It’s almost winter lady, go to Florida with the rest of the people your age, I thought then hated myself for thinking it. I wasn’t one of those anti-old people, so I was ashamed the thought had even entered my mind. Normally, I’m fairly patient.
Just not today.
“Damn,” Robby and I said simultaneously as the light turned red. But now we were close enough to see. I scanned the lot again and was relieved when Mom’s car wasn’t there.
My relief didn’t last long. From the corner of my eye I saw a car approaching. Fear crept up my body slow and steady like a spider until with sudden clarity you no longer presume, but instead know it’s there.
Same make, same model, same color. The vehicle stopped and I watched with horror as Mom exited the car and headed for her destiny.
Just as I was about to jump out of the car and make a run for her, the light changed.
“Don’t do it,” Robby said eyeing my hand on the door handle. “It’ll take you longer to run over there. And… this is a bad intersection.”
I could’ve outrun the car in front of us on one of my worst days. And with the way Robby’s car was running, the geriatric in front of us might’ve beaten it in a race. But he was right. It would be tricky to run out in traffic.
“What do we do when we get there?” Robby asked. The car jerked and started to move.
“Get her out of there,” I said and then gasped as my worst fears came true. There he was – the shooter - shuffling into the store.
I internally pleaded with my grandmother to help.
She must have heard and used her powers from the beyond because a patrol car was pulling into Dunkin Donuts at the same time we were pulling into the lot at ‘Lil General two stores down.
“Salem?” He didn’t need to ask the question. Robby saw the man walk into the store and knew from my expression.
“Police. Oh yeah, thank you Grandma,” I said aloud. “Robby, go get the cop and tell him you saw a man enter the store with a gun.”
“But… I didn’t. What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not. Please, Robby. Tell him it looked like he had a gun, please.”
“You come with me. You can’t go in there alone. Or you tell the cop, I’ll get your mother.”
“Stop arguing. This isn’t the time to act macho. She’ll come instantly with me. You’d have to explain and there isn’t time,” I said as I jumped out of the car and ran for the door before he even put it in park.
I tugged on the door. Nothing. Had the gunman locked it? Too frightened to think clearly I stepped back and was ready to start kicking it in when I saw the word push.
The door opened in.
I entered the store and glanced around. The set-up made it impossible to automatically see either my mother or the perpetrator. There was a small group at the checkout counter gabbing as their endless items were rung up.
The shooter stood only a few feet away. He leaned against the magazine rack with his back to the counter. The bastard coolly thumbed through a magazine. Waiting them out.
He didn’t see me enter. I snuck past and down the aisle in search of my mother. It felt as if there were a thousand aisles rather than just a few. Like I was in a bad dream where I was running and running toward a door to safety, only the door never came any closer. I could feel the blood coursing through my veins, my heart pumping wildly.
Then there she was, crouched on the floor looking through cans of cat food frowning. I could have told her they didn’t have any kitten chow here. We’d have to go to the market for that. If only she’d asked. If only…
I didn’t want to make a lot of noise so I bent down beside her and placed my finger in front of my mouth. “Shhh,” I whispered.
Before she could say anything I placed my finger in front of her mouth as a warning not to say anything. Then I mouthed, “The shooter is here. In the front of the store.”
She looked like she was about to give me an argument when my eyes began to tear up. She could tell, if nothing else, she had to humor me.
I held out my hand and she placed hers in mine. Slowly, we both stood. She placed the things she had planned on buying on the shelf. Quietly we began our trek toward the front of the store.
We needed to get out while the others were still being rung up. By then the cop would be there or close enough and he’d only have to think of saving the sales clerk. A gust of air hit. My eyes zeroed in on the open door. My body froze and I watched with horror as my hope walked out with all of their bags.
It wasn’t fair. We were half way there. Half way to freedom. But half way wasn’t good enough. The criminal pulled out his gun and stuck it in the face of the attendant. “Open the register and give me everything inside.”
We were half way to hell.
“Anything you want, man, just don’t shoot. It ain’t my money. I got a family.” The attendant was breathing hard and although it was hard to see for sure, it appeared beads of sweat had formed over his brow. The poor slob looked like he’d already wet himself and was ready to collapse.
As soon as the gunman turned to leave he would see us. We had to try to make it to the door and escape before that happened. Once outside we could run toward the police car. But it would be risky.
I pointed toward the door and my mother shook her head and stepped back toward the aisle. Her fingers slid from mine. The loss was so severe I panicked. I took another step toward the door and again motioned frantically for her to follow. Didn’t she realize we’d be cornered here? After all he did have a gun. And if he did shoot the attendant like he did in the latest robbery, then he would certainly look through the aisles to make sure he left no witnesses.
There wasn’t enough time to debate the issue. I continued toward the door hoping she’d follow. But as luck would have it, mine ran out.
Just as I was closing in on the prize, the man turned. Gun in one hand, a bag of money in the other. We locked eyes and I stopped breathing.
I didn’t want to die. As much as I complained about how much my life sucked and how unfair it was, I really wasn’t ready for it to end. A million things flooded my mind. Every significant event from riding my first two-wheeler to my dad’s death flashed before my eyes. Somehow, in that split second, I had time to consider them all.
“Salem,” Mom yelled. My head jerked toward her. Damn it. She wanted him to hear her voice so he’d focus on her instead.
My heart beat double time. She wanted me to run. As if I could leave her. My stomach clenched. I knew what was coming next. No, no, this couldn’t be happening.
The madman swiveled toward the sound of her voice, his arm outstretched, gun jerking back as it fired.
Pop, pop, pop.
Everything happened in tandem. The impact pushed her back as the door burst open. The policeman fired at the gunman. The clerk covered his head and dropped down to hide behind the counter. The gunman shrieked as his weapon sailed out of his hand like a Frisbee and clattered to the floor.
Familiar arms circled my waist and tackled. “I told you to stay outside,” the officer yelled to Robby. “Now don’t anyone move.” He slapped handcuffs on the criminal and shoved him down on the floor.
My mother hadn’t made a sound. The familiar silence sliced through me tearing out my heart. Wildly, I tried to move, but Robby had me pinned. I screamed louder and louder not even realizing that I was the one making the sound.
Robby pulled me close, rocking me in his arms and trying to turn my face away from my mother. She was lying face down in the aisle crumpled and contorted. A small pool of blood was beginning to form. It inched its way down the lilting floor like it was trying to reach me.
No, no, dear God. This can’t be happening. Not again. I can’t lose another parent. My head ached. My heart shattered.
I tried again to make a break for it, but Robby just held tighter. “Wait, Salem.” His voice cracked and he paused. “Let him check her injuries first.”
Who was he kidding? I knew Rob though
t she was dead as well I as did.
“He’ll know what to do. If you touch her you could make things worse.”
Intellectually, I knew Robby was right. But let’s face it, when a family member is shot right in front of your eyes, you don’t exactly think straight.
Emotion ruled, swatting intellect like a fly. Tears dripped down my face. My body trembled like enveloped in ice. My shrill yelling stopped and a deep mournful wail erupted from the center of my soul. I had let my mother down, let my grandmother down too. I was too late.
Chapter Sixteen
The headstone, a pitch-black onyx, like a moonless night, encompassed my spirit. It drew me in away from the rest of the world and I cautiously continued my approach. When I was close enough to touch it my legs gave out and I sank to the ground.
For a second I thought about what lie beneath, but couldn’t keep my thoughts there. I couldn’t face that – the remains. Bones.
Nothing but bones. The person no longer resided with the remains. If nothing else, that much I learned from my grandmother.
The spirit soared away from the body and maintained contact with the physical world, even if most of the people left behind were unaware of it.
Not me. I had assurances.
My breath had been labored sounding like an asthmatic in desperate need of an inhaler. I needed to calm down and face the stone in front of me. I reached out and splayed my hand across the smooth dark stone and the cold instantly penetrated the layers of my skin.
It was like the cold of death could somehow reach through the stone, and creep into the living.
I had been allowing myself to be a sacrifice from the accident, stifling myself, preventing my development from guilt and fear. No more. From this day forward things would change. They had to.
I leaned forward and embraced the stone, hugged the temple. That’s all it was. A place. A place to go to remember. But I didn’t need to go there to remember and to love. The love would always be inside me. That was the key to surviving grief – not letting go of the memories. Keeping the love as alive as it had been while the person was still living.
I heard the soft footsteps approach telling me it was time to go. A gentle hand on my shoulder said more than any words could. I looked up and nodded.
“I’m ready, Mom.” I put my hand in hers and the mere contact calmed me.
She looked at the stone wistfully. “We can come back periodically, but he’ll always be as close as our hearts. Love doesn’t just stop.”
“I know that now and I know it wasn’t my fault he died. I’m just glad I didn’t lose you too. I don’t think I could have handled that.” And deep down I knew I wouldn’t have. I would have remained stagnant, crippled from self-imposed guilt.
Mom hugged me and I leaned in welcoming her warmth. “Good thing I have a daughter that’s psychic.”
“It’s not like I stopped you from getting shot.”
“No, but it could have been a lot worse than a shot in the arm. At least it was only superficial. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”
But we did know. She would have died. Somehow through my grandmother and who knows what else, I was able to control my psychic ability and get to my mom in time. That helped erase the guilt I had over surviving when my dad didn’t.
It gave me courage.
“Are you sure you’re ready, license girl?”
I’d made it through a five-minute road test. Now I needed to conquer the reality of driving every day. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mom unzipped her worn-out so-last-season Prada purse and fumbled for a few seconds searching for the keys. When she found them she held them out in the open palm of her chapped hand.
I reached for them, my fingers lingering a second before I picked them up. I took a deep breath and gathered my strength. “So am I driving all the way to the airport?”
“Only if you want to. Let’s see how you feel. If you’re ready for the highway, go for it. If not, there’s no shame in pulling over at Kandy Korner. It’s only one block before the interstate entrance ramp.” Mom slid into the passenger seat and I plopped down on the driver’s side. We sat silently for a second. “Or we could stop there anyway,” Mom said. “A little chocolate courage couldn’t hurt.”
“Chocolate peanut butter fudge?”
“You read my mind.” Mom raised her eyebrows and I laughed at her little joke. “Are you anxious to get home?” she asked changing the subject.
Home. Here we were back in North Carolina where I’d spent most of my life and the second she said home I envisioned Rhode Island.
“As anxious as you are, although staying with Grandy Bee isn’t making me as crazy as it is you.”
She countered with a phony laugh and gently slapped at my arm.
“Yeah, I’m ready to get back. I miss Skyler. Do you think Robby is taking good care of him?”
“Would you have allowed him to cat-sit if you thought he wouldn’t do a good job?”
I fastened my seatbelt and turned the key while she was speaking. “No, I wouldn’t have.”
“So in other words, you also miss Robby?”
I grinned as I put the car in drive and slowly stepped on the gas. “Guess so. Um, now that I’m driving, when do you think I’ll get my own car, used of course.”
“You’ve been driving now all of fifteen seconds.”
Okay, so it was worth a try. Without taking my eyes off the road I continued, “Hmmm, I don’t know. I sort of had this vision of this really great car…”
She looked at me intently, gauging my face and then recognized the lie for what it was. “Oh honey, that wasn’t a vision. It was a fantasy.”
Even being psychic couldn’t undermine that mom radar. Some things never changed.
About the Author
Lyn Stanzione has a BA in Secondary Education from Arizona State University and an MA in English from the University of Rhode Island. She works full time teaching writing.
A student once complained about the length of an assignment to which Lyn replied with her normal catch phrase, "You could write a book about that." His reply, "Why don't you," changed her life. By the end of the school year Lyn completed her first work of fiction and joined Rhode Island Romance Writers. She now cannot imagine a life without the characters that are her constant companions.
Lyn resides in Rhode Island with her two wonderful teenage children and two crazy cats.
Sneak peek at book two of the Salem's Sight Series, Salem's Sacrifice
Chapter One
I have to admit I was a little surprised when my shrink called and practically begged for me to meet with him. I mean, at this point we were down to only occasional visits. But you’re probably wondering why I see a shrink at all.
Well, it started after the car accident last year that killed my dad and left me psychic. Yup, that’s me, the girl most likely to end up telling fortunes in a carnival. Only my ability works in a sort of funky way. And I still haven’t confided the psychic part to my shrink. See, he also happens to be my boyfriend’s father and since he seems to like me and is also a nonbeliever, I just sort of decided to leave that little bit out.
It’s not lying. Much. I mean, everyone’s entitled to a little bit of privacy.
As a matter of fact only a few people know about my ‘ability’ because hey, who wants to be known as the local freak? Mostly, people think of psychics as people who can see the future. And I can, well… sort of. But like I said, in a funky sort of way.
I guess what I mean is, I can’t control it, or maybe it’s better to say I can’t control it enough. I can’t just look at someone or hold their hand like they do in the movies, and have all this stuff shoot into my head.
For the most part, images drift into my dreams and take over like giant cumulus clouds blocking out the blue of the sky. Or that’s how it started anyway. I’d wake up and know the dream I had was going to happen for real, unless I did something to stop it.
&n
bsp; That’s what happened when I saw this creep shoot my mom. I knew it would turn out to be real so I had to focus on the images. After a while they started to pop up like computer instant messages even when I was awake. Finally, luckily, I realized it was a robbery in a convenience store and consequently managed to save the day before I ended up an orphan.
But in the past few weeks, it was like the computer in my mind lost it’s Internet access and I was hoping that maybe the images were just gone away. Just like my grandmother did. Well, not that I wanted her to go away, but since she was a ghost and hanging out my room it was sort of the right thing to do. I missed her though.
Grandma was psychic too. When she was alive that is, although technically I guess you could say she’s still psychic, but other than me, who does she talk to? And maybe the things she knows now, she knows because she’s dead. I mean, maybe all dead people know what’s going to happen next.
Anyway, few people knew about Grandma’s ability and Mom never really believed her, so she had a tough time admitting it when it turned out I was also a freak.
But like I said, my shrink didn’t know and since it wasn’t really necessary, I wasn’t about to drop the bomb. We had dealt with my real issue, which was my dad’s death. And anyone living through that kind of car accident could use a shrink just to have someone to vent to. And I liked talking to Robby’s dad, so I don’t know why this visit was making me nervous.
I peddled faster then slowed almost to a stop when I hit Main Street. Talk about instant loss of momentum. In spite of the fact it was still fall, Christmas items were already being put out in the store windows. I felt my heart clench. This would be the first Christmas without my dad. It’s weird but you think you’re cured, that you’re healed and you’re living a normal life, and then you see a stupid Christmas tree and Bam! You’re emotionally beat up. Bruised and suffering all over again.