Dream Dancer (Ghosts Beyond the Grove Book 2) (12 page)

19.  The Art of Drowning

     I had to be completely crazy to think that this was going to work.  But I was going to do it anyway.  The word I found on the flipside of my fortune fit so perfectly in sync with the actual fortune that it had to be another sign meant specifically for me.  The Chinese word translation I found was the word “drowning”.  Losing Zach wasn’t my greatest fear, my fear of drowning was.  For some odd reason, I needed to learn how to swim. 

     This was
not
going to be easy.  Nor was it a decision that I felt like making in the heat of the moment.  I mean, if I didn’t absolutely
have
to do it to save Zach, I definitely
wasn’t
going to do it.  I needed a little time to think this through.  I needed time to convince myself that I was way off track in thinking this had anything to do with my current predicament.  But every time I tried to change my own mind, it kept drifting back to that fish tank at the restaurant. 

     Paradox.  That was the word I used to describe it.  And so now I found myself faced with my own paradox.  The one thing I feared the most could be the only thing that would bring back the person I loved the most.  This had better not be a cruel test to see just how much I really loved him yet providing me with no results in return.  How could something I found so terrifying hold the key to what I wanted in the future?  Paradox.  I was beginning to hate that word almost as bad as that other “P” word—patience. 

     As always, I looked to my dreams for guidance that night but came up empty handed.  The only things I could pull from my subconscious memory upon awakening were a few fuzzy scenes of Zach and me in the movie theater.  That dream was a paradox too.  He always seemed so happy yet I couldn’t understand why.

     Once the lunchtime crowd had filtered out through the doors, I mentioned my greatest fears theory to Addie.  She encouraged me to take swimming lessons even if only because they may save my life someday.  She also tried to convince me to do one other thing—something I felt was in my inevitable future from the start. 

     “You need to get yourself a tarot card readin’, Ruby.  Tea leaves can only tell you so much and I’m still wet behind the ears as far as that goes.  But don’t go callin’ some half-baked psychic hotline.  You need one from the best.  You need one from Granny.”

     I’d always wanted to visit New Orleans, however, now didn’t seem like the most responsible time for me to be doing it.  I’d already spent so much money on my impulse flight to Tucson.  Not to mention that I’d already demanded one short notice leave from work.  Plus, there was still the matter of Zach.  While I couldn’t physically do anything to help him, I didn’t want a repeat of my last day in Arizona.  If something bad happened, I didn’t want to be any further away from him than I already was.

     “Yeah, someday,” I said absentmindedly while already contemplating the sheer terror of willingly immersing myself in water.  It was a crazy plan and I had to be even crazier to have concocted it.  “Where would I have to go to get swimming lessons anyway?”

     “If I were you, I’d try Pendleton.  They have a first-class swim team and I know they have tadpole classes there during the summer at least.  They might be able to hook you up with something.”

     “Tadpole?  I’ve heard of people swimming with dolphins before but never frog larvae.  That sounds undeniably gross!”

     Addie’s latte almost came snorting out of her nose as she laughed uncontrollably at me, presumably. 

     “You take things so literally sometimes!  Tadpole is what they call young swimmers—you know, little kids learnin’ how to swim for the first time.”

     Given the correct definition, I still found it equally unappealing.  There was no way I was getting into a pool full of toddlers.  No.  Damn.  Way.  Children wet their pants—what would stop them from doing it in the swimming pool near me?  And besides, I was probably going to be the biggest coward there when it came to dunking my head under water.  I wouldn’t be able to tolerate a five year old laughing at me and calling me a baby. 

     “I’m seriously starting to rethink this plan.  I don’t like kids—at all.  Why would I want to learn how to swim with a legion of their beady little eyes upon me?”

     “A legion of beady little eyes?  Are you kiddin’ me?  Kids aren’t that bad once you’re used to ‘em.  You could ask if they have an adult class, I suppose, or private lessons.  Don’t stir it around in your head so much or you’ll talk yourself out of doin’ it altogether.  Call the athletic department first and find out what they offer before you freak out over it.”

     It was a little too late for “before I freaked out” but I considered her suggestion to be good advice.  So I called Pendleton first thing in the morning—but only after a deep, cleansing “relax and try not to think about what you’re setting yourself up for” breath.  Of course the one time I was expecting—interpret that to mean
hoping
—to hear that I would be on a long waiting list for lessons, I got the exact opposite.

     “Yes, we do offer private lessons for a small fee that goes to support our swim team.  The first time slot I have open is on February 24
th
at 8 am.  Shall I put you down for that one?”

     February 24
th
?  That was way too soon.  I still needed time to find the perfect swimsuit—a four month-long venture at best considering I would have to do all of my shopping online.  Plus, that didn’t give me enough time to talk myself out of this nonsensical venture.  So while my brain was logically trying to stall my way out of this, my mouth went all rogue on me and answered yes before I had a chance to stop it.  So I spent the next few minutes in a state of sheer shock, listening to what I needed to do to finalize my plans.  I’d done some crazy things in my life but this one had to be the dumbest one of them all.

     Yet somewhere deep inside, I knew that I was heading in the right direction.  Puzzle pieces only made sense once the puzzle was solved—I kept reminding myself of that.  And boy did it pay off in the end.

     Once I’d reassured myself that I wasn’t going to die at the hands of one of the Pendleton swim coaches, I immediately went online in search of a swimsuit.  Which turned out to be more traumatic than scheduling the lessons themselves.  I’d never had use for one before and I had no idea what kind I was looking for.  Bikinis, bandeaus, maillots—I was thoroughly confused in under five minutes.

     Frustrated, I searched for an online guide to finding the right suit for your body shape.  According to my measurements, there were several types that would look good on me so I went with the most sensible design there.  No, normally nothing about me was sensible but this time around, I wanted to take the safe route.  I had no idea what affect full body water immersion was going to have on certain aspects of my anatomy.  This experience was going to be awkward enough—I didn’t need misplaced body parts bobbing around exposed in the water to make it that much worse.

     After hours of adding one or two to the shopping cart on at least a dozen websites, I began the process of narrowing my choices down to just one.  I was about to start the checkout process on a plain black one when I noticed the perfect one staring me literally in the face.  In the “items suggested for you” box, I found one with a peacock feather design.  It was flashy to say the least and far from what I was originally going for but it reminded me of things I found out in Arizona so I was drawn immediately to it.  If I was going to drown, I was going to make it look like a work of art.

     The green and teal feathers on an indigo background made me think of Roxanne’s description of my mother’s dance costume coupled with how Salma described our auras.  Maybe I was following the signs too literally here, but I couldn’t resist.  I clicked on the correct size and purchased it without a second thought.  Then I experienced an odd sense of inner peace—not an unusual feeling considering how much I loved shopping.  But it was more intense.  Like somehow, this swimsuit alone would solve all of my problems.  Yeah, that’s pretty much when I realized I was completely bonkers but I went with it anyway.  Crazy was starting to “suit” me quite well.

     The weeks leading up to my first lesson were quite uneventful.  No more zombies in the dumpster, no more errant feathers.  Even Thanksgiving was lame—compared to last year anyway.  Don’t get me wrong, the food was delicious.  But something was missing.  It wasn’t the turkey, the stuffing, or the gravy—it was Zach.  Zach was what was missing—what
I
was missing.  The same held true for Christmas and New Year’s and especially Valentine’s Day.  It felt unfair for me to enjoy anything while he was miserably off-grid.  Even the fact that my new swimsuit fit perfectly did little to raise my spirits.

     Come February 24
th
, though, everything changed.  Or at least it started to.  An eerie sense of déjà vu took hold of me the minute I walked up to that pool and it washed away all of my doubt.  Something big was about to happen.  Something bigger than I’d ever anticipated.  Call it fate, destiny, coincidence or whatever you want to call it—but I later chose to refer to it as serendipity because I found exactly what I was looking for when I least expected to find it.

     Serendipity became my new favorite word.  And it remained at the top of my vocabulary list until the day I died.  Serendipity led me precisely to where I needed to be.

20.  Boiling Point

     Over the course of several months, Rachel and I plotted my escape.  If she knew what I planned to do once I was out, she never would have helped me.  Never in a million years.   But I’d perfected my lying skills to the master level while inside this hellhole.  I was willing to do or say anything to get out of here so I could complete my plan.  Give me liberty or give us both death.  That was patriotic of me wasn’t it?  At least
I
thought it was.

     Our plan was fairly simple—that’s what made it truly genius.  I’d pretended to be immobile for so long that no one believed I would ever move again.  They thought I was locked inside my head for good.  The only thing that
was
locked inside of me was
her
.  So gradually over time, they allowed Rachel to take me outside in my wheelchair for some fresh air.  At first, they insisted on walking with us but gradually they let Rachel take me out on her own.  Every day she would take me back to my room at exactly the appointed time.  Every day except for the day that we didn’t go back at all. 

     I made it clear to Rachel that I wanted to see
her
as soon as possible on the day of my escape.  Rachel held true to her word on everything else but when we got to the rendezvous point and I saw who arrived, I realized that there wasn’t a single person in this world whom I could trust.  I’d hit my boiling point—it was time to make
her
pay.

21.  Sync and Swim

     I was supposed to meet my swim instructor at 8 but was told upon arrival that she was running a few minutes late.  Most days, I would have taken that as a sign that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be and would have gladly forfeited my payment and run out the door.  But not today.  There was more than the overpowering scent of chlorine in the air—there was serendipity.

     Without fear, I sat down by the edge of the pool, and dangled my feet in the water.  This in itself was a huge accomplishment for me.  There was something about this place that made me feel comfortable—like I was in good hands.  I was about to find out why.

     When my instructor finally arrived, she seemed nervous and barely made eye contact while introducing herself to me.

     “My name is Gabby O’Brien.  You
have
to be Ruby.”

     There was something in the way that she accentuated the word “have” that made me feel like she knew me.  But that was preposterous.  I knew very few people in Liberty and her face wasn’t familiar from work in any way.  The fact that I no longer kept a red streak in my hair made my identity less obvious to people, too.  How could she know who I was without a doubt?  Her lack of eye contact made me further suspicious.  The air was electrified with streaks of pure serendipity.

     While I thought I would be fraught with anxiety throughout the entire lesson, I was only actually nervous for a brief moment when I stepped inside the pool.  The water pressure against my chest took my breath away but Gabby steadied me until I relaxed.  It was all downhill from there.  I quickly discovered how much I loved the water and how free it made me feel.

     The minutes ticked by so fast that I was disappointed when she told me our time was up.  I wasn’t ready to go yet.  I felt a strong sense of not being finished yet.  But I’d conquered my greatest fear.  What unfinished business could be left?

     As soon as I got out of the pool, I took my hair out of the ponytail I hated so badly.  That’s when Gabby dropped the serendipity bomb on me.

     “You look so much like your mother.”

     She gasped immediately as though the words had slipped out of her mouth without her permission—like she wished she could rewind the clock to five seconds earlier.  But it was way too late for that. 

     “I shouldn’t have said that, but I did,” she whispered.  “Can you keep a secret?”

     OMG.  I was so bad with secrets.  Bad.  So, so very bad.  But I
had
to know what she knew.

     “Yes!” I spat out, my mind swirling with the anticipation of what was about to happen.

     “Okay,” she whispered, “but not here.  Go get changed—I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.  I drive a silver Dodge Charger.  When I pull out, follow me.”

     This was one of those moments where I knew that if my parents had any clue what I was doing, they would have grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and tried to shake some sense into me.  But it wouldn’t have done any good.  It was a crazy cloak and dagger kind of moment.  One I couldn’t resist.

     Five minutes later, I walked outside with my heart pounding in my chest.  My hands shook as I inserted the key into the ignition.  Where was this new adventure going to take me?

     I followed Gabby down a few back streets and into the outskirts of town—excited yet scared at the same time.  But when serendipity struck, it hit hard.  At exactly the same moment that Gabby pulled into a driveway and turned off her car, my phone sent up synchronized alerts—one new text, one new email.  I took thirty seconds to read them both and couldn’t believe my sudden good fortune. 

     The best, however, was yet to come.  Gabby led me inside her house and offered me a seat on the couch. 

     “I almost cancelled the lesson when I saw your name on the schedule.  But I convinced myself that you couldn’t be
the
Ruby Matthews.  Once I saw you though, I knew for sure that you were Cam’s daughter.  That swimsuit reminded me so much of her too that it was surreal.  It was like I’d stepped into a time machine back to the days I’d tried so hard to forget.  I wasn’t going to say anything to you but I couldn’t help myself.  There’s something I need to give you.  Something I wanted to give you a long time ago but I was afraid to do it.  I was afraid you would try to find me.”

     I waited impatiently in the living room, reading and rereading my new messages in awe while Gabby searched for an unidentified item in a locked desk in the hallway.  Fate was no longer kicking me down the stairs headfirst—it was sending me straight to the penthouse in a posh glass elevator. 

     In the timeframe of under five minutes, I received valuable information from Roxanne and wonderful news from Rachel.  I was on top of the world.  Things couldn’t possibly get any better. But when Gabby returned with an envelope postmarked nearly fourteen years prior, I realized that I wasn’t even close to the peak. 

     There wasn’t a name listed in the return address, but I recognized that street name immediately.  801 Martin Drive, Trinity, PA was the home I grew up in.  That letter was presumably sent from my mother shortly before she died.  But that wasn’t the most remarkable part.

     That letter wasn’t sent to Liberty, Ohio nor to Gabby O’Brien.  It was sent to 5215 Turtle Creek Road, Robicheaux, Louisiana.  And it was addressed to none other than Josette Delacroix. 

     I listened to Gabby’s story while in a state of serendipity-induced shock.  While all of the signs were practically begging me to go forth, I willingly chose to be still until she was finished.  When I left her house, I took one thing with me and left one thing behind.  The letter was tucked safely inside my purse but I had to leave her my solemn oath to never contact her again.

     I made a bee line straight back to my apartment and called Addie—I needed two things from her.  First, I needed a few days off work just in case.  Second, I needed her cat-sitting services for the same amount of time.  I didn’t stick around town long enough to give her the key in person; I slipped it under the doormat instead.  I had no time to waste.  I had to get back to Charlotte’s Grove ASAP.

     There wasn’t any time for me to pack a bag, either.  I grabbed the only two things from the apartment that were a necessity right now.  My mind was racing.  I finally sent Rachel a one word text.

     “Okay.”

     Then I hit the interstate as hard as I could.  There was no mistaking it—now was definitely the right time for me to go forth. 

22.  Ignition Switch

     That morning started out like any other—I sat motionless in my bed pretending to be so far away from reality that I would never find my way back again.  But my mind was restless and wandering forward to what I was going to say to her, what I was going to
do
to her.  And what I was going to do if she didn’t accept my ultimatum.  I was tired of burning in hell without her.  She was either going to put out the fire or burn by my side.

     I told Rachel to have her waiting for me at the top of the hill by our house.  It was our favorite place to hang out that first summer we dated.  We called it the Hideout and we made so many memories there—talking, kissing, staring out at the stars.  Tonight we were going to make one of two new memories there.  Either she was going to give in and finally let me have her or….

     The top of the hill was a grassy lookout point with a perfect view of the town—especially at night when the lights twinkled like a tiny galaxy.  But a few steps down from the summit, that’s where things got tricky.  I never let her know how steep it really was because she was afraid of heights.  Hell, even I got queasy looking down at what was below us.  But I wasn’t going to be nauseous today.  No, in fact, I was looking forward to it.

     Sure, I was going to be the sweet guy I usually am—at first.  Even if she said no, I was going to keep myself under control.  I was going to casually take her hand in mine and ask her to go for a walk with me.  I was going to lead her out of that field and to the edge to look at the stars with me.  Then I was going to put my arms around her tight, kiss her on the forehead, and then hurl us both onto the jagged rocks below.

     That’s how I was going to prove my love for her—if that’s what it took.  I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face as we plummeted into that old mining pit.  She was going to be so pleased with me.

     But when I got there and saw that it wasn’t her, I panicked.  Sure, it
looked
like her—but I wasn’t going to be fooled by that imposter again.  Wave after wave of anxiety rippled through me like burning lava.  As she came toward me with open arms, I closed my eyes and slammed the car door shut.  I ignored the screams as I slid the key into the ignition and slowly pressed my foot against the gas pedal.

     I can’t recall what happened after that.  Something flicked the switch in my brain to the off position and everything faded to black.