Page 44 of You Can Make Me
“There were times in my career when I pushed too hard. My interference caused someone to be hurt, and I have to live with that. We are seekers of the truth, us Harris men, but some things aren’t meant to be known, some secrets must be kept to save lives.”
“I want to know about this place, Granddad. I can’t?—”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, then looked beyond me and frowned. “You don’t belong here.”
The carnival was yanked backwards in a blur of light, like a special effect in a movie or a ride at Universal. My breath caught, and I began to weep.
“No. Please! I need help. Come back!”
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, but it was too quick for me to react. Something bashed me in the back of the head and I was being dragged once more…
I came to alone and covered in sweat, with a massive headache, but it felt like I’d had a major breakthrough.
Granddad was there! In my dream. He’d been a larger-than-life presence that filled our lives with knowledge, drive, and a bit of mischief, and in my dream, it was like I was right back by his side, ready to learn.
I’d felt like a little bit of my imagination died with him ten years ago. Instead of being encouraged to chase after whimsical what-ifs, I’d been slammed into adulthood and the realities of the world we lived in. Dad had assured me that Granddad knew how to suppress his quirky and quizzical nature to do the job, and Dad claimed he’d done the same in order to find success in the business of truth.
In my dream, Granddad had been trying to warn me away, though. That wasn’t like him. It was almost as if Dad and Granddad had been superimposed over each other, one pushing me toward the truth, one telling me the truth wasn’t worth it. And the attack…what was the connection? It had to be the brain injury keeping me from figuring this out.
I pushed myself up and rubbed at the back of my head.
My ambition as a journalist had been as much about getting to the truth about the mysteries of life as it was to get my face—a trustworthy face, with integrity, honesty, and drive—in front of the world. But this story was personal. It was vital that I found out the truth about this carnival, and I wasn’t exactly sure why.
Granddad had told me that this carnival often took in the weak and injured, and that people who needed it, found it.
“There are forces at play in our universe, similar to fate, that put things in motion to meet the needs of the most needy. Unexplained phenomena, individuals meant to make connections, items that are required as a means to an end. Always respect the unexpected and guard the truth at all costs. It might save your life one day.”
He’d said similar things to me many times over the years, but I’d never been entirely sure what he meant. Until now. There were so many things about this scenario that played into his theory…
I’d certainly gotten myself into a terror of my own making.
My curiosity led me to death’s doorstep, and my pleas would have gone unheard if it weren’t for Dee Dee Miller.
There were several things those old women told me that had come to pass.
I hadn’t heeded Granddad’s warnings, instead I’d tempted fate.
I needed to find the carnival. I needed to understand the connection between my life and that mystical place, and why it felt as if all roads led to finding it.
Was I headed down the path of no return? And what did that mean for Denny and me?
Eleven
Denny
I went for a walk down by the water to get centered. The river had risen over the past week or so as the temps warmed and the snowpack began to melt. The sound of the rushing water soothed me and let my brain quiet down some. Without work to keep my mind busy, I’d taken to worrying and puzzling over things I couldn’t control. It was giving me a damned headache. Probably raised my blood pressure, too.
Cooper’d had a shock this morning, but he came out of it, thank God. If I could trust that he really was ready to get back to work on his recovery, that meant he’d hit his rock bottom and the only way from here was up. I could work out a plan with him, and we’d both feel better with something external to focus on.
I wanted that to be true.
But I had work to do, as well.
I was holding on to so much trauma from everything that had happened to Cooper, and all of my fears about his recovery, thatit was physically affecting me. I needed to exercise, I probably needed to meditate. And yeah, I probably needed a therapist.
I definitely needed to quit smoking. Again.
I returned to the house a half hour later, grabbed the pack of cigarettes, ran them under water, then chucked them in the trash. It was the one tangible thing I could do at that very moment. Then I grabbed the Magic 8 Ball and sighed, tossing it back and forth between my hands.
