Hilary

Hilary wants to know about her past, but the price may be more than she is willing to pay.

 

Dear Mr. Hart,

 

Hilary is in danger of failing this class. I strongly suggest that you and I schedule a meeting so we can discuss her options as a group.

 

                 Sincerely,

                 Valerie Macarthur

 

I sighed as Ms. Macarthur handed me the note, and I read another broken link in the chain of my high school education. Math was never my strong suit, and I knew that I would get a scolding as soon as I got home. I glanced at my watch. If I was lucky, I could get home before Jeff. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal to have an adult come in to talk to your teacher, even if you are failing a class. That’s what families do. However, I don’t really consider Jeff “family”.

I started to gather my things, and waved away a couple of invitations to people’s houses.

“Sorry, I got to take off. I figure I can get home before Jeff does and put him in a good mood before he reads this.” I held up the note.

“He isn’t going to get too mad, is he?” someone asked.

 “We’ll see.”

I started to walk out of the classroom, taking care not to look at my teacher on the way out. One of my classmates, Ashley Hanson, followed me. She’s one of the few people who walk home with me. She’s always willing to talk about my mother, unlike everyone else in town. It’s like my mother disappeared off the face of the earth, instead of going to search for stardom.

 That’s all you can expect from a small town called Little Brook. It’s just a tiny town far in the sticks of Maryland, with hot, sticky summers and endless winters. Everyone in Little Brook knows each other, so walking home is always the same. Mrs. Green always asks about my health, Mr. Allan always asks about my schoolwork and Ms. Holloway always asks about my guardian. The road seems to go on forever, because I have to stop and talk with all of them or else they’ll think something’s wrong and call. Yes, that’s the usual life in Little Brook.

“Hilary? I asked you a question.” Ashley poked my arm.

“Huh? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What is it?” I clattered down the steps leading up to the school. Another day was finished, and now all I needed to do was get home before Jeff.

“I asked if Jeff was doing okay. Last time you said he was having trouble at therapy.”

I guess I forgot to mention that Jeff is disabled, sort of. He never leaves his wheelchair, but with a couple more years of physical therapy, the doctors say he’ll be able to move around like he used to. I’m not sure that’s going to happen; he hasn’t been able to walk for fourteen years.

            “He’s doing fine. I guess the weather just got to him, that’s all.”

“I’m glad. Jeff’s a nice guy.”

Ashley waved me off as we reached her road. She only lives a couple of streets down from me, so we always walk home together. I waved back, and took off toward my own street. I checked my watch one more time, grateful that I would make it a full hour before Jeff got home. I would make sure to start dinner and get my homework done. If I got him in a good enough mood, he may just keep his temper leashed when he saw the note.

 I did my routinely walk down my road, waving to each neighbor and answering their questions politely and cheerfully. I knew they expected nothing less. The people in Little Brook are friendly, but dull. I just wish somebody would talk about my mother. I don’t know a thing about her, other than she was a wonderful person and loved me very much, and that she went in search of stardom soon after I was born. That much I got from my grandmother. I lived with her for eight years after my mother left. She passed away about six years ago, for no reason other than “she was old”. After that I was dumped on Jeff, who seemed to be the only person who could take me, I guess.

            I stopped in front of the mailbox, and started pulling out the junk mail. Our house is more of a glorified bachelor’s pad. Jeff hasn’t married since his wife passed away before I was born. It looks nice on the outside, with its trimmed grass and large maple trees, just turning orange for fall. The house is a neat, faded blue, with dark blue shutters and a large bay window that faces the quiet street. It’s not very big, for all it has two floors. The only rooms that are on the second floor are my room and bathroom, since that’s the only place Jeff can’t get to.

            Leaves skittered across the cracked sidewalk that led up to the house, and I took my time striding up the sloped walkway to the door. The day was just too pleasant to ignore. I stood outside for a moment longer, enjoying the last sip of freedom I would have before I showed that note to Jeff. I knew he would go ballistic over my grade. Jeff always gets upset when I get bad grades, and says I’m too smart to fail.  A nice thing to say, but it would mean a lot more if he was actually family. I opened the door a crack, to check and see if I was right about the therapy.

            When no sound came from within the house, I looked in to find the lights off and a note on the counter. I was safe, for an hour or two. I picked up the note, recognizing Jeff’s scrawl right away

Hilary,

          Went to therapy. Start dinner. See you at 5.

                                      Jeff

Not exactly the most heart-warming note I’ve ever gotten. Well, at least he was out of my hair for a little while. I went over to the refrigerator, and started to look for some dinner. Thankfully Jeff was better at shopping than he was at writing notes, for there were stacks of food. After some consideration, I found some half-thawed chicken and other assorted greens. I glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. Still some time left.

Perhaps you are getting the impression that I don’t like Jeff. It really isn’t that. Jeff’s taken me in, given me a place to stay. With my mother and father both gone and my grandmother dead, I really have no place to go. I am grateful that Jeff took me in, but he never talks about my parents, or really anything that has to do with my past. It’s like he never wants me to know about what happened before I moved in with my grandmother. The problem is that I desperately want to know. I need to know what my mother was like, what she did, what she looked like. I need to know how I got placed into his care after my grandmother died. I can never discuss stuff like that to Jeff because he either gets really mad when I start talking about it or just changes the subject. Either way, I learned long ago not to ask Jeff anything having to do with my past.

I went over to the kitchen table to get started on my homework. You’d never know that people actually lived in this house. There are no pictures on the walls, no old school papers on the refrigerator. All the rooms are interconnected, with gleaming oak floors. The rooms shine with cleanliness, since Jeff’s job as a sports writer allows him to stay home and work. When he is stuck for an idea, he’ll clean like crazy. Large, comfy chairs and shelves full of all sorts of books take up the living room, along with our ancient television set. A short, narrow hallway over to the left leads to Jeff’s bedroom, which to tell you the truth, I’ve never been in. I’ve lived with the man for six years and he’s never once let me into his room. I suppose since he lets me roam around the rest of his house, he’s allowed to have a little privacy.

I had just sat down at the small kitchen table when the door opened. There was only one other person who had a key, so it had to be Jeff. Since that was the case, I didn’t look up from my homework. Maybe if he saw me working diligently he’d let me off on the math thing. I heard the squeak of the wheelchair as he rolled over to the stove.

“Hilary, I thought I told you to lock the door when you were home alone. Do you know what weirdoes could have come in?” Jeff was never one for fancy greetings. I glanced up quickly, and caught him looking for food.

“Dinner’s in the oven. We’ll be having chicken and green beans. Would you like anything else to go with it?” I tried to be as polite as possible to butter him up but I could tell from his suspicious look that he wasn’t buying it. Normally I don’t even tell him what we’re having, just plop it on a plate and serve it to him. I guess I was getting nervous about the situation.

“No, chicken and green beans is fine, just fine. What’re you working on, there?” Jeff rolled on over to me, and glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, algebra. Not so hard once you get the hang of it. You’re supposed to have a decimal there.” He pointed to my paper and went on his way towards the living room, ignoring my well-practiced glare.

I stopped fantasizing long ago that Jeff was my long-lost father. Apart from different last names, he’s much too old, well into his sixties, and doesn’t look anything like me. His hair is darker and than my straight, strawberry blond, or at least it used to be before it turned salt-and-pepper gray. His eyes are a dreamy hazel, far different from my steady blue, and his face is more rough and weathered than my lean, bony features. His hooked nose is longer, his mouth thinner, and his body thicker than mine. I knew from the start that he was in no way related to my family.

Jeff sniffed the air, much like a wolf searching for prey. That sign told me it was time to get the table set, and get the food out. I jumped up from the table and started to pack up my stuff. I know better than to try to make conversation with him before dinner; Jeff tends to brood after he comes home from therapy. His legs are another accident he won’t tell me about, and I know better than to ask. Just another one of the many mysteries of Jeff Hart, and just another one of the many mysteries about my past that he refuses to discuss.

After both Jeff and I had full helpings of chicken on our plates, I tried to drag the conversation as far away from school as possible. If he didn’t think about it, he wouldn’t have to ask about my math class. I watched his face for any signs of irritability or anger. If he was in a bad mood, it was a sure sign that I wouldn’t make it to school tomorrow morning.

“So, how was therapy?” I asked.

“All right, if you go for the poking and painful stretching sort of thing. Every time they tell me I’m going to stand someday, but I always end up still sitting in this damned wheelchair.”

“Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll walk again. There can be miracles.”

“Miracles only happen if you make them happen. I’m sure I’m not going to walk again just because I go to the doctor’s every other day.” He grumbled and sat back in his chair.

I gritted my teeth. Why was it whenever I started talking to Jeff, I felt like I was missing out on something important? It was as if he was hinting at something, but wouldn’t tell me straight out what it was. I hated when he did that, so I tried coming from a different angle.

“Ashley told me there’s a father-daughter dance at the civic center this weekend. I guess she and Mr. Hanson are going, and she wanted to know if we wanted to come,” I hadn’t meant to bring that up. Why did I bring that up? Not looking at him, I played with my green beans. “I told her that since you are still having troubles in therapy, it would probably be better if we didn’t.” I stared at the plate, trying to ignore the tears that were threatening to spill out. I didn’t even know why I was crying, all I knew was I didn’t want Jeff to see the tears.

It was quiet across the table for a while, and then he changed the subject, like he always did when I brought something uncomfortable up.

“So, how was school today? Nothing devastating, I hope?” Jeff cleared his throat and went back to his food. Jeff always tries to act like nothing is wrong when I bring stuff up about fathers, and changes the subject whenever I go quiet. I know more things about my father than I do about my mother. My grandmother explained that he abandoned my mother as soon as she became pregnant with me. I guess he just wasn’t the type who stuck around to raise a family. 

“Now that you mention it, I do have a problem,” I began, already gathering up the dishes and dragging myself over to the sink. “It seems I’m having a little trouble in math class. My teacher wants you to make an appointment sometime so you two can talk about it.”

“The only time a teacher wants me to come in and talk about your grades is when you’re failing a class,” Jeff eyed me suspiciously, rolling his wheelchair over to the sink so he was right at my arm. “You aren’t failing math, are you?”

I nodded.

“Hilary! You’re a smart girl, why can’t you put some effort into you’re work? I can’t go running to your teachers every time asking for an extension because you’re too lazy to do your work correctly! I can’t keep making excuses for you, you know that.” Jeff growled his way to the living room once again; probably expecting me to finish the dishes, but by then I’d had it. I turned around and faced him, ready for a full blown battle. I was sick of his hints, his sarcasm, and his lack of faith in me.

            “A smart girl knows more about herself than anyone else, but you’ve never given me a chance to learn anything about my history! You never tell me anything about my life, my parents, nothing! I don’t want to live here with you; I want to live with my mother. My real family” I screamed at him. I really don’t know how a talk about my math grade became a fight about my mother, but by then I was too angry about everything to care. I ran upstairs to my room, without ever once looking at Jeff’s face.

            I slammed the door, and jumped onto my bed. I hadn’t meant to tell him that I didn’t want to live here. I didn’t mean any of those things. I just wanted him to stop criticizing me and acting as if everything was okay between us. We both knew that things had become strained as soon as I entered high school, but Jeff never brought it up, unless he was yelling at me. He never talks anything out with me, and just leaves the problem to go away. I knew that was going to happen with this fight. I could already hear him downstairs, cleaning up the dishes and putting the leftover meat away. He likes to clean and brood more than he likes to talk. Well that was fine. I was going to stay upstairs and look at the few, valuable possessions I had gotten from my grandmother.

            I went over to my dresser and started rummaging around the drawers. I had very few possessions; just a little dresser and my bed. I had a small closet with a few jeans and shirts and even fewer dresses. My favorite piece of furniture was the floor-length mirror Jeff allowed me to take from my grandmother’s house. I spent half my childhood just standing in front of it, tracing the sliver edges imprinted with doves and ivy, making funny faces at myself and letting the hours fly by.

            I finally found the old, worn shoebox that was filled with my mother’s old things. I managed to get up into my grandmother’s attic one day and collected a bunch of little trinkets I found in a box labeled Danielle. I made sure to bring some of it with me when I moved into Jeff’s place. I felt it was the only way to get close to my mother. I settled onto my bed, quickly wiping away the tears that kept trickling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them. Instead, I fished through the box, carefully pulling out a wallet-sized picture of my parents. Their happy faces beamed up at me, my mother’s round, young face full of warmth and my father’s arrogant grin. This was the only picture in my grandmother’s house that had both my mother and father in it, and I made sure to save it because it was the only picture where my mother looked truly happy.

 Among the other trinkets were a class ring, a little jewelry box, a pretty hairbrush with silver backing that matched my grandmother’s mirror, and a pocket knife. I saved the pocket knife because it seemed so out of place among the womanly baubles. I picked it up, and studied it. Nothing really special, just a leather sheath with the initials slowly fading away, so much that I could just barely read the first letter, a J. When I was younger I believed it was my father’s pocket knife, though why my mother would save it I’ll never know. I’ll never know anything about my parents, because everyone, even Jeff, refuses to tell me. Without warning, I started to sob.

            “I want to know where my mother is. I wish…I wish somebody could show me where my mother is!”

“Do you wish to know?”

I gasped and turned around to see a man in front of my window. He was good-looking, a young man not older than thirty, with wispy brown hair swept back from the wind, and gentle brown eyes. He was lean, well-built, and dressed impeccably in a black suit. He stood casually in front of my window, one hand grasping the sill. I stood up and braced myself for an attack. He smiled sweetly at me, his smile lighting up his bony face, and stepped forward, holding out a hand.

“Do you wish to know what happened to her?”

I stepped back as he started towards me, my hand still gripping the pocket knife. If all else failed, I could slash at him before making a run for it. However, I did want to know what he knew about my mother.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? I’m not alone,” I warned, “My fa-,” I quickly changed the name, “Someone is downstairs.”

He smiled

“Don’t worry, he won’t bother us. I’ve stopped time. Besides, why trouble him while he’s sleeping?” He took another step forward, the gentle smile never leaving his face. His voice was warm and soothing to hear. He was closer to me now, so close I could touch him without leaning forward.

“You stopped time? Can you do that? What are you?”

“I am Amoren, a spiritual being sent here to grant wishes. I can see and hear your deepest desires and help you achieve them. I stopped time in order to show you your deepest desire: your past.”

“I don’t believe you!” I spat, and picked up my lamp to throw at him. It stopped halfway, in mid-air. I stared.

“You see? Now come with me, and I’ll show you your mother. I’ll show you where she is.” He held out his hand. I still hesitated.

“What about Jeff?”

“He’s asleep. He’ll be fine. Now, come.”

I quickly slipped the knife into my jeans pocket, and took his hand. With a blast of light, I felt the world around me turn faster and faster in the opposite direction, going back through the years. I felt rather than saw the colors fade and the walls shatter as Amoren swept me back through time.

I felt as if I was there in front of the college, but really wasn’t. I could see people in the background, their colors completely gone. The world was like a giant black and white photograph, with men and women halted in mid-step. Amoren snapped his fingers and the people started moving. I watched in silence as a man and woman, the only ones in color, embraced. My mother and my father walked side by side through campus, towards Amoren and me. I felt such loneliness as I looked at my mother’s face. She looked so much like me, and she was so happy. Tears ran down my face while I watched from the side, witnessing my father’s departure and my mother’s pain as she was left all alone. She had no one except for her own mother, who took her and the baby in. I focused on my mother as she played with me when I was very young. She sang, laughed, twirled me around, and I could sense the happiness in her once again. She was still smiling, still laughing, as she belted the two-year-old into the car seat for a drive. I could see the rain start to fall, but did not hear it when it started to hurtle down from the heavens. All I could hear was the sounds of the soft lullaby, coming out of the car stereo. I hardly noticed when Amoren let go of my hand and disappeared, for I was too entranced with watching the car as it sped down the road, as it hit a deep pothole and hydroplaned. I couldn’t hear anything but the screams as my mother lost control of the car, and slammed into a tree. I heard the wail of a little girl crying, and the sounds of feet slapping on pavement.

“Oh my God!”

This voice was different from those of my mother and father. I turned to see a black-haired, hazel-eyed man coming running down the street towards the car. He peered through the window, and gently shook my mother.

“Miss? Miss, are you all right? Miss?”

She didn’t answer, and I felt years of pain and sorrow settle on me as the man ran over to the other side of the car. I slowly realized the truth.

My mother was not searching for stardom, she wasn’t even alive.

My mother was dead.

“It’s all right, I’ll get you out.”

The man was cutting at the seatbelt with a knife, desperately trying to free the younger version of me. The crying had stopped. I felt my lungs start to contract, and there wasn’t enough air. My vision was starting to fade. I dimly recognized the signs of suffocation. I was dying. My heart was knocking against my ribs, fighting to get enough oxygen. Through the dim light I could still see the man in full color, unlike the rest of the world, as he pulled the younger me out of the car and felt for a pulse. He spoke.

“Please. I need to find some way to save her. I wish I knew some way to save her.” His voice sounded oddly familiar, but that may have been because there was a dull roar inside my head.

“Do you really want to?”

My legs gave out as Amoren appeared beside the man, and held out a hand. My pulse was slowing, and I knew my heart was starting to give up for lack of air.

“Yes, I want to save her. Please.”

“It will cost you. Miracles do not come without a price.”

“I don’t care! Just help me bring her back.”

The scenery changed and I could breathe. I wasn’t dying. I was coming back. My vision cleared, and I gasped as air poured into my lungs. I could see the man carrying the younger version of me up the front steps of my grandmother’s house. It had stopped raining, and the man was clutching me in his arms. My legs could now hold my weight, so I got up and ran to the door. I wanted, needed, to see the face of my savior.

I found myself looking into the grim eyes of Jeff Hart.

The surprise shocked me so much that I found myself in the middle of my present-day room without even realizing I had taken the trip back. Questions were racing through my head. Why hadn’t he told me? Why didn’t he ever say that my mother had past away? Sobbing, I stood up. Jeff really was the last person who cared about me. He had saved me so long ago. He saved me again when he took me in when my grandmother died. So why didn’t he tell me?

            And what had Amoren meant when he said miracles did not come without a price?

I looked around. Amoren had disappeared, and my room was back to normal. The lamp I had thrown was smashed on the floor. That meant time was back to normal. So where was he? With a sinking stomach I raced down the stairs. Something was definitely wrong here. When I didn’t see Jeff in the living room or kitchen, I ran towards his bedroom. That was the only place he could be. I charged in, and had to stop when I saw the monstrosity hovering over Jeff’s bed.

It was hideous. It had pulpy, oozing flesh the color of rotted meat, and ugly mix of green and red. The eyes had changed from a gentle brown to an eerie red, and he glowered at me from his place over the bed. His face was snake like, with slits for nostrils and hardly any mouth. His hands had changed to claws, and were gripping Jeff’s chest possessively. He hissed at me, showing a mouth full of misshapen, razor sharp teeth. Instinctively I knew it was Amoren, it had to be Amoren who had changed from a handsome, gentle man into a stooped, slimy, monstrous creature, whose only normal body parts were the legs. The legs actually looked young, and well muscled. Something was off about the legs, but I couldn’t think of it right then. Instead, I stupidly rushed towards the creature, and dragged him off.

“What are you doing? Leave him alone!” I screamed, and shoved the monster away as hard as I could. I flung myself on top of Jeff, and listened for any sign of life.

I couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

“I’m just collecting my payment. You wish, I grant. But I don’t do things for free, oh no. I take the one thing you cherish most. His life, his life I take!” It giggled, clutching something glowing in his hand. It jumped up and down gleefully, stamping the floor in delight. “Stupid girl, you really thought I’d show you the past for free? Demons don’t do anything for free!”

I stumbled off of Jeff, and held out my hand.

“Give it back! Give him back his life!” Amoren just giggled some more, and went to race out of the door. I stepped in front of him, and he raced back to the other side of the room. He laughed.

“You’re just like him! Yes, yes, just like him. You humans are funny, funny things. Now I have all of him, not just a part of his body.” He hissed when I stepped towards him, and it finally dawned on me.

“You took away his ability to walk, didn’t you? You’re the reason he’s in a wheelchair!” Fury settled so deep in my chest, I didn’t even feel the knife in my hand.

“We trade, we trade! His legs for your life! We trade!” His maniacal laughter pierced the air.

“The deal’s off.”

I lunged straight for the b*****d’s heart. He gave a high pitched squeal, more animal than human, and a spray of some burning liquid hit my face. I was thrown backwards as the demon exploded, and I gasped in pain as demon blood sprayed everywhere, and all over me.

Then Amoren was gone.

I stared at the knife in my hand. It didn’t hit me until just then that the knife I held was the same knife that Jeff had used to cut me out of the car, all those years ago. He must have left it with my grandmother when he dropped me off. He never wanted me to suffer like he did, so he gave up part of his life for me.

“Jeff?”

I jumped up, and grabbed his wrist. I could feel a pulse, and after a moment, I heard him start to breathe again. I sighed in relief. I took the opportunity to look around. The room was like a normal bedroom, but I never realized that Jeff had so many pictures. After glancing back once or twice to make sure he was still breathing, I went over to look at some. One or two showed a younger, black-haired Jeff with a lovely woman who I was certain was his wife. The rest were all pictures I had drawn when I was still in elementary school. I can’t say I was quite the artist, but they were all framed as if they were delicate works of art. There were school pictures of me when I had just entered high school, pictures of me I didn’t even know he kept. It was stunning. I rushed back over to the bed when I heard Jeff groan.

“Jeff? Can you talk?” There was no sound, but I saw his eyelids flutter. “Well, just listen, then. I’m sorry I said we weren’t family. I never realized just how much you mean to me, or how much I mean to you,” the tears started to spill out again. “I’m sorry, Jeff. I wish you would have told me, but I know you were doing it to keep me safe. You were trying to protect me from that demon, weren’t you? So that way I would be happy and wouldn’t lose anything dear to me. You never realized that you weren’t doing it right, and that you were just pushing me away. But still, you kept trying to protect me. And I protected you. So now…we really are family!”

I felt his hand grab mine and squeeze.

Not much happened until later that week. Inspired, I dragged Jeff to the father-daughter dance at the civic center. Our lives were pretty much back to normal, except for the fact that our household was a lot more cheerful than it was a couple of nights ago. Jeff settled down and told me everything I wanted to know about my parents. He grabbed all the drawings and pictures of me out of his room and hung them up all over the living room, much to my embarrassment. I was happier that night at the civic center than I’ve ever been. Jeff insisted we both dress up for the event, and I felt all eyes on us as I wheeled Jeff into the ballroom. When they started playing songs, I glanced at Jeff. A couple of weeks ago, he would have grunted and wheeled himself away, so no one was more surprised than I when he rolled over in front of me.

 He stood up.

I saw everyone around us stare and stop dancing. Jeff Hart was no longer a cripple. He had stood up, and was now dragging me out onto the dance floor. I hadn’t realized that when I killed that demon he had lost all the “payments” he had taken. So now Jeff’s legs were back where they belonged.

I laughed and grabbed Jeff in a hug, and let him pull me into the dance. It was good to have family.