The Locket (9 page)

Leaves swirled around the entry way as I approached the house. Looking like miniature tornadoes, the movement matched the feelings in my heart, erratic and uncontrolled. I paused with my hand on the knob, holding back my desire to get back in the car and find Brent, and force him to explain himself.

Finally deciding that confronting Brent was a bad idea, I went inside calling for Maggie, and then I remembered her note said she would be home late. The house seemed so empty and was eerily quiet. Setting my bag down in the hall, I strolled into the kitchen for a snack. Wind rushed across my face sending chills down my spine. The quiet in the house combined with the soft breeze was alarming. Figuring Maggie must have left the windows open, I went to close them, but they were latched shut. I got a sick feeling in my gut, today’s lunch churning. I was being watched. I felt it again, just as I had on the drive to school yesterday.

Rays of light looking like bright iridescent strings appeared around me like a prism, encapsulating my body. I was frozen, unable to move my limbs, looking like a scarecrow in the middle of my aunt’s kitchen. The strings were terrifying, yet completely mesmerizing at the same time. They were beautiful. It was the same type of hypnosis I got from lying in front of the fire place watching the magenta and orange flames dance around gracefully.

My mind started swirling as visions of my life in chronological order moved through my brain like an old fashioned movie strip. I felt each emotion attaching to a memory and it was too much to take. I tried to focus my thoughts, pushing hard towards the word stop, empowering my body to push away the strings. A crystal bubble appeared as though I willed it to and stretched out around me. The moving picture in my head ceased and I saw the strings trying to penetrate the glass encasement unsuccessfully. It took all of my fortitude to keep the bubble around me. My breathing was ragged and I felt moisture on my top lip just as a drop of blood fell from my nose to the floor. The windows rattled and I heard a noise from the living room. The door slammed shut. I tried to yell for help, but shook wordlessly.

“Claire!” Brent called frantically. I still couldn’t find my voice as though my vocal cords had been knotted together, restricting all vibration needed for sound.

Brent entered the kitchen and I saw the look of astonishment on his face, giving way to horror, but only briefly. His expression transitioned to someone in control – the ring leader in a circus prepared to make the lions succumb to his whims. He reached a hand out in front of him and inhaled sharply, drawing the strings into his hand, absorbing them until they disappeared into his skin. I collapsed in exhaustion and the bubble vanished.

Brent’s strong arms were under me just before I reached the floor. He brushed my hair from my face and pulled a dish towel from the stove wiping the blood gently from below my nose.

“Claire, are you okay, can you talk?” he asked, appearing distraught. I was still too weak for words. Feeling safe in his arms, I buried my head in his chest.

Lifting my head from his chest, I thought I was in shock. Brent put his hands on both sides of my face, applying pressure on my cheeks so I had no choice but to look at him. Staring into his eyes, my body finally began to relax.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, softly this time, keeping his hands on my face, his blue irises burning into me. We were so close that our noses practically touched and I felt his breath on my skin.

“I’m fine,” I whispered calmly.

Waiting for him to release me, I rummaged for answers in his eyes as they assessed me carefully. He licked his lips. My desire to have him was too powerful to ignore a second longer. I put my mouth on his, begging for entry. The moment my lips met his, I belonged to him. His lips were soft and warm. Wrapping my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face closer pleading for him to kiss me back. He hesitated at first, but then complied, his lips parting. Our tongues swept against each other’s. My body was on fire, like a charge of electricity moving through me just below the skin. I had never kissed a boy before. It was amazing – better than cotton candy at the carnival, slowly unwinding each sugary strand, the sweetness melting into your mouth, dissolving to syrup on your tongue. Yes, so much better than that. He ran his hands to the back of my neck, dragging them firmly down to the small of my back, pulling me closer, a groan escaping his throat. Gripping my shoulders, he pushed me back, releasing his kiss.

“Wait, Claire. Stop. We can’t.”

Disappointment pinged deep in my gut. I felt the sting behind my eyes before the tears began to flow.

“Sorry. I…I…I’m sorry. I thought that you wanted to,” I cried uncontrollably.

“I do, I just…” he hesitated. “Claire, we shouldn’t be together or… look, we can’t be together, not like that.” His mouth was turned down and I didn’t understand his words. “Can’t” implied that we didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“We can’t?” I questioned.

“No,” he snapped, pacing the floor in front of me. His jaw was so tight I heard his teeth grinding. Halting mid-step, he scowled at me.

His lips set firmly showed me he was holding something back and it riled me.

“Why not,” I demanded.

“Because it’s wrong,” he bellowed, raking his hands through his hair again and sucking in a loud breath.

Throwing my hands up in frustration, I screamed back at him. “What the hell does that even mean, Brent? How is it wrong?”

He stood up and punched the wall behind him causing the dry wall to dimple, a low savage growl escaping his throat.

Had I heard him right? What did he mean? Why was he so angry? I was so confused. He had kissed me back with an equal amount of desperation – a clinging to the end of a rope kind of need – yet, he let go, sending us falling. Why?

“It just is, Claire. We can’t talk about this right now. We have to get out of here,” he said softly, masking his agitation. Fear came rushing back to me. I was so caught up in my feelings for him, I had yet to process what happened.

“What the hell happened here, Brent? What were those things? How did I….how did you…oh my God, Maggie…where is she?”

“Maggie’s okay, Claire, but we have to leave…now.” His emphasis on the word now was sharp, letting me know that he was in control, just as he had been with the strings and I knew it was best to abide.

“Okay but…,”

“Look,” Brent interrupted. “I know you have a lot of questions and I’ll answer them once I’m sure you’re safe,” he promised.

“Where are we going to go?” I asked.

Pressing his fingertips firmly into his temples, he traced a few small circles before answering. “Your family has a place up in Jasper Beach, Maine. We should be safe there. We’ll get a car from the garage. They’ll be able to track us if we take the Buick or my truck. We’ll drive the coast and get there late tonight.”

“What, what garage? There is no garage here,” I asked confused.

Brent explained that up the road was a large garage my grandfather built, telling me there were several vehicles in it. I had seen it. I didn’t know it was ours or that we had a house in Maine.

Brent came with me to my room and got a bag from the closet. He tossed it on the bed, telling me to pack what I needed for a few days and leave the rest behind. I began throwing things into the bag, packing the first clothing I came across. I grabbed the picture of my parents on the dresser, clutched it to my chest, and tossed it in the bag.

Zipping up my bag, I thought about how I was leaving again – packing up instantly – running – as I had always done. Only this time it really was for my protection. Replaying what happened in my head, I tried to understand. I glanced at Brent for answers, knowing he wouldn’t give them to me until we were safe.

“How did you know?” I asked, wiping my tear-stained cheeks on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

His mouth tightened, pulling his jaw forward, his expression pained as though recalling something extremely uncomfortable.

“I just did, Claire. We really have to go. Do you have everything you need?” he asked, beckoning towards the door.

Picking up my bag from the bed, I considered arguing and demanding that he tell me, but his demeanor showed he would not reveal anything else.

“I’m ready,” I said, fighting back a new stream of tears that had started to wet my eyes.

Brent took the bag from my hand, putting it over his shoulder. With his free hand, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Kissing me softly on the forehead, he whispered, “You’re safe with me, Claire.”

Why did he always do things like that if he didn’t want to be with me? It was one of the things I would request answers to down the road. We did need to leave my aunt’s house. I understood that, but I wouldn’t allow him to evade my questions much longer.

The sun was setting, sinking slowly behind the trees. I hoped we would make it to the garage before it was dark. Stomping through the woods hurriedly, I heard twigs snapping under our feet as they crunched into the ground. Up ahead, I saw the large garage I passed a thousand times, softly lit by a single lamp post in the front. I always assumed it belonged to someone else. The structure was huge and appeared to be a barn from the road. It was built from wide cherry wood planks and was trimmed in red. A large rooster weathervane topped the high pitch of the roof.

We approached the back of the garage slowly. My nerves were switched on as darkness set in and I really wished I had grabbed a flashlight. The woods terrified me in the daylight much less in the dark. A squirrel shot out from the side wall scaring the hell out of me. My heart pumped rapidly and I almost threw myself into Brent’s arms. After everything that happened at the house, I was strung way too tight for rodent encounters. Brent chuckled, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

Standing in front of four large garage doors, Brent approached a small box. Opening it, he punched a series of numbers on a keypad and closed the box. The doors opened, whining as they rose. The strong scent of pine entered my nostrils making me feel nauseous.

“What is it with Maggie and pine? It’s so gross,” I said squeamishly, scrunching up my face and rolling my shoulders towards my chest.

Brent laughed at my obvious disgust.

“It acts like a deterrent for those strings at the house. They can’t come to you in public, so pine masks your scent in private helping to keep them away,” he informed me while tugging on a chain that hung from the ceiling. The room lit up.

The sarcasm in my tone was intentional. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s working too well.”

“Claire, it’s just a deterrent, like bug spray. You can spray your entire body with the stuff and a mosquito will find the one spot you missed and bite you,” he explained.

Considering his words for a moment, I recalled tossing that silly pine air freshener and Maggie’s response when I did. “I took the air freshener out of Maggie’s car. My missed spot, right?”

“Maggie called me that morning to tell me. When I finally found you in the parking lot, they were about to strike and, well, you know how I handled that,” he smiled, placing his hand on the lower half of my back, guiding me through the doors. My body responded to his touch, sending shivers down my spine.

“Yeah, well, I think I liked it better when I thought you were just clumsy,” I teased, stepping into the dimly lit garage.

He chuckled jovially, “Oh, I was the clumsy one, huh?”

I shrugged, turning my head so he wouldn’t see the scarlet swirls on my pale cheeks.

Remembering what else happened that morning, I contemplated telling him about the man I saw in the road. He broke my concentration, telling me we really needed to get moving. I stored it away, promising to tell him about it later.

Gazing over the giant garage full of vehicles, I saw the walls were covered in license plates, all different states and eras. Two large red toolboxes sat against the back wall next to a large workbench. My heart sagged as I saw the familiar silver truck. I had seen it in old pictures of my grandparents. It was a fifties model Chevy. The chrome detail was immaculate, shining like freshly Windexed glass. The white wall tires were still as bright as snow. Large bubbled metal protruded over each tire without even a small dent. Peeking inside, the interior was spotless. Chrome detailed the dash from the steering wheel to the glove box. The plush leather bench looked as though it had never been sat on.

I choked back tears when I spotted the macramé key chain hanging from the rearview mirror with lettered beads that read #1 Grandpa. A memory of me about three years old, sitting with my mom at Maggie’s kitchen table, fumbling through the beads, haunted me. She was patient and sweet as she helped me find the letters and braid the twine. I wiped the tears, noticing Brent staring at me amorously.

“Your Grandpa loved this truck,” Brent said, aware of my emotional response to seeing it.

“I don’t remember him,” I muttered regretfully.

He didn’t respond and I was grateful. It was too painful.

“We are taking this one,” he announced, pointing to the silver Audi SUV at the end of the row. A huge smile adorned his face. It made me laugh,
boys and cars
. “It’s a Q7,” he stated, as if I should know what that means.

“This cannot be Maggie’s!” I declared, considering Maggie did not like anything superficial. I was sure she would think this was over the top.

“It’s not, Claire. It belongs to you,” he claimed. “It was going to be your birthday present. It’s a couple of days early but given the circumstances, I think Maggie will be okay with it.”

“What are you talking about, Brent?” I pushed, sure he was mistaken. Maggie was not the spendthrift type. “There is no way Maggie could afford this.” I waved a hand in front of the extravagant SUV.

“There’s so much you don’t know, Claire. But it is yours. Happy Birthday!” he said excitedly, walking to the driver’s side. “It’s top of the line.”

“I can see that,” I cheered. Though truthfully, I would not recognize top of the line from the totally stripped down model.

“So if it’s mine that means I can drive, right?” I teased.

“No chance, Claire!” he laughed. That was for the best. I was sure I was still in shock from what happened at the house and I was suddenly very tired. I also had no idea where we were going.