Across Time Part 3

"Well, the kid's only eleven, but I think he's following in his brother's footsteps as a doper."

Jessie started toward the marina, but Tanner grabbed her. "It's just gossip at this point. I wouldn't go bustin' in on your little brother's good time just yet. I shouldn't have even brought it up. It was unfair of me."

Jessie pulled her arm away, but kept staring in the direction of the marina. "I'd kill anyone who gets Daniel into drugs."

20 *21.

Tanner lifted his pierced eyebrow.

Jessie turned and stared at him. It was if he could see right through her, and the feeling was disquieting. "Look, it's okay if I do . . . did drugs, but woe be it to the a.s.shole who drags my brother down. I've been there, and it ain't pretty."

Tanner nodded slightly. "Ah. I see."

Jessie frowned, avoiding further eye contact. She felt as if he were inside her head, reading her thoughts and knowing more about her than she wanted to let on. "He's a good kid and I want him to stay that way. You can spread that around when the gossip train slows down."

"You're a good sister, then."

Jessie shrugged. "Yeah, well, if I am, it's the only thing I'm good at."

"I doubt that. Maybe you just haven't found your niche yet."

Tanner inhaled a lungful of smoke and slowly blew it out, where it met with the fog and danced away from them.

"The curse of the teenager, I suppose."

"I think it's the bane of our existence. We spend our lives looking for that one place to belong where we can actually accomplish something with our limited time on this planet. The cosmic joke is that you'll never find it."

Jessie c.o.c.ked her head. Who was this guy? Before she could reply, two boys Tanner's age strolled over from across the street and insinuated themselves on their conversation. Both wore skateboarding T-s.h.i.+rts, jeans and scuffed up 'boarding tennis shoes.

"Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, this is Jessie Ferguson, future owner of the Money Pit."

"No kidding?"

"Jessie, this is Randy and Brad, two of the town's most notorious dope smokers and car thieves."

"Hi," was all Jessie could think to say after an introduction like that.

"So, your parents are trying to fix up The Pit?" the tall one named Brad asked. He reminded her a bit of Lurch from The Munsters.

"Why does everyone keep calling it that?" Jessie asked, suddenly *

20 *21.

wis.h.i.+ng she had one of the cigarettes she'd given away.

"Four families in the last eight years have sunk money into The Pit trying to make the lady into something she obviously doesn't want to become. Every one of them either ran out of money or out of luck before they could complete the job." It was the kid named Randy who answered, pus.h.i.+ng his wire-rimmed gla.s.ses back up the bridge of his nose.

Jessie glanced over at Tanner, who was studying her intensely. He wasn't handsome or cute, and he was in bad need of a good haircut, but there was something very charming about his demeanor. "Just what does that mean?"

Tanner shrugged. "That so far, no one has succeeded in taming her.

Painted ladies are like rare and exotic birds. They can only be caught and caged if they want you to catch them."

There was that feminine usage for a thing again. "You're saying the house doesn't want to be a beautiful bed-and-breakfast?"

Tanner flicked the cigarette b.u.t.t to the ground and crushed it out with his heel. Then he did something Jessie had never seen: he bent down, picked the crushed b.u.t.t up, and flicked it into the garbage can.

"You oughtta look up the history of the house. Some really twisted s.h.i.+t happened there."

Jessie thought about the voices Daniel had been hearing. "Like what?"

"Hey guys," Randy said, motioning across the street. "Crazy Ceara is out this morning and heading our way." Randy pointed to an old woman wearing layers of different colored scarves like a Hungarian gypsy. She walked slowly, but very purposefully, her scarves whirling about her like a pinwheel.

"She is such a cuckoo," Brad added, pointing at his temple and drawing circles in the air.

"Leave her alone, guys," Tanner said softly. "I'd hate to have to kick your a.s.s."

"But she's nutso, man, and she's coming straight at us."

"Yeah, Tanner, you don't want her to vex us or anything."

"That would be hex you moron, and that's not what she does. Now *

22 *23.

zip your mouths. I told you how I feel about that c.r.a.p."

Before either of the boys could reply, the old woman walked right past them and straight for Jessie, who backed up until she was against the building. The old woman stared hard into Jessie's face, drilling her with eyes that were the iciest blue Jessie had ever seen. A shock of white hair poked out from under the purple scarf and she blew a puff straight up and off her face. The woman looked just like a gypsy, with fold upon fold of bright silk flowing at the slightest touch from the ocean breeze.

When, at last, the old woman spoke, her voice did not match her aged appearance. "You are not in h.e.l.l, young lady. You are where you're supposed to be. Remember that. Remember." Her voice was soft and melodic, yet there was a pointedness to it that gave Jessie the chills.

"Excuse me-"

But the old woman turned and kept walking, leaving the small group to stare after her.

"Told you she was crazy," Randy said, shaking his head. "Come on, Tanner, let's get going. I only have the shop until nine."

Tanner waved for his friends to go on without him. "I'll catch up in a minute."

When Randy and Brad took off, Tanner took a step closer to Jessie.

"Ceara scare you?"

Jessie started to nod, then shook her head. She couldn't get the image of those blue eyes out of her mind. "I don't frighten easily, but that was way weird. Who is she anyway?"

Tanner pointed to a small, intricately carved sign down the road from where the woman had come. The sign read Madame Ceara and beneath it, in smaller print, it read sees all. There was a palm and four tarot cards beneath it. "She's the local fortune teller. Been here for years and years. No one really remembers when New Haven was without her."

"She's a palm reader?"

"Of sorts. Lots of the old townies swear by her. She has a pretty decent following in Florence and Yachats as well. She goes by Madame, so if you hear people referring to something Madame said or Madame predicted, then that's who they're talking about."

22 *23.

"Why did the guys call her crazy?"

Tanner shrugged. "She sees things. She talks to the air. You know, all that weird stuff that scares little kids."

Jessie studied Tanner. "Does she scare you?"

"Not anymore. Personally, I don't think she's crazy any more than you or I. I think it's just part of her gig . . . her mystique. It works for her, too, because she has quite a client base. Can't be a palm reader and be normal. Know what I mean? Look, I really need to get going, but would you mind if I came up to The Pit sometime?"

Jessie stared at this interesting man-boy in his studded leather jacket and eyebrow piercing. Oh sure, he'd be just the ticket to get her sent home, all right. One look at him, and Reena would be sure she was doing drugs again. That sort of prejudgment was on the first page of the Christian Hypocrite's Handbook. Judge not too slowly, lest ye be judged first. They'd have a field day with the likes of Tanner, but what more could they do to her? What more could they take away from her?

"Sure. I'll be there all summer."

"Great. It was nice meeting you, Jessie Ferguson. Oh, and by the way, you have killer hair."

As Tanner walked away, Jessie could only shake her head and put her hands in her pockets. She wasn't cold as much as she was a little wiggy.

She returned to her booth inside and quickly opened her journal. Her hand was shaking as she flipped to the last page. Sure enough, there were her own words jumping off the page and into her face. I'm in h.e.l.l.

Slamming the book shut, Jessie stared for a long time at the sign down the street swinging slightly in the breeze.

"Remember . . ." Jessie murmured. "Remember what?"

"I can't believe you'd be so irresponsible to just let him go off with strangers!" Reena yelled as Jessie opened her can of peach paint. Reena had been barking at her since she walked through the front door without Daniel in tow.

"They're kids his own age. He was having a great time, he's learning to adjust to this nightmare you've put us into. What more could you *

24 *25.

want?" Jessie set the can opener down and carefully pried the lid off.

"What I want is for you to watch your language, be more helpful around here, and try to be more responsible where your brother is concerned. Anything could happen."

Before Jessie could relieve Reena of her worry, Daniel came bouncing past them, whistling some simple tune. He took three steps back and poked his head in the door. "Hi Mom. I'm getting into my work jeans and then I'll be right in, 'kay?"

Jessie waited for him to close his door before she stood and faced her mother. "See? Nothing did happen, except maybe he had a good time. He's home, he met some kids who showed him around town, and, in case you care, I met a couple of kids my own age as well. So, all- in-all, I'd say it was a good morning." Jessie pulled her paint-splattered bandana out of the pocket of her peach-spotted overalls and tied it around her head.

This stopped Reena cold. Inhaling slowly, she asked, "Where did you meet these . . . kids?"

"At the head shop, mother. They were buying a bong while I waited for my weed to be de-seeded." Jessie shook her head in disgust. "I met them at the coffee shop."

"I don't find that amusing, Jessie, not one bit." Reena stood with her arms akimbo. "And I don't appreciate this fresh mouth from you."

"You can't keep harping on me about the dope stuff, Mom. I'm not interested in it anymore. That doesn't mean I'm going to turn into a librarian and hang out with the geeks. When are you going to get over it?"

Reena returned to stirring her Apricot Fantasy paint. Her light brown hair was streaked with the color. "You can't blame me for worrying. After all you've put us through-"

Jessie groaned. "Will you ever let it go or are you going to beat me up with it forever?"

Reena continued stirring her paint, and did not look up. "I'm trying, Jessie, but I'm a mother who trusted her daughter to do the right thing, not to move into the Land of Bad Decisions. That trust has to be rebuilt. All I'm asking is that in the future, could you tell us where *

24 *25.

you're going? Especially when you're with Daniel."

"I told you. We. Went. Exploring. There's no definitive place when one goes exploring. Don't you ever remember being a kid?"

"Of course I do, but I didn't wind up in juvenile hall when I was sixteen, either. My parents could trust me to go where I said I was going and do what I said I was going to do. Jess, I am trying to trust you, but you act like you've got a great track record, and you don't. You want trust you haven't earned yet. I know you're not happy being here, and the last time you were unhappy about something, you were smoking pot and getting in trouble. I'm sorry if I can't just let it go."

"So, until then, you're going to be suspicious of everything I do?

I did my time, I suffered through community service, and I'm nearly finished with that horribly boring drug rehabilitation program you forced me into. Give me some credit."

Reena looked up at her. "I'm trying."

"Well, try harder. I'd rather eat a bullet than let anything happen to Daniel, and you know why? Because when the rest of the family tossed in the towel, he still believed in me. He's never done anything but like me for who I am. If it weren't for him, I'd have split from here the second you turned your back."

"I am happy to hear that you're planning on staying."

"For Daniel. He's made some friends. He's happier than I've seen him since we got here. I am not going to apologize for being a party to that happiness."

Reena nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a ring with three ancient skeleton keys on it. One of the keys was so old it broke off in her hand, so she handed that one to Jessie. "The three rooms at the end of the third floor all need to be taped off. The tape for those rooms is in the supply closet at the end of the hallway."

"What's this key to?"

"I don't know, but one of these other two keys is to the supply room."

Taking the rest of the keys, Jessie started up the stairs. As she walked up each flight, she couldn't stop thinking about the term Money Pit.

There was still so very much to do before her parents would even come *

26 *27.

close to starting to recuperate their investment. The floors on the third floor were terribly warped and needed replacing, the bathrooms needed new fixtures, new floors, new tubs, new sinks, and had to be completely gutted before any of those could be installed. The third floor was a mess, and although they could open with four bedrooms on the second floor by the end of July, that meant either halting construction or having four empty rooms until they could finish.

The Money Pit was, indeed, apropos.

The first key she tried turned out to be the master key to the bedrooms, so she placed this in her pocket. The second key she used to open the storage room. Holding the third key in her hand, Jessie wondered what it was for. It wasn't shaped like all the others, and felt heavier in her hand. Stepping out of the storage room, she noticed a numberless door perpendicular to the storage room. "That's odd,"

Jessie mumbled. She hadn't noticed that door when she walked into the storage room. She wondered why it had no number. The other bedroom doors had bra.s.s plates with 3A, 3B and 3C on them, but this door had nothing. Just as she started to test her last key, her father's voice drifted upstairs.

"Jess, are you up on the third floor?"