Page 10 of A Curse On Black Lake
I nod, and a tear escapes my eye. She’s right. I understand that. But why was I given something that I can’t use to help others?
Thankfully, the parking lot at Delilah’s isn’t full as I roll down the small hill to the brick building. There’s a long porch with old rocking chairs on it in front, with a ramp off to the side and stairs going up to the front doors. There are two wood doors, one forinand one forout,with old pane windows across the length of the store. Some of the porch boards are coming up, and it needs to be painted. Bricks are falling off on the side of the building where it needs to be fixed. I lean my bike against the brick wall, and go up the ramp keeping my head down, anglingfor the customer service desk. Harper Boudroue, stands behind the counter with a bored out of her teenage mind look. I hand her the bag, and she trades me for an envelope with my name on it, then I feel eyes staring at me.
Looking over my shoulder, I catch June-Anne Stackhouse, who is about my age, staring at me with wide eyes, and I narrow my gaze, giving her a sinister smile.
She takes a step back.
Tossing my head back and laughing, I walk out the door. They make it so easy.
People are so quick to judge something they don’t understand. All too often in this world do we discount the things that we cannot see or ignore them because we don’t like the reality. There is a war going on right above our heads, and they don’t seem to have any idea, or maybe they don’t care.
Quit messing with them girl, you know they eat it up like pecan pie.Gram’s voice rings in the back of my head. She doesn’t like that I mess with people. But why not give them a reason to talk about you instead of assume?
Next, I go to Cricket’s, which is as old as this town. It’s another large brick building with one door and two windows on either side, for displaying items. They sell everything from clothing to housewares. There’s nowhere else to get things. I drop off the soap and lotion and make my way back home to start dinner.
There are days I wish I didn’t live in Black Lake. I wish people wouldn’t look at me like a freak. But fitting in isn’t all it’s caught up to be either, at least that’s what I’ve told myself for years. It’s the best way to cope, I guess. But it doesn’t make it any less lonely. As I get older, I start to wonder if things will always be this way. The possibility of anything romantic with a man from Black Lake doesn’t seem realistic. Though there are days when I wonder, at twenty-nine, if a man is out there to love me the wayGrams always says there is. Maybe he’s the man in my dream. I laugh to myself and pedal faster.
That will happen when pigs fly.
Crawling into bed, exhausted, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve had since I saw Grams on the floor last week. The dream didn’t help because it’s sucking every open thought I have when I need to be focusing on other things.
Grams was really tired today, and she’s been in bed for an hour, but I feel like I need to check on her.
Tip-toeing into her room, I peek my head in to see if she’s okay. She must have heard me because she’s awake.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.
She smiles softly and holds her hand out to me. I grab the rocking chair beside her bed, pulling it closer to her side, and hold her wrinkled hand between mine as she closes her eyes again.
I don’t know how I know, but it’s time.
Silent tears stream down my face, and I whisper prayers for her. The Spirits are mercifully silent, allowing me the peace I need to see my grandmother into the next life.
She will be happier, pain-free, at peace. The hope of seeing her again is the only thing that makes this pain bearable. I’m going to miss her so much.
Leaning back in my chair, I keep her hand in mine, and my eyes droop.
Grams gasps, startling me awake. “What is it?” I ask her.
She points to her water, and I hold it up for her.
She takes a sip from the straw and leans back into her pillows.
“I see now,” she whispers, staring at the ceiling.
“You need to help him. He needs you to set us free,” she says.
“What does that mean?” I ask her.
She grips my hand with surprising strength and looks me in the eye. “All will be made well when you find it within each other.”
“What? Find who?” I ask her again. I’m not sure if I should take this seriously or not.
“Him,” she says, still holding my hand. “The one you saw in your dream.”
I gasp. She doesn’t know that I barely saw him. I didn’t tell her. But I still don’t know who he is. Barely seeing a mouth and nose makes it hard to recognize.
“I didn’t… I don’t know how I would know him,” I tell her.
