“The arrangement was made long ago.”
I had a flash of recognition, a memory of my father’s funeral and my Shadow standing at the back of the gathering. What struck me as strange was in seventeen years he had not aged a day. I thought he might look even younger now, and wondered aloud, “But how?”
As if he read my mind, he said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.” Suddenly I felt very drowsy, and the room was getting darker.
“I’m sorry, Samantha, not today.” Almost before he could finish, I passed out from whatever it was he put in the water.
I was still conscious enough to hear him whisper, “You need to sleep and I need to go without you following.” He brushed my hair away from my forehead, and covered me with the blanket. “I promise to explain soon, I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.”
***
The landline was ringing, and the answering machine picked up. “Sam, it’s me,” Bailey sounded irritated. “I’m getting off the freeway; I’ve been calling your cell, home, the bar, your mom. Where are…”
Jarred from my slumber, I scrambled to find the handset and hit talk, “Bailey, I’m here. I’m sorry I was asleep.”
He half growled, half sighed with relief. “Some sound sleeper you are. You had me worried,” he scolded.
“I guess I needed it,” I paused to yawn, “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I didn’t want him to come over. “Bailey, please don’t. I’ve lost a day and a half already; I need to get some work done.”
“Sam, you shouldn’t be alone,” he persisted.
I refused. “Tomorrow night, I’m yours, I promise. I’m staying in, not going anywhere until you come get me for dinner.”
“Promise me,” he insisted.
“I did.”
“Again.” He wasn’t letting go.
“I promise I have enough food and Pepsi to get through ‘til tomorrow evening.”
“At least call me later?”
“How later? I don’t even know what time it is.”
“It’s 4:14 p.m.” He was precise, to the minute. “How about around ten?”
“Okay, ten it is."
“And don't you go not answering my calls and worrying me like that again,” he scolded, before adding, “please?”
“I'm sorry, Bailey.”
“No, I am. I'm just rattled by what happened.”
He thinks he’s rattled. “I know, me too.” He has no clue.
“I guess I'll just go home and try to get some work done myself.”
“I'll call you at ten, promise.”
“You better. I love you.” This time he didn't wait for me to say it back, and ended the call.
***
I grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge and sat down at my desk in the corner to work on my desktop. For some strange reason, I wrote better at that old keyboard than at the one on my laptop. Maybe it was just the sitting upright at a desk that did the trick. Whatever the reason, my intention at sitting down was to work on my revisions for Dave Grier, my agent. Due to the circumstances, I was understandably distracted.
My Shadow Watcher was an enigma I was compelled to solve. I knew he wasn't just a figment of my imagination, as I had believed when I'd seen him those few times years before, that Morrison guy saw him too. Why the mystery? I decided to make some notes, so I opened a blank doc and started typing.
What I know:
•Seems to be wherever I am
•Appears only when I'm in trouble
•Doesn't seem to ever be without trench coat or shades
•Likes to mess with my head
•Thinks that I'm naïve
•He hasn't aged in 17 years, could even look younger
What I don’t know:
•Why is my father having him protect me?
•Protect me from what?
•How has he not aged?
•Who is he?
•How does he know when I'm in danger?
Then, I realized I could go on typing questions forever. I opened my browser and clicked in the search bar, but I had no idea what to look for. My brain spun around in my head for a while, and I found myself thinking back to when I was a little girl, when my father would read to me before bedtime. We loved fantastical adventures, both fictional and historical. His favorite tales were of the Early North American expeditions and the quest for the Fountain of Youth in particular.
We’d taken a few road trips as a family before Dad’s crash, and stopped at all of the historical landmarks along the way. Dad would tell me the stories of this battle, or that expedition, and sometimes there was a spark in his eyes that made me think he’d really been there to see it. He would speak reverently of the men, and women, involved, but in a way that gave the impression he knew them personally.
He also read me Tuck Everlasting - the tale of a family who drank from a small spring, and then went on to live forever. While it seemed like such a fantastical idea, they were frozen in time, never aging, and suffered through seeing people they loved grow old and die. They had to move from place to place so no one would catch on to the fact that they weren't aging as those around them. There was a kind of sadness to that story I could not shake.
It hit me out of nowhere: from the pictures I had seen taken of him before I was born and what I remembered of him before his death, my father never appeared to age either. Not past his mid-thirties, and he should have been fifty-four at the time of the accident. His body burned so badly in the Cessna wreckage, he was cremated. I was either crazy or on to something: my Shadow Watcher knew my father, and either they both had a fabulous genealogy, or they had discovered some secret to halt the aging process.
Going after someone because they have good genes is something I wouldn't put past some people. I didn't think it merited causing anyone physical harm though, like killing my father, or whatever Morrison and the men in the Yukon had in mind for me.
It was more logical to conclude there was something tangible that my father and my Shadow Watcher knew about, or had in their possession, which kept them young for an unknown amount of time, and someone else knew about it, too. Perhaps it was a tree, like in the story? If my Shadow Watcher is real, couldn’t the same be said of the tree? I knew I was on to something, and at the same time, I was no closer to having any answers.
By then, I was pacing around the room, and probably on my way to wearing a track in the carpet. Then I looked at Artemis, perched atop the couch, “I wonder what, if anything, Mom knows about all of this?”
Artemis cocked her head to the right, said, “Mraow,” and then yawned.
“You’re right, I should call her.” I picked up my cell phone and dialed hers.
She answered on the second ring, “Sam, I was just thinking about you. You would love the colors on these trees.” I had forgotten she was off cruising in British Columbia. Once I was grown, she started flitting off here or there across the globe at random. The C.I.A. would have a hard time keeping track of her movements.
“Isn’t it too dark to see them there now?”
“Yes, but in the daytime! Oh, and you should have seen the sunset, it was just - I can’t even describe it.”
“I’ll bet.” How on Earth do I broach this subject? I stalled, “So how has the weather been there? It’s finally cooling off here.”
“Oh, you know that’s just a false alarm. There’ll be another heat wave before the end of October. But, it’s much cooler here, and I only packed clothes for warmer weather, so I’ve had to do a bit of shopping.”
“Of course,” I teased. She always bought too many new clothes on her trips, and would have to ship a box home to make room in her luggage. “So have you met any hot single men?”
“Why?” she gasped. “Don’t tell me you dumped Bailey?”
“No, Mother, I meant for you,” I really wished that she would consider dating.
/>
She yawned, “No honey, I’m just here for the trees. What’s going on at home? Anything exciting?”
I told her about Bailey’s project, his invitations to go with him and to move in, and then took a deep breath and sighed before giving her the edited version of my encounter with Raymond Morrison.
“Samantha! I’m getting on a plane first thing in the morning-”
“No Mom, I’m really ok. Bailey’s more shaken up than I am, though I don’t know how much of that is because I said I wasn’t ready to move in with him.”
“I really think I should come home,” she persisted.
“No, I don’t want to spoil your trip; I know how much you were looking forward to it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mama, I’m sure.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing, I swear,” I paused a moment. “Well,” it was now or never, “I guess something else did happen, sort of.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Nothing bad, just, I happened to run into someone at the book store.”
“Who?”
“Someone who said he used to work for Dad. He was tall, with longish dark hair, and grayish green eyes. Oh, and he was wearing a trench coat. Does that sound familiar?”
She sighed, “Honestly, I don’t know. Your father had a lot of people working for him, try as I might, I can’t remember them all. A name might help, did he give you one?”
“No, I didn’t think to ask.” Maybe she doesn’t know anything after all. “Oh well, I didn’t remember him, I thought you might.”
“How did it come up, that he worked for Dad?”
Think fast Sam, “He asked if I was Daniel Marquet’s daughter, which caught me off guard. I said yes, and he explained that he recognized me from when I was younger. He said something about my eyes reminding him of Dad’s.”
“You do have his eyes,” she mused.
“Oh well, I just thought maybe he was someone you knew too.”
As I spoke there was a knock on my door. Actually more of a pounding, followed by a female voice mocking an authoritative tone, “I know you’re in there.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, Jayden is at the door.”
“Say hello, I should go to bed anyhow. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER 6
09/23/2006
Girl Talk
My smile stretched from ear to ear as I opened the door for Jay. “How did you know I’m here?” Jayden was the only real girlfriend I had anymore, my confidant since Jr. High. I hadn’t seen her since our annual beach trip at the beginning of summer.
“Bailey texted me, looking for you, and then texted again when he found you,” she brushed past me, kicking off her Docs before flopping down on the couch. “I called him to see what was up, and he told me what happened!”
“Yeah ... about that....”
“Why haven’t you called me?” She flipped back her black streaked auburn locks and crossed her arms indignantly. Waves of guilt inducing energy emanated from her big, doe brown eyes. It was like looking at myself sometimes, they were so like my own. We were accused of being sisters more than once.
I settled on the other end of the couch, with my back against the armrest so I was facing her, “Honestly, it’s all happened so fast. I just told my mother.” Then I thought of Bailey, “Speaking of calls,” I looked at the clock, it was eight twenty-five, “I promised I’d call You Know Who at ten, but I’ll forget with you here and be in even more trouble than I already am.”
“Don’t mind me,” she started pulling cartons out of a bag I hadn’t noticed, “I’ll get started on the orange chicken.”
Food - that’s what I’d been neglecting. “You are a mind reader, give me a minute.” I hit call on Bailey’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “Wow, you’re early for once. Changed your mind and decided you want me to come over?”
I giggled at him girlishly, “No, silly. Jay came by and I figured I should call you now, before I get caught up in girl talk.”
“You’re having a slumber party with her instead of me?” He was trying his best to sound pathetically lonely.
“Those puppy dog eyes don’t work through the phone, Bail.”
“Maybe I have monopolized too much of your time over the last few months.” His sigh was over-exaggerated. “Have fun.”
“We will.”
“If you two decide you need help entertaining yourselves, you can always call me.”
“Bailey!” I squealed.
“Kidding.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll call you tomorrow, k?
“Don’t stay up all night, you need some rest.”
“I won’t. Goodnight,” I ended the call.
Artemis came out from wherever she’d been catnapping and was suddenly brushing against my legs. “Hello you,” I reached down to rub her belly between bites of chow mien. She paused to allow me the honor.
Jayden put her hand down; brushing her fingers against her thumb to make the sound that never fails to call a cat’s attention. “Here, puss-puss.”
Artemis took two quick steps toward her and then froze; every hair from the top of her head to the tip of her tail standing at attention. My cat had known Jayden her whole life; Jay was number three on Artemis’s list of favorite people. She’d never reacted to Jay like that before. I couldn’t understand what she was freaked out about, but she hissed and darted for her cat tree-house in the far corner.
Jayden was equally shocked. “What the hell was that?”
“I have no idea.” Although my cat and I speak our own language pretty well, there are still times she is too feline for my comprehension. “I left her alone last night, she’s probably blaming you.”
Jay shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Generally, I prefer cats over dogs because of their independence.”
“Her, independent? Ha! You should hear the way she squawks at me when I come in the door. Whether I’m gone five minutes or five hours, I get a lecture from Her Highness.”
“Then she’s smarter than she looks. Someone obviously needs to lecture you.”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me I’m getting one from you now, too.”
“Well, what do you expect is going happen when you go walking down a dark alley, late at night?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “We’ve been cutting through those alleys for fifteen years.”
“Yeah, well, Novica isn’t the place it was fifteen years ago. Or haven’t you noticed? You live here, downtown. Are you that oblivious?”
“No, but it’s generally safer here, than the rest of town, with the police station right there.” While she had a valid point, I was too stubborn to listen. “Besides, there’s more to this I haven’t told anyone yet, so I’m glad you came over.” I probably would’ve called her before the night was through anyway.
“What haven’t you told anyone? You didn’t tell Tim?” She grabbed me by the shoulders, and locked her now wild eyes with mine. “Did that creep hurt you? Now you’re scaring me.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” now I’d sent her mind racing off to any number of worst possible scenarios. “I really am fine.” She still looked skeptical. “Really. Jay, would I be sitting here this calm, eating orange chicken if he had done anything?”
She looked in my eyes for a few seconds, then agreed, “I suppose not. What happened that you couldn’t tell the cops?”
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. If anyone would understand, she would. “There’s just more to the story, and it’s kind of weird, and I must swear you to secrecy on punishment of deathifyousayawordtoanyone.”
She placed her right hand on her heart, and leaned over and put her left over mine, “Idososolemnlyswear.”
I began my story over again for her up to this point, including all of my past Shadow Watcher sightings - most of which she knew about already - but I left out the
part about Dad and the Shadow Watcher not aging. As I spoke, she listened and smoked, her eyes growing wider and wider.
***
When I finished, forty minutes or so later, she sat back digesting it all, then said simply, “I can see why you haven’t told anyone.”
“Thank you.”
“So, just to clarify, you’ve completely gone off the deep end, and you want me to have you committed?”
I chucked a throw pillow at her, “Not funny.”
She put up her palms in surrender, “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist. Are you for real?”
“For cereal.”
“Like breakfast?”
I nodded, “With milk.” After a pause, I asked, “Any thoughts?”
“Yeah, it sounds like your book, only better with the hot Shadow Watcher.”
My cheeks flushed, “I never said he was hot.”
“I’m sorry, dreamy,” she fluttered her eyelashes.
“Stop it, I didn’t say that either.”
She huffed, and threw her hands up, “That’s my point! Is he or isn’t he?”
“I don’t know! I haven’t given it any thought.” It wasn’t entirely a lie - I’d thought about it subconsciously, and knew the answer was yes when she asked. I just wasn’t going to admit it.
“Which means he is? I knew it!” She clapped her hands together giddily.
I rolled my eyes at her, and took a big swallow of my wine. He had that whole dark and mysterious stranger thing going for him, and what I’d seen so far was fairly easy on my eyes. But, I mostly saw him in dim lighting, and hadn’t gone so far as to label him yet, I’m not sure hot or dreamy were the right adjectives.
“Sam, all these years, all these sightings, the van, you think it was this guy?” She did her best to convince me that I was imagining things every time I brought it up over the years. Not this time.
“Yes.” I lit a cigarette, “I’m certain of it.”
Jayden swirled her glass for a moment, staring at it as if mesmerized. She didn’t look up as she asked, “Your dad was kind of powerful, wasn’t he?”
“He was rich is what he was. You know that.” I got up and started pacing. “Everyone within fifty miles knows it, which is why Bailey had to move here from the East Coast for me to find a man who is interested in me and not my father’s money.”
“Hate to break it to you, Honey, but back to my point, money usually equals power in our society.”