Throughout the entire night I tossed and turned in bed, unable to keep my thoughts calm long enough to get a moment of rest. Even when I was able to finally drift into sleep, my dreams were plagued with images of John's death, the fire at my house, and even Elaine's upcoming passing. I woke up multiple times in tears, trying to calm myself before lulling myself into another nightmare fueled sleep. This repeated for the entire night until the sun finally came up, illuminating the sky and renewing the day. I couldn't bare to lay in bed any longer and as soon as I heard the first noises of Jannie's waking family, I headed out to join them in the kitchen. Angelica had her gorgeous blonde hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head while she began to brew a pot of coffee, her robe slightly disheveled from her morning tiredness. She smiled at me but kept quiet, probably unable to think so soon after waking.
I listened to the brewer percolate the coffee, watching as Angelica tidied her counter while running some soapy water for the dishes that would soon pile up. I studied her every movement in a way that a child typically does when they are examining their parents – her hands were quick but steady, her movements were calculated into their routine as she wiped down the counter in a few careful strokes of her washcloth. She began to set up breakfast by placing a cast iron frying pan on the largest element, hauling the eggs and margarine from the refrigerator after plugging in the toaster and removing a loaf of bread from the breadbox. She softened a small helping of margarine into the pan before cracking a few eggs, discarding the shells back into the box until she was able to dispose of them properly. There was something so beautiful about a mother first thing in the morning – something I had never been accustomed to seeing, therefore I took every opportunity to watch Angelica's morning duties.
"You still eat your eggs over-easy, right El?" Angelica said over her shoulder as she placed a few slices of bread into the toaster.
I snapped out of my gaze, sitting up straight in my chair as I nodded. "Always have, always will."
Angelica had been the closest person I had to a mother, and I feel as though she purposely went above and beyond to be that person for me. As a child I was always needing confirmation, the way a child does when they need a bit more love than they are getting at home. My dad did the best he could for me, but there's only so much one parent can do on their own. Angelica was patient enough to deal with my neediness and teach me how to conduct myself in a way that only women understand, because of that I attribute a lot of my security in myself to her.
I heard the padding of footsteps down the hallway towards the guest room that I had been staying in, but they came to a halt at the kitchen door. Jannie looked like she hadn't slept a wink, dark circles under her eyes as she pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. She sighed, motioning for me to follow her. We went to my room and sat down beside each other on the bed, I could tell she was stressed about something.
"I'm really sorry for the way I snapped at you last night, Ellion," Jannie said quietly, clasping her hands together. "You didn't deserve to be talked down to like that, especially given everything that's going on. It's just a touchy subject, but that's no excuse. I know deep down that you would have done everything in your power to stop my dad's accident, but you couldn't."
"I didn't know I could, Jannie, that's the thing," I replied, placing my hand on her shoulder as soon as I noticed her try to blink away tears that were forming in her eyes. "And I still don't know for sure, it's all as much of a mystery to me today as it was over a decade ago."
"But what happens if you can't save John?"
I didn't want to think about it, I wanted to believe there was some way I could stop him from being murdered. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I met someone with premonitions like me – at least I think they're like mine – and she told me that for every choice there's two paths that fate can take. Which I already know from the little girl years ago – remember the one who was supposed to die of an illness but instead died from choking?"
"I remember," Jannie listened intently.
"What if I can do something like that for John? I hate to even think about it, but what if he doesn't have to die from the murder – what if, instead, he dies some other more peaceful way?"
"And what if he doesn't?"
"I just want to know if I can make this different for him, if I can stop the murderer so that John can pass on without the look of fear in his eyes, the panic under his skin, choking on his own blood---"
Jannie placed her hand over top of mine on her shoulder, squeezing tightly to reaffirm that she understood. I nodded, trying to block the images of John's death from my head. I cleared my throat, straightening my shoulders as I tried to focus on my goal and not John's terror. "John is a great guy and I'm lucky to know him, all I want is to make sure someone doesn't take that light out of him," I said.
"But if he dies, Ellion, what does that mean for you?"
I looked at her and shrugged, because it meant that no matter what I was going to get hurt. "I'd rather know I helped him than let him die in misery."
Jannie reached over and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in tightly against her as she smoothed down my hair with her hand in a way that made me feel like Jannie was the closest thing I would ever have to a sister. "You have such a big heart, Ellie, it's one of the many things I love about you," She whispered, pulling away to stroke the side of my face with the back of her hand. She tried to smile through her own pain, hoping that it would branch out to me. "Tell you what, why don't you come camping with Freddy and I this weekend coming up? I wanted to show him where me and my dad used to go hiking and camping every summer, figuring it would be a nice getaway from all the drama here in Harrow Hall. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you join," She paused, a sneaky smile appearing on her lips, "and if John comes, too."
"You mean over at Burnswood Park?" I asked and she nodded. I didn't have much else planned for this weekend, and a small getaway sounded awfully nice right about now. "Okay, I'll ask John if he wants to come. You don't think it's too soon, do you?"
She scoffed. "Not at all, if anything it's not soon enough. If you're really doing this, you might want to make the most of it, right?"
Jannie had a point, there was only a limited amount of time left with John. I hated to think that there were only a few months where I would get to be in his life, but I also reminded myself that that always seemed to be the case with my gift. I didn't consider seeing the deaths of people around me a gift, but rather being able to help others in their time of need. John was no exception to the way I worked in people's lives, instead my relationship with him was an addition. My time with him would be short, but I would make the most of it.
Jannie and I enjoyed breakfast with her family before I set off to go meet dad at the house, Fletcher promised to have all of the details worked out by that point. I was mostly going to be there for emotional support seeing as how dad had been so stressed, but I was also curious about Fletcher. If he was the murderer, I needed to figure out why and how to stop him. All in all it worked out that the fire had happened in our kitchen because it gave me an excuse to be near to Fletcher, and I wondered partially if that had been Mahala's plan all along. But the question kept coming back to – why?
Dad seemed much less tense than he did yesterday, but I could tell he had probably seen the bottom of quite a few bottles the previous night. He seemed complacent as he scanned the wreck of where the fire was, picking up a few odds and ends to examine the damage while we waited for Fletcher to arrive.
"I don't understand how this could have happened," Dad muttered, tossing a charred piece of wall to the side as he looked over the now open area where our kitchen used to be. "I'm not blaming you, honey, but did you actually leave the kettle on?"
I couldn't tell him no because that would mean I would have to admit that Mahala had been inside of the house, and that was a conversation that I didn't want to have with dad. "Honestly, I had a bit too much to drink the night before, I must not have been thinking straight when I woke up," I lied.
He paused, looking over to me. "Drinking? That's not at all like you."
I shrugged. "Does it make you feel better to hear I've thoroughly learned my lesson and won't be running out to buy a bottle any time soon?"
He chuckled, nudging me slightly. "First hangover wasn't pretty, was it?"
I motioned to where the fire had been, a smile peeking out. "Clearly not," I replied, and we both were able to laugh for a moment.
A car door slammed from the front side of the house, and soon Fletcher came waddling through the side yard with a hefty notebook clenched in his hand. He nodded at both of us, cutting straight to business. He pointed out the interior damage of the house first, basically summing up what we had already guessed – the entirety of the kitchen needed to be gutted, but he promised he could do it relatively cheaper seeing as how dad had always been good to him. He said the safety inspector had stopped by early in the morning and said the wiring throughout the house would be fine, but there were a few connections that would have to be replaced. He then talked about the exterior of the house, and that was where the money started to pile on. Insulation, drywall, new framework around the outside wall as well as siding would all need to be installed. Fletcher passed over a small scrap of paper with the amount on it, which dad promptly looked at and shoved in his pocket without showing an ounce of emotion. That only meant one thing – the number was a lot higher than either of us had anticipated. After going through a few more expenses and some other methods of construction, Fletcher said he could have it all finished by the end of May. Dad said only a few words before telling him to go ahead with it.
"I also wanted to point something out to you before we get started," Fletcher said, motioning for us to follow him to where the kitchen window had been. He pointed to a melted blob of plastic that was underneath it, getting down on one knee as he carefully reached to his belt and pulled up his shirt, revealing a knife that he kept sheathed to his belt. I almost overlooked it, but then the image came flooding back into my head – that was the same knife that John had on him in my premonition. Fletcher used the knife to prod at the melted plastic, eying it for a moment before turning his attention back to us. "I don't know if Andy saw this, but it looks like someone might have used this chair to get through your kitchen window, or at least look inside. I'm no detective," Fletcher announced, placing the knife back into it's safety holster, "but that just seems darn suspicious to me."
Fletcher had a point, that chair had been propped up against the side of the house and could have been how Mahala got inside the house. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure we ever locked our kitchen window before. Fletcher shrugged it off as he turned to face dad once more. "I don't know, I've got a big imagination sometimes. Could be nothing," Fletcher mumbled.
"Ah, we could have easily left the chair there for all I know. I haven't paid much attention to the back yard since late fall," Dad replied. "Besides, it was the kettle. Ellion already said she was absent minded yesterday, so it's more than likely just an accident."
"True, true," Fletcher said, buttoning the case where he put his knife. I couldn't seem to keep my eyes off of it as he tucked his shirt over top of it. "I'll get my boys out later this afternoon to start hauling out some of this junk, see if we can get this done before the set date."
"I have a question," I interrupted, pulling my eyes away from the knife. "Where did you get that?"
Fletcher eyed his holster before looking back up to me. "You like it?" He smiled, pulling it out once more to show it to me. "It was my pop's, he got it in 'Nam. Engraved and everything, too."
He spun the knife around a few times, allowing me to take a look at it. He pointed out the engraving on the side of the blade – T.D.D 68. I couldn't recall seeing any significant details on this knife, but it didn't strike me as something you could go down to any local store and buy. "I really like it. You wouldn't know where to find one like this?" I asked.
He shrugged, allowing me to take one last look at it before putting it away. "Nope, can't say I do. Far as I know he got this overseas, haven't been able to find another like it."
"So a family heirloom – one of a kind?" I asked, trying to reserve my anxious thoughts.
A toothy smile engulfed his face. "None like it."