Chapter 5 - Images
Greer felt he succeeded in the grocery shopping, managing to cover all of the basic food groups (well, mostly). Walking into his new house for the second time really didn't make it feel any more like home then it had before, but it was a good feeling, knowing that this was where he would be living from now on. When he entered the main area of the house, however, plastic bags hanging like leaves off of his arms, the house was filled with an eerie silence. He was tempted to shout out, "Honey, I'm home!", in a Cuban accent but something held him back. He set the bags down in the entryway, kicking his shoes off. He decided he would put away the food later, tired from the vigorous thinking that was involved with going to the market. Greer paced up the hallway, his feet stopping that the large staircase. He decided he would go up to the master bedroom to see if Kahlen was there, and, if not, he would take a shower. As he walked up the creaking staircase, he prayed that the hot water would work. His back seemed to crack with each step he took, that's what twelve hours in the front seat of a car had done to him. As he approached the master bedroom, it was dark. He walked in and flipped on the light, which was over the bed. It was a lot duller than he expected, and the dim glow had now settled over the room. Greer, keeping his vow, started walking to the bathroom to take a shower. But the mirror mounted on the wall caused him to halt in his tracks. He stared at his image. Had it only been an hour and a half ago that the strange woman at the market told him he didn't look a day above thirty? Because right now, looking in the mirror, his eyes looked weak and tired. He put his hands to his face, stretching out the group of small, thin wrinkles that had gathered around the edges of his mouth. His back suddenly voiced a loud crack as he bent forward to look at the image before him, and the sound echoed. Greer was about to stare at the reflection further, but figured that it must be the dull lighting that played a factor in the sudden age increase he saw before him. It's not like he had developed serious back problems and that many wrinkles in a snap of the fingers, right?
Kahlen decided to head in when she heard the front door slam. She had been sitting on the porch swing, Blair and the kids out in the woods somewhere. She had seen the car driving from the center of town, had followed it with her eyes until it was going up the driveway. Which had been a bit difficult considering it was nearly pitch black out now aside form the streetlights and the dim one above her head. Kahlen guessed that she should've gone up to the car when it pulled in, to help him with the groceries, but she felt that she would keel over in pain if she moved. Ever since… well, ever since she looked in the mirror she'd felt nauseated. She knew it sounded stupid, it sounded stupid to herself, just thinking it. But Kahlen was truly beginning to think she was coming down with something. Her head burned and her neck hurt to turn it. But it had started faded away, strangely, once she had heard the side door close. She rose, feeling slightly dizzied but otherwise over her strange fever-like spell. She entered the house, the screen door pausing on its hinges before deciding to fully close itself. Kahlen expected to see Greer in the hallway, but all that was there was about ten bags of groceries and his messily strewn shoes. She heard footsteps above and climbed the staircase slowly. Light peeked from beneath the master bedroom door. When she pushed it open, the sound of running water welcomed her ears. She was going to call for Greer when she looked into the mirror again. It was purely by accident, for her eyes were simply passing over the mirror briefly, just as a matter of glance. But her eyes stopped when she noticed something weird. She crept closer to the mirror until she was standing directly in front of it. This time, it wasn't just Kahlen's eyes that looked… strange. Deep bags had set under her dead-looking eyes. Kahlen lifted her hands to her face. A deep cut was scratched onto her skin, beside her left eye, the gash running from the corner of her eye to her temple. She wasn't sure how or when it appeared, but something else distracted her. On the inside of her left arm, right before the bend in her arm, was a dark blue bruise. Her arm suddenly felt very sore, and she bent it, wincing. Kahlen concluded that she must have fallen asleep on the swing or something, maybe pinched her skin between the chains… it had to be. Those things just couldn't appear out of nowhere. A voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Are you done expanding your ego?" Greer teased, appearing in the doorway of the closet. She turned to him.
"This mirror's just… a bit weird, that's all. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with it. There's something off, you know?"
Greer, standing solely in his jeans, rolled his eyes. "Okay, Miss Philosophical." He pointed with his thumb in back of him. "I'm going to take a shower. If you could, there's some stuff in the attic I'd like you to look through." He was about to turn back around, but Kahlen grabbed his hand.
"Don't we have everything unpacked already?" She questioned tightly. Greer shrugged.
"There's some pans up there, I think, and some clothes. I just want to get it done." Greer was going to head to the shower once more, but Kahlen still held his hand.
"Everything's unpacked, Greer. Everything." Kahlen spit out through gritted teeth. Greer cocked his head at her, perplexed.
"But Jeremy called while I was leaving the store… he said there were, like, ten boxes up there that he hadn't unpacked." Greer removed his hand from Kahlen's. "I don't see what the big deal is, Kahlen."
"Then never mind." Kahlen muttered, seemingly happy to drop the subject. Greer wouldn't let it slide.
"No, Kahlen, what is it?"
"It's nothing. I just thought that we had unpacked everything, that's all." She turned to leave, but Greer grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him.
"Kahlen, seriously…"
Kahlen shrugged his hand off.
"Those boxes are Emilie's things."
Greer paused. "Right. Never mind. I've gotta take a shower, so…"
"I'll make dinner." Kahlen filled in, turning around. She stayed turned around, though she knew Greer was still behind her. "What did you get?"
"Huh?" Greer questioned, the steam from the running shower circling around his head.
"What did you get for dinner?" Kahlen asked, beginning to walk away slowly.
"Oh, right." Greer sighed, scratching his head. "I've got some hamburger meat, chicken legs, steak, that sort of thing. I can't remember, just look through the bags for yourself, would you? And they need to be put away, too. Hopefully the milk hasn't gone bad by now."
"Yeah, I'll do it." Kahlen sighed. She hoped Blair and the kids would come back so they could help her. Putting away groceries was her pet peeve.
Blair coughed. "I think I just swallowed a mosquito." She voiced. Bridgette turned back to her and rolled her eyes.
"Thanks, Aunt Blair, I can just look forward to having mosquitoes for dinner now." Bridgette bent down and picked up a long stick from the ground. She began whacking it against every tree they passed. Jay was leading the pack, and he turned around, glaring at Bridgette.
"Do you mind?' He said sarcastically, stopping to watch his sister hit a large pine tree.
"No, I don't, actually." Bridgette snapped back sassily. Just to rub it in, she cracked the stick in two against her knee. She threw one at Jay and threw the other one against the tree.
"Hey!" Blair shouted. "Would you stop throwing things at your brother?"
Jay, bored, began to walk farther ahead of them on the path. He disappeared around the corner.
Bridgette stuck her tongue out at the turn of his back.
"Bridgette." Blair stated, folding her arms and stopping in her tracks. "You're fifteen, don't you think you're a little old for the making of faces?"
"It doesn't matter anyway." Bridgette sneered, walking ahead. Blair followed.
"What?"
"I mean, if Jay made faces at me, you wouldn't say anything, would you?" Bridgette stuck her nose up in the air, folding her arms and stopping to stand squarely in front of her aunt.
"Of course I would say something, Bridge. As much as I hate it, I do have to discipline you guys."
Bridgette rolled her eyes. "No, I mean, you two are like Bonnie and Clyde. If your 'perfect little angel' did anything to hurt me, you wouldn't do anything."
"Bridgette, that's not true." Blair sighed.
"Yes it is, Aunt Blair, and you know it. And I don't care, I really don't, so whatever. I mean, he's closer to you than our mom. Favorites, Aunt Blair. Aunts play favorites, too, even if they don't notice it."
Blair shook her head, walking on alongside Bridgette. "Think whatever you want to think, Bridgette, but that's not true. I don't have any favorites. I think I'm just more like Jay then you."
"Psh." Bridgette sighed.
"But, and put your trust in me on this, Bridge, you are like a fifteen-year-old clone of your mother."
Bridgette's face burst into a smile. "Yeah right!" She laughed.
Blair waved her hand in the air. "I'm serious, Bridgette. Remember, I knew your mom when she was fifteen. It's like you two are reading off the same script."
Bridgette shot a doubtful, yet humorous look at her aunt.
"And you don't think she plays favorites, now do you?"
"Okay, blah blah, I get it, Aunt Blair. Gosh, I'm going to collapse from 7th Heaven overload heart failure." Bridgette clutched her hands over her heart. "Too much…." She paused, dropping to her knees. "Sappy… dialogue." She crossed her eyes, sticking her tongue out, and fell to the ground. "Uhhh." She groaned.
Blair rolled her eyes, sticking out her hand for Bridgette to grab it. "Oh, you're killing me, you're too funny." She praised sarcastically, pulling Bridgette up from the ground. "Come on, drama queen, let's go catch up with Jay."
October 24, 1846
"Hello?" Eliza clutched the doorframe, her feet shifting on the floor of the wood porch. She held the door open with one hand. She peered into the hallway, hearing nor seeing anything. Eliza wasn't the one to just take a step into anyone's house without being invited, so she opened her mouth once again to call for someone.
"Hello? Maxwell? Grace?" She called the homeowners' names, hoping they would come to the door. It was Saturday night, surely no one would be out of the house. Or at least not
everyone. "Mary? Joshua?" Eliza voiced the children's names, also, to see if they were home. But
not one answered her call or came to the door. A strange feeling started welling up in her chest,
swirling and strangling her heart. Eliza rarely did this, but she walked through the open door and
stepped into the wide, open hallway. She closed the door behind her. Eliza knew that feeling, as if
she knew something was terribly wrong. Silence surrounded her. A dull thumping interrupted it,
however, and Eliza cranked her head upward to look at the ceiling. The thumping sounded again.
It seemed as if it was coming from overhead. Curious, Eliza scaled the wide staircase to follow the
sound that played with her ears. When she arrived at the top, it sounded as if the thumping noises
were coming from the room straight ahead of her. She walked to it, opening the French doors. But
there was no one in the room. So Eliza stood, frozen, waiting for the thumps to sound again. Thump
to her right. She followed the sound with her eyes, and they stumbled upon a closed door. Someone
in the closet? Eliza asked herself. Maybe Mary and Joshua were playing a game of hide and seek.
She closed her hand around the brass knob and turned it, opening the door towards her only a
crack so as to peek into the closet. Though when she looked through the crack, it wasn't a closet she
saw, but rather a large room. She supposed it was the master bedroom. But Eliza could still not see
anything. Another thump rang loudly in her ears. And again. Eliza resisted what every instinct in
her gut was telling her and pulled the door all the way open, striding defiantly into the room. A ball
of fear welled up in her and threatened to burst through her tolerant spirit… until Eliza saw that
there was not a single soul in the bedroom. She sighed, discovering the source of the thumping
sound. She walked over to the window to close it, which had been banging against the wall with each gust of wind that passed by.
"See, Eliza?" She sighed to herself. "Nothing is wrong." It was then that Eliza turned and
saw the mirror. A beautiful mirror, yes. But there was something that looked like cranberry sauce
smeared on it. As Eliza approached the mirror, she discovered that it actually read something.
My worst fear has come true. I am going to die.
Eliza was taken aback by this message. The words thumped with life, the mirror giving them boldness, lending the words strength beyond their meaning. Who wrote this? Eliza thought to herself. It must be dear Grace. Eliza agreed, nodding to herself. A man's handwriting, especially upon a mirror, is not as dainty. Poor Grace, Eliza sympathized. It seemed as if Eliza had already arrived too late, for Grace's words on the mirror proved that Grace's head was a bit loser than usual. Eliza passed her eyes over the message again. She suspected that one of Grace's fears was that her husband's eyes may wander, but for the life of her, Eliza could not understand why Grace assumed she would perish. Eliza's heart suddenly skipped a beat as hushed voices floated up the stairs. She looked around quickly, and, went for the escape route of the "secret door". The voices grew louder, and Eliza's steps to the door grew longer until she finally reached it. Eliza leaped through and closed it silently as she heard loud, angered feet banging into the master bedroom next to her. Curious, Eliza opened the door a small crack to peek back into the room. She saw Maxwell, face red, huffing. Eliza then heard smaller, scurrying footsteps enter the room and moved her eyes to spot Grace, eyes narrowed, glancing downward. She could see Grace's eyes dart between Maxwell, the mirror and the walls. The tight frown on her lips told Eliza she was frightened. Grace began playing with her hands.
"You, you here telling me to get out!" Maxwell shouted. "You woman telling me to depart from my own house! Who does the work, Grace? I do! You just sit around all day with your knitting and trifles!"
"Yes, Maxwell." Grace nodded. Eliza couldn't believe it. Here Maxwell was, yelling at his wife, when he was the one who's eyes were doing the wandering. And there was Grace, the strong, independent woman she was, submitting to him, apologizing, when she should, in fact, be the one yelling.
It was at this moment when Maxwell eyes drifted to the mirror. His dark eyes widened, his mouth turned to a frown. His face, if possible, grew even redder. As he clenched and unclenched his fists by his side, Eliza waited edgily for the moment when his anger might strike.
Kahlen, bags under her arms, walked into the empty, large kitchen. She set the grocery bags down heavily on the table. They landed with a thump. Kahlen was going to begin rifling through the bags for some dinner, but her goal was abruptly halted when she spotted a can of coffee falling from one of them. She scooped it up, wandering casually over to the coffee maker placed next to the sink. Pouring the grains in and filling it with water, Kahlen felt grateful that Greer had a couple friends in the area who were all too willing to set up the furniture and things before they got there. Apparently, though, most of the furniture in the bedrooms were left by the former tenants. As the coffee maker gurgled, Kahlen chose to gaze out the window behind the sink. It was overlooking the woods. She could have enjoyed the view, but, unlike what Kahlen told Jay, she preferred to watch the action of the town, cars, people. The woods didn't do anything. They sat there. The trees sat there. It'd be fun to wander around in them, yes, but to stare at them? It wasn't Kahlen's thing. The coffee pot sloshed again, snapping Kahlen out of her state. She looked at it, observing the dark liquid in the pot. Had she really been spacing out for that long? It was already done…
Kahlen heard footsteps creaking along the stairs as she removed a random coffee mug from the cabinet, the coffee guzzling into it. After putting a couple of cubes of sugar and a pinch of cream, she wandered over to the table, and, unfolding the newspaper, collapsed into a chair. Greer entered the room at that moment, ruffling his wet hair. Kahlen glanced up.
"Thanks for…" She wiped a hand across her forehead. "Splashing me." Greer shrugged at this. He sat down across from Kahlen as she continued to read over the newspaper. She looked up at him.
"Are you, like, waiting for me to make dinner? I'll start it when the kids get back."
"No." Greer answered, still looking at Kahlen.
"Oookay." Kahlen drew out in response, taking a chug of her coffee and returning her eyes to the paper. Greer sighed inwardly. He glanced uncomfortably around the room.
"So, I ran into Leila at the store today." Greer casually mentioned.
"Leila?!" Kahlen exclaimed, her eyes darting from the paper. "What is she doing here?"
Greer's cheeks grew redder. "Don't act surprised, Kahlen. She lives here and you knew that."
Kahlen was staring at the newspaper once again. "What are you talking about, Greer?" She questioned listlessly.
"She told me everything, Kahlen! I know that you and her have been speaking for the past two years!"
Kahlen kept her eyes glued to the paper. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Greer felt his composure starting to slip away, but he gritted his teeth, holding his anger back. "I know you tried to kill yourself."
Kahlen's expression didn't change. "Okay, Greer, one: I still have no idea what you're babbling about and…" Kahlen scoffed at him mockingly, "well that's pretty much all-" Before Kahlen could finish her sentence, Greer's rage escalated. He shoved back his chair, rising. He leaned over her, and, completely uncontrollable of his body at the moment, brought his hand up. Greer slapped her across the face.
Kahlen's mouth dropped open, her eyes widened. She brought her hand to her cheek and stared at Greer with shock. The expression on his face read the same as Kahlen's. Unmoving, unblinking, Kahlen's eyes remained fixed on Greer's. No words could escape from her mouth. Greer brought his arms up to his hair, pulling on it. Kahlen, her hand still to her face, rose from her seat. She started backing away slowly.
"Kahlen, no." Greer spat out. "I'm sorry." He extended his arms to reach for hers.
"Greer, I'm going to go find the kids now. And Blair. Okay?"
"Let me come-" Greer started, walking towards Kahlen. She held her hands up, continuing to back away.
"No, Greer." With that, she spun on her heal and slammed out the side door.