~26~
Now
Friday evening, October 15.
Alliance.
Haley was restless, but she took perverse pleasure in making herself still. She sat on a park bench and from a canted angle she could see the dying front lawn of Rick's house. The sky was all fragrant and lovey with the twilight, but the house was dark and silent. She knew he was inside, for she had watched him come home. He had very solitary habits, now that the last of his family had been propelled into the unseen world. She ached for him, just as she ached for Anna, who was also dead, and for Cub, and for Brin.
She ached because she had to live without them.
Only when dusk licked at her feet did Haley get off the bench. She got into her rental car and headed back to the hotel.
Hours passed, and she was still restless. Questions burned in her mind, churning there with fear and loneliness until her stomach turned rancid. She got out her Rider-Waite deck of tarot cards and tried to clear her mind. She told herself she didn't know what question she was asking, but as she chose her six cards and laid out her spread, it became a little obvious.
The tarot, after all, was only her truest reflection. Was she going to paint it and dye it and change it, too, and thereby deny it the deepest power?
This is our other daughter, Patricia's sister.
Ace of Pentacles. The Hermit. Seven of Pentacles. The Tower. Ace of Cups.
The Hanged Man.
Oh my.
Haley realized she had asked a question about Rick. And with all the courage she could muster, she read her cards.
He is a thoughtful person, who builds relationships slowly. Singed by grief, he is somewhat a loner, and makes his decisions in stillness. He has been confronted with a difficult decision; whether to give up the old life in anticipation of something fresh and new. He has been surprised and a little overwhelmed by the prospect of new love; it came like lightning out of a clear sky. He is indeed in love and indulging in feelings which to him, as a practical person, are truly foreign.
The Hanged Man.
He is about to sacrifice himself to attain something better and greater. Everything has been upside down, now there is a chance to set everything right. A transformation.
Before it is reborn, the phoenix is consumed by fire. Does it feel pain?
It took a very long time before Haley fell into a slim and troubled sleep, waking only with the shrill ringing of her cell phone. Disoriented and exhausted, she answered the phone, her heart swiftly flooding with gladness to hear Anna's voice, but the gladness was a thin fog that dissipated under a heartless sun.
The family council was nearly incomprehensible. So much truth spoken, so many secrets revealed; she felt dumb and childish.
Since Elsa's death nine years ago, she had felt as if she held a Rubik's cube in her hand, unsolved. No sooner would she try and marry a few tiles than others fell out of their symmetrical order. Now she felt as if some thief had come in while she was out and scrambled it completely until it was unrecognizable and daunting.
Their semi-psychotic guest named Tim was after Haley and the fortune teller; it was all that Anna remembered of the day she was catapulted with blood into the unseen world. At least they knew now who had murdered poor Cub. When it came time for Elsa to openly share the letter she had received from Casey, Haley felt as if she had been swimming in ice water forever; numbness was her world and there was no safe harbour.
Anna herself had been stunned into shock and silence with Casey's words; over the phone Haley had heard her gasp and then cry. When Haley then shared what she had earlier discovered in Florida with the other fortune teller, no one knew what was truth anymore. All they could rely on was the impassioned words of a thirteen year old girl dying of cancer.
And Rick Hall was Casey's uncle. Brin had been her cousin. Part of Haley had known it, had seen Gerda in Kathryn's dead photographic reflection the day she stood in Rick Hall's house. That was the day she had unconsciously fallen in love with him, the day the loneliness got sharper.
None of it made sense anymore.
The conversation had continued with their plans; Kristoff would be flying over as soon as he possibly could. He would connect in Philadelphia and land in Denver, and he begged her to try to stall Rick until tomorrow night at least.
Actually, his words had been more along the lines of stay inside, lock the doors, don't go out and don't get dead.
Haley appreciated his vehement concern, but everyone knew she now had work to do. They had to know exactly where Rick stood in the grand scheme of things, and discover if he had contacted the fortune teller yet. For that Haley would need to go outside, and trust that she could recognize Tim if she saw him. What could he want with her, or the fortune teller?
She did not share the results of her tarot reading with them. She didn't entirely believe it herself. Believing it meant that there was considerable more pain about to be dished on her plate, and she just wasn't hungry anymore.
Haley hung up the phone, feeling dazed. She took a long and hot shower, her mind whirling and whirling. Words, images, memories; she wrestled with them until they held a thin cohesive order.
Free will is the last best gift of God.
The Hanged Man.
Use the music box, Haley.
How long would she sacrifice herself for her family? If she did this, Rick Hall would never be hers. And she wanted him to be. Yes, she did.
Desperate, Haley cut her tarot deck only once and chose the card on the top. She stared at the picture of the blissful and glowing young man about to step off a cliff, ignoring the barking dog at his side. The sun shone down on him, and it blessed him.
It was all the answer that Haley needed. She dressed herself, put on her makeup, did her hair, and walked purposefully out the door. She had only one day.
I am the fool.
...
It was Saturday morning in Alliance. There was a litter of leaves everywhere; in the gutters, on rooftops, kid-handled into large piles of dusty playtime. Rick's neighbourhood was a family neighbourhood; the young boys congregated together to form these immense piles of leaves. When they jumped in, the pile would explode in a flurry of browns and yellows and reds and they could taste summertime on their tongues; tangy lemonade and the scent of suntan lotion. They would then debate the choices of Halloween costumes and boast about how much candy they would collect on the big night.
Rick wondered if they had ever figured out that the adults would steal bits and pieces from their own stashes of candy and try not to feel guilty about it.
Haley's rental car was parked just down the street, and Haley was inside. She had pulled up a while ago, and then she sat there. He watched her as he sipped a cup of coffee, lamenting the fact that he couldn't sleep in, even on a Saturday. The sleep clock programming of an independent grocery store owner wouldn't allow it.
It was too early for anyone else to be up and about; even if the neighbourhood kids were awake, they would be inside watching cartoons. The world seemed barren, save for the lone older gentleman with close-cropped hair sitting at the far park bench feeding the pigeons and Haley in her car.
She had been staking him out for the last three days. He didn't mind. She fascinated him. He had seen through her, that first day. She wasn't wearing a disguise anymore, for her hair was a madcap purple, and her nose and her ears were pierced, and she wore a red lipstick so dark as to be nearly black. It suited her.
Three days ago he had had a conversation with Gerda, his sister-in-law. Her words and ideas now batted around his head like moths attracted to light. This whole situation, so surreal, finally made a semblance of sense. The only piece of the puzzle he had not figured out was sitting in that car down his street. What had Haley to do with this world, the world of fortune tellers and fate? He had wanted to speak to her earlier than today, but doubt had consumed him; he wanted to go to her, but he felt torn.
Should he resurrect his old life or accept his losses and move on?
Or could there possibly be a way he could have both?
Looking at Haley, he remembered Gerda's words
sometimes goodbye is a second chance
and he made his choice. He was already dressed for the day, so he had only to slip on his shoes before he could confront her. She looked up as he came to her car, and her eyes were immensely burdened. "Why don't you come inside, Haley?" he asked.
Gothic metal pulsed from her earphones. She rolled up the cord and her iPod and put it in her frayed backpack before getting out and following him to the house. She walked so silently Rick had to resist the urge to look behind him to make sure she was there.
She hugged her middle as they entered the slowly fermenting house and he shut the door behind her. "Why are you here, Haley?" he asked. He already had a clue, but he wanted to hear it from her first.
"I think there's something you are planning to do," she said. "And I kind of wish that you weren't in this position at all. Death should stay exactly where it is."
"Time is a stream, not a circle," Rick said slowly, Gerda's words drowning him. "You can't ever go back."
Liar!
"You should stay so ignorant forever," she said softly. "Just like they say, it's bliss."
He looked at her. Was she remembering the moment that her friend drowned? Was she remembering what the future looked like, now that the light that had sustained her was gone?
Haley should always be a comet, incandescent and inspiring, gracing the lives of millions. Why was she also doused in seawater?
"Will you tell me plainly what you are talking about?" he asked.
"I will, though I don't want to," Haley replied. "I'd rather you not think I was a candidate for the October calendar of Miss-Straightjacket."
"Why should you care what I think?" he asked. "You don't even know me."
It had been a long time since Rick had cared so much about what someone else thought of him. He was almost shocked to recognize it within himself now, and he anxiously awaited her reply.
"Don't I?" she softly accused. "Deep down, we're the same, Rick. We live our lives in a state of inertia, where each day is just a reflection of the one before it, only watered down and tasteless."
"The world really took a chunk out of you, didn't it?" he asked, aching for her and unable to do a thing about it. He had made his choice, and he would follow through with it.
"At least you understand that the world has teeth and a big appetite."
"You're very good at evading questions, you know," he said.
"Thank you."
"That wasn't exactly a compliment, Haley."
"Can I see Brin's room?" she asked.
He hadn't been expecting a question like that, so he stood tharn for a moment, like an eviscerated moose caught in the headlights. His mouth was suddenly dry as those autumn leaves, so he nodded and began leading her through the house.
The sun was only warming up for the main performance of the day, so the light that filtered into Brin's room was muted and diffuse. The shadows should have been cruel here, reflecting his anxiety in this space, but instead the shadows melded with the light, casting the room in an aging organic warmth. He stood in the doorway as Haley entered the room.
There were pictures of Africa on the walls, and a pinup of Zac Efron on the mirror. In its steady reflection, he could see Haley examining the space. There was a single box on the bed, a small collection of curios and treasures within. It was evidence of his one defeated effort to clean her room. Haley sat on the bed and lifted the items out, placing them on the pristine and militarily ordered sheets.
He had made Brin's bed, after getting the telephone call. He hadn't wanted the room to be a mess when the police came.
Haley withdrew a diary, cheaply locked, then a small picture of Kathryn and Rick.
Yet did he imagine that she trembled when she pulled out a picture of Brin and her cousin, Casey? The two of them were riding bareback on shaggy ponies, Casey's hair had grown back, and both of them were laughing. It had been taken just this past summer, just before God blinked and changed the world.
Haley then withdrew a music box. She unclasped the lid and the little dancer sprung out, swaying to the tune of Memory. Inside the box was a small assortment of other precious items; dirt from Kilimanjaro, or so the ad on eBay proclaimed, a seashell from the shores of Maine, coins from Ghana, a native beaded coin purse.
"Did someone tell you that you could have your daughter back?" she asked. She didn't look at him.
Inwardly he reeled with the words
is she a mind reader?
but outwardly he remained calm.
Then he lied.
"Time is a stream," he repeated, his voice grim and slightly fey. Kathryn would have known he was lying, but what would Haley know?
"A stream is only water," Haley said, lifting a compartment on the box that he had never noticed before. Within was a tightly rolled joint of marijuana.
He actually felt the blood drain from his face. It was enormously disquieting, and it had nothing to do with the drugs.
"How did you know that was there?" he asked.
"The same way I know that you are trying to get Brin back. What price did she tell you, Rick, when you spoke to the fortune teller?"
He had already made his plans. He had made them yesterday. How did Haley know them? Did she bug his house, listen outside his windows?
No. She was only doused, and yet far more intuitive than he could have imagined.
"Who are you?" he asked, completely flummoxed.
"Miss October, apparently. When is the fortune teller expecting you?"
"Tomorrow."
Then
By all those who could only see the surface, the reflection, it looked as if Anna was coping well enough.
Haley knew better, as did Gerda. As the days crawled on, Anna began to become aware again of the outside world, even as she tried harder and harder to slip a knife between herself and her memories, to become hard and eternal, like a stone.
Like Gerda.
Gerda was about to take a leave of absence; Casey was coming home to die. There was nothing more that could be done for the four year old girl. It was Gerda's last day of work, and the Director was feverishly making her preparations. Anna recognized her flurry; exhaustion was good. Thinking was bad.
Life sucks, and then you die.
Anna was going through the pile of books at the front desk when Gerda returned. They worked in silence for a few minutes; Anna didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, and to her surprise, she asked, "Why did you hire me, Gerda? I was only a gas jockey. I was nothing."
Gerda gazed steadily at her, and then replied, "I just knew it was the right thing to do. Like it was fate."
"Fate," Anna barked, bitter and old. "Like we have no control over our lives. Fate, stupid stinking fate. Is it fate's fault that your only daughter is dying? Is it fate's fault that I fell in love with Elsa? Is it fucking fate's fault that Elsa is dead?"
Gerda's mouth hardened. "If it was, would you do anything about it?"
"It's a little late now, isn't it?"
"It's never too late."
There was something in Gerda's gaze, some truth that hovered just beyond sight. Her hair was pulled back tightly, in the same old bun it had worn for the past year. The sun shone near her, but it didn't seem to bless her.
Anna wondered if she was in the presence of the strongest, toughest person she had ever known.
"Were you at the fair that night?" Anna asked.
"Yes," Gerda replied, a little carefully. "Maybe I believe too much in fate. I went to see the fortune teller, hoping to get the answer that I actually wanted to hear."
"An answer."
"Yes. As you so eloquently put it, it's fate's fault that my daughter is dying. It is fate's fault that you are here and Elsa is not. I loved Elsa, just as I love my little girl. Forgive me for trying anything to change the course of the future."
"Uh-huh. Slip the fortune teller a fifty dollar bill and she'll tell you what you want to hear? That Casey will live, that Elsa can somehow come back from beyond the grave? Elsa's dead, just like Casey is dead, just like I am dead, and there's nothing that the fortune teller or you or God or anyone else can do about it."
Gerda stood back and let the venomous words come, recognizing the stages of Anna's grief.
After anger would come the bargaining.
"Do you believe in nothing you can't see?" Gerda asked, soft.
Anna looked down at her hands, the hands that had loved her Elsa, the hands that would never again touch Elsa's skin, or caress her hair. Never again would she lie on a blanket with her under the stars, or sip cocoa and cream with her in the kitchen. The love of her life had been ripped away, and was now decaying just as slowly and surely as the nameless dog in Ashland. She would never share her lunch again, kiss the sundered fingers of Elsa's left hand, or find herself spun into the center of Elsa's being, loving her as she always deserved to be loved. That future had been swept away in the river of bastard seawater.
"I believe in nothing," Anna murmured.
Hollow. Pointless.
Liar.
Anna was surprised to find that she actually believed in God again. She needed to. Someone had to be blamed for the moose and the river and the fact that it was Elsa's car they drove and not Anna's. It was comforting to know that she could hate God, and he would feel it. He would be stung by her. He existed, because Anna hated him. It was that simple.
Gerda wandered off, to do whatever else needed doing before she would go home, where her daughter waited with her yellowed teeth and bruised skull, the air tubes sticking out of her nose and her lips chapped near bleeding.
Too tired to even cry.
There would be no depth to her hatred of God. She would puncture His ego with all her hate, especially when Kristoff and Renee appeared at the library later that afternoon. They were holding hands, and there was a gleam on her ring finger. "I'm happy for you," Anna said, and she was glad to find that she meant it.
Kristoff hesitated before leaving. From his pocket he withdrew a battered card. Anna recognized it immediately.
It was the Five of Pentacles, the card that the fortune teller had given Elsa the night of the fair. Elsa had put it in her pocket. It must have been retrieved when her body was being prepared for the morgue. There was the faint smell of brine on it, and though the writing on the back was blurry, she could still make out the fortune teller's phone number.
Do you believe in nothing you can't see?
Be brave.
On her afternoon break, Anna went up to Gerda's office, where the woman was writing the last of her instructions. Gerda was on the phone; she waved Anna in, and Anna sat down on the same hard plastic seat she had once used over a year ago. The last best year.
"What can I do for you, Anna?" Gerda asked.
"You told me that sometimes goodbye is a second chance," Anna said, and she placed the battered tarot card on Gerda's desk.
Gerda stared at it, then she looked back at Anna. "How high a price would you pay to have Elsa back?"
"Just name it."
Anna's eyes felt afire. After a low conversation with Gerda, the Director left the office so Anna could phone the number on the back of the card. It was a near ten-minute conversation with Katja, and hearing that voice brought back all the madness of that horrific night.
When the fortune teller named the price, Anna simply nodded, forgetting, perhaps, that she was still on the phone. Their plans were made, and then she hung up the phone.
Nebulous and winded, Anna went down the stairs, where it was time to close and lock the library. Gerda had a brief staff meeting before they all dispersed; the other ladies presented Gerda with a check for just over a thousand dollars from their fund-raising. Dying was expensive. Gerda didn't cry. She was a stone.
Anna would kneel at her feet and try to absorb such wisdom.
Haley kept looking at Anna, so when the doors were locked and everyone had given Gerda the best of their wishes, Haley fell into step beside her on the walk home.
"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Haley asked.
"I need you to drive with me to Wales."
"Uh, Wales?" Haley asked. "As in Wales, Britain Wales? I don't think you can drive there, unless it's on the other side of the road."
"Haha, Einstein," Anna responded, touching the card that was in her jacket pocket, remembering the cocoa and cream on Elsa's lips. "Wales, Massachusetts."
"Okay, I'll bite. What's in Wales, Massachusetts?"
"The fortune teller."
Haley didn't stop walking, but she did crane her neck to stare at Anna. Anna didn't mind. She was learning to be a stone.
"Why do you want to go see the fortune teller?" Haley asked.
"Are you coming with me or not?"
"Anna, of course I'm coming. I sometimes like to know the nature of my shenanigans, though, before I get into them. When do you want to go?"
"Tomorrow. The library is closed to observe Veteran's Day, remember?"
This time Haley did stop, and she touched Anna on the arm. Anna was drawn to her, her dark lips, the bright violet of her hair. When did Haley's eyes get so troubled? She was so young. "Anna, what's going on?" she asked.
As a response, Anna echoed Gerda's words. "Sometimes goodbye is a second chance, Haley. Forgive me for trying nearly everything to change the course of the past."
She left Haley then, in the gummy cold of the November afternoon. She could feel Haley's eyes boring into her, but Haley did not speak.
For the first time since Elsa's death, Anna stalked with purpose throughout her house, gathering the supplies the fortune teller had ordered. Most difficult was taking Elsa's favourite scarf; it still had her scent on it, and it took considerable effort for Anna to keep from crying. Katja hadn't requested much; old and ratty clothes for Anna to wear, a bedsheet, a spare set of clothing, and Elsa's scarf.
There would be a price to pay. There would be no guarantees.
Her mind would not stop whirling that night. Knowing she didn't have to get up early for work, Anna left her house just after midnight on November 30. She got into Billy Carmichael's car and tried to forget how she had Elsa had once made love in the back seat. Before she really knew where she was going, she was on the road to West Dresden, and to the cemetery where Elsa was buried next to father and brother.
It took only forty minutes to arrive, and Anna was buzzing with exhaustion and hope buried as deep as her unspoken secret. She got out of her car and noticed how luminescent the sky was, the ice particles of her breath shimmering in the air underneath a nearly full moon. She crushed the frosted grass under her feet as she made her way to Elsa's grave, and then she stood there, looking at the headstone that bore her love's name.
Finally she looked up. The moon had veiled itself in pale cloud, until it was ringed in soft white fire, just like Anna's heart.
She didn't know that this was the last time she would see the moon at midnight. The price the fortune teller quoted was not the one she would eventually pay.
...
A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's almost the end. Thank you to all my loyal readers, I love your comments and reviews. Some of you noticed I messed up Anna's hair and eye colour the last chapter... that was an editing error, and no more. I have fixed it. Please enjoy the rest of the story, and please leave me your thoughts and reviews!