Page 6 of The 13th Daughter
There was a time when Dad brought Mom roses home just because and Mom used to smile all the time. Not anymore. She filled her days with committee meetings while he worked himself to death in his shop. They'd grown to hate each other. Why they just didn't get a divorce and put everyone out of their misery was beyond me. It had to be better than this constant fighting.
I heard something crash against the wall and then the distinct sound of tinkering glass as it fell. That made up my mind for me. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and started back the way I'd come. I had no doubt Dad would start drinking soon and I didn't feel up to dealing with that right now.
Instead, I strolled down the sidewalk and watched the activity going on around me. It was October 1st, the official start of Halloween, Samhain, in New Salem. We'd had our own celebration by the lake last night, but today decorationswere going up everywhere all over town. We were definitely a Halloween town. We even had a huge contest every year to find the scariest house. Homes and lawns, storefronts, and even the parks were transformed into scenes of terror and mayhem. Witches, ghosts, goblins, ghouls, tombstones, corpses—there was nothing off limits.
I was surprised Mom hadn't dragged our stuff out of storage by now. She was always one of the first to decorate. She loved Halloween more than I did, I think, and that was saying something. Halloween was my holiday. I loved the decorations, the scary movie marathons, the candy corn, and especially the costumes. I loved them all—funny, scary, or just plain weird. There was just something about that night of magic and make believe that struck a chord within me. Then again, it could just be because it was my birthday.
I waved to Mr. Corey as he strung the bushes in front of his drugstore with orange lights. His wife worked in the front window of the shop crafting her magic. Beginning on the first day of October through Halloween, they created a new scene each day in the big front display window of the drugstore. Those window scenes attracted people from all over just to get a glimpse of them. October brought in more revenue to the town than some of the beaches did all summer, and it was all thanks to the Corey's amazing window displays. I couldn't wait to see what she was doing. Hopefully by the time I came back, she'd have it finished.
I stopped a moment as I stepped off Main Street and onto McKelter Avenue to take in the view of the rolling hills it offered. Fall was in full force, which only added to the ambiance of the town. The trees blazed with a life of their own, as if to defy the death of summer at winter's cold hands. The leaves that fell to the ground were a glorious myriad of browns, yellows, oranges,and reds. The sharp, crisp air made the shivers all the fiercer as one walked the streets of New Salem during October.
The monument caught my attention as it always did when I passed by this way. A stone circle surrounded a smaller stone pillar that stood about four feet high. A plaque rested on its top. The old plaque had been crafted when the town was first established in 1693 and now resided in the library under a glass case. My dad had replaced it with a newer one a few years back.
The original settlers were from Salem Village, Massachusetts. Our town, New Salem, had been settled shortly after the Salem Witch Trials. The plaque held the names of the thirteen innocent people who had been persecuted during the trials. Their deaths had been the reason their family and friends fled here to North Carolina.
My feet turned away from the monument and started upon a well-worn path they knew intimately. I slipped quietly through the massive gates of the cemetery and trudged up the west hill. A sharp wind whistled through the trees and I shivered. It was getting colder now with the onset of fall. I should have grabbed a jacket this morning, but had been in such a hurry to get to school, I'd forgotten.
I dropped to my knees in front of the headstone and lovingly brushed the fallen leaves away. I shifted to a sitting position, wrapped my arms around my knees, and read the engraving on the headstone.
Emily Rose Bishop
July 9, 1989 – October 15,
Loving daughter and sister
You will be missed
The familiar cold knot of agony gripped my heart as I reached out to trace the words with shaking fingers. Three years. It had been three years since the accident and it still hurt as much now as it did then. I expected her to walk into my room at any second,demanding I give back the sweater I stole from her closet. I missed my big sister. It hurt so much sometimes, I couldn't breathe. None of us could.
Emily had been beautiful. Large sapphire blue eyes had dazzled a person as they glittered out of a heart shaped face. The best way I could describe her hair was to call it tawny, but that didn't do it justice. It had been a mixture of browns, golds, and reds. People told me I looked like her, but I didn't see it. I felt ordinary compared to her. She had been everything I wanted to be and I missed her.
My family had died with her. Everything had just spiraled out of control when the officer had shown up at our door to tell us about the accident. Dad started drinking and Mom had just went around pretending everything was fine. It wasn't. There was a hole inside all of us that would never be filled.
Everyone said it would get better with time, that the pain would lessen. I didn't believe it anymore. If it hadn't been for Kay, I don't think I would have survived those first few months. I didn't even remember them really. I'd spent most of my time at her house. She understood better than anyone else. I couldn't bear to walk into my house without Emily back then, when the pain was fresh and new.
Kay had been there for me when no one else was. She and I had discovered just how close a connection we shared as it morphed to life after Emily's death. She never asked me how I was, she could feel it, and had been a pillar of strength and support. That connection helped get me through those first awful months. I was better now, but I'd never lose this tight, curling ball of grief that lived inside me.
Sighing, I took out my journal and a pen. I sat there for a while trying to write and then I started talking to Emily as I always did. I liked to think wherever she was, she could hear me.
"You'll never believe what happened to me," I told her as I doodled on the paper. "I met the most amazing guy. His name is Ethan, but I call him Mr. Melt In Your Mouth Gorgeous. My own personal M&M. You'd be so totally jealous. His hair is the color of your favorite dark chocolate and his eyes...his eyes are the most beautiful gray you've ever seen. And the way he looks at me makes me get all weak in the knees and I can't seem to stop blushing when he's around."
I shifted, pulling my feet under me as I continued to tell her the story of how I'd met him and how mortified Kay had been when she found out he'd seen her covered in puke. I laughed and I could almost hear her laughing in return.
I told her I spent over an hour getting ready for school this morning and my mind shifted to another scene when I had just turned thirteen.
"What in the world are you doing, CJ?" Emily laughed when she barged into the bathroom.
I looked at her curiously from underneath a mountain of makeup. Mom had finally relented and said I could start wearing makeup. So of course I'd rushed into Emily's room and confiscated her huge makeup case. She had every color imaginable and I was in heaven.
"What does it look like I'm doing, Emily? Mom gave in caved and said I could wear it! Kay's been wearing it for over a month now." I gave her a huge smile, my eyes shining.
She arched a brow. "Well now, let's see if we can't show you how it's done, little sister."
For the next two hours she'd shown me how to put my face together. I'd learned how to apply lipstick, blush, and eye shadow—if it could be put on the face, we'd tried it. She'd never once laughed at my clumsy attempts. It was one of the best memories I had of her.
"Slumming, Cassie Jayne Bishop?"
My head whipped around and there he stood, watching me. Damn, he was going to give me a serious case of whiplash if he didn't stop sneaking up on me. My eyes roamed over him. He'd changed into a pair of faded jeans and a red, Hard Rock Café tee-shirt. The wind blew his hair into his face and I sighed with the need to run my fingers through those wayward locks.
