Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price) (9 page)

My chest ached a little in her absence, but knowing that she was happy made it bearable.

“Thanks for that, Charlotte.” I sighed happily into the radio.

“Anytime,” she answered almost immediately.  “Meet me in my office,” she added.

I faced the end of the hallway opposite the playground and headed for Charlotte’s office.  My feet had a little trouble carrying me away from the direction of the playground, but I managed.

Nearing the corner that would take me out of the lunch hall, I looked back toward the exit Violet had bolted through.  It seemed so far away.  I knew I wouldn’t see her still standing there, but a tiny part of me hoped that I would.

Instead, I noticed two women standing quite close to each other, talking quietly.  They were dressed in bright skirts and equally colorful cardigans.  Each of them had on a green lanyard, and they were
both
staring at me.  They looked away quickly when I caught their eyes, but before they had averted their gaze, one of them had been pointing at me.  It was a nonchalant kind of point, a gesture you would use with a friend in saying “Yeah, that’s her”.

I blushed and took the corner quickly.  Too quickly—I almost ran into the wall.  I straightened my shirt, a habit when I’m nervous, and disappeared toward the office.  The ladies’ small act had made me uncomfortable and embarrassed, but I decided to feed off of Violet’s infectious energy and blow them off.

They were probably just pointing out the new girl to each other, and betting on how long it would be before I messed something up.  And they were most likely
laughing
to each other now, since I nearly knocked myself out with the wall.

Walking through the door of Charlotte’s office was tough.  I wanted to run down the hall and join Violet on the playground—smacking those ladies as I went; and I wanted to tell them that it’s not polite to point.

It wasn’t until I shut Charlotte’s door behind me that I saw Claire sitting in a large, awkwardly placed chair over to the side of the office.  She was perched delicately on the edge of her seat with her ankles crossed.  I had already forgotten how strikingly beautiful she was, sitting there in her old jeans and worn shirt.  I hadn’t thought much about her after we’d parted, my thoughts had soon after been filled with Violet.  But now that we were in the same room I felt it hard to keep my eyes from her.

Her face was so innocent, like that of a child, and her beauty was just as non-threatening as it had been this morning.  I wasn’t jealous of her splendor, as I had been earlier today.  I simply wanted to study her every feature.  I wanted to try to pull my hair up into a messy bun—as hers was now—and have the stray pieces frame my face wistfully in that way.  I wanted to be that gorgeous with no makeup on.  And I was fighting the urge to go to the second hand shop and buy a shabby old t-shirt and some ratty jeans so I could be modestly sexy like Claire.  After a quick mental check of my hips and thighs, I realized I wouldn’t be able to pull off an ensemble like that quite as effortlessly.

Claire eyed me as I stepped up to Charlotte’s desk.  She grinned infectiously and patted the seat next to her.  I took the folding chair she had tapped and scooted it closer to her.  Strangely, it felt like a natural action, moving the chair as close as it would fit next to hers.  She leaned over the arm of her wingback and launched into questions about my lunch with Violet.

How did she know about that
, I wondered. 
Right,
I immediately answered myself,
the walkie talkies.

As we talked lightly—and quietly, Charlotte was deeply invested in a conversation on the phone—I examined the room.  The few chairs that were normally in this room, two wingbacks and a spare stool, were joined by several folding chairs and a plastic lawn chair.  It looked as though an impromptu meeting had been held in here.  Of
course
they would have a meeting while I’m at lunch with my daughter.  Everything else was secretive around here, I would probably be the last to know about everything.  New girl at the bottom of the totem pole.

Oh well.

“All right girls . . .”
Charlotte startled us out of our quiet chattering.  We both sat up straight, as if we were students being called to attention.

“Erin,” she continued.  “How’s it going this morning?”

Unintentionally, and probably because I had been gabbing with Claire like a schoolgirl, I burst into an overview of the morning and my lunch with Violet.  She smiled silently and let me get it all out.  When I had finished with every detail, including the awkward moment with the two ladies in the hallway, I closed with: “Thank you
so
much for letting me eat lunch with Vy.  It was amazing to get to talk to her.”  I sat back, then, and sighed breathlessly.

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy, and having fun,” she said.

You’ve been keeping me busy,
I was thinking as I recalled my wild goose chase for nametags that didn’t exist.

“Claire and I,” she motioned to my newest friend, “have been talking about you.”  She left the subject hanging uncomfortably, probably enjoying the bubble of emotions I was experiencing at her statement.

“Uh-huh,” was all I could say.

She smiled.

“We have someone else we’d like you to meet.”  Claire beamed.  I didn’t think her mouth would stretch any further over her perfect teeth.

“Your next assignment is to go meet with our school counselor.  Well, she’s sort of an honorary counselor.”  Claire’s eyes were twinkling as Charlotte spoke, though this time it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary.  I was beginning to think they always did that.  “You may then spend the rest of the day keeping busy in Violet’s classroom.”

I was noticeably jazzed by the latter part of her instructions, and was also happy to meet another new person.  It wasn’t in my nature to look forward to meeting someone new, but if Charlotte and Claire thought it would be a good idea, then I would surely like her.

“Okay,” I shrugged.

“She’s amazing
,” Claire chimed.

“She is one of the most important people at this school,” Charlotte informed me.  I listened thoughtfully, soaking in what I could about this prominent member of the staff.  Something about the way Charlotte had said “important people” made me think of Elizabeth Asch again.  And I wasn’t quite sure why.

“We all think you have great potential,” my boss added. 
All?  So it
was
me they were discussing in the spontaneous meeting in this office.
  “And she will be able to help you discover it.”

Her words were very confusing, as if they had a hidden meaning.  I kn
ew Charlotte to be a very literal person, quite unable to disguise a hidden agenda, and now my curiosity was piqued again.  I nodded, not knowing what to say to that, and looked at Claire.  She stroked my arm reassuringly.

“You’ll love her,” she told me.  “We all do.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, smiling.  “We owe her a great deal.”

And with that, the conversation seemed to have come to an end.

Thinking about spending the rest of the day in Violet’s classroom was severely overshadowing meeting someone new, but I did what was asked of me and visited the honorary counselor.  I decided to try very hard to learn as much as I could from her this morning, even if it cut into my Violet time.

Hmmm.

I was certain Charlotte had said
Third door down on the left
, but I hesitated—having a brief moment of panic.  She had never actually told me the woman’s name, which left me frantically searching a hallway full of fancy nameplates affixed to a row of office doors.  After re-searching my brain for a name I knew she hadn’t mentioned, I traipsed back to the end of the cramped little hall and started counting.

One.  Two.  Three.  Here’s hoping.

I rapped lightly on a wooden door labeled A. Dane, tracing its ornate design with my finger as I lowered my hand.  The door was a beautifully carved work of art, and didn’t seem to fit in with rest of the doors.  The generous chunk of wood would be better suited as the front door of an up-scale home in an old neighborhood.  It looked quite out of place in its surroundings, which all screamed “new construction”.  The woman in the office must have very particular tastes.

“Come in,” a friendly voice mused from inside.

I turned the knob, slightly heftier than the others in the corridor, and stepped inside.  Ignoring the fact that it was like stepping into another genre, I made my feet move forward.  Soon I was standing in front of the biggest desk I had ever seen, behind which sat the tiniest woman I had ever seen.  She was pleasant looking, and stood up quickly when I entered the room.

“Erin, I presume?”

Her voice was careful, but agreeable.  Her words were measured, and somehow she seemed older than she looked.

“Yes ma’am.”

EIGHT

There was positively nothing remarkable about my visit with Miss Dane.  She made small talk for a half hour, then glanced at her watched and politely dismissed me.  During this time, I gathered what I could of her personality and decided that I liked her.  There were a few points in the conversation when I felt as if she were studying
me
, as well, probably trying to decide what to make of the new girl.

I spent the remainder of the day in Violet’s classroom and loved every minute of it.  Every time Mrs. Autry sent me to make copies or retrieve something for her, I hurried so I could get back to the classroom as quickly as I could.  At the end of the day, I monitored restroom breaks in the hall and assisted the car riders out.

As I loaded the last kid into a green pickup, I spotted my car in the parking lot.  There was a very handsome man propped up against it, smiling.  I grinned hugely at my husband, who was standing with his arms crossed and one foot resting on the side of the car.  He looked like he belonged in a jeans advertisement in a catalog.

Ten minutes later, we were climbing into the car with him.  Violet had so much to say that she could barely keep up with herself, and I was content to keep quiet and listen.  I hadn’t realized until I fastened my lap belt how worn out I was.  Worn out was an understatement, actually.  It felt as though I’d had my brain turned on overdrive all day, and then suddenly had it shut off completely.  My body had gone into shock – numb and sore at the same time – and my mind was fried.

The very end of the day in Violet’s room had consisted of breaking up several fights between some rowdy boys.  I had no idea that five year old boys were
so strong, but I was certainly feeling the breadth of their strength now in my shoulders and back.  Apparently they’d had enough of school by two thirty, were very tired, and decided to take it out on each other.  It had taken both Mrs. Autry and I to pull them apart.

I stared out my window, processing interesting bits of my first day, while Violet filled John in on her own experiences.  The short drive home was over before I’d had time to come out of my exhausted stupor, and I yawned uncontrollably as we pulled into the driveway.

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur.  John picked up Italian food for dinner, which we scarfed down at five.  And nearly every member of
both
of our families called to talk to Violet, hoping to be the first one to hear about her big day.

Vy and I crashed around eight, and I noticed that John crawled into bed around eleven.  Rolling over and kissing him was all I could manage, then I was immediately unconscious again.

Friday came . . . and vanished.

John had surprised me by taking an extra day off from work, so he dropped us off again and played homemaker for one more day, which he seemed to really enjoy.

I reeled through the school day at an incredible pace.  It seemed as though
every
one had a use for me on my second day, though most didn’t appear to know my name.

Lunch duty.

Copies.

Assist the yearbook planner.

Dinner at five.

Asleep by eight.

Then came Saturday . . .
oh, sweet Saturday
.  Saturday morning in silence.  I embraced the quiet with each of my senses one at a time.  Leaving my lids closed, I listened to the still morning.  There was nothing; must be early.  No morning cartoons, so Violet was probably still snoozing.

I stretched my limbs out in a wide “X”, feeling my muscles and noticing that I felt remarkably rested.  Like I had run my poor body ragged for two days in a row and then slept for a whole day.  It was wonderful.

I felt again with my arms, which only found sheets.  No John.  I pulled my eyes open as I sat up on my elbows and noticed the bed was indeed empty, and the bedroom door was closed.  Strange.  We never closed the bedroom door.

I popped out of bed easily – refreshed – and put on some Saturday clothes.  After trotting downstairs, I found Violet upside down on the couch watching television, and John reading the paper in the kitchen.

“Afternoon,” he greeted, smirking.

I raised an eyebrow at him playfully and shuffled over to see the coffee pot clock.  Eleven thirty. 
Nice.
  No wonder I felt so rested.

“Someone called for you this morning.  Her number is on the counter over there.”  And with that, he stuck his nose back into his paper.

I placed one hand on each of my own shoulders and stuck my elbows into the air in another deep stretch as I meandered over to the other counter.  There was a name and number scratched in John’s tiny handwriting on the top of our message tablet. 
Miss Dane
, followed by a number and a smiley face.  I
hmphh-ed
quietly and wondered what she could possibly want on a Saturday.

“Morning Vy,” I hollered into the living room as I grabbed the receiver from its base and dialed the number.  It took her until the second ring of my phone call to chime back, “Morning Mommy!”

“Hello, Erin.” 
Freaky
, I thought.  I would have just said
hello
.

“Good morning, Miss Dane,” I answered.  She kind of reminded me of a stalker, and I giggled internally.  Something quirky about this lady.

“I was wondering if you were free this afternoon.  Any time would be suitable for me.”

“Sure,” I answered.  Though in my head I’d said “Sure,
stalker
.”

“I’d like to get to know you a little better, and was thinking we could go for coffee somewhere, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, certainly.”  Although her approach seemed a little awkward, I was always up for making another new friend at the school.  “How about an hour from now?”

“Sounds wonderful, there is a café near the library.  Do you know it?”

“Yes, I do.  My husband and I go there sometimes.  Their outdoor section is lovely.  I look forward to seeing you.”

“Indeed, goodbye.”  And the line went dead.

“Honey…” I called to John, still holding the phone up to my ear.  “Can you watch Violet for a little while for me?  This lady at school wants me to meet her for coffee in an hour.”

“Sure, hon.  We’ll probably be lounging around all day.  Feels like a good solid Saturday to me.”

I looked into the living room at Violet on the couch—spread out with a pillow from her bed, with an empty cereal bowl on the coffee table in front of her.  She was now belly down, had one arm draped over the side of the couch almost touching the floor, and she looked like the epitome of childhood.  She didn’t have a care in the world besides the show she was watching.  After eating some eggs and throwing on the best outfit I could come up with (it
was
laundry day, after all) I kissed my family goodbye and headed out for coffee. 

Pulling up to the picturesque little shop, I noticed Miss Dane at an outdoor table.  Of course she
had beaten me here.  I should have left earlier; it would have looked more professional for me to have arrived first.  Maybe this wasn’t a professional meeting, though.  Maybe Charlotte had talked her into befriending me.  That would be like her.  Trying to play “match-maker” . . . friendship style.

I pulled into a space and tried to guess which car belonged to the little woman I was about to have coffee with.  Was it the Lexus? 
Probably
.  Or maybe the Jeep.  I smiled, pushing my sunglasses into my hair, picturing the fragile woman off-roading in the rugged Jeep Wrangler.

Miss Dane waved at me from her bistro table, and I gestured back cheerfully as I went inside to get a drink.  It was unseasonably cool out, for an Oklahoma summer day, so I opted for my favorite hot latte.  Of course, it was always unseasonable in Oklahoma.  Every day quite as unpredictable as the next.

As I joined my co-worker, she rose from her seat, the way men do when a woman joins the table.  Well, the way
chivalrous
men do.  She sat when I took my seat, and smiled in silence.  I took a nervous sip of my latte and smiled back, not quite sure what to make of her.

“Miss Dane.”  I held out my hand in greeting and she shook it with a dainty grasp.  Her eyes were merry behind her large glasses, with frames that were almost too big for her face.  She reminded me of a librarian.

“
Azura
, please,” she corrected.

“Azura?  That’s . . . a beautiful name.” 
Fitting
, I thought, that the strange little lady would have a strange name to match.  She grinned and looked down at the table.

“My parents were hippies,” she countered – a hint of discomfiture in her expression.  “My middle name is Jasmyn.”

“Azura Jasmyn Dane.” I giggled warmly as I let the name roll of my tongue.  “It’s interesting, and lovely.  Much more interesting than Erin.”

During our coffee date we chatted about seemingly nothing, not even really touching that often on school-related subjects.  There were several awkward silences, which I eased by sipping my ever-cooling coffee, but most of the encounter was quite enjoyable. 

Once I got used to her quirky mannerisms and dry sense of humor, I found myself fully enjoying Azura’s company.  She was comforting, and her presence felt almost motherly.  Something about her felt like she had a lifetime of experiences and information to share with me, and this was just the beginning.

Sunday morning, I finally checked my email.  Normally it was a daily task for me, but I hadn’t remembered sitting down to the computer for days.  I had one message from Charlotte.  The same kind of deeply compassionate, friendly emails we’ve had over the last five years while we were so far apart.  One from Claire, letting me know that she was having a garage sale next weekend and hoped I would come keep her company.  Apparently she lived just down the street from us, which I was unaware of.  And one generic email from the increasingly interesting Azura Dane, thanking me for meeting up with her.

The following week, she seemed to be
every
where I was.  Watching me interact with the children and adults.  She rarely spoke to me, though.  It looked as though she was just being observant.  It was in
my
nature to be pretty observant, which is probably why I noticed her watching me, and it sort of comforted me that I was being studied.  I liked that she had an interest in my character and how I was adapting in these crazy new surroundings.  Truth be told, it weirded me out quite often, to have her staring at me so much, but I tried to ignore her.  I had already decided that I liked her.

She would frequently be tucked into a corner, examining me.  Or leaned against the cafeteria wall, trying to be invisible.  She would sometimes make small talk with other teachers near me on the playground, nodding occasionally and gesturing in my direction every so often when she thought I wasn’t watching.

It made me periodically self-conscious, but by Friday I had convinced myself that her looming was harmless . . . albeit a little creepy.