Saturday's Child (11 page)

“I was just thinking about marriage and belonging to one man for the whole of my life. Then I realized that I belong to God for eternity and instead of a wedding ring, He uses superglue.”

Aaron’s smile lit his eyes. “I like the sound of that, even though I’d never thought of belonging to Him like a marriage. I’d always thought myself a Christian purely because I live in a Christian country.”

“That’s rubbish.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can be born and live in a garage, but it doesn’t make you a car. Living in England doesn’t make you a Christian, any more than me going to an all-boys school would make me a bloke.
Neu gallwch ydych yn byw yng Nghymru ond nid yw hynny’n golygu y gallwch siarad neu ddeall gair o’r hyn i ddim yn dweud.
”

He looked at her blankly. “I’m sorry?”

“Or you can live in Wales, but that doesn’t mean you can speak or understand a word of what I’m saying,” she translated.

“Point taken.”

“Though it does mean I can insult people and they have no idea what I said.”

He chuckled. “That must be useful at times.”

“Not at home.”

“True.” He winked at her. “Go on, then. Insult me.”

“I can’t do that. Rule nineteen point seven is never insult your host under his own roof.”

“I insist. Actually, I dare you to insult me.”

She stuck her hands on her hips. “Fine.” She thought for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. “
Am ddyn Saesneg, rydych yn ‘n bert da yn chwilio
.”

“Thanks. I think…or probably not. See, I knew daring you would work. Always does with Leah, too.”

She laughed at the comical expression on his face. “And, no, I’m not going to tell you what I said.”

“Why not?”

“Some things are best not translated into English. Like the Welsh national anthem.”

“I see.”

“Of course, Ivor has a comeback for insults. He just looks you right in the eye, sticks his one hand on his hip, waves the other one like this, and says ‘Do you insinuate, that I should tolerate such horrendous insubordination, from such a mere microscopic specimen of anatomy such as yourself, whose comprehension cannot even comprehend my meaning? Therefore, consider yourself, well and truly squashed.”

“That’s a good one. I shall have to remember that, the next time Isaac winds me up. So, do I consider myself insulted or not?”

“I would.” Tanis’s cold voice resonated in the doorway. It felt like someone had opened a freezer door, letting an arctic wind.

Aaron’s laugh died and the smile froze on his face. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously not.” She came into the room, the darkness and chill following her, pervading every corner.

Meggie shivered as her entire body turned to ice.

9

Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. Psalm 22:9

Tanis crossed the room to the stereo. “What is that dreadful racket?” She flicked off the CD of hymns. “We can barely hear ourselves think.”

Meggie shivered. If anything, the room seemed to grow dimmer.

“How you can chant and play bridge at the same time is beyond me, anyway. We needed the music to drown out your chanting.” Aaron pushed to his feet. “I’m turning in. I have an early start in the morning.”

Meggie stood. She didn’t want to be left alone with Tanis. “I might go to bed, as well.”

Tanis nodded. “I made up the red room for you. I’ll show you—”

“I can do it. Good night, Tanis.” Aaron cut her off, a sharp tone in his voice Meggie hadn’t heard before. He took hold of her hand in an almost possessive way. Not that she minded.

“Good night,” she echoed. She walked with Aaron to the door, aware of Tanis’s cold gaze on her back. They reached the stairs. “What time do you get up?”

“Four thirty to milk the cows.” He smiled wryly. “You get used to it, and the eighteen hour days. In the summer, it’s even longer, especially over the harvest. But then you’re a farmer’s daughter. You should know all this.”

She nodded. “Except being the only girl, I got to lie in until six most mornings.”

“That is so unfair.”

She giggled. “That’s what the others said. My first job of the day was collecting the eggs.” She winked. “Although six o’clock usually became seven thirty most days during the holidays.”

“Leah was the same. We made allowances for her.”

“They didn’t make it easy for me. Just with seven of them and only one of me, most of the hard work was done by
big strong men and not little girlies
.”

Aaron snorted.

“Their turn of phrase, not mine. They are all much taller than me. And tease me something terrible.”

“It’s what brothers do best.”

“Hmmm, I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, my favourite meal was high tea.”

“Mine too. We used to have it every day when my grandparents were alive. Mum did it until she died, but Tanis said it was far too much work. It was sandwiches for lunch and a cooked meal in the evening.”

“And always a roast on a Sunday.”

“Not since Mum died.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Really? That’s a shame. Maybe I should do a roast on Saturday instead of hotpot. What’s your favourite?”

“Lamb.”

“Mine too. Then lamb it is.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it already. This is the red room.” He opened the door and flicked on the light.

The room had a heavy, oppressive feel to it, and it was certainly living up to its name. The walls, ceiling, carpet and even bedding were red. “I can see why it’s called that.”

“A bit OTT if you ask me. It used to be floral and bright. Now it’s just—red.” He forced a smile. “Let’s just say it’s not to my taste and leave it at that. If you need anything, I’m right down the hall, in the last room on the right.”

“Thank you.” She crossed the room and pulled the heavy red curtains. Mold grew up the corner next to the window. “You’ve got damp.”

“It’s not damp. We’ve had the damp course redone in the last year. I just can’t get rid of that patch of mold no matter what I do.”

“Have you tried bleach or washing up liquid?”

“Yeah. And the heavy duty stuff, too. I clean it off and by morning, it’s right back again. The same as it was before. Same size, same depth, same everything. I’ve never come across anything like it.”

“Strange.”

“That’s one word for it. Mum used to have this beautiful antique dressing table there. It had been in the family for years. The mold destroyed it. I don’t have any furniture along that part of the wall now. Can I get you anything before I turn in?”

“No, thank you. Good night.”

“Good night.” Aaron left, closing the door behind him.

Meggie picked up her bag and put it on the bed. She’d always thought her mother’s insistence of keeping a bag with pj’s, toothbrush and change of clothes in their car was stupid. But today it wasn’t so idiotic after all.

She turned to survey the room and rubbed her arms. For so warm a color as red, the room was freezing. Every time she exhaled, her breath hung in the air like on a frosty morning.

Her gaze fell on paintings on the wall above the mold, and she walked over to them. Scenes from hell hung in gilt frames. Devils and demons with pitchforks and blazing brands tormented small helpless people. Fire and smoke glowed and twisted, seeming to move in the confines of the picture.

She could almost hear the crackling, feel the heat of the flames and taste the thick, choking smoke.

Shivering hard, she turned, catching a glimpse of a picture tucked behind the huge four foot tall chest of drawers. She knelt and tried to pull it free. The frame was well and truly wedged. She moved the tallboy a little, picked up the picture and tucked the chest snugly back against the wall.

Meggie turned over the frame and studied the picture. “What were you doing down there?”

Not that she expected the picture to answer. The same image of Jesus that her grandmother had on her bedroom wall, stared up at her. He held a lantern, knocking on a darkened door, overgrown with weeds. The words ‘
The Light of the world’
scrolled across the bottom. Pulling a tissue from her sleeve, she dusted off the picture and hung it on the nail on the wall. “That’s better.”

She straightened it and turned back to the bed. There was a thud behind her. She turned and found the picture face down on the tallboy. She frowned. Strange. There wasn’t a breeze. Maybe she just hadn’t hung it properly. Her hands numb with cold, she picked up the picture again and rehung it, making sure it was secure on the nail. She had barely taken two steps before there was another thud.

Once more the picture lay face down.

“OK, this is getting silly.” Again she rested the picture on top of the tallboy, leaning it against the wall. This time she backed away, keeping an eye on it. Nothing happened. Shaking her head, she turned and reached the bed.

Something flew past her, the cold air hitting her in a puff as it whizzed by.
What in the world?
It landed on the other side of the room. The picture. Cold deepened around her and she shivered. “Fine, don’t stay on the wall then,” she said, swallowing her unease and deliberately ignoring the strangeness of the event. The nail must be at an odd angle or something. She bent and picked up the picture, setting it face up on the nightstand by the bed.

Meggie changed quickly in the frigid air and climbed into bed. She glanced at the picture resting on the nightstand, and then shook her head. She opened her Bible and tried to find her place, but her mind was dull and her eyelids heavy all of a sudden. They slid shut. Forcing them open, she found her Bible closed on her lap.

She opened it again, starting to read Psalm twenty-three. The Bible closed and her eyes slid shut. Holding tightly to it, she began to recite the psalm aloud. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

Sleep rushed upon her like a tsunami, catching her in its cold embrace and whisking her away.

She was running, gasping for air. Something was chasing her.

Red eyes glowed.

Claws reached for her.

Long nails scratched at her.

She screamed, but only silence met her ears. Twisting her hair and tugging strands free she lunged for a door which suddenly stood in front of her, and she pounded on it with both fists, screaming for someone to let her in.

But no sound came from her mouth. She thumped the door harder; beating the wood so fiercely that blood ran down her arms from her torn knuckles.

The door opened and she fell inside, landing on her hands and knees. A hand pulled her up, long red talons digging into her skin, shredding it.

She screamed in pain, a soundless, wordless cry. Fiery fear sizzled through her entire being.

A tall female figure, dressed in black, with long black hair and red eyes, smirked at her, and tossed her to the floor. A taller, male presence hovered over her, pressing her down, its foul breath hissing in her ear.

Meggie jerked awake, a scream on her lips. It was still there, in the room. Thick, choking darkness, an overwhelming stench of sulfur enveloped her. The bed gave, and something crawled up beside her.

She tried to move, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but something took hold of her. Her voice died in her throat, as hot breath hissed in her ear and against her neck. Whatever it was, lay heavily on top of her, paralyzing her.

Was she dreaming?

She forced her eyes open.

No, she was awake.

Claws dug into her arms, ripping at her sleeves. Her arms burned as goose bumps rose on her skin, and bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move as it pressed down upon her. She had to get away, but it held her firmly, pushing her into the mattress.

She tried to scream, but her voice wouldn’t work.

God, help me
.
Please, Lord Jesus, make it go away. Protect me, please…

Suddenly the presence shifted, loosening its grip on her. She could move a little.

“‘
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,’
” she whispered.
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me
.’ And Ephesians six verse sixteen says ‘
In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one
.’ Lord, if this is him, rebuke him. Satan, I rebuke you in Jesus’ name. Go away. Get thee behind me, satan. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Jesus is Lord over everything. And that includes you and your demons. The battle is over, the war has been won. You lost and Jesus won. I am God’s own child and you can’t have me.”

The presence disappeared. Released from its weight, Meggie scrambled from the bed, and fled the room. She ran down the hallway and pounded on Aaron’s door. “Aaron…”

10

From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God. Psalm 22:10

Aaron jerked awake. What was that noise? He’d been dreaming about building something and the banging…the banging continued.

“Aaron, please, wake up.”

He leapt from the bed and flung open the door to find raised hands hitting him instead. He took in the distraught figure in front of him. Tears streaked her face and she shook from head to toe. Huge gasps echoed in the otherwise silent hallway. “Meggie?”

He wrapped his arms around her. What had scared her? “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He drew her into his room, flicking on the light.

His hand moved over Meggie’s back, and he kept his voice gentle as he repeated the same things over and over in an attempt to calm her. “You’re OK. I’m here. I’ve got you. Was it a nightmare?”

She shook her head. “No…” She jumped as something crashed further down the hall.

“It’s just a door banging. There must be a window open somewhere. Would you like something to drink?” He figured doing something normal might help.

“Kay…”

“Come on then.” Keeping an arm around her, he walked with her down the stairs to the kitchen.