Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price) (10 page)

NINE

Another week went by quickly, and Saturday finally rolled around again.  I wasn’t quite sure how I had managed to get a whole week under my belt at work, but I’d done it.  I came home drained every day, physically and mentally, and put every remaining ounce of energy into dinner and bedtime.  I also managed to get to work every day
on time
, and actually out the door with no real trouble from Violet.  We seemed to have a system going now: I would wake her up each morning at just the right time so that she could eat, get dressed, and brush her teeth without being overly rushed.  Then we would arrive to school about ten minutes earlier than the first bell, which allowed us to talk quietly for a little while until she went to the playground.

Th
at extra ten minutes with her in the morning really saved my heart a lot of aching the first few weeks into school; I felt a little more comfortable each day allowing her to play with her friends without me.  And she, in turn, seemed to be more anxious to see them each day.  Things definitely felt like they were starting to get doable.

Even though every day was a little easier, I had been looking forward to Saturday morning since Tuesday afternoon.  And although I felt early in the week like I could sleep for a month and still not be rested, I only managed to snooze until eight thirty this morning.  Quite disappointing.  I would have to try and make up for that later with a good nap, just to get a head start on sleep for next week.  Something told me, however, that I would be missing sleep for years to come.

After breakfast, John and Violet busied themselves with a coloring book.  John was notorious for becoming engulfed in coloring, while Violet scribbled her own masterpieces next to him.  I took advantage of their distraction and stole out onto the front porch with a cup of coffee.

I tried to avoid looking across the street at all costs.  Elizabeth had been purposely avoiding contact with me for days, and when we passed each other in the halls she smiled forcefully and picked up her pace.

I watched car after car pass our house, and wondered why the traffic had suddenly picked up.  Then it hit me—Claire’s garage sale.  I had forgotten all about it!  I looked down the street and quickly figured out which house belonged to my newest friend.  There was a meager selection of used goods spread artfully across a driveway and lawn, and a small horde of people meandering around in it.  I ran inside and put on my tennis shoes.

“I’m going to run down the street for a minute,” I yelled as I tied my laces.  “Claire’
s having a garage sale today.”

John and Violet waved silently, noses deep in their projects.

I picked up my coffee mug and set off down the street, thinking how strange it was that I hadn’t known where she lived until now.  I really
was
a hermit, I supposed.  Well, not very neighborly at least.

Claire waved frantically when she saw me coming down the walk, and I smiled back at her.  She was so easy to like.  As I came up on her house, I noticed that the group of garage sale shoppers was abnormally large for such a paltry assortment of goods.  I walked slowly up her drive, trying to find something I couldn’t live without, and finally took the lawn chair next to Claire.

“I’m so glad you came,” she beamed.

“And I’m so sorry I’m late,” I answered.  “I just got up.”

“Nice day for a garage sale, huh?”  She asked lazily.  She was right, the weather was breezy and perfect.

“Yep.  And you’ve got quite a turnout.”

“Sure do.  I hope we sell a lot.  I need the money to buy the kids new school clothes.  They’ve outgrown just about everything since last year.”

I had not yet met Claire’s children, but it was my understanding that she had two young ones that attended our school.  I was so busy lately that I didn’t really notice
any
thing that wasn’t right in front of me.

Claire went on to tell me that her husband, who worked almost every Saturday, was a mechanic.  He made very little money, and worked very, very hard.  They lived paycheck to paycheck, and used things like garage sales to make extra money when they needed it.  She also told me that she liked to knit scarves and make homemade applesauce in the winter for extra income and Christmas money.  I deeply admired her for that.

As we talked, I continued to notice the droves of people bobbing in and out of her yard.  Every one of them purchased at least one thing, and every one of them stopped to talk to Claire before they left.  We probably would have talked about a lot more than her husband if we weren’t constantly interrupted by people wanting to chat with her.

The women shoppers all picked over her belongings carefully, choosing something “for someone else” if they couldn’t find something for themselves.  And when they spoke to her, they did so in a manner almost as if they were speaking to a celebrity.  They looked star-struck, and giddy.  I supposed it was her sheer beauty that caused them to behave that way, because I noticed the women fidgeting with themselves whenever they spoke.  They would straighten their blouse, or paw at their hair.  Like they were nervous to be around someone so lovely.  I completely understood, and waited patiently. 

Claire’s physical beauty was something so powerful, yet so modest,
that it was simply unexplainable.  I adored her so much that I had eventually stopped comparing myself to her.  I was simply set on hating her . . . lovingly. 

If I could look like she did this morning – tousled hair falling easily to her shoulders, obviously straight from the shower, no makeup, skin glowing in the Saturday morning light – John would be in awe
of me all the time.  Just like these passers-by were now.

The men, though, were the most entertaining customers by far.  They would each pick out some obscure item from Claire’s hodgepodge of belongings, like a pair of old shoes “for their wife” or an old children’s video tape, and then stand for ages just staring at her.  They weren’t really coming on to her, but they all looked like shy schoolboys trying to ask her to the prom.  They would play with their keys or fiddle with their purchase with blushing cheeks.  It was quite amusing, and Claire handled it all very well.  I would have been embarrassed to have strangers staring at me like that and trying to find reasons just to linger around my old junk.

By eleven, she had sold nearly everything and made just over a hundred dollars.  She was beaming as we scooted the empty tables back into the garage, going on about how thankful she was to be able to buy her children some new clothes.  I found myself wanting to linger as well, but eventually excused myself and headed back toward my house.  She was just so pure and sweet; wholly impossible not to like.

Two houses from my own, I stopped mid-stride.  I had been humming as I walked, which I also stopped.  I wasn’t sure why it startled me, but it did at first.  There was a sandy-colored Jeep Wrangler parked in my driveway.  I racked my brain for someone I knew that drove one, and came up empty-handed.

I picked up my pace again and tried to remember where I had seen that vehicle before.  It only took a few moments to remember, I had seen it last weekend at the coffee shop.  I chuckled to myself.  It
was
Azura Dane’s car.  How funny.  The rest of the journey up the walk, I entertained myself by imagining her off-roading in it.  Imagining her doing
any
thing besides sitting quietly behind a desk was quite comical.

When I came in through the kitchen door, though, I found something even more unexpectedly funny.  The tiny little librarian was sitting at our table, with John on one side and Violet at the other.  Both of them were staring at her like they were about to be in trouble.

Azura’s hands were folded and resting on the table top, and Violet and John were sitting with their hands in their laps.  I had to really try to suppress a giggle, remembering that I sometimes felt like I was being scolded when I was around her.  All three of them looked up when I came in, and I wondered just how long they had all been sitting there in silence, waiting for me to return.

“Morning,” I smiled comfortably.

“Good morning,” Azura answered, tipping her head down briefly.  John and Violet both just looked at me and smiled half-heartedly.

“You guys can scoot if you want,” I offered, motioning to the living room.  With one synchronized move, Violet and John were out of their seats and headed out of the room, staring at me inquisitively once they were behind Miss Dane.  I grinned again and nodded, so they left.

After placing my empty coffee mug in the sink, I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and slid into a chair across from my visitor.  I wondered if her visits would be weekly for very long, I would sure like to have the whole weekend to myself soon.

“You have a lovely family, Erin,” Azura commented.  When we were by ourselves, she only seemed odd.  John and Violet, however, actually looked
nervous
to be around her. 

Maybe she’s just not good at first impressions
, I thought.

“Thank you, I think so too.”  I took a swig of my water, hoping she would get to the point of her visit.  I was really hoping for a bath this afternoon; something completely unnecessary, but ridiculously relaxing to go along with the peaceful, lazy day I had already started.  “What can I do for you?”  I added when she hadn’t said anything.  Azura adjusted her large glasses and shifted her weight in her seat.  She cleared her throat and looked me over, which she seemed to be doing a lot of lately.

“Please excuse me, Erin.  I do apologize for dropping in unannounced.  My personal schedule has been quite altered lately.”  She poked a thin finger into her impossibly tight bun and scratched.  The little movement seemed a bit out of place for her.  It was almost as if she had just realized that her uptight hair-do was uncomfortably snug.  Her eyes moved—rather edgily, as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep—down to the table as she scratched another section of her head.  Her cell phone rang quietly in her pocket, and she pulled it out quickly.  I expected her to answer it, but she glanced at it briefly and silenced it.

“I’ve been forced to do things, um . . . out of order.”
  Azura put her hands on the table quickly, leaned forward—suddenly focused—and stared at me.

No. 
She stared
into
me.

Her sudden recapture of composure, followed by the fierce stare that
seemed to be penetrating me, was unbearably awkward.  Her sudden movement, coupled with the intensity in her eyes, made me uneasy.  I knew she was peculiar, but this odd silence was making me nervous.

I
’d had my bottle of water up to my lips for another swig when Azura had put her hands on the table and fixed herself on me.  Frozen stiff from a sudden onset of uneasiness, I was now spilling water all over myself like an idiot.  It dripped down my chin and I choked, feeling
embarrassed
of all things, and started pawing at my shirt in a feeble attempt to dry it.

Embarrassment was probably the
last
feeling that should be on my mind right now.  A moment after my honorary counselor had met my eyes, I was unable to break free from her.  It was an intense stare, and I was held captive by it.

That, however, was the least horrifying part of the incident. 
A strange energy pulsed throughout my entire body.  Not
nervous
energy like on the first day of school.  Not
fear
, like when I caught the rage in Elizabeth’s eyes.  Not the untamable curiosity that came after seeing Danna lift the desk over her head.  No.  This was
physical
.  I was . . . uh, kinetic . . . was that the right word?  I could
feel
something tangible surging in my body.  In my
blood
.

After a few moments, Azura sat back in her chair, looking satisfied with something.  Once I was free of her fixation, the odd sensation I was feeling vanished, but replacing it was a rush of pain. 
My head ached a little— no, a
lot
.  Actually, it was searing. 
Blinding
.  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, thinking that if I could just cut my head open at the top and let some of the pressure out, I would feel better.

I winced.  It was
so
sore, and in a way I had never experienced.  I was sure that a sickening migraine was about to hit me, and put my head down on the cold table.  My cheek against the cool laminate was refreshing, and I concentrated on simply breathing in and out.  Thank God it seemed to help; the pain began to alleviate and dizziness washed over me, which left me trying to decide if I wanted to throw up
before
or
after
I fell out of the chair.