Time of Grace Page 13

  “She died? I’m sorry.”

  Eyes narrowing, I listened while he shared his last secret, feeling my legs go numb, my heart lurch, and my eyes fill with tears. He was right; I would have gone stark raving mad, had I known. It explained my entire life. It made me believe in the curse and doubt reality. I felt bad for Will. I had answers.

  When he was done talking, I hugged him, and we cried a little. Then it was okay again, and we had our mission.

  Will had dated Judy’s sister before she had been killed. Will had dated Susie Cogburn, who looked so much like Grace.

  Chapter 29

  6:00.

  7:00.

  7:11. I saw Grace, running. I mean it was Caroline.

  She stopped when I called her name, confused for a second, then recognizing me. We began talking, and she asked questions about my writing.

  “You didn’t just happen to show up this morning, huh?”

  “I needed to talk to you.”

  “I see.” She frowned.

  “Can you take a break from running and visit awhile?”

  “I guess I can.”

  I told her a short version about dating Grace. Sympathy. I asked her if she knew anything about Mitzi, Sandra, and April who had died. She knew little, was uncomfortable hearing about them. Explaining, I saw her disbelief.

  Telling me I was a nice man, she told me that it was the past and over with. I told her about things that had happened in Texarkana, the bad events, the poisoned lives so many of us had lived.

  “That’s all terrible, but they’re coincidences. None of them are me.”

  “You look like her.”

  “Like her, I’m not her. And doubt we favor that much, you just miss her.”

  “I miss her. But all that’s true,” I said.

  “I don’t believe it has to do with me even if it is all true.”

  “We are scared you’re next, though.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said.

  “I had to warn you.”

  “I don’t need your warning…that is crazy talk, and I don’t believe a word of it. I think you have a bunch of stories and hate Bernie and have made this all fit…you’re obsessed. You need a psychologist….for obsessive issues.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re either one crazy man or seriously warped and cruel to do this. I don’t appreciate being manipulated or being the butt of a joke.”

  “You are neither.”

  “It must be a joke,” she said.

  “It isn’t. You can ask Will or Annelle.”

  “Who are as demented as you are!” She was angry. She stood over me.

  “I’ve told you facts you can check.”

  “I won’t waste my time. This is very sick of you. You need help.”

  “I’m trying to save your life…”

  “I don’t want your help. Don’t come near me again, or I will tell Bernie and go to the police,” she warned, meaning it.

  To my own dismay, I spoke without thinking, saying the stupidest thing ever, “Can I tell you about the Incan King and his curse on De Soto?”

  “Curse? Oh, my God, you sick son of a bitch. You are crazy.” She spun in place and then ran full speed away from me, towards the duck pond. She wanted to be anywhere but around me.

  I dreaded telling Annelle and Will had badly I had done.

  It was laughable.

  Will tried to be considerate, and he was worried, but he did laugh at me even though it was not humorous. He laughed all the way to Biloxi riding with me in the car.

  At home, I stared out at the ocean, telling it goodbye; I loved living here and would miss it.

  After picking out what I wanted to move, I Invited some friends to pick out all they wanted, with the rest going to charity. I had lived without clutter, and everything left was either nice furniture pieces I wanted or comfortable, worn-out pieces I could replace. The biggest boxing was for my book collection. I had some art that I had paid a lot for that was going along in the U-Haul. I wasn’t a junk or knick-knack collector, didn’t have things I didn’t need, and didn’t have fancy items for special occasions; I had just what was necessary in my life.

  I had always lived Spartan.

  The realtor was excited to sell my home, saying she was sure I would get an “astronomical price” for it.

  My parents were in Texarkana, looking with another realtor, to find a house with a pool for me. I wanted at least three bedrooms, two with en-suite baths, a living room, den and office, and library, if possible, and a large kitchen. Price was really no object for me. Because Will would one day lose the use of his legs with the illness, I needed the house to be adaptable for him.

  I signed papers, waved farewell, and promised to fly in for the house closing, and we drove back to Texarkana to become watchmen.

  My possessions went into storage so that I could look at the houses Mom and Dad had found that I might like. I hoped that they knew Will’s tastes as well since this was about him, too.

  The morning after we got back, mom had a list of messages from everyone who had called for me.

  My agent and Caroline had called.

  I called Caroline back. “This is David.”

  “Thanks for calling me back, I wasn’t sure you would after I insulted you.”

  “I didn’t expect you’d believe me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe, but I’d like to talk to you again.”

  “Okay.”

  She told me her motel name and room number.

  Surprised, I agreed. “Leaving now.”

  “Thanks, David.”

  When I got to the motel, Caroline let me into the room, and we sat in the chairs around the table. I noticed that her hands were shaking. "I'm glad you called."

  "I didn't know who else to call but you, David.”

  "Just tell me what happened," I said.

  She nodded, taking in a deep breath. "I was really mad at you when we talked. I was really scared; I thought you were crazy."

  "Maybe I am."

  "I spent all that afternoon mad at you. Bernie and I went out to dinner. We came back here to visit for a while, and he could tell that something was bothering me. I asked him to tell me about Sandra, Mitzi, and April."

  "That couldn't have gone over very well," I said.

  "At first he asked who had been talking to me and what did I want to know. So I said, ‘Bernie, just tell me about them; what all happened?’ “I told him I just wanted to know a little bit more about his past. But he kept demanding to know why."

  "Then what happened?"

  "He got mad." Caroline stood, unbuttoning her blouse.

  What the hell was she doing?

  She slid the garment off, standing there in her bra and jeans. There were purple, healing bruises along her collarbone and ribs. "I have the bruises, and I think he sprained my wrist." She pulled her blouse back on.

  "Bernie did that?"

  "Yep. He yelled that it wasn't his fault, and I was standing there crying, and he stopped speaking; he looked directly into my eyes and began talking really slow, asking who had been talking about him."

  "Did you tell him?"

  "I had to. I was scared to death."

  "That's okay. That's fine if you told him. I'm sorry you were scared"

  Caroline set back in the chair, her pretty face in a frown. "I said I'd talk to you, David, and he grabbed my shoulders, squeezing as tightly as he could. He started saying things: that I was cheating on him… he called me terrible names."

  I reached to take her hand and held it gently. "This is what he did with those other women. It's as if it's happening again."

  "I know. It's what I kept thinking about. I kept thinking about everything you had told me at the park."

  "History repeats itself."

  "None of this makes any sense, but I saw it for myself. Bernie finally pushed me into the table, and I fell; he left, but that's how I got the bruises. I'm not sure what I believe, maybe all of it, m
aybe some of it, but I do know something is wrong, and is happening here, and I do feel you are trying to help me."

  "I am."

  "So, you mentioned something about a curse."

  "You'll laugh."

  "Try me."

  It took ice from the ice machine in several glasses of cold water, and a long time, but I told her the whole story, including the part about the Incan King. In a way, it was just a story I was telling; the unbelievable part was how it related to us now.

  Caroline didn’t laugh. I could tell that part about De Soto interested her whether it had anything to do with us or not; it was just an interesting story. Some of it really bothered her: the lynchings, the murders, the deaths, and how everyone acted at the reunion before she got there.

  "I'm really sorry you lost Grace."

  "Me, too. Thank you."

  "So what should I do, David, go back home and never speak to Bernie again? Will I be safe then? Tell me what I need to do."

  "Maybe. Bernie wasn't even there when Grace died. I don't know how this works," I explained to her that I had left Biloxi and moved back to Texarkana.

  "You're taking on a responsibility that isn't all yours," she said.

  "It's what I'm supposed to do. I have to figure out how to save your life. Maybe getting away from Bernie is the right idea, but I don't know how far is safe. "

  Caroline stood and went to the window to look out. "I'm scared."

  "I know. I'm going to do everything I can for you." I went to stand next to her.

  "I wish I had never met Bernie, but I'm really glad I met you. I wish we had met some other way. What's going to happen to me?"

  "Nothing bad, if I can help it." I reached over, my arm around her, to give her a little hug; unfortunately, she turned to me at that moment, and I found myself with her in my arms. Her hair fell loose and golden, bright green eyes looked up at me with hope, and memories flowed back. She reminded me so much of Grace. I'm not a saint. I could have stepped away or said something, but chin tilting up word, she searched my face.

  So beautiful.

  "Are you married, David?"

  "No. Never." I leaned down to kiss her, and she matched my passion. No little voice warned me that this was wrong, my conscience didn't bother me, and I didn't really have second thoughts. Caroline was very beautiful and smart, and I cared about her. In my mind, was she Grace from my past, or was she Caroline in my future? I didn't know. Maybe both.

  Molding herself against me, she inflamed my senses. Scooping her into my arms, I carried her to the bed, where we made love. My past, my present, and my possible future all crashed together. It was magnificent.

  Right after midnight, there was a banging on the door; I yanked on jeans while Caroline put on her robe. I can’t say I expected this, but it wasn’t a huge surprise, either.

  Looking out the peephole, I groaned, even as I told Caroline to call the police. She had the handset to her ear as I opened the door. Bernie didn't even hesitate, but stormed in with his face red with anger, grabbed the handset, and jerked the telephone, cord, and pulled all out of the wall. He stood between Caroline and the door.

  "Bernie, you need to settle down," I said.

  "You mean I shouldn't be pissed off at finding you at a motel with the girl I'm dating?"

  "I mean we need to talk."

  I didn't even see it coming; his punch was like a lead weight in my gut. A quick left hook caused blood to spurt in my mouth.

  Caroline shrieked, picked up an empty glass from the side table, and threw it at his back as hard as she could. As he halfway turned to her, she jumped up onto the bed, darting away from him, while I rushed him. He grunted painfully as I slammed him into the bedside table. I rolled to the side to my feet, but he kicked out, and I went down again. I'm not much of a fist-fighter.

  Like a cat, Bernie was up and after Caroline; she ran into the bathroom. Before she could lock the door, he was right there with me behind him. I made a grab for his arm and got an elbow to my chin. In the bathroom, Caroline fell painfully into the bathtub. Bernie stood over her in a rage.

  "Knock it the hell off," I said.

  "You cheated on me," he screamed at her, angrily yanking the shower curtain off of the rings to toss it next to the toilet. Caroline clutched at her robe where it had fallen open. If anything, this infuriated him more. He roared, grabbing at her robe to pull her out while she scratched and kicked him. I landed hard blows to his kidneys and the side of his face. He hit back.

  I was no match for him. He threw punches, which landed all over my face and head; blood poured down my head into my mouth. I drifted in and out of consciousness, as Caroline threw everything she could find at him. She beat him with a wooden clothes hanger.

  She ran towards the door. I raised my head; a groan escaped me that I had meant as a warning for her to get out. Bernie paused, apparently not finished with me, yet. "You should have stayed out of my business, David."

  He raised his fists to continue. There was no doubt he intended to beat me to death. I knew I was going to die. Caroline knew it, too. Like an Amazon warrior, she grabbed a broken chair leg to run at him, brandishing it like a spear. I could hardly see out my swollen eyes.

  She didn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds, but she was a runner and hit him, full force, driving him back, and into the sliding glass door of her balcony. Glass exploded. I rolled, letting the shards cut into my back. The force and her velocity pushed them both through onto the balcony, where she slid to her knees, screaming.

  I faded in and out. At some point there were voices around me, I saw paramedics taking out a stretcher with Caroline's blonde hair showing, I saw Brad Lofton as he leaned over me, telling me I would be okay, and I saw other police officers. I tried to tell Brad about Bernie, but he told me that it was okay and that Caroline was safe. I must have looked unsure because Brad told me she was, indeed, alive.

  At the hospital, mercifully, they put me under while they patched me up.

  When I awakened, it was to a morning light streaming into the window of a clean, nice room. Will was there. "Your parents went to get coffee."

  "Caroline?" I mumbled around torn lips and a painful mouth.

  "She's in surgery."

  "Bernie?"

  "He didn't make it,” Brad said. “Bernie had a big wound in his stomach. Evidently, Caroline ran at him with a piece of wood and knocked him over the railing. He was all cut up from the glass door, but the fall killed him.”

  "She had to." Sh-a-oo, was my version.

  "Brad said it was clearly self-defense."

  "Me?"

  "Busted ribs, broken nose, some broken bones in your face; your hand is shattered, you have a concussion, and you are bruised."

  I saw the cast on my hand. I guess I grimaced because he told me that my back was cut, as well. I had stitches. My head and face throbbed. Will told me that I would be out by the next day.

  "You did it; you've saved her life."

  I wasn't sure how I felt about Bernie dying. Mostly, I was worried about Caroline, in my own pain, tired, and glad it was over.

  Will promised he would be back that night. Annelle sent her regards. In a little while my parents came back to sit with me while I slept.

  Chapter 30

  When Will returned that night, he traded glances with my parents; they stepped out of the room. I knew it was bad news. Maybe the police didn't believe it was self defense. Maybe Bernie was stalking Caroline, again. Whatever it was, Will seemed very upset.

  "David, it's bad."

  "Errr?"

  "It's Caroline. She was cut pretty badly with all the glass, but she did fine in surgery." He took a second. "No easy way to say this, but it was after the surgery that she had an allergic reaction to the painkiller."

  I looked at him questioningly.

  "She didn't make it, David. How do I say this?"

  I felt the blackness racing over me, my vision got small, and I went numb as unconsciousness consumed me. The la
st thing I heard was Will's voice. "It was her throat; it swelled. Oh, my God, it was her throat and neck.

  Chapter31

  Spring 1997

  This is how my story ends. After leaving the hospital, I found a large home that Will and I furnished and moved into, where we still live today. There had to be modifications since Will is in a wheelchair now.

  Neither one of us ever got married, and I suppose people may have thought we were gay; Kenny and Walter would find that funny. I became reclusive, writing a little, reading a lot. Former friends from high school and college finally got the message that I didn’t need them.

  I still dream of my Grace.

  Annelle Stevenson moved away or something. One day she was gone, and no one knew where she went. When Caroline died, and because it was her throat or neck, Annelle suspected something. She whispered it to Will.

  She always looked so much like Grace.

  I met a smart, attractive lady whom I have persuaded to lighten her hair to golden and let it grow long. When she wears green tinted contacts, I tell her she is beautiful.

  Was the darkness in Bernie? Sure it was. But Will and I know he wasn't the only one. Will watches me, and sometimes, I hear him cry at night, knowing. We are the watchers who promised to stop the darkness from taking more lives.

  He worries. He waits.

  We both wait.

  I think it's in me.

  Author’s Note

  While the story is fictional, the places are very real, as are many of the events that are mentioned in the story. Separating fact from fiction was the hardest part of writing this story.

  There really is a Texarkana, twin cities, in fact, located on the Texas/ Arkansas border. Texarkana, Texas and Texarkana, Arkansas are divided by State Line Avenue.

  Places and streets mentioned existed; some are still around. Texarkana College was established in 1927 and remains operational as a two-year college; in fact, the campus has undergone major renovations and additions: dorms; Truman Arnold Student Center; a strong vocational/technical program; a state of the art nursing program (with scholarships); an Olympic-sized swimming pool housed inside a fitness center; dual credit classes for high school students; Internet classes; classes offered day, afternoon, and night, as well as summer; and long distance learning programs.