Page 72 of Hold a Candle

“What is it now?” she snapped. “I’m trying to get some sleep here. After all, it’s almost 4:00 in the morning.”

“I apologize,” he replied with a nod of his head. “I have an order for some medication to help protect yer heart. Ye took quite a jolt from that lightning bolt this evening.”

With practiced efficiency, he took the cap off the hypodermic in his hand and inserted it into the port where IV fluids had been disconnected.

“Are they going to take this port out anytime soon?” Florence complained. “I don’t see why I even needed saline at all. I’m just fine.” She was itching to get to Brodie’s room. The night would be over soon and she wanted him taken care of before the first rays of dawn stepped into the windows. Juice had failed her, so she had to do the job herself. But then women usually did have to take care of the thing’s men failed at, but still bragged about. Her lip curled in disgust.

“Apparently ye were dehydrated,” he explained through his facial mask, his dark eyes gleaming as he took off his gloves and stuffed them and the hypodermic into the clinical waste disposal. “Ye won’t be bothered anymore tonight,” he added as he left the room with a quick stride and closed the door behind him.

***

BRODIE’S CHEST BURNEDand his muscles were weak with fatigue as he tried desperately to swim up from the dark, watery depths of the loch. Above his head he could see the water getting lighter where the sun filtered its beams into the dusty-looking, greenish liquid. Bits of underwater fauna floated eerily about him and some fish darted quickly away as he slid up past them.

The higher he swam, the more everything hurt. What was wrong with him? He and his friends had dove into the depths of this loch from the floating platform 25 yards from shore all during his teenage years, and he’d never once felt this bad.

Brodie wasn’t one to give up though, not when it was important to him. He was determined to be the first one to break through the surface, gasping for breath and slinging his dark hair back in triumph, as the water sluiced off his trim, tanned body. As he got closer to the top of the water, he could see the brightness of the sun glaring down on him and he began to feel a sense of foreboding. This was different; something was wrong.

When he finally cleared the top of the loch, the lights of a hospital room burned into the slits of his tired eyes and it all came rushing back at once. The warehouse...meeting Florence...the cat...and the horrendous pain in his chest and shoulder. The familiar face looking down at him slowly came into focus.

“What are ye doing here?” he whispered through a dry, parched throat.

***

JAMIE TRIED TO GATHERhis thoughts regarding Simon. Had he really seen him tonight? Or was it just his guilty conscience creating the ghostly image with the laughing grin? On a surface level he knew he wasn’t responsible for his brother’s death, but down deep he still blamed himself.

“Simon was a prankster,” he finally began, turning to stare out into the moonlit pastures, his mind focusing on that day at the river. “He drowned when he was 10 and I was 16.” He paused trying to focus his thoughts. Then he sighed and tried again.

“There was this place on the river near the farm where we used to swim. It wasn’t really a river, per se, but more of a fast-moving stream that could swell in the spring run-off, pushing limbs and small trees downriver with its force. Or it could be a lazy swirling stream dropping into the pond beneath the trees where we had tied a rope to an overhanging limb to swing out on and drop into the water.”

“It sounds cool and refreshing,” Pauley replied softly.

“It was, on a hot summer day. Ye know Scotland, it doesn’t get that hot, but it did on our farm,” he added. “Or at least we thought it did because we loved swinging on that rope. Especially Simon. He wasn’t supposed to go there alone though, because the underwater landscape of the pond could change. New logs pushed into place from the spring runoff and other conditions. It was pretty deep too.” He cleared his throat.

“Understood.”

He glanced over at Pauley. “Anyway, Simon wanted to go swimming and Dad made me take him, even though I didn’t want to at the time. But I did it anyway, and when we got there, Simon kept swinging over the water and dropping in. The problem was, he kept hiding under the water instead of popping back up. I yelled at him to knock it off after the third time of going into the water to look for him and having him laugh at me from behind a limb or a bush growing along the edges. I was really getting mad because he kept it up. Finally, for what seemed like the millionth time he did it, I didn’t go looking for him.”

Jamie’s throat felt like it was closing over. “When I finally did, I couldn’t find him. I ran back for dad, and he and my older brother started calling and diving in too. No one could find him. We had to call in a rescue team of diver’s and they finally found him.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Pauley whispered, her hand closing over his. She moved close to him and laid her head on the back of his tense shoulder.

“They found him beneath a big log near the right side, his t-shirt twisted around a branch on the log. He must have swum underwater to hide behind the log, ducked under it to stay beneath the water, and got caught on it, they said. It was an accident, they said. But I should have checked.”

Jamie turned over and Pauley lay on top of him, her head on his heart. He held her close, drawing comfort from her presence.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, but I should have done more to discourage his dangerous prank. No one blamed me, they all knew what Simon was like, but I blamed me. I was the older brother; I should have dragged him home and turned him over to dad. Or beat the living snot out of him myself to make him stop.

Anyway, two years later, on All Hallow’s Eve, I saw him again. My mum enjoyed All Hallow’s Eve, and liked to follow the tradition of leaving the doors and windows open on that night. I think she was hoping to see Simon, but it wasn’t her that saw him. It was me, and it totally freaked me out.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Nay, and it was only for a few seconds. I blinked and he was gone, but I saw that smile he always wore when he had just weirded me out. And his thumbs up sign. Like it was all just another joke.”

“Cripes, yer giving me goosebumps,” Pauley whispered, shivering.

“Since that night, I’ve never stayed where that particular tradition was being celebrated.”

“Did Rhonda believe in spirits among us?”

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