The Amber Stone (10 page)

Unfortunately, getting to her aunt’s house was easier said than done. Since it was a long drive through one lane back roads, twice she had been caught behind a slow-moving tractor and was forced to go twenty-five miles an hour. When she finally turned onto her aunt’s property and drove up the dirt drive to the house, her fears heightened. Her aunt’s house was worse than she expected. The house looked out at her like a tired old woman waiting to meet her maker. The garden, if it could be called such, was choking to death under vicious weeds, paint peeled off the sides like a skin disease, and the front porch had a broken swing and crooked steps. Teresa gasped at the site of the outhouse, but breathed a sigh of relief when she noted that it was boarded up.

She parked her car and grabbed her bag from the trunk, then made her way to the front door, moving around an old tire and bathroom sink that lay in the front like lawn ornaments. She took a deep breath and lifted the knocker, but it fell off right into her hands. She used her knuckles instead.

Margaret’s husband, Darren, answered the door, with a cigar sticking out of his mouth and worry etched on his face. He was a long, slim man who had been handsome in his younger days, his hair was silver grey and his skin the color of a rubber band. “She’s over there. We weren’t sure you’d show up.” He opened the door wider , allowing her access inside.

The interior was no better than the outside. The living room doubled as a dining room, and the kitchen looked like it was better suited for an efficiency apartment. The floor was dirty and the air musty. An old upright piano, covered with a tablecloth and overflowing with a hodgepodge of old reference manuals, stood near the wall. They led her to Louisa’s bedroom. It was a cramped space about the size of a walk-in closet.

Teresa’s eyes finally rested on a figure lying on the bed. Even ill she was beautiful, with liquid brown eyes and elegant features although her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders like a limp mop. She had a thick yellow blanket pulled up to her chest, making her look as helpless as a toddler. She lay on the bed with a bucket near her head.

Teresa’s apprehensions grew.

“I don’t think it’s food poisoning because no one else has gotten sick,” Aunt Margaret said.

Teresa sat beside Louisa and looked her over. Her brown skin was pale and she was clearly in pain. Cramping and nausea did sound like food poisoning, but she had to make sure. She wanted to keep Louisa’s privacy, clearly feeling her aunt and uncle’s gaze on the back of her neck so she slipped her hands under the sheet and felt with her hands. The moment she felt Louisa’s abdomen, she knew. She lifted her gaze to meet her cousin’s and saw fear in her eyes.

“Um…Aunt Margaret could I talk to Louisa alone? It’s very important so that I can concentrate.”

“But—”

“Please.”

She waited until they were out of the room then lowered her voice because she knew the walls were thin. “What did you take?” she demanded.

“It’s nothing.”

“Louisa, I need you to be honest with me, if you want me to help you.”

“What do you think? Something to take care of the problem.” She gripped her hands into fists as another cramp seized her.

“This isn’t the way to do it.”

“She said it would be quick and fast.”

“Who?”

Louisa’s eyes flashed with anger. “Does it matter now?”

Teresa tenderly touched Louisa’s abdomen again. “You’re too far gone to try something like this.”

“Shit, you think I don’t know that?”

“What did you take?”

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help,” she said, then turned a sickly shade and bent over the bucket. When she was through, she moaned.

Teresa looked around the room. “Where is it?”

“Just let me die. Why do you always have to show up?”

“Fine then I’ll tell—”

She grabbed her arm. “I hate you.”

“Where is it?”

“In my drawer,” she said in a weary voice.

Teresa retrieved the plastic bag and looked at the selection of herbs. She recognized them. There would be no label to see who put them together. She softly swore. The concoction would give Louisa the symptoms she had, but nothing more and it could damage them both. Fortunately, she knew how to remedy it. She went to the kitchen and made a mixture—keeping her aunt and uncle’s questions at bay—then forced Louisa to drink it.

“I doubt I’ll be able to keep it down,” Louisa said.

“You will.”

And she did. The cramping and nausea eased almost immediately. Once Teresa felt the crisis had been averted she said, “You have to tell them.”

“I can’t. You do it.”

“But—”

“If you hadn’t interfered I wouldn’t have to,” Louisa said in an ugly whisper. “Why are you so determined to save a life that isn’t worth saving?”

“I’m not the only one who cares. Sean saved you too,” she said, although saying his name still hurt. She stopped herself from asking if he was the father. She didn’t want to know.

Louisa turned away.

“You can’t keep this a secret forever. Your parents will be angry and shocked, but they love you and—”

She turned to Teresa. “What do you know about love?”

“I know a lot and—”

“My parents aren’t like yours.”

“My parents are dead,” Teresa said in a soft voice.

“Yes, exactly. Lucky you.”

Teresa gritted her teeth, remembering why their families had never been close. But she knew frightened animals tended to bite the very people who tried to help them. “Louisa, just—”

“Either you tell them or get out. I don’t need your self-righteous preaching.”

Teresa opened her bag and pulled out a small bottle of oil. “Close your eyes for a minute.”

“What?”

“Do you want to be bent over a bucket again? You’re not completely healed yet.”

She widened her eyes. “I’m not?”

“No,” Teresa lied. “Now close your eyes.”

Louisa dutifully did. Teresa put some oil on her hands then lathered it on Louisa’s arms.

“Hmmm...that feels good.”

“That’s the point,” Teresa said, but knew it wasn’t. She wanted to sense what was really going on. Why had her cousin wanted to kill herself and why had she gone to such dangerous lengths to end her pregnancy? She took a deep breath and opened up her senses; not every person was easy to read, but she didn’t have time.

Fortunately, Louisa responded to her touch and soon Teresa felt Louisa’s deep longing and hunger for love. Then she felt her rage and despair and she saw a little girl being led to a man’s bedroom.

She snatched her hands away not wanting to see anymore, but she knew Louisa’s childhood hadn’t been as happy and carefree as hers. She didn’t know what love was. She didn’t know true happiness and the thought brought tears to Teresa’s eyes that a young woman so beautiful could have been discarded. She remembered one of the brief visits they’d had with them years ago when she was about six and Louisa was just a pretty eighteen month old who giggled at the sight of bubbles and clapped at the sights and sounds of firecrackers that would have other babies in tears.

Teresa looked down at the woman that child had become and her heart filled with pity. Perhaps if she were offered some compassion she wouldn’t hate the world the way she did.

“Okay, I’ll tell your parents,” Teresa said.

But when Teresa called her aunt and uncle into the bedroom and told them Louisa’s secret, their reactions were nothing she’d ever seen before. Uncle Darren looked at Louisa, then laughed, though Teresa could not see the humor.

Aunt Margaret folded her arms, her face unreadable. “Are you feeling better now?”

Louisa nodded.

“Then stand up.”

“Mom, please.”

“Get your body up.”

Louisa pushed away the covers and stood.

Aunt Margaret looked her up and down then punched her in the stomach. Louisa doubled over in pain. Teresa gasped in shock at her aunt—whose ageless beauty belied her violent streak—and put a protective arm around Louisa then pinned her aunt with a hard look. “What is wrong with you?”

Aunt Margaret kept her gaze on her daughter. “Hopefully you’ll start bleeding by this evening.”

“Aunt Margaret!”

“What?” she said, looking at Teresa with cold, dark eyes. “Did you expect mi fi cheer?” she said dropping her proper dialect. “As hard as we work, this is the kind of foolishness she gets up to?”

“Unexpected things happen and—”

“Where’s the
fadda
then?” she said dipping into the dialect of her youth. “Bet you can’t even name him. You’re—”

“That’s enough,” Teresa said trying her best to be respectful although she found her aunt’s behavior appalling.

Aunt Margaret fixed her with a gaze now shining with tears. “What do you know about enough? Just like your fadda you think you’re betta than everyone. That you know everything, but life hasn’t even touched you yet.” She pounded her chest with her fist. “All my children—every last one—has squeezed the life out of my heart. All so pretty and useless. I wish every last one was as dark, fat and plain as you.”

“Margaret,” Darren said in warning.

She looked past Teresa and glared at Louisa. “And what about your job, you expect to live off of us now?”

“She can work for me,” Teresa said. “I bought a shop. And if I could stay for a couple weeks while I get things renovated I could pay you rent and that could help,” Teresa added thinking up a quick lie that would convince her aunt to let her stay. She didn’t trust leaving Louisa alone with them.

Aunt Margaret sniffed. “You wouldn’t last here a day, but we’ll take your money anyway.”

“Let me get this straight,” Michelle said as she sat behind her imposing office desk and looked over the paper Teresa had given her. “You just bought a beauty store that you want to extend into a natural health store that doesn’t sell Valley Ray supplements?”

Teresa nodded, her gaze briefly dropping to the peach carpeting. “I’ve already spoken to another supplier so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That
is
a problem because Valley Ray is very popular here.”

“And people can find it somewhere else.”

“Why didn’t you consult me first?”

“Because I wanted it.”

“If you’d wanted a business, I could have—”

“I want this one,” she said, shifting her gaze to the large window that afforded her sister a gorgeous view of the downtown area. “It’s established. There’s a great manager, clerks, the hours are good and it’s doing well.”

“But it’s in South Bank.”

Teresa looked at her sister. “The location is suitable. It’s not stylish, but I don’t need it to be.”

Michelle shook her head and sighed. “It won’t be that easy.” She sighed again. “And signing without negotiating or a lawyer representing your interests is just—”

“I can make this work.”

“And the commute—”

“I’m staying at Aunt Margaret’s for a while.”

Michelle’s head shot up. “Aunt Margaret?” she said then started to grin and looked at her calendar. “Is it April Fool’s Day?”

“I’m not joking.”

Her smile fell. “But that woman is awful and her family—”

Teresa shivered remembering her aunt’s outburst. “I know.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Teresa crossed her legs. “I need to do this to help Louisa.”

“Why?”

“She’s pregnant.”

Michelle folded her arms. “And this concerns you because—?”

“She needs someone. Her mother is…well…”

“A monster?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Teresa said, remembering her aunt’s tears.

“Coarse, loud, crude?”

“She’s a woman who’s been disappointed by life,” Teresa said gently.

Michelle briefly closed her eyes and groaned. “You’re always so understanding.”

“I have you and Jessie, but Louisa doesn’t have anyone.” Teresa lifted her hand and stared at it. “I felt her suffering and I feel I can help. She needs a job.”

“But you don’t need her help. You already have a manager and two clerks.”

“I’ll find something for her to do.”

“You don’t have to live there to do it,” Michelle said. “That area isn’t safe. People try to move out, not move in.”

“Bertha lives near there and she’s fine.”

“She lives
near
there, that’s the difference and it helps that people think she might turn them into frogs.”

“That’s not true.”

“We all know nobody messes with Bertha.”

“I’m not staying long. Louisa needs someone to take care of her and I know Aunt Margaret and Uncle Darren need the money.”

“Money?”

Teresa cleared her throat then said, “I offered to pay rent.”

“For what? A space next to one of the rat holes?”

“You’re being a snob,” Teresa said.

“Of course I am,” Michelle agreed, nodding her head for emphasis. “There’s nothing there.” Michelle looked down at the papers again. “Have you told Jessie?”

“No, you’re the first person.”

“And I can’t change your mind?”

“No.”

She shrugged, resigned, then sighed. “So you’ll continue to play Catherine of Siena?”