A Thousand Yesteryears (33 page)

Eve understood. “You couldn’t talk about it then.”

Maggie shook her head, rifling her fingers through the grass. She found a pebble and tossed it into the creek where it landed with a plop. “It was easier to pretend I saw the Mothman.” A ring of ripples fanned outward, kissing the reeds huddled at the bank’s edge.

“But the night the bridge collapsed…” Eve swallowed hard, unable to continue. Dear God, how her friend must have suffered.

Maggie glanced at her hands. “If I’d told someone the truth, maybe I’d still be alive.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Tears burned Eve’s eyes. “I don’t understand why my Aunt Rosie didn’t go to the police when she realized what happened.”

“I think she blocked it from her head. Like someone who goes into shock after seeing something awful. I can sense her on this side, and she’s sad she kept silent. She tried to tell you about the negative.”

“The phone calls?” Eve sat straighter. “They were from her, weren’t they?”

Maggie nodded. “She tried to communicate with Mr. Layton, too, hoping he’d confess.”

“He was a wretched man, caring only for himself.” She swallowed hard. “Can you talk to Aunt Rosie? Can you tell her it will take time, but that I’ll try to forgive her?”

“That will make her happy.”

Smiling a little, Eve gripped her friend’s arm. Maggie felt frail and insubstantial, a wraith who might be whisked away in the wind. Was she truly a ghost?

“I don’t have much substance in this world,” Maggie said as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve stayed here too long. It’s why I told my mom I can’t talk to her anymore. I have to let go, and so does she. Now that the truth has come out, it’s time for me to move on. Even if others can’t.”

Eve didn’t understand. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, then shifted to face Maggie. Still seated, she clutched her friend’s thin fingers. “What others? Who are you talking about?”

For a time, Maggie said nothing, her gaze steady. Finally, she wet her lips. “They’ve lived here for a thousand yesteryears. There’s only one left now, the last of his kind.”

“The Mothman.” Despite the warmth of the sun, Eve was wracked by a sudden chill. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more.

“His species thrived when the world was new. Long before the dinosaurs roamed the Earth or land masses were formed. The world was old then.” Maggie’s voice had taken on a formal cadence, her words like the stilted speech of an antiquarian. “He and Caden are connected.” She slipped her hands from Eve’s and turned away.

“Wait!” Eve scrambled to her feet, “What do you mean connected?”

“You’ve seen the marks on his arm. A life for a life. It’s a bond between them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maggie’s form dwindled, swallowed in a waning shower of sunlight. In another moment, she was gone.

Fresh tears spilled from Eve’s eyes. A thousand yesteryears.

Caden.

The Mothman.

Sinking to her knees on the sun-warmed grass, she prayed for an answer to the riddle.

August, 1982

Point Pleasant, West Virginia

Eve took a deep breath and surveyed the freshly decorated living room. At first she’d felt guilty about removing Aunt Rosie’s things, but the furnishing, particularly the embroidered drapes, reminded her too much of the past. All that had been dark and ugly when she’d first arrived in Point Pleasant.

She’d replaced the paisley rugs with fawn-colored carpet, the heavy furnishings with sleeker contemporary pieces in shades of parsley and mint. Caden had painted the walls for her, agreeing the soft cream she’d chosen complemented the maple-stained trim, and the potted plants she’d transported from Harrisburg. Well…he’d transported them, renting a U-Haul for the trip. He’d helped her pack her belongings and made time to reintroduce himself to her mother.

Her mom still wasn’t happy with Eve’s decision to relocate, but at least she’d stopped calling the move “a heartbreaking, crazy idea.” Perhaps in time, she’d even visit. Eve would love to have her opinion on the changes she’d made to the house.

The living room was the first of several she intended to redecorate. Caden had already finished most of the repairs to the other rooms. The few remaining, he’d subcontracted to a friend. As a full-time sergeant with the sheriff’s office, he preferred to spend his free hours with Eve, not hanging drywall or refitting plumbing. She’d even convinced him to take up the guitar again. He’d been reluctant at first, but within a short while, his new six-string became a cherished friend. His friends, Glen and Wyatt, were trying to talk him in to performing with them, but so far he’d been reluctant.

Perhaps with time.

Even Mrs. Flynn was doing better, seemingly having put her connection to Maggie behind her. She was no longer obsessed with her daughter and hadn’t been surprised to learn how Maggie had died. According to Caden, Maggie had told her mother in a dream shortly before Eve arrived in town. That dream had been the catalyst to propel Mrs. Flynn into a renewed bond with Maggie’s ghost. A link that had gradually intensified, ending only when the truth about Maggie’s death was brought to light.

Exposing Roger Layton’s guilt had allowed Mrs. Flynn and Caden to start over, both free of guilt.

Smiling, Eve adjusted a small speckled plant on the windowsill for better light. This one hadn’t come from Harrisburg, but was newly purchased two days ago in Point Pleasant. She hadn’t been able to resist the yellow freckles peppered like sunlight on the dark green leaves. It would grow here, in her new home, joining the collection transported from Pennsylvania. Perhaps she’d even take a few to her office at the hotel, now that she was fully settled and business continued to grow.

She had the Mothman to thank for that. Although the creature had not been seen since the night it carted Roger’s body into the sky, curiosity-seekers continued to flock to Point Pleasant where her hotel was the establishment of choice—the only lodging within town limits. She’d framed the front page of the
Point Pleasant Herald
with Glenda Whitmore’s photo of the Mothman. Glenda and George had autographed it for her, and she proudly displayed the newspaper in the lobby. As soon as someone stepped through the front doors, they immediately knew they stood in the famed hotel where the Mothman photographer had stayed. With the boom in business, Eve told Glenda she and George were welcome back any time—free of charge.

Even Katie agreed. Her friend was quieter these days, but tended to smile whenever Ryan was near. Maybe one day soon, Caden’s brother would work up the nerve and ask her out.

If it weren’t for the troubling memory that still awakened her during the night, Eve would label life close to perfect. But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t forget the disturbing dream about Maggie, or her friend’s words concerning the Mothman.

He and Caden are connected.

She wondered if it had become a protector to the man who’d once saved it when everyone else was intent on killing it.

“Hey.” Her boyfriend suddenly appeared behind her, balancing a pizza take-out box on his palm, a six pack of Miller in his free hand. “I see there’s a new addition to the jungle.” He nodded to the speckled plant on the windowsill. “What is it?”

Engrossed in her thoughts, she’d forgotten he’d left to pick up dinner and hadn’t heard him come through the front door. “I don’t know. It had a tag on it, but I didn’t pay attention. I just liked the looks of it.” She took the Miller from him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Eve, you say all of these things are cute.” He swept his hand to encompass the collection of ferns, vines, and potted greenery ensconced in the living room. “I can’t imagine the amount of time it must take to water them.”

“It’s not that bad.” She nudged him toward the kitchen, the odors wafting from the pizza box making her mouth water as she followed behind. Hot melted cheese, marinara sauce, and… “You got sausage, didn’t you? I can smell it.”

“What’s wrong with sausage?”

“I wanted pepperoni.”

He set the box on the kitchen table, then turned to take the beer from her, popping a can from the white plastic ring. “I got half each. I call that compromise.”

“Do you?”

His satisfied grin coaxed a smile from her. As he stashed the remaining beer in the refrigerator, she rounded up plates and napkins. He poured her a glass of Pinot, and she located a bottle of hot sauce, knowing he liked the added flavor.

“I ran into Doreen Sue at the pizza parlor,” Caden said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. He flipped open the cardboard box, then drew the nearest slice topped with crumbled sausage onto his plate. “She was with Martin Ward.”

“From the Amoco station?” Eve joined him, pausing to sip her wine. “That relationship seems to be going well.” She slid a slice of pepperoni onto her plate. “Katie likes him.”

“Yeah.” Folding his pizza lengthwise, Caden bit off the end. “It’s about time Doreen Sue hooked up with a guy who isn’t an ass—jerk.” He offered a half-hearted shrug at the quick correction. “You haven’t lived here long enough to see some of the winners she’s had.”

Eve couldn’t argue. Given what Katie told her about her mom’s taste in men, Doreen Sue had a bad habit of scraping the bottom of the barrel. Finally, she’d met someone who treated her with respect. In Eve’s opinion, Doreen Sue and Katie would probably continue to suffer ups and downs in their relationship, but at least the discovery of Wendy’s remains and the truth about why she’d been killed had brought them closer. Add Martin Ward—a man Katie clearly approved of—and the road to healing spanned invitingly between them.

“I saw Doreen Sue at the bank yesterday.” Eve nipped a small piece of Mozzarella with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. Eyes averted, she focused on the pizza slice as she experimented folding the tip. “She told me she’s felt a greater sense of peace these last few months since burying Wendy. We talked for a while, and then somehow ended up chatting about the TNT. It got me thinking about the Mothman again and that igloo.” Eve raised her gaze to find Caden frowning at her across the table. “There’s still so much we don’t know.”

“And I have no problem leaving it that way.”

His answer didn’t surprise her. Maybe it was because she’d only returned to Point Pleasant two months ago that she could see what he didn’t. He’d spent his entire life in the old river town, constant exposure to the oddities of the TNT and Point Pleasant’s dust-shrouded history making him numb to the possibilities. Undaunted, she plowed ahead.

“You can’t deny you have some kind of unusual connection to the Mothman, Caden. Doreen Sue believes the thing”—she didn’t know what else to call it—”in the igloo is different. Another creature or being.” Maybe just as old. Perhaps infinite. “It told us where to find Wendy. Maybe it can tell us about the Mothman.”

She thought he’d grow angry that she continued to press. Instead, he shook his head and slumped in his chair. “Did it ever occur to you I don’t
want
to know?”

“But…” The word faltered on her tongue.

“It’s been fifteen years, Eve. Fifteen years since I first connected with that creature and felt it inside of my head. I can’t explain to you what that was like. The emotion and despondency from it. It saved me twice, and for that I’m grateful, but if I never see it again, I’ll be elated.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. She should have recognized his feelings. He accepted the Mothman and the strange bond sealed between them. He even carried proof of that connection branded on his arm, but he had no desire to continue the link.

“Caden, I’m sorry.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “I thought—”

“I know what you thought.” His fingers curled around hers. He smiled. “That’s why I care about you the way I do.”

Suddenly, the potential of shadowy creatures lurking in alternative realms was no longer important. At least not at the moment. Later, when she was alone, she’d go back to pondering Caden’s strange connection to the Mothman. Whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, his life was bound up with the archaic mysteries of the TNT and Point Pleasant’s resident creature. He couldn’t escape that.

Not now. Not in a thousand yesteryears.

Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back. Her father, an
artist who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars.

Mae loves creating character-driven fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with mystery, suspense, and romance. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives in Pennsylvania and is passionate about cryptozoology, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail, and cats.

Sign up for Mae’s newsletter to learn about her new releases, book specials, and author promotions as they happen!
http://maeclair.net/newsletter-sign-up/

If you enjoyed A Thousand Yesteryears, you will love Myth and Magic by Mae Clair.

Available now!

Myth and Magic