Here is chapter 4, after a mild case of writer's block. Hope you enjoy. Get ready for a few surprise twists. And be sure to check out the website!
http://bleedinghearts.nav.to
Email: Aterovis@aol.com
Chapter 4
I fought the air bag down with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Obviously I had run into something, but with this stupid thing in my face I didn't know what. A rusty old Buick loomed into view and my first thought was that I couldn't have caused too much damage to that tank. I had a feeling that my little VW Bug had faired much worse.
"Are you ok?" I asked Asher.
He was rubbing his elbow but looked fine at first glance. "Yeah," he said somewhat shakily, "What happened?"
"I hit somebody. I'd better go see if they're ok."
I scrambled out of my car to find the Buick's owner inspecting the damage. He was in his late-fifties, early-sixties with battleship gray hair and a clean-shaven face. Judging by his hairstyle and state of extreme physical fitness I guessed he was probably retired military or a cop.
"Are you ok?" I asked him.
He looked up at me from behind dark mirrored sunglasses and I decided it was definitely a cop. Just my luck.
"I'm fine. Wish I could say the same for Bessie."
"Bessie?" I said, the feeling of dread jumped up a few notches on the stress scale.
"Bessie," he said with slow deliberation, "was my trusted companion for 20 years. We've been through a lot together, but I'm afraid she's gone now."
"B-b-because of me?" I stuttered.
"Well it sure as hell wasn't my fault you slammed into the back of me. Bessie, by the way, is, or rather was, my car."
"You're car," I said with much relief.
"Yes, my car. I'm assuming you have insurance on your little toy car there."
"Yes sir, I do," I said and dove back into the car. Asher had my insurance paperwork ready and waiting. "He scares the piss out of me," I whispered to Asher before taking a deep breath and climbing back out.
He was waiting for me with a card in his hand, which he handed to me in exchange for my information.
Printed on the card in neat embossed letters was: "Shane Novak, Private Investigator." A phone number was printed under that.
"You're a private detective?" I said. I was unable to keep the note of awe out of my voice.
Novak gave a grunt, "Retired police detective," he said as he copied my insurance information into a 3x5 index card, "I left active duty 3 years ago and found out I wasn't cut out to sit at home and tend the lawn. My wife died of cancer two years ago and I decided to open my own practice. I only take the cases I want to take and I stay busy. It's not like it is on TV though." He straightened up and looked me over from head to toe. "So you're the famous Killian Kendall, huh?"
"Famous?"
"You're the kid that shot and killed that serial killer a couple years back aren't you?"
"Yeah," I said in surprise. I wasn't used to being recognized on the street.
"I was following that whole story at the time. Interesting case. You handled yourself pretty well for an amateur. Took that scum out like a pro from what I heard."
"Uh, thanks," I said, unsure of what the proper protocol was when someone compliments you on killing another person.
"I wrote my insurance info on the back of my card there," he said as he handed me back my cards, "Get in touch with your people and they'll take it from there. It was a pleasure getting rear-ended by you, Mr. Kendall." He pumped my hand once and climbed back into his car. It started up with an asthmatic wheeze and he rolled the window down, "If you need anything just call me. My number's on the card I gave you."
I nodded dumbly and watched as he pulled away from my car with a metallic screech. He drove off leaving his bumper behind. Asher finally deigned to step out of the car once he was gone.
"Thanks for the moral support," I muttered as I dragged the abandoned bumper to the trunk of my car.
"I was offering support from in the car," Asher said as he rubbed his neck. "You know, I think you gave me whiplash."
"I gave you? It was just as much your fault as it was mine."
"How do you figure that? You were the one driving!"
"Let's not argue anymore," I said with a sigh. I slammed the trunk down and climbed back in the car. Asher stood staring down at the crumpled front-"end of my car.
"Do you think it'll start?" he asked.
"I don't know but I'm about to try. Jump in."
"I think I'll wait out here," he said nervously as he edged away, "What if it blows up?"
"Then God-forbid you should be in here with me," I grumbled to myself as I turned the key in the ignition. The engine gave a half-hearted sputter and died out. I tried again with the same result. It coughed grudgingly to life on the third try, although it was far from smooth running.
Asher climbed back in once it was clear that I wasn't going to go up in a mushroom cloud, and I pulled away with a lurch and a rattle. The drive back was tense and quiet, except for the painful groans of protest from my beleaguered car. Our earlier fight, obviously unresolved, hung heavy in the air between us.
Marcus was outside when I pulled into the Davis' driveway. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open comically when he caught sight of my battered bug.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked as Asher climbed gratefully out of the car.
"We ran into the back of some poor guy," Asher said with a meaningful glance in my direction, then added, "Nobody got hurt."
"Except for the car," Marcus said looking over the damage.
Asher shrugged and started inside after an unenthusiastic wave in my direction. To my surprise Marcus slid into the passenger seat.
"Do you have a minute?" he asked.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Look, maybe this is none of my business, but since Asher is my little brother and all, and you're practically like my brother too. I mean you've been around the house since you were just a little kid, so maybe it is my business."
"Marcus," I interrupted, "it's been a long day; so if you have a point can we skip right to it?"
"Yeah, sorry...well...I don't know what's going on with you and Asher right now but I can tell something is wrong. I've not seen him moping around like this since before you two got together, back when you were messing around with Jake. If this hadn't started before we knew Jake was moving back I might have thought it was that, but it's obviously something else."
"You're right, something is wrong and I'm not sure what it is either. I don't know if it's me or Asher or both of us."
"I'm not asking what is wrong or who's fault it is. I wouldn't have even brought it up at all, but...I don't pretend to understand what you two have. I mean, pretty much my whole family has always been really cool with the whole gay thing, but to be really honest with you, it still weirds me out a little sometimes. But I love my brother and I know he loves you. You make him happy, or at least you always have. If you want to break up with Asher..."
"Marcus! I..."
"Let me finish. If you want to break up with Asher, just do it. Make it a quick, clean break so he can start getting over you. Don't drag it out forever; you'll just end up hurting him more. I hate seeing my family hurting and we've got enough going on right now with Bethany; we don't need Asher running around looking like his dog just died. But if you don't want to break up with him, then work it out quickly. Please."
I was speechless but luckily Marcus didn't require an answer. Having said his piece, he ducked out of the car and ran inside without a backwards glance.
I drove home slowly while my mind turned over what Marcus had said. The truth was I had no idea what was happening between Asher and I, or what to do about it. It seemed like every time we tried to talk lately it turned into a fight. Was it some sub-conscious hang-up on my part or were there some serious faults in the bedrock of our relationship? Or were these emotional tremors that we were experiencing nothing more than the natural growing pains of a healthy couple? I was out of my depth and I knew it. I needed to talk to someone more experienced in relationships. It was time for a long conversation with Adam. I still owed him an apology anyway. More importantly though, I valued his advice, and right now I needed it more than ever.
My beat-up bug made quite a splash when I got home. Adam, Steve and Kane all came out to look at the crumpled front end of the car. Adam announced that it was probably totaled but that our insurance would cover it. He seemed more concerned with whether Asher and I were alright. It was after dinner that night before I got a chance to talk to Adam. When he and Steve started clearing the table, I volunteered to help with the dishes. A pointed look in Steve direction was all he needed to get the point. He challenged Kane to an N64 All-Star Baseball tournament and the two of them quickly cleared out of the room, leaving just Adam and I. Adam ran the sink full of hot soapy water while I gathered the dirty dinnerware together. We settled into an easy routine, him washing and me drying.
"Adam, I'm really sorry about last night," I said after a while.
"Yeah, I am too. I think we both overreacted."
"I know I did. It's just that Asher and I have been having some problems lately and I guess I took it out on you."
"And you think moving in together will solve your problems?"
"Well, actually, moving in together is part of the problem."
"What do you mean? What is the problem exactly?"
"I wish I knew. Maybe I'm just commitment phobic. Ever since Asher brought up our living together it seems like it's just been one fight after another. And nothing ever gets resolved."
"So it started when the idea of moving in together came up?"
"Well, not exactly. That's just what brought it to a head. We've also never...uh... um...consummated our relationship." I felt my face heat up in a furious blush.
"You mean you've never had sex," Adam stated calmly.
"Yeah, that."
"Was that a mutual decision?"
"Yeah, well sort of...no, not exactly. Asher would have liked to a long time ago, but I've just not felt ready. And then it just became sort of like...a habit not to have sex."
"A habit?" he said with raised eyebrows.
"You know what I mean. We just got used to not having sex. Or at least I thought we did."
"But now you're not sure?"
"I think maybe there's something wrong with me. I mean why don't I want to have sex with Asher? Maybe I'm straight and I just don't know it."
Adam laughed and then quickly became serious again. "Killian, you would know it of you were straight. You have feelings for Asher don't you?"
"Yes."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes, I do."
"Romantically?"
"Yes."
"Do you have feelings towards girls?"
"Not at all."
"Then you're not straight."
"Then what's the problem? Is there something wrong with our relationship? Why am I so scared to sleep with him? Or move in with him?"
"Killian, you're only 17. You're still a kid, even though I know you don't want to hear that. You're both still kids. You started dating young, you've never even dated other people, either of you. Maybe this relationship isn't right for you. Or maybe you just have issues you haven't dealt with. You came from a home where things were distant and impersonal for most of your childhood. Then later everything fell apart, so maybe you are scared of making a commitment because you're afraid that you'll lose him or you'll fail to live up to your side of the bargain. Maybe you're just scared of change because you like things the way they are now and you don't want to ruin it.
I don't know. These are things you'll have to figure out for yourself, although I'll help as much as I can. Maybe you should think about going back to Dr. Ottinger for a little while."
Dr. Ottinger was the counselor I had gone too after the shooting. I didn't like going back, it felt like I was regressing, but maybe it was a good idea.
"Or maybe you and Asher just need a break," Adam added.
"A break?"
"Some time apart, to let you both sort out your feelings."
"You mean break-up?"
"No, I don't mean break-up, unless that what you want to do. I just mean take a little time off, take a few steps back and get some perspective."
"Marcus told me to break up with Asher today."
"Marcus? Asher's brother? Why would he say that?"
"Well, he said that if I was going to break up with him to do it fast and get it over with."
"That's not quite the same thing. Do you want to break up with Asher?"
I didn't answer right away. "I don't know," I said at last, "I don't think so, but I'm not as sure as I'd like to be."
"Well you don't have to know tonight. But don't put it off too long or things will just get messier than they already are."
I spent a restless night tossing and turning as sleep eluded me. My mind refused to let me relax as it poked and prodded at the idea of breaking up with Asher. I finally gave up the fight when the first light of dawn began to brighten the sky. I rolled out of bed and padded softly down the stairs. I was surprised to find Steve in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee.
"What are you doing up this early?" he asked. He seemed equally surprised to see me at that time of the morning.
"Couldn't sleep," I said, "You always get up this early?"
"Most days. I enjoy the quiet time, before the rest of the world wakes up."
I dropped into a chair across from him and laid my head on my crossed arms.
"Adam said you two had a good talk last night."
"I guess."
"You guess?"
"Well, we cleared the air between us but I still don't know what to do about Asher."
"You didn't expect Adam to tell you what to do, did you?"
"It would have been nice."
"We both know this is your decision and your decision only. Is that why you couldn't sleep, you were up worrying all night?"
"Yeah."
"You can't let this consume you, Killian. You need to get your mind off the whole situation for a while. What are your plans for today?"
"I don't have any."
"Great! Why don't you come with me then?"
"I don't know. Where are you going?"
"I've been thinking about getting out of the architect business. I've been in it for too long and I feel like I've accomplished all I can there. I guess you could say I'm having a mid-life crisis of sorts. It's always been a dream of mine to own and operate a bed and breakfast. I talked to Adam about it and as usual he supports me. He said to go for it and he'll be behind me one hundred percent. I started doing some inquiries and I found out there's a great place available right now so I'm supposed to go today and take a look at it. Adam's running on a deadline so he can't go with me so I'd love the company and second opinion. Want to come?"
"Wait, wait, wait...slow down. Try to remember I didn't sleep last night. You're thinking about buying a bed and breakfast?"
"No, I'm thinking about buying a house and turning it into a B & B."
"Won't that cost a lot of money?"
"Oh yeah."
"You have that kind of money?"
I inherited a hefty sum and I've made good money as an architect. I've invested and saved and I think I have what I need to get started. If I run into any snags I have good credit and I can get a new business loan."
"So you're really going to buy this house?"
"The one I'm seeing today? Well I don't know yet. I haven't even looked at it yet. So, would you like to go with me?"
"I might not be very good company," I warned.
"What's new?"
"Ha ha, very funny."
"I'll take that as a yes. You can sleep on the way the way there; it's about an hour away."
"Where is it?"
"It's a small town named Chicone, on Tockwogh Creek."
"Excuse me? What language are you speaking?"
"I think it's Nanticoke. They're all Indian names and as far as I know they were the only Native Americans in that area."
"Will we...I mean, will you be moving there?"
"If I buy the place, yes. I'm going to go for my daily walk now. I'm supposed to meet the real estate agent at the house at ten sharp, so be ready at eight-thirty."
"Will do."
He drained his coffee and rinsed the mug out in the sink, then, ruffling my hair on his way out, he left for his walk. I must have fallen asleep at the table because the next thing I knew I woke in a puddle of drool to the sound of Adam banging pots around on the stove.
"What time is it?" I asked, blinking away the sleep from my eyes.
"Quarter after eight. Why?"
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed as shot up from the table, sending my chair tumbling in the process. I righted the chair and ran out of the kitchen as Adam stared after me as if I'd lost my mind.
I showered and dressed in record time and was waiting by the car when Steve came out of the house at precisely eight-thirty.
"I would have waited for you, you know?" he said with a grin.
"Don't wanna make you late," I said with a shrug and a grin of my own.
I did sleep on the way there. Between my nap at the kitchen table and my snooze in the car, I thought I might just make up for my sleepless night. I woke up when the car came to a stop and the engine died. I was confused at first until I remember where I was and why I was there. I felt my mouth drop open as I got my first look at the property Steve was considering.
"Holy shit," I said in awe, "The is the house you're thinking about buying?"
We were parked in front of an enormous hulk of a house that looked like it came straight out of a Home and Country Magazine. Calling it a house was rather like calling the Atlantic Ocean a puddle. It would more accurately be called a mansion. It towered three stories above us, not counting the odd little cupola that sat perched jauntily on the roof. It had a wrap-around porch and gingerbread trim practically dripped from every edge.
The grounds themselves were spectacular. The jade-green lawn, dotted liberally with elegant old trees, sloped gently down to the banks of a peaceful looking creek, presumably the Tockwogh.
"It's a possibility," Steve said calmly, "It makes a nice first impression, doesn't it?"
"You can afford this place?"
"Like I said, I inherited quite a bit. Not that there will be much left over afterwards."
"But this place must cost at least a million bucks!"
"That would be a bargain," he said dryly.
"You mean I've been living with a millionaire all this time and I didn't even know it?"
"Apparently."
"Does Adam know?"
He laughed, "Of course Adam knows."
"Why didn't anyone ever tell me?"
"You never asked."
Our discussion was cut short as a black Jaguar pulled up behind us and leggy blonde unfolded herself from the driver's seat.
"That must be Victoria," Steve said, "I talked to her on the phone; she's the agent."
We climbed out of the car and it did turn out to be Victoria the Agent. After a round of introductions, Victoria swept her arm around in an all-encompassing gesture.
"So what do you think?"
"It looks grand from the outside," Steve said cautiously.
"Well, it looks just as great from the inside. Come on, I'll show you around the house first, then I'll give a quick tour of the yard."
We followed her up the broad stairs onto the wrap-around porch. The front door was a massive, deep-set paneled oak affair with a leaded-glass insert. On either side of the door were narrow sidelights of the same leaded-glass. Above the door was a transom of stained glass.
"The house was finished in 1830," Victoria said launching into her prepared speech, "The oldest part of the house dates back to 1790. It's quite a treasure."
She swung the door open to reveal a beautiful foyer. The hardwood floors gleamed with a patina that only a century of use could create. On the right side a wide staircase with an intricately carved balustrade rose gracefully to the second floor. We stepped inside and I immediately smelled the musty, yet pleasant scent that all old houses seem to have. We had barely cleared the door before it swung to with a loud bang, seemingly of its own accord. We all jumped and Victoria looked a little shaky.
"These old houses can be a bit drafty," she said in a falsely bright voice. I looked over at Steve who had a slight smile playing around his lips.
"The house's original owner was Captain Elijah Marnien. He was a successful shipping magnate who married a much younger lady named Eliza. This house was built specifically for her and he named the plantation Munquisock, which was reportedly the native's name for the area and referred to the abundance of wild blackberries that grew on the property. Tragically, Captain Marnien was lost at sea shortly after the house was completed. Eliza never remarried and never had any children. She lived here alone for a few more years before she passed away, some said of a broken heart." Victoria's tour guide nspiel was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a door slamming upstairs, followed by the sound of soft footsteps.
"Is someone else here?" I asked.
Victoria's face fell, "Yes and no," she said with a sigh, "I was trying to avoid mentioning it but it never fails. This house has been on the market for months now, we've lowered the price over and over but we just can't get a sale."
"Why?" I pressed.
"The house is haunted," Steve answered.