Текст книги "Hemlock Veils"
Автор книги: Jennie Davenport
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Chapter 5
A light knock roused Elizabeth from a sleep so deep even dreams eluded her. With half her face in the pillow, her eyelids opened with difficulty. She could tell by the gray-lit motel room it was just barely past sunrise, and her heavy eyelids began to close again. The knock sounded a second time, louder than the first. A timid voice followed, muffled through the door. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ashton.”
Elizabeth tried not to groan while escaping the sheets twisted around her. She wiped her eyes on her way to the door and opened it to find Anita Thurman, eyes apologetic and hands holding Elizabeth’s jacket. The neckline of her flowery, simple blouse was lower than her sweater had been the previous night, displaying a small golden cross dangling from her neck. Her hair—auburn with an accent of silver—had been neatly pinned back with gold-colored barrettes on both sides and her almost nonexistent eyelashes were free of makeup.
“I’m very sorry,” Anita said. “I didn’t want to wake you, but Sheriff says the sooner he and Brian can get your car back here, the better. They’ll be waiting at the diner for you.” She held out her jacket. “Here. You left this in the office last night.”
Elizabeth took it while tucking her hair, which was a ratted mess, behind her ear. Her jacket wasn’t just dry. “You…cleaned it?”
“Oh, it was nothing. Just wiped some of the mud off is all.”
“Anita, thank you. For all the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Ms. Ashton. We’re just happy to have you, as temporary as it may be.”
“Please, it’s Beth.”
“All right, Beth.” Anita smiled, displaying a charming set of crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes. There was a certain shyness, or innocence, Elizabeth liked about her. She began walking away, but turned back. She took Elizabeth’s hand with a slight hesitation, letting her smile fall. Her voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I’ve been thanking the Lord all morning.” At Elizabeth’s confusion, she went on, “Bill and I pray for the safety of this town every night, and I’m just grateful you were included in His protection.”
Elizabeth only smiled, squeezing Anita’s hand.
“Are you…doing all right since…well, since last night?”
“Really, I’m fine,” Elizabeth replied, trying to keep her voice light and her smile gracious. She hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror since her pit stop the night before, but the sight must be something awful since everyone treated her like the battered victim she wasn’t. It had been that way ever since she’d fixed up Eustace’s hand at the diner, ever since they’d learned about her encounter with the monster. And perhaps Elizabeth should be bent out of shape. Perhaps she was crazy, since the recent events of her normal life distressed her more than a deathly encounter with a beast from another world.
“I just hope you realize how blessed you are to be standing here, Beth. And I know you probably want nothing to do with this place now, but you’re always welcome here.”
Elizabeth nodded, speechless. Knowing she was welcome anywhere, even a place as small as Hemlock Veils, warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Anita gave one last smile and squeeze of Elizabeth’s hand before walking away.
When Elizabeth closed the door and turned, her breath caught. The trees were fuller and more spectacular than she’d pictured, and the forest’s edge closer to her window, just a few yards. She could understand why staying here might be terrifying for someone who feared the monster in the forest.
Especially since the twigs at her eye level—two stories high—had fresh breaks.
***
Elizabeth walked the curve of Red Cedar Loop with her eyes upward, admiring the cedars that gave the street its name. They surrounded the narrow street on both sides, their branches draped with ropes of moss. And with the air crisp and the previously gray sky now clear, the beauty of nature moved her as it never had before. The storm had dampened everything, but birds squawked and sang all around as though life was always delightful. Even though the motel was behind her and the diner on the corner up ahead, she felt like the only soul atop the earth. In that moment, a thread of peculiar energy, palpable and hair-raising, tethered her to the environment. She liked to think it was the same connection her father had once felt.
Surely that was why these people who lived in such terror stayed in the place they feared: it was simply too beautiful to leave behind.
Upon reaching Clayton Road—the main street in town and the only way in and out, according to Eustace—she rounded the corner instead of crossing to the diner. A couple of people mingled outside it and stopped their conversation to stare at her. Did the blue-and-silver Maybach 57 at the curb also hold gawkers? What was such a luxurious and expensive car doing in a small town like this in the first place? Curious or not, she couldn’t go inside the diner yet, not when her locket was out here somewhere.
The narrow pathway at the edge of the hemlocks—the same one she and Eustace had emerged from in the middle of the night—showed itself, and the moment she crossed into the damp and ever-so-green forest, the air changed. Like she’d stepped into another world entirely, a world where the normal cares of life didn’t exist and she could simply be herself. She could simply breathe. And in that moment, with dense vegetation brushing against the arms of her jacket and wet leaves beneath her boots, she knew she was destined for this place.
The farther her feet took her, the more she felt it. She walked a narrow valley in the crevice formed by rising hills on either side of her. Vivid green and earthy brown were the only hues in this other world, from thickening foliage and clinging moss, to naked branches and the slender trail that led her.
A large fallen trunk blocked the trail, as she’d expected: the same that had taken her to the ground and whose blanket of moss looked more like green shag carpet. As she approached, a small splash of red stood out, a color that didn’t belong. Sheltered by the ferns, it decorated the cedar that stood tall behind the fallen trunk. She’d leaned against this tree last night, when the beast breathed her in. A meager stab of guilt penetrated her heart, simply for being the cause of this blood. According to the old man, he’d never been lucky enough to hit his target, but thanks to her distraction, he’d been successful for the first time in almost fifty years.
She chided herself for again feeling compassion toward the monster everyone swore would rip her to shreds if it had the chance. Whose side was she on?
She gravitated to the trunk, examining the blood when the forest floor glimmered. Silver, slithering strands. Her locket’s chain emerged from mud and leaves as though grown here, and when she picked it up, it hung open. The tiny pictures were slightly water damaged and the clear cover misted from the inside, but all in all it appeared perfectly intact. She exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled as she ran her thumb over the picture of an innocent Willem, wiping away some moisture in the process.
“Beth?”
Startled, she turned to Sheriff Taggart and Eustace. Eustace still wore waders, but was free of the yellow slicker and hat. With folded arms, he lifted one of his dark gray eyebrows. His beard appeared whiter in the sunlight, especially in contrast to his brows. The bandage on his hand needed to be replaced, since red saturated the center. “After all that last night, you still have the stones to come out here alone?”
“My locket,” she said, holding it up. “It fell from my bag last night when—” She cut herself off. “Anyway, I had to find it.” She folded her arms, matching the old man. “And I thought it was only dangerous after dark?”
“It is,” Taggart said, “but most are too afraid to set foot out here no matter how bright the sun is shining.” They watched her, expectantly.
“I couldn’t stay away. Really, I don’t know how anyone can. I’ve never been anywhere so beautiful.”
Taggart’s dark brown mustache twitched and he gave his head a slight shake. “That beauty can be deceiving, Ms. Ashton. Just be careful.”
“She’s a brave one, she is,” Eustace said, finally unfolding his arms. Even through his beard, there was no mistaking the lifted corner of his mouth.
“Either brave or stupid. No offense.”
“I’m neither,” she said too defensively. “Just…lost something special to me.”
Taggart’s eyes found the tree beside her and he took an anxious step toward it, studying the splatter of blood. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, almost to himself.
“You still think it’s a mistake for me to come out here, Sheriff?” Eustace said. He lifted his chin when Taggart met his eyes.
“You think it survived?”
“Wish I could say, but the thing is massive. Definitely wounded it though.”
Taggart’s eyes found the blood again. “I’ll be,” he repeated under his breath.
Elizabeth started past them, the way they’d come. She didn’t know why, but the whole thing didn’t sit right. They caught up to her and their steps grew leisurely and slow.
“We’ll get some food and coffee in you,” Taggart said from behind, “then Brian and I will accompany you to your vehicle. He’s got a tow truck that’ll fit the three of us just fine.”
She nodded, and after a minute said, “Tell me, Sheriff, if everyone is so afraid out here and this beauty is so deceiving, why stay? In Hemlock, I mean.”
With a hand casually on his belt, he shrugged. “Guess folks like to stay where their lives are. This is home to us, and most folks are established here. Besides the monster, this is a great little community. We don’t have many problems and everyone gets along for the most part. So if we all stay out of the forest”—he shot a stern glance at Eustace—“we can live here in peace.”
She got the sense he felt like she was interrupting that peace. “I hope I haven’t caused too much trouble, and I’ll make sure to thank you all in some way.” She didn’t know how she would, only that she had to.
“Now, Beth,” Eustace said. “Stop all that nonsense. Like I said last night, you’re welcome here anytime, as long as you need. It’s about time we were given the opportunity to help someone out besides our own. Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”
Taggart eyed Eustace. “It ain’t the help we got a problem with, Bathgate, and you know it.” His tall, lanky body pushed through the hemlocks. They followed, and once in the open sunlight, on Clayton Road and directly across from the diner, Elizabeth squinted. She realized, when looking down Clayton Road in the hope of seeing Mt. Hood in the distance, that the town wasn’t just barricaded by trees, but also by the hills. Hemlock Veils, nestled in the cleavage of forest peaks, had no clear sight of Mt. Hood—not even the tip of its snowcapped peak.
“I won’t be any trouble while I’m here. You have my word.”
He sighed and turned to her. “I ain’t worried about that either, Ms. Ashton. It’s that.” He motioned to the forest behind her. “It’s bringing in outsiders and putting their lives in danger. It’s one thing for a resident to make a conscious decision to live here, knowing full-well the dangers. But you’re stuck here for who knows how long, and I just want to make sure you’re not putting yourself in harm’s way. You’re not from around here; you’re not used to the rules.”
“I’ll stay out of the woods.”
His shoulders relaxed, and so did his brow.
“At night,” she finished in emphasis.
His brow tensed again.
“I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me, Sheriff.” She moved past him. “Believe it or not, I happen to have good instincts.”
He followed in a hurry, amidst the sound of Eustace’s chuckle. “Those instincts almost got you killed, Ms. Ashton.”
“Ah, the famous Ms. Ashton.” It came from the older gentleman standing by the sleek and sophisticated Maybach. He wore a simple gray suit and tie, and what little white hair remained atop his nearly bald head had been combed over. His smile was beyond warm. “The town is buzzing about you, young lady.”
The diner window framed curious faces. “I see that.”
He extended his hand and she took it. His eyes were close together and his nose large, but his shake was as warm as his smile, hinting at a most handsome soul. “I’m Arne Randolph.”
“Elizabeth,” she smiled. “But…you already knew that.”
He kissed her hand in an old-fashioned way, and she couldn’t help but be charmed. “It’s a pleasure, Elizabeth.”
“Please, you fool,” Eustace said. “She’s going to have enough of that to worry about from Brian.”
“Do I detect jealousy, Old Man?” Arne teased.
“Old man? I’m not much older than you.”
“You’re both old,” Taggart said. He walked across the street to the diner, turning back only briefly. “We’ll be inside when you’re ready, Ms. Ashton.”
“Thank you,” she called, even though he was already inside. It might take more time for Taggart to warm up to her, but regardless of his resistance, Elizabeth was fond of him. Clearly, he cared about the welfare of his town.
“You should be grateful you’re still alive after gallivanting through the woods with this old coot,” Arne said, his shoulders still square and his hands folded formally in front of him. His voice had a raspy, timeless passion to it.
Elizabeth chuckled and Eustace threw her a quick glance. “I did save her life, Randolph.”
“After she saved yours, I hear.”
“How do you hear things anyway? You never set foot inside with us. And with that hearing aid, it’s a wonder you know anything going on around here.”
Arne smiled. “I could ask how you eat with that nest on your chin, but some of us have class.”
Eustace waved his arm. As he crossed the street, he said behind him, “I’ll let that slide this time, only because you have to put up with the boss all day. I do feel sorry for you there, old friend.” And with another shake of the head, he disappeared inside the diner. It may have been a joke, but Elizabeth sensed some sincerity to it, whatever it meant.
Arne, however, looked unaffected. “I hope you enjoy your short stay here, Elizabeth. Aside from senile geezers, the town has much to offer.” Something lingered in his brownish-blue eyes, something knowing.
She studied them before looking down Clayton Road at the charming town, then behind her at the old-growth forest. “I think I figured that out the moment I arrived.”
“I’m sure you did.” His eyes, still on hers, appeared to be smiling. “And don’t let Sheriff Taggart, or anyone else, scare you away. People are just protective of their homes, and protective of you.”
“I understand.” They exchanged a smile. “But I don’t scare easily.”
“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?”
Chapter 6
Henry Clayton placed the white ceramic coffee mug to his lips carefully since it still steamed. The coffee, acrid and dull, was the worst he’d ever tasted, but this diner was his only connection to the people of Hemlock Veils, and he couldn’t sit empty-handed. He’d tried cream and sugar in it once before, when Regina had insisted, but that had only worsened it. A few years ago, after he’d rejected one of Nicole’s not-so-subtle advances, she’d mumbled under her breath that his black coffee was fitting for his black soul. He’d found himself smiling when she strutted away, only because it meant he was doing everything right. She’d tried getting his attention in other shameless ways since then, when it was obvious she and Brian were on the outs, but for the most part she never acknowledged him. Hopefully, she was just as intimidated as the rest of them.
But something unnerved him about the visitor who had arrived in the night, the one everyone talked about. Elizabeth Ashton was the only name he’d heard leaving people’s lips since he’d entered the diner ten minutes before. She was brave and mysterious and kind, most had been saying. And the heaviness in his stomach told him her presence would stir something in this town, something that would go against all he had worked so hard to build.
“Did you see how she totally sidestepped the issue?” Nicole spewed with a low whisper. “Like her attack was nothing!” Henry wouldn’t call it much of an attack. Regina rolled her almost-black eyes, reminding him why she had always been one of his favorites here. From over the rim of his newspaper, Henry watched: she and Nicole stood at Brian, Taggart, and Eustace’s booth, Nicole bending just low enough for her breasts to stare Brian in the face.
“Yeah, it’s something,” Brian said, only slightly distracted.
Nicole clenched her jaw and placed a hand on her hip. She had never taken well to someone stealing her attention. For the past two years, ever since her own encounter with the beast, she had played the perfect victim. Brian had fallen for her damsel-in-distress act many times, comforting her until emotions ran hot and her end goal—and his—was quickly accomplished: in Brian’s shop, in the diner’s kitchen, and even behind the Dumpster. Henry had caught them once before, thankfully before it had progressed into something that would always haunt him, but he didn’t have to witness it to know it happened frequently. Word traveled fast in this town, and whether or not people thought Henry was just a detail of the background, he had ears in many places.
He wanted to lay down a law or town code that would prohibit such behavior. Not just because of his biased opinion on the matter, but because of the distress it gave Regina. But it wasn’t his business. He may have his hold on many things in this town, but people’s personal lives were their own; no matter how much he disagreed with them.
However, now that Ms. Ashton was in Hemlock Veils, stealing the limelight, Nicole’s grief would be thrown to the wayside. There was someone new to ooh and ahh over, someone from the outside. Though the change disrupted everything, Henry had to admit that the jealousy tainting Nicole’s already tainted features was satisfying.
“She’s brave,” Regina said again, for the tenth time since Henry had come in. She’d said it to Eustace when he’d entered the diner only a minute before, too, and Taggart just before that. And like Brian did the first few times she’d said it, he nodded, which seemed to irritate Nicole. Hemlock Veils didn’t see many outsiders, especially ones who’d stayed overnight. Hopefully, when the novelty of it all wore off, things would get back to normal.
Henry sighed, attempting to ignore the hype as he lowered his eyes and read the paper from his corner of the diner.
The headline on the article in front of him jumped off the page. His heart nearly stopped at the name in bold letters: Shane O’Donnell. The grayscale picture showed his arm lifted in a wave and both scrawny legs in the wheelchair Henry hated. But as it had been for the past nine years, Shane’s smile was easy and bright, as though he had no reason to be unhappy with his life. And in truth, other than the accident that had ruined everything, he didn’t.
The article was about the Life on Wheels Foundation in Portland and how it had saved so many young people’s lives, including Shane’s. Henry read, wiping his suddenly tense brow.
We asked twenty-eight-year-old Shane O’Donnell what inspired his vision of the Life on Wheels Foundation (an after-school program for wheelchair-bound teens funded by Shane and other unknown sources), and Shane shook his head, emphasizing that the credit is not his own. According to Shane, it was by the influence of one very special person, the same who pulled him from despair nine years before. Now, because of Shane—and a resource still unnamed—teens once labeled disabled are behind the most selfless and charitable acts occurring in downtown Portland. As though that’s not enough, they also participate in their own sports league, one that sets the bar high for any of us…
Henry skipped to the bottom.
So it is by the method of helping those less fortunate and holding them to the same expectations of others that Shane O’Donnell has instilled self-worth in these young minds and accomplished something truly remarkable. He has left his mark on the city of Portland, whether he wants to take the credit or not.
Wiping a hand down his face, Henry lowered the paper. He’d known this day was coming for some time now, knew it wouldn’t be long before the media would find such an extraordinary person. He stared at the picture of Shane, trapped in the memory of the time he and Shane had first met, ten years ago. It had been one of the most difficult afternoons of Henry’s life, seeing young Shane in that hospital bed, a thin blanket covering legs that would never walk again, and knowing it was completely Henry’s fault. He had etched in his mind the exact placement of every bruise and scratch on Shane’s face, as well as the placement of every signature on his arm cast. Henry had made himself remember, had taken those mental pictures so he could recall them at any given moment—moments like now.
The bell on the door jingled and everyone fell silent as the famous Ms. Ashton stepped through. He found himself staring with the rest of them as she rubbed at her arm and gave a nod to the gawkers. “Good morning,” she said, subtly clearing her throat. Eustace gave his crooked smile and turned back to his omelet, his eyes being the only to free Ms. Ashton. There was an air of discomfort about her as she walked forward. Hopefully, that discomfort would take her from Hemlock Veils as quickly as her situation allowed.
Her eyes flitted about the place and met his own, sticking there ever so briefly before he glanced back at the newspaper. He raised it high, blocking the view—refusing to show any more curiosity than he already had.
“Good morning,” Regina said. “Sit. I’ll get you something warm.”
“Thanks,” Ms. Ashton said, and by the rustling of bodies against the vinyl booth across from him, Henry guessed Brian, Taggart, and Eustace were making room for her.
“Sheriff Taggart tells me you took a walk through the forest this morning,” Brian said. Henry loathed that tone in Brian’s voice, the tone he used on all women worth looking at. Giving in to his curiosity—about why she would take a walk through the forest and whether she would react like the rest of the women Brian involved himself with—Henry lowered the paper, finding Brian leaning close to her.
She recoiled, but smiled politely. Clearly, Nicole had already become background noise for Brian. And there was no competition. While Nicole probably had to put hours of maintenance into her plastic-looking appearance, Ms. Ashton was a classic beauty. Even Henry allowed himself the realization that she was the most attractive thing Hemlock Veils had seen. In truth, she was the most beautiful woman Henry had seen in too many years to remember, maybe even ever. Her hair, the color of rich soil, had been the first thing he’d noticed when she’d walked through the door. It fell onto the shoulders of her wool sweater in gentle waves and somehow accented her eyes, which were striking beyond description. Her every facial feature seemed carefully crafted by the Maker Regina frequently spoke of. Even the outline of her face and the narrowness of her nose—mousy, but in a charming way—were exquisitely shaped. He imagined little effort went into her appearance, but beauty could be deceiving. In his experience, it always was. It wasn’t often he admired women, not like he used to, and he stopped himself now.
Regina placed a mug of coffee before Ms. Ashton, one of her best he could see, since it had no chips, and Ms. Ashton smiled a gracious smile, one that made Brian scoot a little closer. She glanced only at the mug, placing her hands around it as steam rose to meet her face.
“I lost something out there last night,” she said in answer to Brian’s question.
“Lost something?”
“Mind your own damn business, Brian,” Eustace said, his dentures mangling a poor straw.
Ms. Ashton smiled. “It’s okay. It was a necklace,” she said at Brian. “A locket.”
Brian’s eyes feigned sympathy. “I hope you found it.”
“I did, thank you.” This surprised Henry.
Brian inched closer. “I’m real sorry, Beth, for what you went through. It must be hard being thrown into such an awful nightmare.” He touched her arm, delicately, and slowed his voice. “It can be a tough pill to swallow, and if you ever need anything…”
Nicole rolled her eyes and Henry fought the desire to do so himself.
Ms. Ashton pulled her arm away, smiling that polite and stunning smile only briefly. “It was nothing. I appreciate all the concern, really, but I mean it when I say I’m fine.” She looked at everyone else to convey her meaning, as though the sympathy irked her. Perhaps it did. She seemed just that: fine. Unaffected.
“I believe it,” Taggart said as he shook his head, bringing his coffee to his mustache-covered mouth. “Any woman sane enough to be scared after an encounter like that wouldn’t have the mind to go wandering through the forest again.” It wasn’t difficult to see he had already developed a soft spot for her. Her fearlessness wouldn’t be so irritating to the sheriff if he hadn’t. “And get this,” he added. “She loves it out there, says it’s beautiful.” Headshakes and harrumphs went up all around.
She looked puzzled. “And that’s strange because…?”
“Like I was saying: the beauty is deceiving.” He sighed, softening his voice, hesitating. “No one who knows the forest’s real dangers is comfortable there. It’s just not…normal.”
The lift of her brow spoke challenge. “So you’re saying I’m insane since I feel safe there.”
A few gasps went up. Even Henry shook his head.
Taggart sat back, speechless, and Ms. Ashton took his arm. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. “It’s like I was saying, Sheriff, I’ll be just fine.”
His mustache lifted, just half. “’Cause of your good instincts, right?”
She sat back, a soul unlike the rest of them. Henry saw it now, that perhaps in some ways she was saner than everyone else. It meant this wasn’t the town for her.
“Look, Ms. Ashton, this place is dangerous, plain and simple,” Taggart said, less abrasively. “Take the poisonous tree frog. Pretty little thing, isn’t it? But it’s all a tactic. It draws you in, that beauty, right before it poisons you. I’m just trying to protect you from what you don’t know.”
“I stared him right in the eyes, Sheriff, and you don’t think I know? How many of you have gotten that close?”
Him. Henry shuddered deep in his chest at the word choice. The sensation almost took his breath. He’d never heard anyone refer to the beast as a him, rather than an it.
Nicole almost laughed. “Him?”
Taggart sighed in impatience. “That don’t matter. What matters is I’m the law around here, Ms. Ashton. You’re welcome here as long as you need, but while you’re here, you stay away from those woods, just like we discussed. None of this ‘only during the night’ business.”
And that was why Henry let Taggart run things around here.
Their stare-down lasted mere seconds. “I respect that. After all, this is your town.”
Taggart nodded. “On to other business,” he said at everyone else. “Elizabeth’s locket ain’t all we found out there this morning. We found the devil’s blood.”
“So you did get him!” Nicole said at Eustace, nearly squealing.
Everyone’s mood cheered at once, the discovery lifting the weighted air. Only Ms. Ashton, just like Henry, didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she reached for Eustace’s hand, inspecting the white bandage that was soaked through at his palm. A look of concern shadowed her brow. “Eustace, this needs to be changed.”
“Nonsense.”
She threw him a stern glance. “As soon as we’re done here, we’re—”
“Actually,” Brian interjected, moving his arm to the back of the bench and right over Ms. Ashton’s shoulders, “as soon as we’re done here, we’re picking up your car.”
“He’s right,” Eustace said. “I’ll have Doc take a look.”
She studied him as though she could determine a man’s honesty with a simple look. “You promise?”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, Eustace. It might be just a scratch, but if you don’t keep on top of that, you’re looking at infection…”
Eustace chuckled. “I promise, I promise.”
“All right.” She smiled, taking her first delicate sip of coffee. The cringe was subtle and quick, but a cringe nonetheless. If Henry ever smiled in front of his fellow residents, that would have been a good time.
“I know,” Regina said, hand on her hip. “It’s terrible.”
“No,” Ms. Ashton argued. “It’s fine, it’s just…hot.”
“It’s all right, Beth. It’s what this place is known for: coffee so horrible no one speaks of it.” Laughter. Even Ms. Ashton chuckled.
“I’m just not usually keen on all the extras.”
“You like it black?” Regina threw a quick glance at Henry before looking back to Ms. Ashton, as though the way they took their coffee placed some common ground between them.
“Usually, but it really depends on—”
“I can make you another cup, honey. I just assumed…”
“No, please. It’ll do just the way it is.” She began sipping more before Regina could argue, her expression far too pleasant for the way it probably tasted going down.
“So, Beth,” Brian said, lowering his arm another inch and fitting it more snuggly around her shoulders. She cowered ever so slightly. “Where are you driving from, and where to?”
“Los Angeles, and…I’m not sure yet.”
“Adventurous.” He smiled.
She rested her elbows on the table, relieving her shoulders of his arm, and scratched her hairline. “You can call it that, I guess.” She hid something, Henry could tell, and suddenly he was more opposed to her being here than before.
“Are you…a movie star?” It came from Sheppy. Everyone turned to the unbalanced boy with the red backpack and lime green Chucks, who had excitement all over his face. In age, he was as much a man as Brian (if you could call Brian that), but in mind he was just a boy. Sheppy had lived on his own in Hemlock Veils for five years now, in the old shack-like house at the edge of Center Street. Most didn’t know his real name, only that he had always gone by Sheppy, but Henry made it a point to know vital information about the residents of his town. Legally, he was Maxwell Sheppy, born in Seattle and left an orphan by his suicidal parents at age eight. For all Henry knew, that red backpack was all he had of his childhood. No one had ever seen him without it, and what it contained was a mystery. However, if it wasn’t for that red backpack, nothing would seem odd at first glance. His fiery orange hair was combed and his clothes well-maintained. But the backpack didn’t fit. Something about it labeled him unbalanced.
