Vision of Shadows (4 page)

I snorted and looked out the window as we pulled into the driveway of my new home. The house looked nice enough, although it was hard to make out much detail in the dark. There was a weeping willow tree in the middle of the front yard.

We managed to bring my things inside despite being tripped up by two dogs who were introduced as Spock and Larry. I took a moment to look around. I was in the family room. There was a large, flat
-screen TV with a brown leather couch and two recliners facing it. I glanced up to a giant family picture that looked like it was taken about five or six years ago. I could see Eve had been the center of the family. She sat in a chair, holding Zack, who looked to be all of two. Both mother and son had wide smiles plastered on their faces. Simon stood to her right, leaning in and giving a nearly toothless grin. His glasses looked thinner, and they needed to be pushed back, but he was clearly happy standing there with his mother. Behind them all was Uncle Mark, looking like the most content man in the world. As far as he was concerned, back then, he had it all.

“She’s beautiful,” I said. 

“She was,” Uncle Mark agreed. “She would’ve loved to have you here. I’m so sorry you never got the chance to talk to her. She could make even the worst days better.” He stared at the picture for a second more before looking away and shaking his head. “I know I sound sappy, don’t I?”

I smiled. “No, you sound like you loved her. It’s beautiful.” I looked up at Aunt Eve’s picture again. “And if she were here, she’d tell you she probably felt like the luckiest girl in the world when you two got married.”

Uncle Mark looked at me, his eyes wide in bewilderment. “That’s the second time you’ve said something that reminds me of Eve.”

“Grandpa,” Zack called
. “We got Bristol.”

“That right?”
a gravelly voice called from the other room. “Well, it’s about time. She’s about seventeen years late.”

Uncle Mark gave me an apologetic smile. “Come say hello to your granddaughter.”

I watched as a man in his early sixties limped forward with a cane and five o’clock shadow. He paused for a brief moment as he entered the room and gave me a cursory glance before he made his way to me. He grabbed my face and examined it like a bottle of wine. He turned my face and appraised me from several angles before letting go with a grunt and walking away.

“She’ll do I guess,” Grandp
a said. “Oh, by the way, sorry ’bout your parents and welcome home.”

Z
ack thought it was hilarious and kept reenacting the encounter. Simon wondered out loud if Grandpa was getting dementia. Uncle Mark was simply mortified at his father’s actions and couldn’t stop apologizing.

I didn’t bother to mention that in th
e moment when Grandpa had looked me over, dozens of ghosts appeared. They were sitting in chairs, lying on the table, standing in the fireplace, and even looking in from the window, each of them nodding in approval.

We Finally Meet

I went to bed quickly, but I had a hard time falling asleep. I was used to the city sounds of cars honking and police sirens wailing. I managed to nod off for a bit
. I woke in a panic—where the hell was I?

Slowly
, it started to come back to me. Oh yeah—parents killed, now living upstate with one nice uncle, one brainy cousin, one adorable cousin, and one slightly disturbed grandfather. 

Suddenly, my thoughts became focused on one thing:
food.

I could smell the coffee brewing and bacon cooking. It smelled like my favorite breakfast place in the city.

I pushed aside whatever trepidation I felt in facing my grandfather. I secured my robe around me, made my way into the bathroom to prepare myself, and then went downstairs quickly but quietly. 

“Dad, should I go and wake Bristol?” I heard Simon ask.

After a moment filled with the sizzle of bacon, Uncle Mark said, “No, let her sleep for now. Poor thing must be exhausted. I can make up some more breakfast when she’s ready.”

“This would be a good test,” Grandpa said. “If she’s really a Blackburn, she’ll be down soon. Bacon, eggs, coffee. It calls to our kind.”

“Can I have coffee?” Zack asked.

“No!” came the unified response of both father and grandfather.

“But it’s the call of our kind,” Zack complained. “I’m a Blackburn.”

“So
, you can hear the call,” Grandpa replied. “That doesn’t mean you have to answer.”

“Aw
.”

“You want to stay short the rest of your life?” Grandpa retorted. “Even for your age you’re on the tiny side
.”

“I’m not tiny
,” Zack complained.

I decided now was the time to make my entrance
, if only to spare poor Zack from any more humiliation. “Good morning,” I said as I entered, stepping around the two dogs who were waiting for a scrap of food to be dropped. 

As I received a chorus of morning greetings back, I looked at the meal being prepared by my uncle. He was moving a small omelet that looked to contain veggies and cheese to a plate. He handed it to Simon
, who eagerly took it, adding a few slices of buttered toast and strips of bacon.

“What can I make for you? You must be starved. You like omelets? What do you like in ‘em?
”

I shrugged and pointed to Simon’s plate. “That looked nice, thanks
.”

Uncle Mark smiled and started to crack eggs. “No problem.”

“So, I assume we’ll use the lodge tomorrow?” Grandpa said without preamble as he sipped coffee.

“For what?” I asked.

“After the funeral,” Grandpa answered. “So the family can get together. That’s how we do it here. Maybe in the city you just put your dead out at the curb, but here…”

“Dad,” Uncle Mark
said. “Stop! I haven’t even mentioned the funeral. Naturally she’d have no idea.” He turned to me. “Bristol, I went by what my brother had laid out in his will. No wake, just a small service, burial, and a gathering afterward. Is that okay with you? We can change it to whatever you like. I was going to ask you later when I had you alone but…” He sent his father a scathing look.

I shook my head. “No, that sounds fine. I really have no idea what to do for these things. I appreciate you taking care of it for me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said as he added a touch of cheese. “That’s what family is for.” He flipped the omelet onto a paper plate.

“Thank you,” I said, “for everything. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’ve never even been to a funeral before.”

“Really?” Grandpa grumbled. “Don’t think there’s another Blackburn over three who can say the same. This may be your first, but I doubt it will be your last, now that you’re home.”

“Cheery,” I said.

“It’s about time she got to meet her family,” Grandpa said. “There’s a lot of catching up to do.”

“Dad, there’s plenty of time for that,” Uncle Mark said. “I’m going to ask only a few people show up. Let’s not overwhelm Bristol. This is a time for mourning. She doesn’t need to meet every great uncle or third cousin on the day she’s burying her parents.”

“What she doesn’t need,” Grandpa insisted, “is to be coddled like she’s nothing but a little baby. Besides, we’re talking about family. We’re a fun bunch. We’re the cool crowd.”

Zack and Simon snickered at Grandpa
, while Uncle Mark poured himself another cup of coffee. “Yeah, we’re a riot. But I think what Bristol needs is to take things slowly.”

“Slow is boring,” Grandpa said. “Slow is like getting in the pool one toe at a time. Better off just throwing her off the deep end. She’ll complain more, but she’ll thank you in the end.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Uncle Mark replied. “Look, all I’m saying is tomorrow Bristol is not going to be in any shape to deal with meeting a bunch of new people. It’s going to be hard enough for her.”

“You have no idea what to do with her, do you?” Grandpa asked.

“What are you talking about?” Uncle Mark asked.

“Well,” Grandpa continued, “you’re trying really hard to be nice, which of course is your strong suit, but you have no idea how to handle her. After all, she’s a girl.”

“Thanks for noticing,” I said.

“Well, that’s what I do
.” Grandpa smiled. “My son wants to make you comfortable and thinks someone in our family might make you feel awkward and out of place.”

“You mean more than you do?” I responded. 

“Touché,” Grandpa answered. “See, she’s fitting in already.”

“Dad,” Uncle Mark said
. “All I said is that we shouldn’t bombard her with too much
stuff
right away.”

“What kind of stuff are we talking about?” I asked, not liking the way Uncle Mark had said the word.

“You want to tell her,” Grandpa asked, “or should I?”

“Tell me what?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Uncle Mark said, his eyes fixed on Grandpa’s. “Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?” He indicated for Grandpa to follow him out to the backyard.

Grandpa, who had just poured himself a second cup of coffee, held it up for show. “I’m having coffee here.”

Uncle Mark held the door open. “You so old and feeble you can’t carry the mug with you?” 

Grandpa nearly smiled at the challenge as he rose from his chair and started for the door, leaving his coffee behind. He stopped at the threshold and motioned for his son to go out first. “After you,
Sheriff
Blackburn.”

I waited until they had both left before I looked at Simon. “
What
was all that about?”

Simon shrugged. “Grandpa is a l
ittle out there. He thinks there are forces at work, beyond the”—Simon made quotation marks with his fingers in the air—“realm of normal understanding. Says it won’t be long before Dad has to choose sides.”

“Really?” I deadpanned. “Evil forces
, huh? Like not enough restaurants with an early bird special? Raising the price of Bengay?”

“Who’s Ben Gay?” Zack asked.

“It’s just Grandpa being Grandpa,” Simon explained.

“You always say that,” Zack complained
. “But maybe Gramps is right. Look at what happened to everyone in our family. Gramps says the curse explains everything from our mom to Bristol’s parents.”

“What curse? What is he talking about?”

“Shut it, Zack,” Simon commanded. Zack pouted but obeyed. “Bristol, ignore him. I do. You don’t need to be upset by this. It’s all nonsense.” Simon sent his brother an angry stare that Zack didn’t see as he was grabbing his grandfather’s cup of black, unsweetened coffee and taking a sip. I watched as Zack’s eyes registered the shock of the bitter flavor before he spat it back out into Grandpa’s cup. I imagined Grandpa drinking from it again and grinned. It was small of me, but hey, it felt good.

Without another word, I climbed the steps to my room. Once there, I opened the window that looked out over the backyard. As I had suspected, I could hear my uncle and grandfather’s words from there.

“I’m telling you, she’s different,” Grandpa said. “Maybe it’s because she’s the first girl in our family in over fifty years, but she’s different. I can feel it.”

“I don’t want to hear it
, Dad,” Uncle Mark responded. “And I don’t want
Bristol
to hear it either.”

“You want me to let her be unprepared?” Grandpa asked. “I thought you cared about her. Besides, isn’t it your job to serve and protect?”

“
Now
you want me to be sheriff of this town? You’ve never had much use for my badge before.”

“Ha!” Grandpa grumbled. “What’s the point of having one if you don’t use it to help your own? I
still haven’t forgotten you locked up your cousin Stan. And for what?”

“For drunk
and disorderly,” Uncle Mark answered. “And for threatening Broderick and Lucas McKnight with a pool stick. And if I hadn’t gotten there when I did, it could have been worse. You were of no help, as I recall.”

“You recall incorrectly,” Grandpa
said. “I handed him the pool stick, didn’t I?”

There was a moment of silence
. I pictured Uncle Mark shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just trying to figure that girl out,” Grandpa continued. “There
is
something about her. You know it, don’t you?” Another pause and then, “Don’t you, son?”

“I’m not doing this
, Dad,” Uncle Mark said. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my niece,
your
granddaughter. She watched her parents get killed for crying out loud. Can you forget about your little supernatural war for a bit and concentrate on helping her heal? Make her feel at home.”

“This
is
her home,” Grandpa responded. “Her parents never should have taken her away. Blackburns belong here in Spirit.”

“
Give her a break, will you? She just got here. There’s plenty of time for her to become familiar with your particular take on things, but give her a little room to breathe. Let the poor girl bury her mother and father in peace.”

A
door slammed. I had no idea what Grandpa was talking about. I looked over to Ricky, but as usual, he had nothing to say.

* * * *

I know in the future I’ll never be able to talk much about my parents’ funeral. Not that I expect the memory will be so painful I won’t be able to tell the tale. I’m just pretty sure I won’t remember it at all.

What I do remember
is waiting for my parents to appear to me. Once again, I was disappointed. I was overcome with a feeling of being abandoned. But through it all, Uncle Mark held me, making me realize I wasn’t alone. When it was over, I tried my best not to be overwhelmed by tears. I could feel it all inside, but I wasn’t ready to let it out. Not yet. 

When the burial was over, everyone began to leave to meet at Grandpa’s lodge for food, drink, and whatever else they served at one of th
ose things. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a cookbook for the grieving.

Soon it was just the five of us left by the gravesite: my uncle, cousins, Grandpa
, and me. Uncle Mark herded everyone far enough away to give me a little privacy. I guess when you bury someone you love, it’s normal to take a last moment to talk to them. I just hoped they decided to answer me back.

“Hey
, Mom, Dad. It’s me. Bristol,” I started lamely. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. Why haven’t I seen you? Why can’t I talk to you? I wish you would give me a sign. Or for that matter, just come say hello. I know it can be done. Guys? Hello?”

I waited.

“Crap,” I muttered. “Sorry. Bad language. I know how you hated that, Mom. Dad, not so much. I suppose I should try and watch it. I’ve got a couple of young guys in the house now. They seem nice, by the way,” I added. “I’ve decided I like my uncle and my cousins. And even their dogs. Jury’s still out on Grandpa. Just thought I’d let you know.

“I love you
, Mom and Dad,” I finally said. “Bye.”

It took far less effort than I thought to walk away. My parents weren’t here. The dead don’t hang out in places like this. So why should I? If my parents wanted to find me, they knew where to look.

I didn’t know what was worse, the idea of saying goodbye or the realization that my mother and father couldn’t be bothered with me even now. There was a cold, emptiness that gnawed at my heart, as I questioned something that no child ever should. Did my parents ever love me?

I knew I needed to cry. I could feel it building within me. I felt like everyone was watching me, waiting for the dam to break, but I was still
too angry at Mom and Dad to cry for them. I felt I should be overwhelmed with grief, but there was this great big ball of emptiness inside. Where were they? Did they not love me enough to even stop by one last time and say goodbye? Was I that unlovable?