, he had always had great respect for woman even though he never had much experience with them and considered the majority of the species to be sweet in a cunning cat-like sort of way.To remain silent could mean inviting well-deserved harm to the family jewels, so with no further hesitation, he said, “It’s whoever you want it to be.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“It means just what I said. It’s whoever you want it to be.” To save her from anymore teasing he thought now would be as good as time as any to give her some insight into the kind of work he did.“I work for a doll-making company called F.C. Bayard. My job is to design the faces of dolls. When I started with the company, I was just a kid, green around the gills, no real experience until Frank took me in and gave me a chance. I always had some degree of talent with a pencil and a blank sheet of paper, but that was kid stuff compared to what I learned when I started working for him. That’s why I travel so much between Rhode Island and New York. The company has one small satellite office in New Port, but our corporate office is in Manhattan."Jenny paused, then in one word she said, “Dolls?”Before he was able to reiterate what he said, the “Fasten your Seat Belts” sign flashed and the steward began moving up the aisle toward the speaker. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. The aircraft will be landing at Providence International in fifteen minutes. Please do not unbuckle your seatbelts until you have been instructed to do so. Once the aircraft has stopped completely, you may then do so. At that time, the door will be open and you will be able to exit the aircraft at that time. We hope you’ve enjoyed flying Americana Airlines.”After placing the speaker back onto the hook, the steward turned, slipped Jenny a quick smile, and whispered something low enough that Kyle was unable to hear what he said. That punk has a lot of balls, he thought. In the wild, if a male dominant animal crosses into another male dominant animal’s territory, a fight could leave the weaker of the two injured or dead.To avoid such a confrontation with the wise-ass gigolo, Kyle got his attention but clearing his throat and then thumbed him back to his seat. The pompous man heeded the dominant male’s warning signal and promptly responded. Kyle thought the whole scene could have been nothing more than a case of over-exaggerated hospitality on the steward’s part. And even though he did not blame the airline for the man’s misguided intentions, he did hold them personally responsible for not being a bit more choosy when hiring flight attendant’s with higher standards of moral character. Jenny’s mind was not focused on the young steward who was horny enough to take on a woman fifteen years his senior, or the prospect of Kyle getting into gorilla warfare with him. She was not trying to see the lights of the Providence Airport, or the earth and clouds below. Nor was she intimidated by the fact that there were twenty-five men and only three women on board. Her thoughts right now were only on Rosa. As the jet descended, so did her willingness to meet her. The thing that worried her the most was how her daughter would react to her. Would she reject her? It was the only thing she could think about. How was she supposed to react to such a let down? Sure, there would be the excuse that teenage kids, especially girls, have a tendency to withdraw from adults, stay in their rooms, become argumentative, which is not easily understood by anyone that is not the parent of a teenage girl. But no matter how much the know-it-alls, with their hundred and one “my daughter’s a teenage monster” try to soft petal those as normal behaviors, Jenny, didn't have the advantage of being a mother to a teenage monster, so she had no idea what to expect. Of course, for Jenny, her first instinct upon meeting her daughter would be to cram the past fourteen years into a minute. And if that wouldn’t be hard enough, getting the child to accept this unexpected stranger into her life would.Feeling the aircraft’s wheels touch the runway, she all but nervously quivered herself out of her seat. Within moments of taxing to a halt, the aircraft came to rest. After the airport ramp was in place, the door opened and the passengers began exiting. Heart beating fast and hard, she stood, buttoned the collar of her coat and proceeded to exit as well, with Kyle close behind.“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kyle said, petting the top of her head.By now, Jenny was feeling the same kind of apprehension Rosa did the night of her Christmas Pageant, and she wondered how she survived this long without having to run to the bathroom every five minutes to pee. From the airport’s car rental office driving northwest on the interstate, they were homeward bound.Chapter 22The Chevy Nova slowed to a stop. Traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see; a caravan of cars behind them. In the realms of a hundred or so blinking red tail lights Kyle and Jenny waited in their car, while heavy falling snowflakes clung like glue to the windshield wipers, making it harder and harder to see what caused the mile long traffic jam.Squinting through the foggy windshield, they faintly saw the figure of a tall man speaking to the driver in front. Now he was heading toward them. Upon the man’s approach, Kyle rolled down his window. “What’s going on up there?”In the distance, even though perception was strained, Kyle assumed that by all the police cars, that there had been an accident. Turning his attention back to the man, he asked the obvious question, “Has there been an accident?” The man, wearing a plaid wool jacket with a sheepskin collar and white snowflakes caked to his red beard, bent down and looked inside the car, then nodded to Jenny as a gesture of hello. “It looks like a big ole’ tree blew down and crushed the driver of a pickup truck. Police and fire are up there now trying to get the guy out. Don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”Momentarily, as she intently studied the emergency vehicles passing by, Jenny wasn’t as concerned about her visit to Brynwood anymore as she was about the fate of the victim. And since the driver side window was still slightly cracked down, the voices she heard calling strong to one another gave her an even greater cause for alarm.Instinctively, Kyle thought to offer his assistance, but in lieu of all the commotion, he thought it would be better if he stayed inside the car and waited until the area cleared. Jenny agreed. Even the slightest glimpse of the pickup driver’s moment of doom was more than she wanted to see. “What time is it?” she asked. Kyle responded by pulling back the sleeve of his overcoat and lifting his wrist into the glaring headlights of the car behind them.“It’s almost seven,” he replied.Now Jenny worried about how disappointed Rosa would be if her father failed to show up for her birthday party. But her focus quickly returned to the accident when an ambulance went blaring by their car, weaving in and around the line of non moving vehicles around them. “Can you see anything up there?” Jenny asked, stretching her neck closer to the windshield to see if she could get a better look, though distance and inclement weather prevented any further insight into the looming news that still alluded them.“I can’t see anything except an endless line of brake lights in front of me and a stream of blinding head lights behind me.” Kyle spoke in a small child’s voice.“Relax,” Jenny said. “I’m sure things will move soon.”“I’m okay,” Kyle said, leaning forward, laying his head on the steering wheel. “It’s just that Rosa will be so hurt if I don’t show up on time for her party. I’ve already missed so much with her.”Jenny smoothed back his hair. “This is not your fault.” Lifting his head, he looked at her through a haze of wet eyelashes and saw the sweetness in her face, the gentleness of her smile. “You’re right,” he said, dabbing the perspiration from his forehead. “I certainly don’t have the power to knock trees down, do I?”It was another half-hour before the on-off twinkling of brake lights indicated that traffic was starting to move. Cars yielded to the side of the road as the ambulance swerved past them with its siren screaming. Kyle sat up tall and twisted in his seat to see where it was heading, then swung back around and gently revved the engine. The Nova was moving now and fast approaching the point of impact where the tree had fallen on the truck. Jenny pinched her eyes shut. It was apparent to her that Mother Nature’s fury had betrayed the life of the owner. The truck was nothing more than an unidentifiable pile of metal and glass. Even upon close inspection, as their headlights brought them closer to the clearing where the accident happened, the truck could have been easily mistaken for a slab of sheet metal. A blast of wind rocked the car. The Nova halted in the road and they starred ahead, examining the site. “Poor slob,” Kyle said, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the fog from the windshield. Jenny pressed her head against the glass of the window and lowly said a prayer. After she finished, Kyle reached over and clutched her hand. “Why do you do that?”“Do what—Pray?”“Yes. I mean…why is it so important?“I don’t know,” Jenny replied. “I guess because my aunt was notorious about praying and she made sure I did, as well. She said praying clears the cobwebs, cleans the mind.He tossed the handkerchief in the back. “I remember you telling me about your father being a missionary and that the church threw your mother out because of him? What kind of God does that?”“It wasn’t God’s fault. It was the churches fault and all the ignorant people who claimed to be Christians.”“Do-gooders,” Kyle said, watching the road ahead, as well as the side in case another tree came tumbling down. “Around here we call them do-gooders.” Then he tenderly laid his arm behind her neck and she leaned her head back against. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep. The events of the day had worn her out. Seeing her so peaceful made it hard for him to keep himself from leaning over and kissing her soft velvety lips. His hand gripped the steering wheel in a fit of angry frustration. He hated himself because he knew full well that what he had done to her was nothing less than criminal. Why didn’t he just kill her with a ball of lead to the heart instead? The pain wouldn’t have been any worse if he had. He was nothing more than an outlaw in hiding because of his own damn fear. With his eyes kept to the road, his mind summoned a gathering of more memories of a time that had slipped away. And as the Nova journeyed along the never-ending twists and turns of the icy road, he swore he’d do whatever he had to do to fix the mess he’d made fourteen years ago.Chapter 23On the dining room table, under rainbow-colored streamers of crepe paper and balloons, the glow of a warm gentle fire burned as the candelabrum cast its flickering shadow of light over the dimly lit wall. Cooling next to it a roast cooling, carrots soaking in their juice, and potatoes, hardened with a thin layer of crust. The only thing that was warm was the iced tea. It was almost eight o’clock, and so far, none of the dozen or so expected guests had arrived. The gong of the grandfather clock, accurate as it was, never failed to malfunction, and right now it was the most disheartening sound Rosa ever heard, because where it remained reliable, her father did not. “He’s not coming, is he?” Warily across the table she gazed at Georgene. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”Georgene shook her head. “He said he would be here and he will.” Rosa exploded with anger. “Well, he lied, just like he always does.” She stood at her seat, leaned over the table, inhaled, and blew out all fourteen candles on her cake. “Stop it,” Georgene protested. “You forgot to make a wish.”“Oh, I made a wish…. ” Rosa said, sobbing. “…and if it comes true, we’ll never have to see his lying face again.”Georgene’s brows raised. “What did you wish for?”“Nevermind,” Rosa said, heading toward the door. “Wishes don’t come true if you tell them.” Before she left the room, she looked back at Georgene and couldn’t help feeling even more sorry for her. Lovely, in her own way, in her fire red taffeta gown ornamented with black plastic beads, and strings of fashionable pearls around her neck, he let her down too. From the moment she knew he was coming home, her head had been floating in the clouds. Rosa frowned, seeing how he had disappointed her, as well. And though the dimness of the room managed to disguise the pain in her face, Rosa knew full well what she was feeling. The biggest shame of all, was that she had gone to so much trouble to put the party together, even invited people she thought were real, people who didn’t exist except in her mind, and in the end, it had all been for nothing. The party was meant to be some fancy shindig, even though it was doomed from the beginning. The only guests were the two of them, no school friends and no high society people to gather around the table. “He doesn’t deserve you,” Rosa declared.Georgene swallowed hard from her comment. It was a rare occasion that anyone credited her the more worthy one. Before Rosa stepped out of the doorway, she forced a smile. “You tried.”Her brave smile widened to a full grin. “It really wasn’t that important, but thanks for caring anyway.” She glanced away, paused, and then left the room.Sitting alone at the table, Georgene’s mood changed from feelings of pity for herself to feelings of admiration for Rosa. Fourteen, and yet so grown up, she thought. She knew Rosa wanted this party, maybe even more so than she’d ever admit. She could see it in her eyes. Still, it was amazing to see a young girl like that put her own disappointment aside for the sake of someone else. Georgene wondered if she would have done the same. With tight clenched fists she glanced at the untouched food, flame-worn candles, and cake with the words, Happy Birthday Rosa scrolled across the top in pink icing going to waste. “Damn him!”Raising her elbows to rest on the table she lowered her face into her palms and cried like she had never cried before. Even more than when her vengeful mother backed their car over the dog and laughed while it crawled away to die. That was bad, yes, but this was worse. Rosa was a lot more important than some scruffy dog she had when she was a kid. She was more like a surrogate daughter to her, born in spirit, rather than flesh. Whatever you want to call it, Rosa had taught her how it felt to be loved and she liked the feeling. But even as tears of sorrow stung her eyes like the pointed tip of a sword, she could never allow it to pierce the heart of the man she loved. Outside the door of the dining room, Rosa stood with her back against the wall, listening hopelessly to Georgene’s crushing sobs. She hated her father for making her cry and even thought of him as being the worst human being that had ever walked on earth. The instant that he shows his face, she vowed, he would know her wrath, even if it got grounded for a month of Sundays. It just didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Later, in her room she’d practice a well-rehearsed, well-deserved, eye-opening way to make him feel remorse, get him to admit what a lousy father he was.It scared her to think he wouldn’t care.The evening dragged on. Georgene retreated to the library and helped herself to some Kyle’s brandy, giving herself permission to enjoy only the ones from his private stash. It’s the least he could do, she thought. An hour slid past, and then another. Since Rosa was upstairs in her room, the house lay enfolded in a shroud of quietness, almost like the mausoleum on the hill. Georgene settled into the red leather chair behind the desk, swung around and gazed outside the window into the night, watching the wind whip the trees and snow fall and build into layers. She half expected that winter would never end.With an opened bottle of brandy between her knees, and some warming the lining of her stomach, Georgene was able to temporarily shut out the rest of the world. Only this time, when she drank, it would be more so to relieve Rosa’s pain than her own. Nothing, not even the burning sensation she felt inside, the tightening in her chest, the lightheadedness that now afflicted her, could compare to the misery Rosa must be feeling.Upstairs, Rosa’s face was strained with a misery of her own. For some reason she could not get rid of the sound of Georgene’s heartbreaking cry. Someday, she thought, her father would be sorry for his arrogance. If he had changed his mind about coming to the party, why couldn’t he have called?Pumped with fury, she meandered around her bedroom until finally sitting on the bed and falling back into the pillow. Aside her, the cat slept, motionless as if it were dead, though a twitch of its whisker indicated that it was alive and well.Tonight, she would sleep with the light on as she did the night before. Unless there was reason to believe the ghost down the hall had gone to wherever ghosts go whenever they are not hovering over the earth terrorizing innocent people, she would feel much safer if the room was lit. Ghosts don’t like daylight or lamplight, she guessed, pulling her flannel nightgown out from beneath the pillow, then proceeding to crawl into it. As long as there was light, the ghost would stay away.As Rosa lay in bed, starring at the ceiling, listening to the calm purring of the cat, she realized that today she was another year older. Fourteen. In two years she could get her driver’s license, then a job. After graduation she could find a place of her own, a quaint one, small enough to fit into one room of the manor. A place where her voice wouldn’t echo off the walls like it does now. Pulling the blankets closer to her chin, she swaddled even tighter in their warmth. Everything was going to be fine, or at least that’s what she thought until a creaking noise, then the slamming of the door had brought something into her room which caused her to scream at its sight. The thing, whatever it was, had finally materialized. It sprang onto the bed and bent over almost touching her face. The foul odor that expelled from its flesh was more putrid than anything she had ever smelled before. Screaming had not made it go away. And though she thought about holding a cross at its scaly face or throwing water on it like Dorothy did in the Wizard of Oz, the beast had pinned her down so tight that she was unable to wedge herself free. Immediately, the stinking thing clamped it’s jaws around the cat, sprang off the bed with such incredible ease and landed on the floor without making a sound, the cat still dangling from its mouth. Oddly, it started spinning around like a top, going so fast that the velocity set the carpet on fire. Within seconds the whole room was burning. No longer could Rosa stifle her emotions so she started to cry, which inadvertently ceased the thing from its insufferable spinning. Opening it’s mouth, it extracted the the cat’s body, spewing its ruined remains onto the smoldering floor and leaving it to resemble nothing more than an old worn out sweater.Like a fist around her throat, a hard lump formed as Rosa watched the creature whip around the bed. Clearly, it had not come for the cat, because the cat was dead and there was no indication that it was ready to leave. It was still in the room and just as threatening as it was when it first came in. Everything in Rosa shuddered at the thought of being eaten alive, and fearfully she worried that at any moment her bones would be sucked out of her body just like the cats. She asked herself why she refused to believe what the rest of the townspeople already knew to be true; that Brynwood was haunted. If she had, at least she could have prepared herself for whenever resident ghosts turned themselves into evil lizard-like creatures from hell. Surely, Pastor Reese of the Burrillville Baptist church would have performed a séance if she had asked him to.Though the room continued to burn, Rosa wondered why she couldn’t feel any heat.After darting from one corner of the room to the other, the creature finally came to rest at the foot of her bed, starring at her with it’s dark dead eyes, foam oozing from the corners of it’s mouth, and long blood-stained teeth stretching below its jaw. Rosa knew if this was a vampire, that one look into its eyes would make you powerless against their bite. Maybe it was the same with big creepy things that smelled bad and ate cats, too, she thought. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how violently the beast raged on and on storming around the room, pasting itself to the ceiling with its large sticky feet, she would not allow it to possess her. So after awhile, as she lay motionless with her head under the pillow, the room had become quite and she began to think the thing had left. Wishing it away must have worked, she thought. But just when she resurfaced from beneath the security of the pillow, the thing immediately descended from the ceiling and was again hovering in front of her face, peering directly into her eyes. With the tip of its sword-like claw it reached out and scratched her on her forehead, leaving a half-inch gash. With her eyes pinched shut, she screamed violently, floundering her arms in the air to shoo it away, but doing so didn’t distract it or make it go away and she didn’t know what else to do. All she knew was the dead cat and she was next. The scene was almost like getting lost in a Stephen King novel. To struggle for freedom would only submerge one deeper and deeper into the pages until ultimately becoming morphed into one of the characters. Shifting restlessly, it was obvious that the creature had not yet found what it was looking for. It just zigzagged around the room, hesitating on occasion to glare around, but then went on pacing and sniffing at the floor with its bull-like nostrils. Clearly it appeared to be frustrated when it stopped in the middle of the room, opened its mouth wide enough to swallow a Mack truck, and then let out a shriek so loud that it caused the lamp light to flicker. With lightening speed, it leaped onto the foot of the bed, and began to spin itself into a hurricane-like funnel again, this time carrying the blankets up with it. Irritated from her screaming, the creature leaned forward while mucus dripped from it tongue, and from its vile pungent odor, Rosa lost conscientiousness. Lying motionless in her bed in the aftermath of another nightmare, Rosa felt as though she had just been run over by a bulldozer. Something in her subconscious mind had to be responsible for these bizarre dreams, she thought. Glancing to her side, she was relieved to see the cat still sleeping soundly next to her. The rest of the room was just peaceful. The only difference was that the blankets were knotted-up and twisted around her legs.Rising from the bed and walking on legs that felt like noodles, she went to the bathroom to get a drink by pulling down a tiny paper cup and filling it with cool tap water. It felt good on her lips and throat. Then something peculiar happened. As she glanced at herself in the mirror, leaning over the sink to get closer, she noticed a half-inch scratch above her left eyebrow, a fresh wound, one she was sure had not been there before. Then she remembered the dream. Startled, she dropped the cup into the sink and quickly left the bathroom to go to vanity where she reexamined the wound in that mirror. Sitting upon the velvet-padded bench, she inspected the scratch and it confirmed what she didn’t want to believe. That it was indeed the same scratch she had seen in her dream. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this, she thought holding out her hands to check her fingernails. But she already knew it was highly unlikely that any one of them could be responsible. Biting them down to the knuckles had always been one of her worst habits. Her next thought was it had to be the cat. Lifting one of its paws, she squeezed its soft pink pad until a claw ejected, then gently laid it back down. In as much as she wanted to blame the cat for the scratch, she couldn’t, because she remembered it had been lying to her right and the scratch was on the left side of her forehead. Trying to unfold the series of events that caused this strange occurrence became an even greater mystery when she began to wonder if it came from another kind of animal, a mouse or even a bat. But as much as she wanted to blame either one of them, she could not, because while the dark grim image in her nightmare still lingered, somewhere in the dense sketch of her memory she remembered all too well how it happened. And along with that she knew that no cat or mouse or bat was to blame. She gasped, not wanting to believe what she was thinking.Chapter 24Unconsciously drawn to the quick falling flakes, Georgene sat rigid in the spongy leather of the chair, lifting a bottle of brandy to her lips and keeping her eyes fixed at the black orb outside the window. So far, the intoxicating components of the liquor had not affected her senses. But that was only because she was able to tolerate it in much greater amounts than she did when only a single shot would send her head spinning to the stars. That was fine with her because there was nothing she preferred more, or was more readily available to get rid of the pounding in her head than a couple of good stiff drinks. Eventually, when she either had enough to drink or the bottle was empty, she usually wouldn’t remember anything that happened.Feeling so much more relaxed, Georgene closed her eyes and let her body drift upward. Although she couldn’t hear them clearly, the voices fading in and out of her head hadn’t had much impact on her mood yet. So, for the moment, as she hovered between worlds, she remained almost trance-like, concentrating on a tune she repeatedly hummed.More thoughts intruded, thoughts that compelled her to think about Kyle and how she could still feel love for him in light of what had happened tonight. Deciphering between the two feelings was hard, especially when one seemed to speak so much louder than the other. When she should be at the end of her rope with him, she found herself accepting whatever excuse he came up with that would keep him away from home so much.She thought more about it for a moment, until the blinding whiteness of headlights flashed by the window and broke any further reflections. She reacted by jumping up from the chair. In the void outside the window, someone had trespassed. Since the premises had never been robbed, Georgene wasn’t about to jump to that conclusion, but as long as Rosa was in the house, she didn’t want to take and chances. And since she didn’t recognize the sound of the car’s engine, the wrong assumption could mean the difference between life and death. Immediately, she put the bottle of booze back into the liquor cabinet and re-locked the door, and then approached the window, carefully moved the curtain so not to be seen, and peered through the window at the shadows in the driveway. Whoever was out there had parked exactly in the spot where Kyle usually parked his Cadillac. Now the driver was getting out. In her out of the way position by the window, Georgene could only see the darkened figure move around to the passenger side of the car and met by another darkened who was already out and waiting.The first order of business was to turn on the porch light, hoping that it would alert the trespassers that people were home and aware of their presence. Still feeling vaguely dazed by the alcohol, she eased herself away from her post by the window, proceeded to the front door, smoothing her hand along the wall to feel for the light switch and turned it on. She knew, that to break in now would either take a certain degree of courage or a great deal of stupidity, neither of which she was ready to find out.Hidden in the shadows of the corridor, wondering if she should go back to the library and fetch the fireplace poker, Georgene wondered if waiting here in the hall and catching the bastards the minute they tried to jimmy the lock would be better. The minute they stuck their thieving heads through the door would be the minute they’d find out exactly who Georgene Pritchett was and what she was all about. Darkness shrouded the corridor, so it gave her ample places to hide. Peering through squinting eyes, she checked the clock and saw it was only nine-thirty, despite the fact that it felt much later. Listening intently from where she stood, she felt a chill run down her spine, realizing the sheer terror of being attacked in her own home. Then, she heard footsteps on the porch and the jiggling the doorknob. The prowlers had a key, she thought. Suddenly, the door opened fully. In walked Kyle and behind him a woman in her mid thirties, a woman she had never seen before. Even shielded behind the shadows, as she watched Kyle remove the woman’s coat and draped it over his arm, it was apparent that they knew each other well. At this moment, she wasn’t sure what to think. Until now, Kyle had never brought women home, unless it was strictly for business purposes. Uneasy visions of him being more than business acquaintances antagonized her. But, before he noticed her lurking in the shadows, she thought she better show herself, and did so, so swiftly that it appeared as if she had just walked through the wall.“Oh, Miss Pritchett,” Kyle said, jolted by her ghost-like advance. “You startled me. Have you been waiting up for me?” Since the only light from which she could see him was that which reflected from the library’s chandelier, mindfully she thought to go to the light switch and turn it on. In clear view of her now was the mysterious woman of whom she had never seen before. From the gentle glow of the yellow light above, her facial features were soft and smooth, and though she was mature at thirty-five, her appearance was more like that of a much younger woman.“Good evening sir,” Georgene said. “I’m sorry if I startled you, it’s—just that when I saw a strange car in the—is there something wrong with the Cadillac?”“Oh, no,” Jenny said, interjected, answering for him. “The Cadillac is fine. It’s at the airport. I guess we’ll be picking it up tomorrow.” She shifted her eyes to Kyle and smiled with her plump glossy lips “Right?” Georgene’s was becoming infuriated as she alternately examined the way they interacted with each other, because she was now convinced that they were much more to one another than just working associates.She actually found herself clinching her teeth when he introduced her as his maid, which inadvertently made her feel like nothing more than a mere ink stain on the pocket of his shirt. It caused a sudden sort of awkwardness that implied to her that they wanted to be alone.“Has Rosa gone to bed?” he asked.Turning her face parallel over her shoulder to avoid his eyes, she answered, “Yes sir.”“Did she seem at all upset with me because I missed her party?”“Yes sir, she did.”Kyle frowned and shook his head.“It was unavoidable,” Jenny blurted, interjecting again, causing Georgene to be more annoyed than she already was. “You see, the winds were blowing and a tree came down and it landed on a man’s truck and the road was blocked for at least an hour, and an ambulance came and there were police cars and fire trucks, and—it wasn’t his fault.”Georgene glared at the woman as she babbled on and on, not listening to a damn word she said, but rather observing the smooth line of her jaw, the gentle sway of her black hair, and the satiny sheen of her skin. Her eyes sparkled like firecrackers, and when she moved her hands as she spoke, her mother-of-pearl nails glistened in the light. Everything about her said she was more than adequate for the sexual satisfaction of any man, she thought. That alone was enough to want to gouge out those pretty bedroom eyes of hers.“What a shame,” Georgene responded, seemingly referring to the truck driver. For a moment, she wished she could have said what she was really, and that a swift right hook to the jaw was unavoidable too. But in the interest of her position in the manor, she opted to remain cool and not do anything that would land her out of a job, especially on such a cold winter’s night. As hard as it was going to be, she’d have to keep a lid on her opinions in front of Kyle.“Ms. Pritchett, would you take Ms. Stile’s luggage to the guest room?” Kyle said, nodding composedly toward Jenny’s suitcase and sliding it forward with the tip of his shoe. “Remember to come back and get mine, as well.” Georgene’s patience was about to snap, but she did as she was told.The next hour or so, Kyle took Jenny on a quick tour of the house slipping in and out of every room as they went. Behind them, Georgene followed at a discrete distance, keeping them unaware that she was spying. From what she could hear from their conversation, it didn’t seem as though they were about to drop to the floor and have sex. When they finished with the tour, Kyle and Jenny went to the library. He talked about the history of the manor and she listened with wide-eyed enthusiasm, both seemingly quite comfortable with one another. Georgene’s lips compressed when she saw him move his hand across her lap, then instinctively kissing her on the mouth. Jenny tipped her head back and closed her eyes signaling that she wanted more. Georgene was outraged; she was sick to her stomach; she was angry; she was sad and hurt and feeling emotions that frightened and confused her in a way that she’d never known before. This was a betrayal of the worst kind. Surely he had to have known how she idealized him, on some level, anyway, consciously or subconsciously. It was painstaking clear that he didn’t know it or he didn’t care. Georgene grimaced as she realized the situation was getting out of hand.The woman was not welcome here. For a while Georgene simply watched, then giving into the possibility of what might happen next, she barged into the library with a stack of clean bath towels in he hands and held them out. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, injecting herself into their moment of privacy. “Would the lady care to freshen up a bit?” “I don’t know,” Kyle replied, rising from his seat, seemingly annoyed by the intrusion and the lost moment of intimacy. “Why don’t you ask the lady yourself.” Hurt and embarrassed by the sarcastic tone of his voice, Georgene felt he had again succeeded in making her feel like nothing more than a fly on the end of his nose, something to be swooshed away with the flick of his hand. Jenny, however, was not impressed at all by his attempt to belittle his housekeeper, and let him know it by shooting him a look that made it perfectly clear that she was not amused by his rudeness.“Thank you, Georgene,” Jenny said, pleasantly accepting the towels. “How thoughtful of you. I would love to freshen up. It’s been such a long day. If you’ll show me where to go….”Georgene released the towels into Jenny’s hands, and politely forced a smile.“Right this way, madam.” Jenny got right up and moved toward the door. That’s when Georgene couldn’t help noticing the look in Kyle’s eyes as he glared behind her like some horny adolescent boy looking to score a piece. It was like she could almost hear what he was thinking. Sure, Jenny was sweet, charming, and polite, which made it easy to see a man could feel that way about her. But, Georgene thought of herself as being just as sweet and charming, even though she undoubtedly knew she didn’t have the same good looks. Unfortunately, for her to look the least bit appealing would mean covering up the dark circles under her eyes, painting layers of foundation on her deeply lined face, and adding globs of mascara to her sparse eyelashes and brows. But even with all that she was unattractive. Men in general were simply not attracted to her, not even Kyle. He had no interest in her beyond keeping the house and watching over Rosa. After getting Jenny settled in, Georgene returned to the library and found Kyle sitting in his chair with a glass of brandy between his thighs. Something about him was different. “Did Ms. Stiles find everything she needed?”For a moment, as he stood and walked toward her, Georgene almost thought he was going to embrace her, but instead lightly laid the palm of his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable awhile ago.” The warmth of his touch seemed to penetrate down to her breasts and the tension between them like a thread, thrumming with awareness felt only by her alone.“These past several weeks have been like something I never expected,” he added, then turned and walked back to his chair and sat down, gripping the glass of brandy into his hand and taking a sip. “Yes, it’s been one hell of a roller coaster ride, if you know what I mean.” Within his words, Georgene knew exactly what he meant and it made the blood rush to her face. It didn’t take long to figure out where this conversation was heading, and before he had a chance to confide anymore details, she interrupted, “Sir, if there isn’t anything else, I’d like to retire. My day has been a roller coaster ride too.”“I understand, Ms. Pritchett. You may go. Tomorrow, we will introduce Ms. Stiles to Rosa.”Georgene nodded, and took a deep shaking breath. “Yes sir—good night, sir.”“Good night, Ms. Pritchett.”Chapter 25In the kitchen bacon fried and toast popped. Georgene had risen early this morning with delusional thoughts that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. With high expectations she was eager to see if it would work.It felt good to be cooking a meal for him again. Since Kyle began working for F. C. Bayard and the multi-million dollar toy manufacturing company moved to New York, it was a rare occasion that she got the opportunity to do anything for him. Now that he was traveling in Frank’s place, she’d seen even less of him.After setting the table, Georgene stepped back and gave everything a second look, smiling as she recalled the time she first met Kyle in Louisiana: the strong chiseled line of his jaw, eyes so deep they could almost touch the depths of your soul. His shiny hair black was like midnight under the moon, and the way he smelled stimulated every fiber of her being. It was all there, fresh as ever, and she didn’t have to close her eyes to see it. Most of what she remembered about him remained vividly etched in her memory, even the ones that congregated and reshaped her reality. Georgene smiled, as she nervously arranged, and then rearranged the dinnerware. Except for the napkins, she was almost finished. Then she counted. Normally, where there should be two place settings today there were three. Kyle and his guest, along with Rosa would dine together. Perhaps, she thought, he would ask her to join them, as well. By the time Georgene finished folding the napkins, placing them alongside each plate, Rosa came in bright-eyed and just about as energetic as any fourteen-year-old could be, despite her restless night of sleep. It was her youthfulness that shielded and erased any trace of nightmarish dreams.“Good morning,” Rosa said, smiling as she watched Georgene race from the stove to the refrigerator. “Whose car’s outside?”Closing the refrigerator door, Georgene’s paused, then turned, eyes dropped. Then lifting her face, she said. “It’s a rental car your father drove home.”“He’s here?”“Yes, but I think he’s still in bed. They got in late.”“They—they who? Who else is here?” Rosa pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down at the table and then saw three place settings. “Did you see who it was?”“Just some woman,” Georgene whispered, sitting down across from her.Rosa’s brows drew tight. “Woman?” The second she gazed into Georgene’s eyes, the back of her throat tightened because it was in her expression that made it clear that her father hadn’t brought home just any woman. Georgene knew more than she was saying. Rosa leaned across the table and held out her hand and touched her arm. “She’s probably just someone he works with.”Georgene smiled. “You know what I was thinking, don’t you?”Rosa smiled back with that crooked little smile she always does when she knows she’s right. “Come on, I’ve know you’re in love with him. I’ve known it as long as I’ve known anything. I’ve got eyes, you know.”“Do you now,” Georgene chuckled, pushing back the tears.“Teenagers have these weird built in transistors that pick up on junk like that.”“Really? I didn’t know that.”“At least you’re not going to deny it?”Rubbing her hands clean on her apron she said, “How could I? I do love him.” Rosa sprang from her chair, went around the table and wrapped her arms around Georgene’s neck, hugging her firmly from behind. “I won’t let anyone take him away from us.” Georgene cleared the tears from her face, and they laughed.While the two waited for Kyle and his guest to come down to breakfast, Georgene told Rosa as much as she knew about her father’s guest. It wasn’t an easy definition, each word she spoke sounded more like a description of an unblemished deity from another world, rather than a mere mortal from earth. “Oh brother,” Rosa said, rolling her eyes. “No one’s that perfect. I’m not, you’re not, and especially not my father. So if she’s all that great, what’s she doing with him?”Again they laughed, then stopped abruptly when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.“Here they come,” Georgene said, nodding toward the doorway. Quickly, Rosa took place at the table in the seat where she could see the woman the minute she walked into the kitchen.The anticipation was nerve-racking. Rosa looked at Georgene staring down at eggs frying in the pan, tossing and scrambling them with a fork.For a moment, the sound of footsteps stopped midway in the hall, and as she listened intently, Rosa could hear her father’s voice chatting about the historic designs of the manor and the old pictures that remain hung on the walls from before they moved in. Amused by it, she shook her head because he not only lacked the knowledge of who the faces in the frames were, he also had never expressed any interest in anything inside or outside the manor. Funny being that he ever tried to impress her with it.As she sat rigid, but anxiously waiting on what felt like a seat of nails, Rosa detected an unfamiliar scent of perfume and knew immediately it had to be hers. Folding her hands on the table, then on her lap, then on the table again she thought the suspense of meeting this woman would either kill her or make her crazy. Her heart raced, her hands felt sticky, and her mouth was so dry that she thought she would have to communicate by using sign language. Not a bad idea!Into the kitchen, her father first entered dressed in tight-fitted jeans flared at the knees down to his boots and a casual wool sweater. His smell was Brut. Behind him emerged a tall beautiful woman wearing a brown mohair sweater, tan and white plaid skirt and calf high dress boots. Her smell was honeysuckle.“Good-morning, Rosa,” Kyle said, with perky zest. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” As he bent down to kiss the top of her head, Rosa leaned to the side to get a full glance of their guest. Frozen in gaze, she pressed her lips together in case by no accident they spout out the question that her brain was saying, she’s colored?Jenny shyly smiled, and like a gentle rolling ripple in water, she moved along the table and took the seat across from Rosa, catching her curious gaze. But though it was her dream that the girl would somehow feel their connection, the only thing she saw in her daughter’s big brown eyes was curiosity for the stranger that she was.“Rosa,” Kyle said. “This is Jenny. Can you say hello?”Color flared in Rosa cheeks, angered by her father’s colossal ignorance to treat her like a five-years-old. “I’m not a baby anymore daddy, remember? I’m a woman now. I know how to speak all by myself without anyone’s help.”At her words Kyle’s brow furrowed, startled by her bold remark. Trying to keep from laughing, Georgene chuckled ruefully beneath her breath. Jenny opted to not get involved, so she remained silent.“Excuse me, dear,” Kyle said, tilting his head like a dog listening to a high pitch whistle. He chuckled. “You’re absolutely right, you’re definitely not a baby anymore.” Now he was surprised when she did not glance up at him, and since she was still furious at him for having missed her birthday party the night before she refused to speak to him throughout the rest of the meal. He stared at her for a moment, knowing full well why she was so upset with him. He tended to forget how stubborn she could be at times. “Maybe you and I should have a father/daughter talk?” Even as he spoke, she pretended not to hear. In the corner of her eye she could see the woman’s smothering stare and it made her feel like she was an exhibit in a freak show. With her head down, she lifted her eyes and saw the woman smiling at her as though she was rehearsing for some lipstick commercial.“How is school?” Jenny asked, feeling she would die of a heart attack if the girl ignored her. She prayed that she wouldn’t, though she tried not to expect too much at this point. Forcing herself to choke down a mouthful of scrambled eggs, Rosa was slow to respond. “I hate it.”So far, so good, Jenny thought. “Oh, really? What don’t you like about it?”Glancing down at Rosa as she delivered a plate of biscuits to the table, Georgene cocked one eyebrow, signaling to her that the woman’s question was profoundly stupid. It was her opinion that school was a waste of time, a jail where kids are being forced to learn unimportant things that happened more than a hundred years ago when it shouldn’t matter anymore. Who the hell cares about some American named Whistler who moved to London to paint a picture of his mother? It was all a bunch of nonsense. “All kids hate school,” Rosa replied bluntly, lowering her eyes and poking at the mushy eggs on her plate. Jenny looked at Kyle and he reacted by giving her a gentle, reassuring grin. Jenny relaxed, then sat back in her chair again. She looked up at Georgene and realized that she had been oddly hovering next to Rosa, a slight sneer curling her lips as if she was gloating. It was because of that she believed there was something very peculiar about her, arrogant, or maybe something far more complex than any of that. Whatever it was, her mannerism was unnerving.Under the table, Kyle stretched out his leg and gently nudged Jenny’s foot, which jolted her back to his attention. Jenny smiled, acknowledging his touch, and also to hide her suspicion about his housekeeper.The conversation around the table was now slow and tense. Jenny explored every possible scenario that she thought would interest Rosa. As she gazed at her daughter, her heart fluttered, her fingers felt rubbery so she clasped them in her lap. Then, a gentle smile touched her lips. “I hated school too.” With that, Rosa finally glanced up just long enough to flash her a twisted grin. Beneath all that stubbornness lied a sweet young girl, Jenny thought. And as her dark teary eyes swept over her daughter, she knew it would just be a matter of time until she could tell her who she was.From across the kitchen, Georgene listened, shifting her attention from Rosa to Jenny. Her watchful eyes, dark and distressed, observed every movement that she interacted with the girl. She observed her lips, her smile and laughter. The woman was far more beautiful than she wanted to admit. Even as she turned and caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the polished chrome of the cake dish lid, all she saw was the pale face of a woman with sunken cheeks and eyes as wrinkled as a newborn puppy starring back. Her youthfulness was gone thanks to the years of what drugs and alcohol had done to her. With her wide open eyes starring back at herself she wasn’t only repulsed by her reflection, she was down right burning with anger. Approaching the table Georgene shot Jenny a stabbing look before gathering the dishes and cups, then carrying them to the sink. As she held them under the running faucet, in her minds-eye, she could still see the woman’s smooth radiant hair so totally and evenly trimmed. Tension emanated inside her and she ached with the need to throttle her simply for being beautiful.Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Rosa could sense a thickening growing in the air. When she turned and saw Georgene drop the cups into the sink and hurriedly exit the kitchen, she knew in an instance that something was wrong. She drew in a deep breath, then slid back her chair and stood. “Rosa,” Kyle said. “Where are you going?”“Never mind.”Rosa raced from the kitchen and into a short hall that led to the housekeepers quarters, but when she got there, the door was shut. “Georgene,” she whispered into the dark room, daring to open the door and step inside and to the bedside where Georgene lay with her hands shaking uncontrollably.With the touch of her hand, Rosa could feel by the unsteady up and down movement of her lungs that she had been crying. “Please don’t cry,” Rosa said, patting her gently on the back.Georgene rose and sat on the edge of the bed. “Could you get me a tissue?”Rosa took two steps back and felt for the tissue box before remembering she’d seen it on her dresser. Sliding her feet across the floor through the scatter of shoes and clothing in the darkened room she was able to blindly detect the location where the cardboard box was and snapped three tissues out.“Here you go,” she said.Georgene sat up, blew her nose and with the same tissue dabbed at her tears until her face was dry. Rosa was relieved to see her back in control. “Why did she have to come here?” When she started to cry again, Rosa moved around and sat next to her on the bed, gently laying her hand on hers. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “By this time tomorrow, I bet she’ll be long gone.” Georgene sighed, narrowing her eyes. “I hope so.” As color rose in her cheeks, she silently promised revenge on the one who had made her feel so degraded, unworthy. Wasn’t it true that people stay true to their patterns?Chapter 26It was the next morning when Jenny poked her head into Rosa’s bedroom. The woman, tall and pleasant in appearance, stepped inside and was greeted by a skinny orange cat skipping toward her with its tail raised high and meowing upon approached. “Whoa,” Jenny said, blocking the animal with her foot before it had the chance to get out. Looking down at the cat, she smiled, then bent down on her knees and held out her hand, thinking what a scrawny animal was. She stroked its fur, amused when it entwined and rubbed its head along her hand, sniffing at her fingertips. The purring sound it made either meant the cat knew she was someone who loved animals or it had some sixth sense that told it why she was here. Completely relaxed, the cat lay on its side, purring and drumming its tail on the floor, yawning. Jenny laughed, then pressed her hand on its belly, feeling the vibration behind its ribs, continually stroking her hand along its fur. When she leaned forward to lift it into her arms, the cat’s glossy black eyes opened wide when it heard the sound of the doorknob turning, wiggling itself from her grip and scurrying beneath the bed. Jenny stood and turned to face the door and saw Rosa was standing behind her with a who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are look in her eyes. Jenny’s lips pursed as a bitter feeling twisted in her stomach. The awkwardness of the moment was suffocating as it pressed against her chest. Rosa stiffened, rightfully suspicious of the woman because earlier that day, she had seen her wondering around the manor as if she had been casing the place. Rosa thought it had to be by either sheer arrogance or utter stupidity that the woman would impose herself in here.Remaining ever hopeful with a strong determination to win her daughter’s love, Jenny could think of nothing else to say except, “So, I see you have a kitty.” The words poured from her lips without any warning as to how fundamentally benign they sounded. I see you have a kitty. For a moment it seemed like an eminently reasonable thing to say considering that they both shared a common affection for animals. Nevertheless, Jenny felt as if she had just been robbed of whatever intelligence she had, or by some cosmic force her brain had been switched with a cadaver’s. Either way, it didn’t work, because from the girl’s sullen face it was evident that she wanted nothing to do with her.Jenny shrugged and smiled candidly and apologetically. Before she had a chance to express her regret for having barged into her bedroom, the cat came out from under the bed, skipped into the bathroom and began scratching and pawing at a small throw rug the way it did when it wanted to pee.“Stop that!” Rosa said, hurrying to get to the cat before it relieved itself on the rug. She scooped up the animal into her arms and carried it to a makeshift litter box made from a cardboard box and lined with shredded newspaper. “You go in here,” she scolded, shaking her finger.Jenny chuckled and walked across the room to where Rosa stood over the cat, a cold steel silence between them. “It’s been my experience that cat’s are clean by nature,” Jenny said. “I’m not exactly sure why this one chooses to pee outside it’s box, but it could mean that it has a bladder infection.” For a moment, Rosa pondered over the possibility that it might be true. “If you want, we could have a vet take a look at her.”Rosa bent down, lifted ?clair out of the box and studied its eyes. And even though she knew that doing so would not determine whether or not the cat did or did not have a bladder infection, it eliminated the possibility that there was nothing demonic propelling its behavior. As it softly purred in her arms, the cat seemed perfectly normal.Rosa’s eyes met Jenny’s and intuitively she sensed that the woman was genuinely trying to be kind. It wouldn’t do any harm to take the cat to a vet and have it checked, she thought. The animal was a stray when Russo found it hanging around the bakery, so it probably never had a proper examination.Rosa agreed, and later she and Jenny searched the yellow pages until they found a nearby vet who was able to schedule them in for the next available appointment.Simply sitting next to her daughter was more than Jenny ever dared imagine. The mere site of her made her want to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. This would be an ideal time to tell her who she was, but she promised Kyle that she wouldn’t—not yet, anyway. Jenny’s blood ran cold at the thought of what the news would do to Rosa—and to her and Kyle. Rosa’s already accepted the fact that her mother was dead. To turn around and tell her that her father had been lying about it all these years might be enough to scar her for life. There was little comfort in thinking that she may never get to be her mother. For now, she’d have to settle for being her friend. Chapter 27The following morning, Rosa came running downstairs to the smell of pancakes cooking on the stove, feeling more exuberant that she had in weeks. When she came barging into the kitchen she found Georgene leaning against the refrigerator starch-faced and wide-eyed, gazing at the wall like she had seen a ghost. It was a chilling look, yet nothing she hadn’t seen before. “Good morning,” Rosa said, energetically. “Where is everyone this morning?” Georgene shot her a look of misery, then shook her head. “He’s gone to Providence to return the rental car. Then, he’s flying to New York to pick up the Cadillac. From there it’s business I guess, because with him it’s always business. He probably wouldn’t be home for days, or maybe longer.”“What about Jenny?” Rosa asked, taking a seat at the table. “Did she go too?”Georgene nodded toward the ceiling, “No chance of that. She’s upstairs sleeping like a princess.” Georgene flipped the last pancake onto a plate and carried the stack to the table. Rosa didn’t waste any time helping herself to more than she could eat. She stabbed her fork into the steamy stack and pulled three onto her plate. “I know you probably think she’s charming,” Georgene said, twisting off the cap of the maple syrup bottle and pouring a thin line over the triple layer of pancakes. “But I think she’s pure evil. Don’t you be tricked by her, ya hear?”Swallowing a mouthful, Rosa nearly choked by the disturbing tone of her voice. “What do you mean, she’s evil?”“Just what I said. I’ve been getting strong vibrations about that woman and something tells me she’s not who she says she is.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “Stay away from her before she…..”Rosa rolled her eyes and abruptly dropped her fork. “Before she what?” “I don’t mean to scare you. It’s just that—well—it’s for your own good.”Rosa looked at her with concern—worried about her mental state of mind. It wasn’t a good time to tell her that she and Jenny had been getting along so far. “I know how much you love my father, but don’t you think he’s going to get tired of being alone? Eventually, he’s going to find a woman he wants to marry.Georgene leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. “No—he can’t do that to us.”Rosa stood from her seat. “You need to prepare yourself for the possibility.” Her voice was tart, though she didn’t mean it to be. She left the table and headed down the long hallway to the closet in the corridor, pulled out her winter coat, and slid her arms in the sleeves. Georgene followed. She didn’t say anything when she helped fasten the last buttons on her coat. Rosa searched inside her pockets for her mittens and held them in her fist. “Please don’t worry about Jenny all day. She’ll be gone before you know it. Everything will be back to normal before you know it. Then we both can relax.” Tightening the strings on her hood and tying them in a bow, Georgene gave her a strong bear hug. “I’m sure you’re right.” Shrouded behind the banister column at the top of the stairs, Jenny overheard enough of their conversation to know Rosa had no regard where she was concerned. Her eyes glazed with tears. Her expression was grim. Even as instinct argued that Georgene was the one most likely responsible for planting dark thoughts in her daughter’s mind, whatever rational reasoning lay behind it remained vague. And while she had liked Georgene upon first meeting her, it was monumentally clear the feeling was not mutual. “Bye, bye!” Georgene called, waving her hand to Rosa from the open doorway, and continuing to wave until she turned the corner at the end of the driveway and disappeared beyond the gate.At the top of the stairs, Jenny observed Georgene, even watched her shiver as cold air crept inside the house, making it colder and colder. Georgene remained steadfast at the door awhile longer, then stepped back and closed the door. Jenny quickly got out of sight and swiftly started down the hall and stopped when she heard the phone ring. She picked up the receiver but didn’t speak because Georgene had already answered the phone downstairs.Jenny recognized Kyle’s voice immediately. And although he had only been gone for a few days she had missed him terribly. As much as she wanted to interrupt and ask him when he would be home, feeling the words burn in her throat, she didn’t want to take the chance of having Georgene find out that she had eavesdropped on their conversation. Rousing that kind of suspicion in a woman she had marked not all together there wouldn’t be smart. On the other hand, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to listen in. Stupid as it was she covered the receiver with the palm of her hand to quiet the sound of her breathing, and listened in. That was when she heard her telling him not to worry, that everything was fine, and there were no problems. Word by word, she danced around everything, except the truth. “Ms. Stiles is a little under the weather this morning, sir…maybe it’s best if we let her sleep. No, probably just homesick. What I mean sir, is, well, she seems a little…a little restless. Yes sir, restless. Of course, sir, I’ll tell her you called. Rosa? Oh, she’s fine. Everything’s under control. Okay, I’ll see you soon…I will, sir, don’t worry….okay, good…. Before Georgene had a chance to finish saying good-bye, Kyle hung up the phone and cut her off. Her expression turned to one of sympathy, but changed to anger as she slammed the receiver on the table three times. “Damn him! Damn her!”Upstairs, Jenny worriedly hung up the phone and realized that her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She took in a deep breath and hugged herself to calm her nerves. She grew more and more frightened by the moment and quickly headed back to her bedroom. The logical side of her brain told her that Kyle’s housekeeper was a very cunning woman, possibly equipped with a certain kind of power that those so-called religious cult leaders used to brainwash their followers. “She’s crazy,” Jenny heard herself say outloud. “The way she lied so carefree as if it was in her nature.”Her stomach clenched when she thought about Rosa. Continuing down the hall, she went inside her bedroom, locked the door, and stayed there until later in the afternoon when she saw Georgene get into her car and drive down the driveway, probably going to town. Jenny seized this opportunity as a good time to go downstairs to the library and read the newspaper without having to look over her shoulder. Feeling the heavy weight of anxiety lifted off her shoulders, she sank down into one of Kyle’s straight back leather chairs and forced herself to concentrate on the front page, which was covered with pictures and an article about the conditions of the Vietnam War. The graphic details of the young American soldiers were disheartening, she thought, as her eyes moved over the words. Even though she was thousands of miles away from the battlefield, just reading the article made her feel almost as if she was right there in the jungle with them, hearing their ghostly cries and seeing the agony that they suffered. Now that her tears had turned the words to a blur, Jenny laid the newspaper aside, leaned back in the leather and closed her eyes and quietly thanked God that she had never had a son. What could be worse than seeing your child being carried home in a box, she thought. Heaven help all those poor mothers who did. It was when she was in the middle of that thought when a voice came crashing through the front door screaming, “He’s dead!” Instantly, Jenny jumped to her feet and rushed to the corridor where she found Rosa slumped against the door; her cheeks rosy red and her tear-wet hair clinging to her face. Jenny’s heart pounded wildly. At this point, she had no idea why Rosa was crying. First thing that came to her mind was Kyle and that something awful had happened to him. It was a bone-chilling sensation too hard to imagine.It couldn’t be him, she thought. Not when there still lingered the scent of his after-shave from this morning. In some sort of odd way, Jenny used that to convince herself that Kyle was alive and well, easing the tension in her body. Still, the harder Rosa cried, the harder it was for her to believe it. Jenny trembled as she ran to Rosa, wanting nothing more than to take her daughter in her arms and tell her, “mother’s here.” It would be a shot of reality the girl didn’t need right now. “All right, “ Jenny muttered, “Everything’ll be okay.” Her brows lifted. Son-of-a-gun, she sounded just like her father, the man who never turned his back on another human being no matter what. A man who helped the homeless find shelter and took the elderly to the grocery store to get food. He read to the blind, counseled troubled teens and traveled around the world to preach the word of God. Jenny loved her father and didn’t see him nearly as much as she wanted to. Even after he retired from his missionary work she didn’t see him much. Up until his death, he kept an active role in the church, always ever present with the Lord, he’d say. Jenny wondered why it was so hard for the church to accept him. Who made the rules, anyway? Whatever their excuse was, it changed the way Jenny felt about the church. Jenny stepped closer and smoothed Rosa’s bangs behind her ear. Rosa seemed to be a little calmer now.” So far, the only thing that was clear was that someone was dead. “Tell me what happened,” Jenny said. Rosa lifted her head and fell back against the door, but kept her eyes tightly closed. While her body shook, her lips pursed and the words, Bernie’s dead, eased out slowly like the air seeping out of a balloon. “It’s not fair!” “Who’s Bernie?” Jenny asked, inquisitively. “…a boy from school?” After a heavy sigh, Rosa told her about Bernie. “He was my friend, an old Irishman that’d been around as long as the moon and the stars.” Dropping her face into her hands she cried again, “…and poor Dick—poor, poor Dick. Before Rosa collapsed completely, Jenny took her by the wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “It’ll be all right.” Drawing her away from the wall, Jenny nudged Rosa to go with her to the library, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her close. It felt good to be able to console her, Jenny thought. For as long as she could remember, all she dreamt about was the kind of relationship the two of them would have once Rosa knew the truth. Right now that would have to wait. It was obvious that something else was fueling the fire inside her, and there was no point in throwing on anymore gas. For now, Jenny knew she would have to be content being a friend to her daughter. Using the same reassuring words that her father used to calm her spirit, Jenny was able to console Rosa, lightening the heavy weight on her chest. After Rosa finished telling Jenny about Bernie, Jenny had no doubt in her mind that he was the man whose pick-up had been crushed under the fallen tree the night she and Kyle were on their way home. “I’d like to hear more about Mr. Bernie,” Jenny said, sensing that talking about him seemed to help.By the time Rosa finished talking about Bernie, all her tears had been wiped dry. She was beginning to really like Jenny, even though she wasn’t ready to tackle the job of telling Georgene how she felt. Jenny had a real pleasant nature about her, so gentle and caring, even in the simplest things. Georgene didn’t see her that way. All she saw was a woman who she blamed for the bitterness that filled her thoughts. From the moment Georgene laid eyes on her, she sensed the beginning of trouble. Rosa knew Georgene well enough to know that she would not allow anyone to steal the one thing that meant so much to her. She also knew that any chance of either one of them calling a truce was highly unlikely. That’s when her throat went tight. Until this moment, she’d only toyed with the thought of what Georgene would do if her father actually married Jenny. Maybe it was time she faced it, Rosa thought.For the next twenty minutes, Rosa and Jenny sat in the library bouncing small talk off each other, struggling to keep the mood light, Jenny, trying to form a new friendship, and, Rosa, eyeballing her with still a hint of suspicion. Once the conversation ran its course, which didn’t take all that long, Rosa became so sleepy that she could hardly keep her eyes open any longer. Jenny sensed it and faintly laughed. “I hope we can get together real soon and talk some more.”Rosa politely nodded. She looked over at the open doorway when she heard the front door slam shut. Georgene came in and the instant she saw them together, her face went rigid. “What’s going on?” she said, dropping the shopping bags, then proceeding to wedged herself between them. “Are you sick?” she asked Rosa, feeling her face. “You’re pale—what’s wrong?” Rosa didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled away and ran upstairs. Georgene straightened her back and turned to Jenny, fixing her fiery eyes on the intrusive woman’s face. It was exactly as she feared. The woman was intending to take away the only two people who ever meant anything to her. If this was true, then somewhere in the unconsciousness of her mind lurked a greater enemy. “See what you’ve done,” she scorned. “You’ll be sorry for that!” Georgene didn’t say anything more, just spun on her heels and hurried up the stairs after Rosa, leaving her shopping bags at the front door and Jenny consumed with feelings of uneasiness in her wake. There was nothing she could do.Standing alone in the middle of the room, Jenny released a heavy sigh. She wondered what the hell Georgene meant by what she said. If she ever did get Rosa away from her, there was a good chance she could be in some real danger. She wondered if coming to Rhode Island had been such a good idea, after all. “I thought I was doing the right thing—but now I don’t know.”All of a sudden Jenny felt like a bug about to hit a windshield. She bit her trembling lip and went upstairs to her room and fell across the bed. “I don’t want to make things worse,” she cried. “But I have to do whatever it takes to protect her.” Jenny cried hot tears into her pillow. Maybe telling Rosa the truth about who she was, was the worse thing she could ever do. By morning, Jenny was no closer to solving this problem than she was the night before. She waked tired and feeling out of sorts. Nonetheless, she sat up, pushed the blankets aside and forced herself out of bed and walked to the mirror where she saw the reflection of a defeated woman. “It’s no use,” she grumbled, with mixed emotions. She knew that once she opened her mouth and said the words she longed to say, it would change everything for everyone. There was no going back and undoing it. Before long, Rosa would be all grown up and away from this place, she thought. And she wouldn’t be under Georgene’s influence any longer. Why didn’t knowing that help? Jenny moved to the bed and pulled her suitcase out from underneath the mattress and flopped it up onto the mussed blankets. It was time she left. Jenny knew if she didn’t leave before Kyle got home, he would persuade her to stay. Inside the desk drawer she found a tablet and a pencil and began writing down why she had to leave and that marrying him was a mistake. She loved her life in Queens, she wrote, and she simply wanted to go back, factoring in that too much time had passed and there was no way she expected a relationship with him or Rosa, not after all these years. She wrote how much she hated saying good-bye.Please don’t come looking for me. It’s better this way. Love, Jenny.After she finished with the letter, she folded it and held it tightly in her hand. Then opened the flap on her suitcase began stuffing it with the little bit of clothing she had brought with her. Since it was still early, it was possible that she could leave without anyone knowing she had gone. Having fallen asleep still wearing her clothes made it all the better that she didn’t have to waste time getting dressed. Locking the suitcase, she was almost ready to leave. But there was still one problem left. She didn’t have a car.Jenny took the handle of her suitcase and slid it off of the bed and walked to the door, easing it open to make sure no one was around. The hallway was quiet and dark, she didn’t think she’d have a problem finding her way down the stairs and into the library. There she could search the desk drawers for the telephone directory to find the number of the nearest taxi service. As she turned the pages and skimmed the businesses she soon found exactly what she was looking for—Bob’s Taxi Service. Dialing the phone, she hoped someone would answer. It was still quite early and there was a chance no one was working yet. A man with a loud hoarse voice picked up the phone and yelled into the receiver, “Bob’s!” “Hello,” Jenny responded. “I need a car to pick me up at the Brynwood estate as soon as possible.”“We only have one car on the road right now, ma’am,” he said. “Could be several hours ‘til we get way out there. Were you going?” At that moment, Jenny realized she wasn’t in the big city anymore and getting home would require more than just hopping on a bus and going up town. Burrillville was quite a distance from Queens, and she didn’t have enough money to take a taxi or a bus to get there.A heavy weight settled on her chest. There was no way she could leave now; not without any money. “Ma’am, do you want a car or not?”“I’ll have to call you back,” Jenny said, hanging up the receiver. Her vitality to secretly leave the manor quickly faded. Her life was in turmoil. She sighed wearily and quietly returned to her room upstairs and spent the next hour starring out the window at the snowflakes falling against the windowpane. How was she going to tell Kyle that she changed her mind about everything—that it was in everyone’s best interest that they give up this crazy idea to be a family? There had to be a way to convince him, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. Marrying Kyle and Rosa’s mother was the only thing that made any sense at all. But nothing was worth the risk of what the fallout would do, not even if it seemed like the right thing to do.Jenny figured the letter she wrote to Kyle pretty much spelled out what she wanted to say. The best thing to do now was to go home and immerse herself in her work and try to forget about him. Jenny hung her head and let tears of pity run down her cheeks. Damn, what was the matter with her? She wanted a family, didn’t she? Her biological clock was ticking, right? Well then why, when she should be thinking about settling down with the man she loved and getting on with the future they planned, was she about to give up and walk out?By the time 7 a.m. rolled around, Rosa had already been up, eaten her breakfast and on her way down the driveway for school. From her second story bedroom window, Jenny watched her and suddenly realized that this might very well be the last time that she’d ever see her again. “Good-bye my precious girl,” she whispered. For one split moment she thought about opening the window and shouting out to her, I’m your mother, but she knew it was a bad idea. Her plan to tell Rosa who she was wasn’t the most important thing anymore. She had to put her own feeling’s aside and focus her attention on sparing her daughter a lifetime of hurt revealing the secret would cause. It was painfully obvious that Rosa had resolved to accept Georgene as the mother figure in her life, something that Georgene was making very clear. Jenny thought for an instant that the decision she and Kyle made years ago had returned to haunt them. But it was too late to change it so they’d have to bear the burden. At the same time, she thought it was important to tell Kyle what she suspected about Georgene and that the woman was one card short of a full deck and let the chips fall where they may.Feeling her heart sink deeper into her chest, Jenny fought the urge to wait until Kyle returned home, to tell him everything she suspected about Georgene—that the woman’s obsessive behavior was potentially dangerous. She paced back and forth through her room, trying to remember again why she came to Rhode Island in the first place. The little time she had with Kyle and Rosa was more wonderful than anything she ever dreamed it could be—and now it was over. Leaving was depressing. Nevertheless, Jenny’s plan was to conjure up a lie that would tell Kyle she only agreed to marry him to get to Rosa. This would hurt him, of course, but as long as she was able to convince herself that he deserved to know what it feels like to be walked out on, then he could consider it payment in full for what he had done to her when he stole her life. Every brain cell in Jenny’s head was jammed with complicated choices. First, she feared Kyle wouldn’t believe her, then she worried if he did. The thought of living without him made breathing unbearable. A sense of sadness came over her. It was not until she actually realized that she had to accept the fact that Rosa was living fine without her when she began to feel so alone, prey to events beyond her control. Georgene held her daughter in a tight grip. The more she thought about it, the more her despair turned to anger.She was preparing to leave the manor like a thief in the night and surrender the daughter she loved to a woman who she believed was insane. “Dear God, what kind of a mother am I?”For hours at a stretch, Jenny sat on her bed, her stomach clenched, her mind deep in thought. If it weren’t bad enough that she had lived with the guilt of having given up her baby fourteen years ago, the guilt of leaving her in danger would be worse. She abandoned her once and she wasn’t going to do it again. Not for any reason was she going to put off telling Kyle about her suspicions about Georgene and he’d have to understand. The burden would then be on his shoulders.Now that Jenny resolved to put one problem to rest, she worried how she was going to explain it. If Kyle had spent more time at home then maybe he would have seen how disturbed his housekeeper was never hired her in the first place. All blaming aside, maybe he had no idea. As long as she remains here, they were all in danger. It was up to her to get the evidence and get her out of the house so they’d no longer have to see or hear her again. In the kitchen, Georgene just finished cooking a late breakfast made up of eggs, liver pudding, grits, and a pot full of fresh-brewed coffee. The intention was to fill the house with an alluring aroma that would bring Jenny downstairs. When twenty minutes passed and then another Georgene assumed she was not coming. Leaning against the back of the chair, Georgene looked at the clock and her jaw clamped. It was crucial that she set Jenny straight; make her see that she’s not welcomed. Disgusted, and too impatient to wait any longer, Georgene left the kitchen and started down the hall, half-expecting to meet Jenny along the way. The corridor was still, except for the swaying pendulum of the clock. Daylight streamed in though the stained-glass window, the crystals of the chandelier glistening—the radiator clicking as water rushed through. There was not even a sign of her coming down the stairs.Georgene leaned close to the banister to listen for any sounds that would indicate to her that Jenny was awake and moving about the hall on her way downstairs. The only noise she heard was coming from a loose shutter banging against the house. When the wind died down, and there was silence, Georgene stepped away from the staircase and went to the library to wait for her there. Pacing back and forth with her hands clenching and unclenching, her mind whirling with flaming ideas, she came across the letter that Jenny had meant to give to Kyle. When she unfolded and read over the words, words that she had originally intended to say—that she decided to leave the manor—and Rosa, she grinned deviously. As she read on, her expression turned to resentment. “Married!” Georgene groaned. Pure anger crossed her lips as she cursed the woman upstairs who was about to upset the apple cart. Pounding her clenched fist on the desk, Georgene told herself that it was over Jenny’s dead body—or hers, that she would let him marry her and it made her more determined than ever to put an end to their ridiculous charade. If Jenny and Kyle got married, then that meant her perfect little make-believe world would come tumbling down. As she sank down into the soft leather of the armchair, starring ahead, pondering a way to execute a fool-proof plan to get rid of Jenny, she heard the surging rise of a voice inside her head murmuring to her exactly how to do it.Georgene sat straight up with her back stiff. At first she thought she was hearing the sound of her own thoughts, but only until the voice told her that the letter was the key. Kill her with the letter. Georgene read, and then re-read the words over and over again, but nothing in them helped her to understand how the letter was the key to getting Jenny out of their lives. Then it hit her. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she let out a wild laugh. With a lot of thought, she would examine every possibility, follow through with whatever plan she came up with, then cleverly cover her tracks. The thing to do first, she supposed, was to get Jenny alone, which would be relatively easy since Kyle was away and Rosa was in school, then surprise her when she least expects it. As long as she had the letter, she had the perfect weapon. With so much self-assurance, she went to her bedroom where she hurriedly dug through the closet looking for the revolver that she kept hidden in a sock. It had been awhile since she handled the gun, and though her intention was not to kill Jenny, she thought it would be a useful tool to overpower her with. But as she struggled to find the gun, shoving aside a mound of old shoes, her heart beating harder and harder, she realized the gun was missing. A sick feeling overcame her. “Son-of-a-bitch.”Hurrying back to the library to wait, glancing at the clock with dark cat-like eyes, she tensed, wondering what the hell happened to the gun. It didn’t matter. There was still enough time to re-direct her plan of action. Victim to the voice in her head again, her eyes narrowed, making them look even more catlike than before, smiling triumphantly and satisfactorily like a giddy schoolgirl who just made the cheerleading squad. Another idea had emerged.Waiting for Jenny to come downstairs was becoming almost unbearable. On the other hand, Georgene reveled in the thrill of the hunt. Before long, the sound of Jenny’s footsteps coming down the stairs was like music to her ears, making her heart bang painfully against her chest as she gazed at the doorway waiting for her to enter. The sweet smell of victory was exhilarating. Everything was going according to plan exactly the way the voice told her it would. Except, Jenny did not enter the library, which made Georgene’s face burn with anger. That’s when she began to stomp the floor and moan like an injured dog.“No,” Georgene scorned. “I have not failed, not yet.” As she drew even with the doorway and looked down the long darkened hall, she could see a shadow moving in the line of light under the door and knew that Jenny had gone to the kitchen. Perfect! Georgene moved down the hall like a leopard on the hunt and quietly opened the door so Jenny would not see her sneaking in. Her eyebrows drew together as she cautiously moved close and grabbed Jenny by the elbow. Jenny jerked her head around and was startled when she saw the amusement in Georgene’s eyes. She was uncomfortably too close. Her eyes glowed with a strange hue of wickedness. “You really should watch out behind you,” said Georgene, erupting in laughter.Alarmed by her behavior, Jenny backed up against the counter, her eyes fixed on Georgene’s unblinking gaze, fear coiling and tightening in her gut.Georgene looked stonily at Jenny. “I’m afraid your breakfast is cold now.”Jenny looked over Georgene’s shoulder at the table and saw a plate of dippy eggs with toast and liver pudding sitting next to a cold cup of coffee. A thought rose in her mind that perhaps the food was laced. “I’m not very hungry.”“Very well,” Georgene said. “Maybe later you will be.”Jenny inhaled deeply. “Have you heard from Kyle?”“No, not a word,” Georgene replied.“Are you sure he hasn’t called?” Jenny repeated.“You don’t believe me?” Georgene said. When her voice became ruff, Jenny knew it was better if she didn’t press the issue anymore. “Will you let me know when he calls, won’t you?”“Of course I will.”Jenny was well aware that Kyle had called the day before and asked to speak to her and she knew Georgene was lying about it, but she couldn’t say anything about it because she couldn’t let her know she had been listening in on their conversation. And as long as they were alone together in the house, she wasn’t going to do anything that might set her off. No sooner had they discussed the phone call did the phone ring. “I’ll get it,” Georgene said, pivoting on her heels and lifting the receiver to her ear. Jenny looked steadily into her eyes, thinking she would see something in them that might tell her who was on the other end of the line. Georgene sensed her gaze and turned around, cupping her hand over the receiver and spoke very low. “Hello.”The tone of Kyle’s voice stirred her blood when he asked to speak to Jenny.“Please ask Jenny to come to the phone.”Jenny’s intuition told her that it was Kyle, and she was certain he wanted to speak to her, not his housekeeper. Her anger grew, and when she reached around to grab the receiver, Georgene pulled away and pressed it against her chest, muffling her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”Again, Jenny swung to grab the receiver out of her hands. ““Kyle, I’m here,” she yelled.” Georgene stretched out one arm and used the strength of her body to knock her to the floor, then slammed the receiver down on the cradle.“You shouldn’t have done that,” she shrieked, her face turning red with rage. Then opening a drawer and pulling out a large chopping knife she held it to her face. “You’ve been a pain in my ass since you came here and it’s time I do something about it.” The phone rang again. “Don’t bother answering it. He can’t help you now.” Despite the danger she was in, Jenny didn’t attempt to get off the floor, but remained motionless, reciting the Lord’s prayer to ease the tension in her stomach. Heated fear compressed her chest and she closed her eyes as Georgene held the tip of the knife against her throat. “Get up!”After the phone stopped ringing, Jenny slowly got to her feet, while Georgene firmly held the knife at her with a vengeance. “Turn around,” Georgene ordered. When Jenny did as she was told, she was pushed hard toward the door. “Let’s go.”“Where are we going?” Jenny asked, so panicked that she thought she heard the rattle of death in her voice. Her legs felt like rubber to the point that they didn’t seem connected to her body anymore. Beneath her, the floor shook as Georgene stomped toward her, grabbing and tearing at her blouse, forcefully pulling her to her feet. “Move, before I damage that pretty face of your!” “What are you going to do to me?” Jenny cried, scrambling toward the first step and managing to get to the landing at the top. “Just keep moving until I tell you to stop.” Georgene gave her a quick grin as though she enjoyed every minute she tortured her. “Step it up before I lose my patience.” Jenny feared that it was only a matter of time before the psychotic housekeeper murdered her. The woman’s rage was indescribable, nothing she had ever seen before or more frightening. Slowly, they continued further and further down the long dark hall, past a ringing telephone that neither one answered. At the door to the attic, Georgene abruptly reached forward and took a handful of Jenny’s hair. “Stop right here and open the door.” Jenny knew if she was forced into the attic that there was very little possibility of anyone ever finding her. “For goodness sakes, please stop this before it’s too late.”Georgene became furious and began hitting her with the butt of the knife. “You really are forcing me to use this on you, aren’t you? Now I said open the fucking door right now.” This time, Jenny did as she was told and opened the creaky door, then her eyes swung around to Georgene standing close behind. “It’s cold in there, “ she said.Georgene smirked obnoxiously as though she enjoyed the power she had over Jenny. “Wait until you get to the top of the steps.” Persuaded by the point of the knife, Jenny climbed one dusty step at a time, pulling cobwebs away from her face, her back constantly nudged by the knife. The attic was dark and it smelled of the age old wood. Drafty too, as she felt cold air coming in from somewhere. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.Georgene kept her expression carefully blank. “You shouldn’t have come here. Mr. Bennett may have dishonored me if you stayed any longer. That would have been a mistake. My husband dishonored me once.”Jenny’s heart felt like it had skipped one hundred beats.Pulling a flashlight out of her pocket, Georgene pressed the button and a weak light shone over the area. “Get over there,” she gestured to an old mattress. “You’ll be sleeping there until I decide what to do with you. Better keep the blanket close. You’ll need it.” She had a wicked laugh.Jenny’s lips tightened as she made her way through the narrow aisle in the middle of the attic, walking on the squeaky cold planked floor. Fate would do to her whatever it willed. As the light from the flashlight led the way, they past a dusty old trunk, several boxes of books, antique furniture, an oil lamp, and an old dress form. Other than those things was the shadow of their images coming from the dim light that bounced off the ceiling and walls. Everything else was pitch dark, making it impossible to know just how large the attic really was. Fear closed in, but all Jenny could think about was how quickly the cold had penetrated to the bones in her hands and feet. There was no way she’d ever survive in here. “Stop right here princess,” Georgene said, knocking her onto the mattress. Wearing only corduroy pants, a cotton turtleneck and penny loafers, Jenny shivered. The power-driven woman’s hand forced her to her knees, then pushed her face deeper into the mattress. “Might as well get comfortable, sweety, you’re going to be here awhile.” Jenny wondered how long awhile would be, wondered how far the woman would go, and if she planned to kill her. “Please, let me go. I won’t say a word about this to anyone, I promise.”“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, I have this thing about people who stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”Jenny cried, “But it’s cold up here, and dark--too dark. These are not fit conditions for anyone…please….I beg you….let me go.”“If you’re worried about being alone, don’t be. This old attic is home to field mice, bats, squirrels and God only knows what else. You’ll have plenty of company.”“You’re insane. You’ll never get away with this. Kidnapping is a punishable crime. When Kyle finds out what you’ve done, he’ll have you thrown in jail.”Georgene’s eyes filled with fire. “I don’t think he’ll give a hoot that you’re gone, once I show him this letter.” In her hand, Georgene was holding the letter that Jenny had written earlier to Kyle. When Jenny reached for the letter, Georgene kicked her back on the mattress with a spine-jarring jolt of her foot. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll be sorry you ever came here.”“Where did you get that letter?” Jenny said, with a sharp demanding tone in her voice. “You can’t give that to him; everything in it is a lie.”Georgene cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered loudly, “Say’s you,” then laughed wildly. Bending down to her level and grabbing another fistful of her hair, Georgene raised Jenny’s head until they were eye to eye and gave it a good hard shake. “He’s mine—got that?…always was…always will be, so you better get that in this pretty head of yours.” Jenny’s jaw tightened against the pain. “He will understand once I explain why I wrote that letter.” Georgene’s mouth curved up. “Too bad you’ll never get the chance to tell him. Now I’m going downstairs, but I’ll be right back, and if I hear any noise coming from up here, I’ll carve you into so many pieces your own mother won’t recognize you.” She said it with so much conviction that it should have been enough to let Jenny know she meant it. But it was more than that. It was the way she enjoyed threatening her with the knife, waving it back and forth in front of her face that made it frighteningly real. “Understand?”Jenny didn’t speak, but glanced away and nodded.“Good girl. Lord knows I don’t need much of an excuse to kill you.” On her way out of the attic, Georgene turned and tossed the flashlight at Jenny’s feet. “Remember, I’ll be listening.”A half-hour later, she returned with a brown paper bag. In it was a sandwich, an apple, and two cupcakes; under her arm a thermos full of hot coffee.“Here, this oughta’ keep ya from starving too soon.” With her arm stretched, Jenny eagerly took the food, and then the thermos and started pouring hot steaming coffee into the lid. She sipped at it, then held the cup close to her face with both hands to warm her fingers and nose before drinking anymore. “Why did you bring me here?” She asked, hoping the answer would be the truth, though she doubted it would make any sense. The coldness of the attic had made her feel raw.Georgene saw the urgency in her eyes, even as she spoke in a soft voice. She picked up the lose bread that had fallen away from the sandwich and threw it at her head. “What did you think I was going to do? Just sit back and let you take over? Take my place? What do you think he’ll do when he finds out you’ve run off?Jenny flinched away from the piece of bread that sailed through the air and hit her in the chest. Silently, she cursed the woman for what she was doing. She drank the coffee, letting it temporarily warm her, but with no heat it wasn’t long before it had cooled down to the point that it only made her cold to drink anymore. Holding the knife to her face, Georgene ordered Jenny to sit up straight and place her hands behind her back. “What are you going to do?” Jenny asked.“I will gladly kill you if you don’t do what I say. Now put your hands behind your back.” With a rope she had found lying on the floor, Georgene began twisting and tying it around both of Jenny’s wrists, leaving a tail long enough to wrap around a support beam and slack enough to lie down and eat. After she was finished securing the rope, she pulled and old rag out of her pocket, rolled it in a loose ball, and stuffed it into Jenny’s mouth. “This oughta keep you quite.” Georgene turned, and then headed for the stairs, but stopped when Jenny started kicking her legs, trying to loosen the ropes. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll take the flashlight with me and you stay up here in the dark.” Jenny stopped struggling, but still trembled all over. Cold and scared as she was she was certain she didn’t want to be in the attic without any light. Relaxing would be hard since it was natural for the body to quiver once its temperature dropped below ninety-eight degrees. Her hands were already trembling. But at least the cramp tightness of the rope kept warm blood in her fingers, which she was thankful for.Looking up at Georgene, their eyes touched for a second, and then Georgene turned and retraced her steps out of the attic.The next day Georgene returned. This time she brought a jug of water and a box of dry cereal. Since the flashlight had been left on all night, draining the life in the batteries, she pulled a second one out of her pocket and switched it on. Jenny could feel her life being drained, as well. The modest ration of food she was given thus far was barely enough to keep her alive. Pointing a beam of light on her prisoner’s face, Jenny did not stir but instead looked steadily up at her. Georgene wished the woman had been dead. It made her smile to think of it. Disappointment filled her when she realized she was still alive. “Please, help me,” Jenny whispered, faintly seeing the outline of her body.Georgene laid down the next ration of food.“I brought you some water, so sit up and drink it or lay there and die. It’s up to you. Either way makes no difference to me.”Jenny was so weak and cold that all she wanted to do was sleep. Starring down at her motionless body, Georgene didn’t feel an ounce of pity for her. The idea was to ration her food more and more every day until she fell into permanent sleep.Georgene stopped midway across the floor and looked back over her shoulder. How beautiful she was. The urge to kill her was so strong that it held center stage in her mind. After the door closed, Jenny tried to reach for the box of cereal. This time, the food was beyond her reach and it made her wonder if Georgene had done it on purpose. She let her shoulder do what her hands could not and sat up half way with her back against the wall. With her long slender legs stretched out, she was able to touch the box and work it toward her, until she was able to firmly hold it between her feet. Bending at the knees, exerting every ounce of energy, she drew the box close enough that she now was able to lift it to her face and open it with her mouth.To get the water she’d have to do the same thing as before. She almost had the jug when it tumbled over, water spilling onto the floor, and soaked into the mattress. “Dammit,” she said, inwardly cursing herself for not being more careful. Water was more important than food, and there was no telling how long it would be until she got more. At least she had the cereal, which she began eating any way she could.She ceased eating and her head lifted quickly. Something just moved past her. Something she neither heard nor saw, but only felt. She lied back down on the mattress and curled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes. Whatever it was, she didn’t even have enough energy to be frightened of it. The coldness was slowly robbing her life away, maybe her senses too because now she was imagining things that weren’t there.Jenny primed herself for death. From now until then she’d ask God to protect her daughter, guide her so that she’d someday meet a man who’d take care of her, marry her and give her a family to love and cherish. Then she’d ask God to watch over Kyle and help him to realize his responsibilities and that he would grow to be the father Rosa needs him to be. Her breath sucked in when she found herself praying for revenge on the woman who had put her in this position in the first place. A good Christian wouldn’t pray such things, she thought.Downstairs, Georgene was cooking a hot meal for herself and Rosa. Her mood was better tonight than it had been in days; more relaxed. Stirring the soup, she smiled, was pleased with herself knowing that a little ingenuity finally paid off. Everything happened just as it was supposed to. This time, the voices inside her head were right. And now when Kyle read the letter, she thought, he would see what a fool he had been and everything would return as it was before Jenny came to Brynwood. Spooning several ladles of soup into two deep bowls, she carefully carried them to the table, then returned to get a loaf of white bread, two small salads and two glasses of iced tea. Down the hall Rosa was in the library doing her homework. Georgene poked her head inside and tossed her a playful glance. “Ready to eat?”Rosa smiled. “You bet I am.” As they headed toward the kitchen, Georgene felt good about herself, not at all remorseful for what she had done to Jenny. All was quiet, except for the voices bound inside her head, voices that had compelled her to go to such great lengths. Her mind was a weapon. Inside it, voices scrambled interchangeably, igniting the ammunition to silence the things that threatened her. They were the finger that pulled the trigger that fired the gun. “I really missed you today,” Georgene said, slicing off a piece of bread. Rosa smiled as she swallowed the bite of soup she’d been chewing on and smoothed back her hair. “Do you think my father knows Jenny left?” she asked, buttering her bread. Clearing her throat, Georgene looked sharply at Rosa and gave her a firm reply. “No. But I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he did.” Then she picked up the roll of bread, bit off a piece and shoved it into her mouth. Her eyes swung over to the pitcher of orange juice. “Slide that over here, would ya?”Taking the pitcher by the handle and lifting it gently, Rosa set it down beside their empty glasses. Georgene chewed contentedly as she filled both glasses. “You see, nothing’s ever what it seems. I’ve seen her kind before. She’s just a drifter looking for a man to take care of her.” Picking up a napkin that lay alongside her plate, she told Rosa to wipe the butter from her cheek. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Rosa did as she was told. It was hard to see Georgene’s eyes grow black when she spoke of Jenny. Rosa had great respect for Georgene, but she wasn’t sure if she agreed with her opinion of her. It was no surprise that she hated her. But Jenny seemed like a good person and it was obvious that she meant well by the way she offered her help with the cat. On the other hand, she couldn’t chastise Georgene for the way she felt, either. Jenny was lovely, inside and on the surface, and that threatened her.For a second, Georgene thought about Jenny upstairs in the attic, though it was one second more than she deserved. More than herself, she did it for Rosa. The girl had adjusted to her solitary life just fine and the two of them were comfortable the way things were. The last thing either one of them needed was to have some outsider come in and stir things up, change what didn’t need changed.With a sigh Georgene rose from her seat, gathered the bowls and utensils, and took them to the sink to be washed. These were the kind of evenings she looked forward to, just her and Rosa. Sometimes, they’d play rummy or spend hours relaxing in the library eating popcorn, tossing the pieces into the air, and seeing who was more skillful at catching them in their mouth. Time and again, over the coarse of eight years the two had formed a special bond, and no one was going to take that away.“How about a game of Old Maids,” Georgene said, covering the left over soup. “We can do the dishes tomorrow.”Rosa frowned. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go upstairs and see to the cat. She’s been a bad girl lately, peeing on the rug, I mean.”Georgene put the soup in the refrigerator and closed the door. She glanced over at Rosa, imagining the evening alone and suggested that they both check on the cat together. “Jenny was going to take ?clair to the vet. She thinks it might have a bladder infection.”“Oh, what does she know?” Georgene interrupted. “Maybe it just wants attention, or maybe it saw a ghost. Boo!” Georgene laughed, but Rosa trembled because she had already been aquainted with the ghost living in the manor. She had seen its image, stood in its presence and felt it summoning her to open the photo book where she had seen a picture of a child that looked amazingly like herself.“Quit joking,” Rosa said. “Ghosts are real, you know.”“Is that right?” Georgene replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee, thinking she’d wait until Rosa went to bed before having something a little stronger. “Are you telling me you believe in ghosts?”Rosa nodded. “Yes I believe in them. Don’t you?”“I don’t know.”“Would you believe me if I told you I saw one upstairs?”Georgene thought about how much Rosa loved to explore and considered that it could be her child-like imagination playing tricks on her—nothing more. “Ghosts could be fun if they’re good ghosts. Is this ghost a good one or a bad one?”Rosa couldn’t tell if she believed her or was just being facetious. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t sure herself.“Are you coming?” Rosa said, facing toward the door.“You go ahead,” Georgene said, looking for any excuse she could so that she didn’t have to hear about that stupid cat. “I have other things I need to do before I go to bed.”“Right now?” Rosa asked, tossing her a gentle smile. She pushed herself back against the door. “Okay, I’ll be in my room the rest of the night if you change your mind.” She let the door swing shut behind her as she left the kitchen and headed down the hall to the stairs. Georgene went to the door, cracked it open just enough to see her round the corner at the end of the hall, and listened her footsteps as they ascended the steps. She went to the cupboard, took out a small cloth sack, tossed it on the table and began putting fruit and cookies inside. After living on tiny rations of food, the fruit and cookies wasn’t enough for Jenny, but Georgene didn’t have much time get upstairs to the attic, deliver the food, then make it back downstairs to catch the beginning of Bonanza. With a quick glance at the clock, she tucked the bag under her arm, grabbed the flashlight and headed up the steps to the hall that led to the attic. Before opening the door, she looked over her shoulder to be absolutely certain that she had not been followed. Turning the knob and pulling on the door, Geogene disappeared inside where she became surrounded by the dark drafty coldness of the attic. Immediately, her finger searched for the button that turned on the flashlight. Moving slowly up the dusty wood steps to the upper floor above, Georgene wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. Was Jenny dead or alive, she wondered? This part of the house was most definitely the worst, hauntingly gloomy. Navigating without any light at all would have been impossible. From where she stood, as a dim beam of light shown down the aisle between old boxes and other attic junk, Georgene could faintly see Jenny. She was lying still with her back against the wall and swaddled in the blanket. It suddenly occurred to her that she never planned on how she would get rid of her after she was dead.One more annoying problem to think about.As she cautiously approached the small space where Jenny lay, ropes tightly bound around her wrists, Georgene crouched down and shone the flashlight on her face. She didn’t look much different than before, she thought, except that her immaculately kept hair was mussed and her clothing wet. She found it hard to understand what Kyle ever saw in her.Nudging Jenny with her foot, Georgene wanted to see if there was any life left in the woman at all. Against all odds, Jenny was alive. Squinting against the light, she raised her head and moaned from the pain from where the ropes had cut into her wrists. Georgene stood over her, shivering from the cold, and dropped the sack of fruit and cookies by her side. Next time, the rations would be less. Once this was over, she’d have no reason to come back to the attic, except to get her dead body and find a place to hide it. Just the thought of possessing her this way was enough to make her blood race. Georgene motive was that she could not relinquish to someone else that which belonged to her. There was a price to be paid for what Jenny had set out to do to her. Looking down at her, Georgene thought it was time that she pay.With her eyes blinded in the light, Jenny barely had the strength to blink. She didn’t know if it was day or night. For all she knew, time could have flowing backward and she would not have known the difference. “How do you expect me to eat with my hands tied?” she asked, in a weakened voice, her mouth dry from dehydration. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it and get it over with. It would be a heathen who would let someone starve to death.”Georgene reached down, picked up the sack, and turned it over until the food inside spilled out onto Jenny’s lap.Jenny sighed deeply, but didn’t say a word. She swore if she could see Georgene’s face, it would be smiling. “Well, are you going to take the food or not?” Georgene said, testy. “If not, that’s fine with me. It’ll be all the more for the rats to eat. At least they’ll appreciate it.”Without another word, she turned to leave but stopped when she heard Jenny say, “I know why you’re so determined to get rid of me.”“Is that so?”“You feel threatened by my relationship with Kyle and Rosa. You want them for yourself. You may succeed in getting rid of me, but you’ll never get Kyle to fall in love with you.” Jenny only hoped that after she died the love she and Kyle rediscovered would go with her into the great beyond. Angered by her words, Georgene’s tone became even more hostile than before “How the hell would you know what Kyle wants? I’ve been with him for eight years and he’s never mentioned you to me once.”“He brought me here to meet Rosa. To tell her…..”“Bologna,” Georgene fired. “You’re only here to meddle in his affairs, stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Like I said before, he’s mine. Always was. Always will be. I’ll destroy anyone who messes with me.”She spun around and practically broke into a stride moving through the dark to get away from her until she heard Jenny ask to use the bathroom. “Please, I really need to go.”Georgene straightened her back, turned and dragged herself back across the bare wood floor, waving her hands, indicating how irritated she was. “I don’t think so,” she snapped, shining the flashlight on her face. “Bonanza’s coming on and I’m not going to miss the beginning so you can take a piss. I hate missing those men riding in on horseback.” Jenny froze at the thought of peeing in her pants. Even though she could see how aggravated Georgene was getting by the minute, she knew if she didn’t get to a bathroom real soon, she would be sitting in a wet mess. “Please, I won’t make a sound, I promise.” Georgene twisted to look behind her in the direction of the door, pondering what to do, knowing that if anyone saw them, her scheme would backfire. The wheels in her head were turning, but she nonetheless agreed to release her long enough to go to the bathroom. “Okay,” she said, holding the knife dangerously close to Jenny’s face. “I’ll give you one minute. One wrong move from you I’ll slice you into teensy weensy little pieces, stuff you into a shoebox and ship your skinny ass off to China. Got it?” Moving forward, she stretched over Jenny and cut the rope.“Okay, princess, let’s go.”Shakily, Jenny managed to get to her feet and slung the blanket around her back, hugging it to her chest as she moved down the narrow path to the steps that led to the attic door. Keeping two steps ahead of Georgene, she cursed the woman in silence for what she was doing, thinking of her as nothing more than a murdering maniac. The fabric from which she was cut was evil and cunning. Her method to get revenge was violent. Getting out of the attic couldn’t come sooner. It’s been more than a day since Jenny had seen anything but darkness. If Kyle or Rosa was waiting for her on the other side of the door, they would be a welcome site indeed.God, how she missed them. Before they reached the door, Georgene lay her hand on Jenny’s shoulder, a warning that told her to stop. As badly as Jenny wanted to scream, she knew Georgene meant what she said and would use the knife to kill her. The red-headed woman was twisted that way.“Move out of the way,” Georgene said, pushing ahead of Jenny. Jenny stepped aside while Georgene cautiously opened the door and looked up and down the hall. There were no lights on so it was very dark. Jenny came to a sudden halt when Georgene grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Stop right here, missy. You’re not going anywhere until I give you the signal.” As soon as she felt it was safe enough, Geogene stepped out of the attic’s doorway and walked halfway down the hall. Jenny waited and watched for her signal. Ordinarily, this would be the perfect time to escape, she thought, and yet there was no place to run. Even with the multitude of places she could hide in the manor, she knew full well that Georgene would eventually find her and probably kill her in a heartbeat without even thinking about it. And as long as she had the letter telling Kyle she only pretended to be in love with him for Rosa’s sake, she had all the ammunition she needed to confuse him enough to make him believe it. The truth was, she’d loved him for fourteen years. Hardly a moment passed that she didn’t think about him. But he had left her once because his head was so filled with shards of confusion. Now that Georgene had the letter, and planned to show it to him the instant he got home, what was to stop him from thinking the worst and turning his back on her again. Jenny felt as if she had used up all her tears. She knew if she was sent back to the attic that she’d either die of hypothermia or starvation.Down the hall, Georgene tossed her a glance, motioned with the knife and Jenny left the door’s small opening and went directly to the bathroom, thoughts of escape still circling her head. After flushing the toilet and washing her hands, she opened the door and was immediately caught by surprise when a hand reached in and grabbed her by the hair. “Let’s go…quickly now.”Jenny didn’t put up a struggle when Georgene hauled her back into the attic and she didn’t fight her from tying her hands. As worn out as she was, even the thought of dying made her numb.Like a whirl of dust, Georgene turned and raced away, down the steps and out of the door, swiftly making her way down the long curved stairway, down the hall and to her bedroom, eagerly trying to get to the television. The timing couldn’t have been any worse when the telephone rang and she had to stop to answer it. “Hello?” she said in an urgent tone.When she heard Kyle’s voice on the other end of the phone, her throat tightened because she had been so preoccupied with Jenny, that she’d forgotten what tell him the next time he called. “How is everything there?” he asked. Tapping the receiver was the only thing she could think of to make is appear as if there was a bad connection. “Hello….I can’t hear you….who’s calling.” “Ms. Pritchett, can you hear me?”Tap-tap-tap. “Hello…hello?”“Hello,” Kyle said loudly. “Ms. Pritchett, if you can hear me at all, I just wanted to let you know that I may be here a little longer here than expected. Ms. Pritchett…hello.…are you there?”Tap…tap…tap…The connection was broken when Georgene hung up the receiver. She was beside herself with worry now, knowing he would attempt to call again, wondering what she should tell him did. The plan was to get Jenny out of the picture, make him see what a fool he had been for having anything to do with her. Removing her was the only way.Her greatest hope was that he would forget her quickly and completely. As she walked to the fireplace, Georgene’s deluded mind raced with erotic images of Kyle. As the glow of low-burning flames swept across her face, they carried with them the same kind of heat she felt inside. How perfect, she thought, it would be to seal their love right there on the floor, making him dismiss any thoughts he had ever had of Jenny.As she stepped out of the fantasy dream that repetitively played in her head, Georgene left the library to go back to her room.Chapter 28Feeling the hard reality of what was happening, Jenny lay on a musty-damp mattress trying to stay as warm as she could under the old blanket. She felt the cold deepening, couldn’t remember being more hungry in her life. Her insides ached from shivering and she could no longer feel her toes. Her wrists burned from the ropes. Curling up tighter and tighter in a ball, she made a tent from the blanket to save whatever warmth she had left, but she knew if her body temperature continued to fall, she would lose consciousness and die in her sleep.Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance.One floor below, Rosa relaxed on her bed doing her homework, while the cat incessantly licked its fur. As she sat with her back against the headboard, knees pulled up to support the book, she jotted down each equation with one hand, scribbling an answer next to it, and nibbling her fingernails with the other. Math had never been one of her best subjects, but she did the homework and always handed it in on time. Whether or not the answers were correct did not matter to her as much as getting the homework handed in on time. Homework counted as fifty percent of her grade, and she did just enough to get by.By the end of the hour, Rosa had just about finished her work when she felt the cat stirring on the foot of her bed. She lowered her knees and saw it standing up with its ears drawn against its head, weirdly focused at something it had either heard or thought it heard. Of course, the wind was blowing hard outside, making an unusual whistling sound, but there was no sound at all inside. It was dead quiet.Rosa closed her book and smacked her foot onto the bed to break the cat’s concentration. “Psssssk.” It withdrew its gaze and started walking toward her. Reaching out, Rosa drug the cat close and hugged it to her chest. “What’s your problem?” she said, rubbing her face deep into its furry coat. For a moment, Rosa wondered if maybe the cat had sensed the presence of the ghost, and that was what had made him so uneasy. It was understandable. Knowing there was something out there watching you but you couldn’t see them was enough to make anyone uneasy.The ceiling light cast a dull white light over the room. To add even more light, Rosa leaned over and clicked on her bedside lamp, assuming that ghosts hated the light. A presumptuous thought.Listening as well, and hoping for just about anything that would make the ghost real, the only sound she heard so far was the blowing of the wind. And now that the cat had resumed licking itself again, whatever had been there a moment ago was either gone or it never existed in the first place. Rosa shook her head. This whole ghost thing had really put her on the edge. Worse, was to be suspicious of every little noise she heard. It was driving her crazy, but she couldn’t help it. The ghost really did exist. She’d seen its form moving about in the empty room at the end of the hall. Rosa lay resting with her back against the headboard and her knees pressed in against her chest, drifting in and out of sleep, her head bobbing up and down in unison with the licking motion of the cat.A little more than ten feet above her bedroom, Jenny lay fighting to stay awake, knowing that if she fell asleep, it would be permanent. The last thing she wanted was to die without ever having the chance to explain to Kyle why she had written the letter. It was only meant to keep Rosa from finding out that she had a mother who was alive and a father who had lied to her about her entire life. How was she ever going to be able to forgive either one of them?A smile formed on her icy cold lips, as she thought about Rosa and the night of the Christmas Pageant when they sang together. There was just as much love in her heart for her then as there was the day she was born. Lying helplessly dying didn’t change how thankful she was for the opportunity to have seen her daughter’s beautiful face, touch her soft wavy hair, and to know that she is happy one more time.As Jenny slowly lifted a stiff hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, a funny, tingling sensation moved from her head to her chest, down both her arms and into each of her fingertips. It traveled down her back to both legs and all the way to the tips of her toes. It was as if someone had just turned on the heat.Raising her head, her eyes locked on the image of a man standing within a few feet away. From where she sat, he almost looked translucent in nature. Jenny now realized what she was seeing.Her heartbeat quickened and a tear trickled down her cheek. Sweat covered her face and ran down her throat like a noose around her neck. Jenny presumed the image she saw was the Lord and that he was here in his infinite mercy, blanketing her with a feeling of warmth and about to take her to Heaven. Bound to the ropes, she couldn’t reach out her hand. Her whole body trembled from the magnitude of this most perfect moment. The Lord, she knew, had forgiven her for the sins that she could not forgive herself for. None of what Jenny had ever been taught about dying and going to Heaven was happening the way she expected. Her body was not being lifted, and she did not see a bright light or the gathering of angels. Had the Father changed his mind, she wondered?Jenny called out to the Lord. “Forgive me Father, for I know I have sinned.”The man she called Lord did not respond, nor did he come any closer. Perhaps she was wrong, she thought, and this was not God, after all. Since there wasn’t a heck of a lot of light in the attic since the flashlight had faded, wasn’t it possible she was mistaken? Surprisingly, Jenny was not afraid—not of ghosts, anyway. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen one. Several years ago she experienced the phenomenon she thought was her mother. It happened on a cold wintry day on Rosa’s tenth birthday. Jenny had spent most of the morning crying, overwhelmed by old feelings of guilt for the decision she’d made ten years prior when she’d allowed Kyle to take her to live with him. The last thing she expected that day was to see her mother materialize out of nowhere and in the middle of the living room. Jenny suspected she had come to her with a message, which was to let her know everything would be alright. “I’m…Jenny…Jenny Stiles,” she said, pausing after each word. What…is…your…name?” For the longest time, she watched him fade in and out of sight. He had to be a European descendent, she guessed, merely by the way he was dressed. Perhaps, mid to late 19th century.Jenny sensed he was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t understand what. He just paced back and forth across the floor, his hand pressed tightly to his chest. If only she knew what he was doing and what he was trying to say. “Who are you?” she asked. Then, as oddly as he appeared he disappeared, leaving behind him the cold hard darkness. Whoever he was, he was here for a reason, a reason that was never made clear. Something told her he needed help. Why else would he want her alive, want to keep her from freezing to death. What did it mean? Jenny had never heard about the ghost stories told about the estate, nor was she aware of the suspicious deaths that had taken place, either. Surely, the fact that there had once been another house built on the grounds that had mysteriously burned to the ground leaving in its ruin a young mother and her children would have raised an eyebrow. But even that wouldn’t have been enough to scare her. Everything that she had ever read about a person’s souls getting stuck somewhere between Heaven and Hell was all a bunch of malarkey. None of that stuff was true. She would have never believed in ghosts unless she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.Propped against the wall in the aftermath of an extra-terrestrial experience, Jenny gazed wide-eyed into the darkness, watching, hoping the ghost would manifest itself to her again and tell her what he wanted. And even though she was not afraid, the fact that he was from another world was more than just a little unnerving nonetheless. Running her foot across the floor in search of the blanket, she hooked it with her toe and dragged it toward her, grabbing it with one hand and working it over her shoulders for comfort. If she had had a watch, she would have guessed several hours had gone by since she’d seen the ghost. Because there was no time in the attic, Jenny wondered whether it was morning or night and whether or not Georgene would ever return with another ration of food and drink. She began to think that starving to death was just as bad as if she would have froze to death. But at least she was warm even if the ropes hadn’t been removed. If it weren’t for that, her weakening state, and the fact that the door was locked, she would get the hell out of here right now and go strangle Georgene with her bare hands.Chapter 29It had been three days since Georgene locked Jenny in the attic. As she sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of hot chocolate, looking forward to Kyle’s return home, preparing herself for when he came barging through the door, she knew he’d want to know right away why Jenny had left so abruptly. That’s when she’d show him the letter, Jenny’s letter, and then he’d know exactly what kind of woman she was once and for all. Thinking that her plan would actually happen as she pictured it would, almost made her cry out in pleasure. Still, it made her nervous to think that he would go looking for her anyway.A tenuous smile crossed her lips as another plan formed. In her minds eye she could see the events as they unfold. The victory was so sweet that she could almost taste it, almost to the point that it made her fingers tingle just thinking about it. In great anticipation of her plan, Georgene entered the foyer and was heading up the steps that lead to the attic where she intended to re-enact what the voices inside her head played. No longer was it a simple matter of killing Jenny. The woman had infuriated her, was threatening to ruin everything that she had worked so hard to achieve. Hearing her beg for her life would be music to her ears. If the woman were not already dead, she would be by the time the sun fell behind the evergreens.Georgene got as far as the attic door when she remembered she had forgotten to bring the kerosene lantern with her. The flashlight she left with Jenny was dead, and the one she had in the pocket of her sweater had two dead batteries. Spinning on her heels, she turned and headed downstairs like a soldier to get the lantern, chanting the words I am not weak, I am not weak over and over again as she went. All she could think about right now was killing the vermin in the attic to show what a good little girl she was after all. Maybe this way she would succeed in finally achieving the one thing that meant so much—her mother’s approval and to prove to Kyle that he had been wrong about her. With Jenny now out of the way, he could see that it was she who loved him so fiercely. She, who he could look at with longing eyes. Like a thief in the night, Jenny came to Brynwood to steal what Georgene worked so hard for. Losing it was out of the question. Georgene was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and tonight she was going to make sure that nothing stood in her way.After rambling around the closet in the downstairs hallway, searching for the lantern, she finally found it on the top shelf. Pulling a pack of matches out of her skirt pocket, she lit the wick. As the flame grew high, smoke coiled around inside the glass dome, coating it with smoky black soot. Adjusting the wick softened the flame. Moving easily across the floor as she carried the lantern up the curved stairway to the door of the attic, her heart raced with anticipation, her body electrified. In the hallway outside of the attic she paused, one hand on the knob, waiting a moment before going inside. A quick glance over her shoulder and she opened the door and went inside, silently, but with vague delight and closed the door behind her. Stopping to take a deep breath, she straightened her back and began to climb the ten narrow steps. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought.Being the schemer she was, Georgene was too smart to not have a well thought out plan. If she was going to do this, she’d better hurry, it was already mid afternoon and Rosa would soon be getting home from school.Adjusting the flame in the lantern, Georgene was better able to see her way through the attic to where Jenny sat with her back against the wall and her hands bound to the beam. This never gets any easier, she thought, remembering Earl. When she approached, she noticed that Jenny’s cheeks weren’t red anymore, nor her lips blue. The woman was no different than a warm-blooded snake, she thought. Since her mind was distracted with her plan, there was no time to rationalize it any further. Unbeknownst to her, Jenny had been kept alive, not from the ration of food and water she’d been given, but by some other unexplainable phenomenon. Even though her hands remained tied and she could feel waves of pain from where the ropes burned her wrists, she was warm. Bewilderment from being locked in the dark attic set in, but she was alive with no one to thank other than the unknown so saved her.Desperation and fear rose inside her when she looked up and saw Georgene’s expressionless face. It was a look privilege only to someone eager to kill. Jenny looked away, hearing the wind blow against the roof, still not knowing if it was day or night. It didn’t make any sense, she thought. “Why would the woman go to the trouble of keeping me alive, and then turn around and kill me later? “What are you going to do with me?” Jenny said, her lips trembling. She opened her mouth to say something more but paused when Georgene shot her a look. It didn’t matter that she didn’t respond. She already knew the answer. “You’ll never get away with it,” she said anyway. “Killing me won’t make him love you.”Georgene broke into a smile. “Soon…,” she said, not sparing her a glance as she pulled out a carving knife. “…you’ll be history, and what’s mine will remain mine.” With her plan in full motion, she looked over her shoulder to the dusty old rolled-up rug lying a few feet away, behind several cardboard boxes of old vintage clothing. Feeling pretty smug about herself, she set down the lantern, got down on her knees and began to unroll it. Jenny tensed. “What are you doing?”Georgene didn’t answer. Her focus was on unrolling the rug until it was completely opened flat. She turned her gaze to Jenny. “It’s going to be tough,” she said, getting to her feet. “But we’ll get through this.” The woman was insane, talking as if her victim was willing to help with her own murder. “I know it’s going to hurt now,” she continued with calm certainty, “But I promise it’ll only last a moment or two.” As she waved the knife, Jenny’s slender hand fluttered toward her throat. She was motionless, unable to breathe. “Please stop this insanity while you can. Kyle—,”Georgene cut her off, stifling her emotional outbursts. “Don’t mention his name to me,” she said. “I promised you that I’d be swift and you wouldn’t suffer, but if you push me, I’ll have to get rough with you.” Her mouth formed a crooked smile. “The catfish will have a field day with you.”The plan was to move Jenny’s dead body onto the rug, roll it up tight, and wait until the next morning after Rosa had gone to school before dragging it outside to her El Camino. Once that was done, she would drive to a private spot at Rakeshaw Lake, roll her down the bank and into the water. The weight of the rug, along with Jenny’s body would cause it to sink to the bottom like a lead weight, so there was no possible way it would float to the surface. One problem she hadn’t thought about was that the Lake was probably frozen solid this time of year, making it impossible to break through the ice. Nevertheless, this wasn’t the time to give up. She had to proceed with her plan and simply take one step at a time. She would kill Jenny first, and then worry about the rest later.Chapter 30It was 2:40 in the afternoon when Rosa was on her way home from school. This time, instead of getting off of the bus at the end of the driveway, she stayed on and got off at the bakery. Ever since Alexis had started working there, there was something different about her, a numb calmness about her that she couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe it was the satisfaction of getting the job, Rosa thought. Or maybe the fact that her face hadn’t been bruised for weeks meant things at home were better now. For her sake, Rosa hoped it was both.Rosa was dripping wet when she came inside the bakery. As always the little potbelly stove heated the whole room and made it overly warm. She wiggled out of her coat and boots and set them by the stove. Alexis had heard her come in, but stood behind the counter and never indicated that she noticed. “Aren’t you going to say hello, Alexis?” Rosa asked, knocking the snow off of her head. As much as she wanted to tell her everything that had happened that awful day, and get the monkey off her back, Alexis simply couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone with that kind of news. So far, no one had come to the house asking about her stepfather. And now that the Vietnam War was in full swing, and both of her stepbrothers had voluntarily signed up for the draft, the only one who knew her ugly little secret was herself—a secret that gripped her like a chastity.“Hello,” Alexis said. “What are you doing here?”“I didn’t see you in school today so I thought I’d come by and see if you ever made it to work. And now that I’ve seen you’re okay, I can leave.” “Wait,” Alexis protested. “You’re checking up on me?”“Someone has to,” Rosa said, walking over to the stove and pulling on her boots and coat, even though they were still wet.Alexis’s mouth opened wide. A full confession was right on the end of her tongue, but she couldn’t speak. It wasn’t like they had been life-long bosom buddies, right? It was only been recently that Rosa showed she could be trusted. But with Alexis, that wasn’t enough. Her concern was if Rosa started sticking her nose into her business, she may eventually find out that she killed Amos, even though she would probably see it as self-defense. What if she got all holy and righteous and wanted her to turn herself in to the cops? No, it would be thoughtless to trust her.Not wanting to take anymore chances, Alexis knew the only thing she could do was leave town. There was no other choice. A convincing lie to whom it may concern and by this time tomorrow she could be gone forever.“Listen, I have a lot of work to get done before we close or Russo will fire me.” Restlessly, she paced the floor, hoping Rosa would leave without asking her anymore questions. She bit her lip and rolled the damp cold mop across the floor. Rosa chuckled. “What’s so funny?” Alexis asked.“Do you remember when Russo handed you that mop and made you wipe up the doughnut cream?”Alexis stopped mopping and took in a deep breath. “Yeah, I remember how it was you fault.” In spite of everything she’d been through, even the most recent stuff seemed as if they happened in another life-time, to someone more innocent than she. With her stepfather dead and her brothers off to war, she only had herself to take care of now. She knew that once she was gone, no one would give her another thought. She’d be safe from the law, and as bad as it seemed right now, she hoped she’d even forget about the day she pulled the trigger and killed her stepfather.Alexis waved her hand in dismissal. “Good bye, Rosa.”“Okay, I’m going now. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”Alexis nodded and watched Rosa leave the bakery, knowing full well that she had seen her for the last time. Watching through the glass door as Rosa stamped a path down the snow-covered shoulder of the road, memories of how she had hid her in the manor simply to protect her from her stepfather’s abuse came to mind. Pressing her face against the glass pane on the window, she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheek. Then she smiled faintly. “Good bye my friend.”Chapter 31Fighting back tears of her own, Jenny remained helplessly imprisoned in the attic, waiting for what felt like her final curtain call. No matter what she said, she wasn’t able to change Georgene’s mind about killing her. She closed her eyes, trying to resist the urge to cry, but it was no use. A wave of hot tears streamed down her face anyway.“Would you stop that?” Georgene growled, waving the knife at her throat. “You’re just going to make things worse.” To avoid being cut by the blade of the knife, Jenny lowered her head and leaned to the side. Then, out of nowhere, something strangely weird suddenly echoed like thunder through her head, and she found she had more strength than she realized. Like a flash of lightening she lifted her foot and kicked Georgene hard in the stomach, sailing her backward over a scattering of boxes and against the wall. Before hitting the floor, her head met with a ceiling truss and knocked her completely unconscious. The kerosene lantern, which she had been holding ejected from her hand and landed somewhere on the floor. Jenny gasped, and every muscle in her body tensed when flames shot up and set the boxes afire. “Help!” Jenny screamed and violently tugged at the ropes around her wrists, struggling to get free. “Help!” Walking up the driveway, Rosa saw smoke pouring out of what she knew to be the attic. As fast as she could, she ran to the house and tried to go inside, but the doorknob wouldn’t turn. “Georgene,” she screamed as she pounded on the door. “Open the door!”As Jenny struggled harder to get loose from the ropes, the intensity of the rolling smoke covered her like a veil. She glanced over at Georgene still lying motionless on the floor. The hard truth was that Jenny knew if the woman did become conscious, she would only run to save herself. Another hard truth was that Brynwood was on fire.Rosa made her way around the side of the house and found a way to get inside. Even though the first floor was still untouched by the flames, the smell of smoke made it evident that there was a fire. As quickly as her legs would carry her, she hurried to the stairway in the corridor and made her way up to the top landing. The first thing she thought about was the cat. Running to her bedroom door, she found it huddled under the bed, wide-eyed and hissing. “Come here,” she hollered, and took it by the scruff of its neck. Once she had the cat and was back in the hallway, she could see thick black smoke oozing out from beneath the attic door at the other end hall. Why would there be a fire in the attic, she thought. In as much as she wanted to find out, she had to get the cat to safety. Rushing back down the stairs she tossed her out in the snow, hoping she’d find shelter, then slammed the door and rushed back to the stairway. “Georgene, where are you!”Without any thought to her own safety, Rosa went back upstairs to look for Georgene. “Are you up here,” she yelled, though she didn’t get an answer. The fire was getting worse and she didn’t have much time. If Georgene was in the house, she had to get her out now. The temperature inside the attic was as hot as volcanic ash. Before Jenny lost consciousness herself, she lifted her head and saw the shadowy figure again standing before. This time he was smiling and holding the hand of a young girl, a girl who strikingly bore the resemblance of Rosa. The child smiled at her and held out her hand as if she beckoned her to follow. Jenny sat stiff. She could not take her eyes off this amazing happening before her. If she were to die this very moment, she would do it with the privilege of having seen something that most human beings rarely get the chance to see.One floor down, Rosa continued to look for Georgene until the fire reached the point where she knew she had to get out. Her thinking became irrational and she began desperately meandering back and forth along the hall crying out, “Georgene.” Smoke and flames had reached a critical point and the entire second floor was nearly engulfed with smoke and fire. Using her hand as a respirator from the smoke, Rosa made her way to the stairway, but when she leaned over the banister to check the condition of the first floor, she fell over. Too stunned to react to what had just happened, she sat motionless in the middle of the floor, dizzy from the fall, knowing when she should have been killed from the fall, she was still alive and without a single broken bone. Gazing with narrowed eyes through a fog of gray smoke getting thicker by the second, she looked up at the top of the banister and saw the figure of a man and girl starring down at her. Neither seemed at all unaffected by the smoke or the flames. Rosa believed they were responsible for saving her life. Slowly, the man raised his arm and pointed toward the door, which she took as meaning that he wanted her to get out of the house. While she had no doubt that the house would soon be an inferno, there was still the fact that Georgene may be inside. There was no way she could leave her burn in the fire.It was when Rosa stood and headed in the opposite direction of the door that would lead her outside that she heard the hauntingly loud sound of someone scream,“YOU MUST LEAVE THIS HOUSE AT ONCE!”Rosa stopped, her spine stiffened. A feeling of sheer panic set in like a rising fever hearing the eerie cry of the ghost. Still, she ignored his warning, kicked backward and went into the room calling Georgene’s name over and over again. Twisting her body in a semi-circle formation, her eyes searched the room thoroughly and confirmed that Georgene was not there.Smoke had now invaded the lower level of the manor now and Rosa knew she needed to get out soon or risk the house collapsing on top of her. Still, she couldn’t bare the thought of leaving Georgene inside the house to die alone in the fire. She had to find her and get her out before it was too late. The next place Rosa thought to look for Georgene was either in the kitchen or perhaps her bedroom. If she had been drinking, there was ever possibility that she could be passed out on the bed, totally unaware that there was fire. Now that the first floor had succumb to fire and smoke, Rosa dropped down to her knees and started crawling in the direction of the kitchen that would also lead her to Georgene’s bedroom. Any effort to move forward was useless. It was too dangerous for her to keep searching. The house was burning faster than ever now and she knew the time to save Georgene had passed. If she didn’t heed to the fire’s warning and get out, she would surely lose her own life. Coughing against the smoke and realizing that she had lost the battle to find Georgene, Rosa crawled across the corridor floor through a cloud of smoke to search for the front door. Pieces of the stairway began to break away and fall to the floor around her. Sparks spewing everywhere causing even smaller fires of their own. Shielding her head from the falling debris, Rosa couldn’t remember ever feeling so scared and helpless. If she survived, the horrible shock of seeing her home burn was something she’d never forget. Suddenly, a loud cracking sound brought the chandelier hurling down and crashing everywhere. As the glass bulbs shattered, Rosa screamed and got down on her stomach and tried to crawl snake-like around it, crying in disbelief from what was happening as well as the sharp sting of pain from the shrapnel’s of glass cutting her hands. Rising to her knees, yet keeping in a hunched over position, she leaped over the demolished chandelier and landed exactly where she hoped to be, within reach of the door. With one hand protecting her nose and mouth from the smoke, the other was able to reach up and pull the latch on the door. Cracking the door open to the air outside had caused flames to shoot out over her like a cannon, burning the hair behind her head and her clothing. Immediately, after remembering what she had once learned in school about fires, Rosa dropped to the floor and rolled until the fire was out, kept rolling until she managed to get herself outside and onto the porch, rolling on down the steps and to the frozen ground below where she laid face down in the snow.With her eyes open wide, yet unable to move, the last thing she heard before losing consciousness was the sounds of sirens in the wind. Kyle’s car was right behind them as they sped up the driveway toward the house. From as far as ten miles away, he had been able to see black smoke rising into the sky, but never realized what tragedy awaited him. The last time he had spoken to Georgene he sensed something was wrong, which was when he decided to come home. As soon as the fire trucks and emergency vehicles got to the house, they assessed the size of the fire and wearily knew there was no point in trying to extinguish it. Even if they would have arrived sooner, one fire department and two trucks was not enough to put out a fire this size. Upon approaching the premises, one of the paramedics saw Rosa lying unconscious at the foot of the steps, quickly grabbed a blanket and rushed over to covered her. After an immediate examination, he hurried back to his vehicle, took out a liquid-filled bag and rushed back, his driver following close behind with a gurney.“Rosa,” Kyle said, reaching for her lifeless hand. When he saw she was covered with bloody cuts on her face and chest and her hair and clothing charred, he knelt down beside her and cried. “Oh my God,” he said, as tears trickled from his eyes. Without delay, both paramedics closed the back door of the ambulance, hurried to their prospective seats and sped away, wailing the siren as they took off down the drive, not breaking at the exit in a hurry to get to the hospital. Kyle closed his eyes and could still very clearly see Rosa lying limp as a rag doll on the ground. Then he started thinking about the rest of what he had done to her that she wasn’t even aware of yet. Realizing that telling her was a chance he must take to fix the damage he had caused certainly didn’t make him feel better about himself. For another moment, Kyle hovered by his car, starring down the driveway where the ambulance had just disappeared beyond the gate with Rosa inside. Then a face out of nowhere appeared and a man laid his hand on his shoulder and expressed his sincere regret for what happened. “I have two daughters of my own, buddy. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”“Thank you,” Kyle said, then turned to the man’s gaze before getting into his car. “Do you know how it started?”Moving up from behind the man a voice rang out, “I do.”With that voice another face appeared and stepped into clear view. “Jenny, are you okay?” Kyle said, rushing alongside her as he lead her away from the heat of the fire. She was covered with black soot from head to toe, but in good health as it appeared. “Where is Rosa?”When Kyle lowered his head and didn’t give her an immediate answer, she panicked. “Where is she, Kyle?” “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said, grabbing her arms. “They’ve taken her to the hospital.”Jenny gasped. “Oh God. We must get there right away.”Chapter 32Kyle hung up the telephone after talking to Frank Bayard, respectfully keeping him informed of Rosa’s condition, and letting him know that he would not be in the office today. He frowned as he looked down at her as she lied so still in her hospital bed, her hair falling down around her ears; a tiny curl curled around one lobe. Since the ambulance had brought her in two days ago, she had not regained consciousness and he wondered what it was that was keeping her from opening her eyes. A few inches from where a tube had been inserted into a vein in her arm, he laid his hand. She felt positively warm and that was enough to restore all hope in him that she was going to be all right.Jenny stood next to him, sullen, and as equally concerned about Rosa as Kyle was, but with an added feeling pity and perhaps a little guilt. She believed that if she had never come to Rhode Island, that none of this would have happened. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she let out a long sigh. Irregular flashbacks of what had happened in the attic intermittently scrambled through her head, none of which made any sense. Pinching her eyes tightly closed; she tried to remember; though so much of it remained unclear. One thing she did remember, however, was the image of a ghost who she believed saved her life.Jenny shook her head. Up until a few days ago, she never believed in ghosts; basically thought of them as figments of an overactive mind. It wasn’t easy to let go of all that rational thinking. But what happened in the attic was enough to put any amount of rational thinking aside. It was unexplainable, profound, and utterly amazing. As long as she lived, she didn’t think she’d ever forget it.While Kyle stood leaning over Rosa’s hospital bed, smoothing back her hair, Jenny bent forward and looked up into his loving face. “She’s going to be fine.”Kyle shook his head, feeling knots form in his stomach, a regretful look darkening his blue eyes. “Do you know how close we came to losing her?” He pounded her hand on the bed rail. “ Dammit, I should have been there. I could have stopped this from happening.”Jenny starred at him with enormous feeling of her own guilt. She took his hand and led him away from the bed. “I hate what’s happened to her too. But, blaming ourselves isn’t going to help anything. We have to be strong for her. And she’ll feel that strength and come back to us.”He sighed, then turned and slowly went back to the bed. “If anything happens to her, it’ll be all my fault.”Jenny deliberately interrupted. “The doctor’s say it’s going to take time for her burns to heal, but she’ll be fine.”Gripping the bedrail, Kyle glared down at Rosa. “How are we ever going to tell her about Georgene—that she died in the fire?” Jenny’s lips compressed and she shot him a severe look, which he didn’t see. He was staring down at Rosa, apparently lost for the words. Jenny deciphered whether or not she should tell him about how Georgene had locked her in the attic and was threatening to kill her or let him continue to think that a fire had started somewhere in the house and Georgene became trapped inside. Besides, what good would it do now to tell him the truth now? It certainly wouldn’t change anything. And if Rosa was ever to find out, what would that do to her?Thinking about it made her start to hyperventilate so she momentarily pushed it from her mind. “Why don’t I go down to the cafeteria and get us some coffee?”Kyle released his grip on the bed rail and turned to Jenny. “It’s been a long day for both of us. Why don’t you go to the motel and get some sleep? I’ll call you if anything changes.”She paused and gave him a considering look. “But I—,”“Please, you’ve been through enough too.”Kyle was right, she thought, and since the motel was only a few blocks away, she agreed to go, but only long enough to get a shower and a few hours sleep. “Take this and get yourself something to eat,” Kyle said, holding a ten-dollar bill in front of her, as well as the keys to his car. Jenny winced at the gesture. As long as she could remember, she had prided herself on paying for just about everything, always taking care of herself. But since she was in no mood to prove to anyone how self-sufficient she was, she took the money and left the room, walking tiredly down the hall and looking back only once as she turned the corner. Driving down the street in Kyle’s luxurious Cadillac should have made her feel like royalty, and maybe in another place and time it would have, but she was much too raw inside to have such feelings. She took a deep shaky breath, clenched her hands around the wheel and tried to concentrate on the road signs and her unfamiliar surroundings.Two blocks from the hospital was a quaint little café called the Barkentine, which had a signboard in the front yard that was cut into the shape of a five-mast ship with two avocets nailed to the masts. Since there was an open sign on the door, Jenny pulled up to the curb. A hot cup of tea might be just what she needed to settle her nerves, she thought.Inside the café was another a sign that read “Customers Seat Themselves.” As soon as Jenny took her seat at a table as far away from the drafty door as she could find, a sweet-faced girl came sashaying to her table, snapping her chewing gum.“What can I get for you ma’am?”Jenny forced a smile, then reached inside her coat pocket and pulled out a tissue. She lightly dabbed her nose and put it back into her pocket.“You okay?” The waitress said, munching on a wade of gum as she spoke.There was a slight pause between them, and then Jenny told the girl she’d like a cup of lemon tea and a Danish. The waitress jotted down the order. “Sugar?”“Yes, please.”“Cheese, Raspberry or Cinnamon?”“Raspberry.”Jenny couldn’t help starring up at the young waitress. The girl’s dimple-cheeked face glowed with youth and a sweet innocence that reminded her of Rosa. “Be right back,” the girl said, and then spun on her heels and moved toward the counter in a girlish wiggle. In two shakes, she returned with a cup of hot tea and cheese-filled Danish, setting the order down on the table in front of Jenny. At once, Jenny snatched up the Danish and began gulped it down, realizing that it was not the one she ordered, but nonetheless thankful for something to eat. Then she sipped the tea until it was gone and picked up the check. After she paid the bill, she returned to the table and laid down a fifty-cent tip. Before the car had a chance to warm up, Jenny was at the motel and scrambling inside her coat pocket for the room key. The motel was small, yet impeccably clean. A custodian working at the hospital, who had worked at the motel previously, had recommended it highly. As Jenny sat in the parking lot of the motel, her glance fell upon the door their motel room, but her mind was back on the fire. The thing that happened to her in the attic was as close to a spiritual phenomenon as anything could get, a miraculous once in a lifetime occurrence. The thing that stuck in her mind was that a ghost had practically pushed her out of the burning house, while shielding her from the smoke and fire. This was something she would never forget and forever wonder about. Stop it, she ordered herself as she turned off the engine and got out of the car. At least, she thought, she was alive.Using her key, she opened the door to her room and stepped inside, listening up big time for any strange noises. It was dead quiet.For the next twenty minutes she soaked in the bathtub. Afterward, she lied on the bed with the hope that she would fall asleep. But since there was no possibility of that happening, she got up, re-dressed in her same clothes, and headed back to the hospital. It was obvious that the hospital was having visiting hours. The parking lot was full. As she drove around and around, her eyes shifting to left and right, she finally came upon an empty space and quickly pulled in, got out of the car and hurried to toward the building. As she cleared the front doors, she nearly broke into a gallop to get to the elevator, squeezing inside the closing doors and slapping the number three button five times in the desperate attempt to get them to quickly close, which seemed to be taking forever, she thought. When the elevator stopped, she pressed her slim body through before the doors had a chance to fully open, and was on her way down the north end hall towards Rosa’s room. Trying to keep her breathing under control, she weaved around linen carts and laundry hampers in an effort to get to Rosa. For one hideous, horrible moment she feared she might walk into an empty room. She knew what it would mean. It caused a sudden weakness in her stride. When she finally got outside Rosa’s room, she paused and closed her eyes, regained her strength and went in. Immediately upon entering the hospital room, she was relieved to see Rosa was awake. Kyle was hunched over the bed with his head resting lightly on the bed rail.Jenny gently laid her hand on Kyle’s back, letting him know she was there. He made a low groaning noise and lifted his head to her.“How is she?” she whispered.Kyle stood erect and stretched the stiffness from his back. It was obvious that he had not slept a wink since Rosa came in. His clothing was wrinkled and his five o’clock shadow implied he too needed a good hot shower. “She’s a little incoherent yet, but conscience,” he said. There was definite relief in his voice and that was enough to give Jenny the reassurance she needed. She ran her hand over his face and he pulled her away. "I know, I need a shave.” Jenny grinned. “That’s not what I was thinking,” she said. “I was thinking what a great father you are.”Kyle took in a deep breath. “A little late don’t you think?”“It’s never too late.”Kyle took her hands and held them firm. Then, there was a soft knock at the door. Standing in the threshold was a tall man. “Hello Mr. Bennett. I’m Bob Russo.” Kyle approached the man and ushered him fully into the room. “Mr. Russo, please come in. Rosa will be happy to know you’re here.”“How is our little princess?”“She’s awake, but very groggy.”Russo shook his head, smiling. “What a trooper, my heart of hearts. Yep, ever since she was a baby.”His words sparked a certain curiosity in Jenny. “So you’ve known Rosa since she was a baby, Mr. Russo?”“You bet I have. This child is as good as they get.” He turned to Jenny and gave her a faint smile, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, but you look awfully familiar to me. Are you friend or family?”“Friend,” Jenny said, uncertain of her answer. Either way, Russo could easily see a hint of resemblance between Jenny and Rosa. He kept it to himself. “If there’s anything I can do you’ll let me know, right?”Kyle nodded and shook his hand. “You can call me Kyle. And yes, I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thank you for offering.”As Russo was leaving he turned and looked back over his shoulder, “I’m curious about what happened up there. Do either of you know?”Kyle shrugged. “I don’t have any details yet.”“I’m sorry,” Russo said gently and quietly left the room.Jenny felt the hair lift on her arms. Even if she did tell them what happened in the attic, she knew they wouldn’t believe. They’d think she was crazy, possibly try to have her committed if she told them that a ghost had saved her from the burning mansion. Besides, most of what she remembered was still a blur, except that one minute she was in the attic fighting for her life and the next she was standing safely outside looking back at the burning house. Chapter 33“Rosa! Breakfast is ready!”Six weeks after being laid up in the hospital, Rosa went home. Kyle and Jenny found a small rental house on the edge of town and were planning to stay until they could rebuild again on the grounds, though it would not be the grand house that Brynwood was.Rosa came hobbling into the kitchen on her crutches, still wearing a bandage on the deeper wound on her leg. Most of the burns on her face and neck were finally beginning to change in color and before long be completely healed. For the most part she was on her way to a full recovery, except for the inner scars she would still have to bear. They would take much longer to heal.“How did you sleep, honey?” Kyle asked, placing an antibiotic pill next to her juice. “I’m stiff from sitting so much,” Rosa said.“I know it’s going to be uncomfortable for awhile, but time will pass quickly and you’ll be back to your old self before you know it.”When she started to cry, he didn’t know what to do at first, and as instinct set in, he leaned over and hugged her. “Don’t cry. I hate it when women cry.” He meant it. And more than anything, he wanted to believe she was going to be okay. “Daddy, would you take me back to the house, please?” She starred up at him, waiting for an answer. “I have to go back one last time.”Kyle thought this might very well be the closure she needed. “I’ll warm up the car.”That afternoon they drove to what was left of the estate. It was the first time either of them had seen the place since the fire. The sight was startling and it left her almost unable to speak. Where there were once tall curtained windows, was now black hollowed out holes. The structure was a pile of ashes where there used to be a stairway and dividing walls. Everything was black. “Help me out of the car, daddy.”Kyle went around to her side of the car and opened the back door, taking out her crutches first, then helping her onto them. She struggled, but was able to walk to the house. As she stood starring at what was left of her home, memories of Georgene played through her mind; the games they played, and how funny she looked when her lipstick was smeared outside the edge of her lips, and the promises they made to each other. She sighed, gave her father a backward glance, and then shuffled a little closer. That’s when she heard a familiar sound, a sound in the wind. Her eyes skimmed over the massive heap of Graystone before her. The sound was distant and faintly muffled, but she swore she recognized it. A flicker of a smile lightened her expression. Then it faded. When she looked back at her father, the glance he gave her was stark with concern. “What’s wrong?”Rosa shrugged, her voice broke. “Nothing.” As she turned to head back to the car, the disbelieving sound she heard had now materialized. Strutting over the remains of the Mansion like it hadn’t a care in the world came running the cat. Rosa’s eyes widened and she dropped both crutches and fell to her knees. “Look, she’s alive!”Kyle had no idea about the cat, but he was sure glad to see it, nonetheless. As the cat pole-vaulted over the ruins of the manor, Rosa waited with her arms held out. “Oh, ?clair, you funny cat.” She swept the animal up into her arms and held it close, nuzzling her face into its fur. What seemed to puzzle her was that it had actually managed to survive for weeks without any food or shelter.Rosa tipped her head to the side, using her face to stroke the cat’s soft warm coat, and when she did, she noticed on the ground next to where she was kneeling was the tiny white box she remembered seeing Georgene hide in the Chandelier. With one arm holding firmly onto the cat, she reached over and picked up the box with the other, examining it closely and dumbstruck that it had not been destroyed by the fire. She flipped it open and found inside it an elegant gold locket. With the edge of her thumbnail she pried it open and saw the picture of the child that she had seen before in the picture album in the room at the end of the hall. The inscription on the back read, Melinda. “Is everything all right?” Kyle shouted, standing alongside the car.Rosa smiled, though unsure by what it meant. Maneuvering just right, she got back up and propped herself on her crutches. The cat lingered by her side. Heading toward the car, she turned and looked over her shoulder and could see the outline of a man holding the hand of a small child standing inside an upper level window that had been blackened by the fire. Enveloped by the sweet aroma of Lilac in the air, a single glance told her that she had seen them before. The little girl smiled and lifted her hand, then they both vanished. By the end of the following summer, plans to rebuild on the property were in full swing. This time, all the rooms would be light and airy, with eight-foot ceilings and a wrap-around porch. Kyle turned down the position of vice-presidency at F. C. Bayard. This time, he was committed to spending more time at home with his family. He had been given a second chance and he wasn’t about to screw it up, especially now that he and Jenny were expecting another child. Kyle and Jenny were married that summer. Rosa was overjoyed with the news and even began to call Jenny, mother. Jenny knew without a doubt that in addition to this new baby, having Rosa back in her life was the greatest gift anyone could give her. For now, Kyle and Jenny would keep to their secret and not tell Rosa about Jenny. Jenny made peace with that decision.As Rosa sat on the porch swing, clutching to the locket, she wondered if it was fate that had brought them here—or had she dreamt the whole thing. The End ................
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