Tales of a Night Walker By Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Chapter 30
The snow was falling heavily as I stood on the doorstep. A number of emotions ran through me and I hesitated for a while not knowing if I should knock or just turn and leave. Who would greet me if I did knock? It wasn't that late. The sun had set a short time ago. I had spent the day at my old house across town. I still owned it and my company used it from time to time.
After standing on the doorstep in the snow for nearly ten minutes, I finally chickened out and turned to leave. I was on the bottom step when the front door opened behind me. "Young man, is there something I can do for you?" a familiar voice asked. I turned and looked up. There standing in the doorway was an older woman. She was about 70, with grey hair and glasses. But the lined face was still so very familiar, if aged from my memory of her, Sarah Kitterage, Brewster now.
As I looked back, she gasped, recognition suddenly hitting her. "Oh my God, Jefferson!" she squealed, her face breaking into a smile. "Oh my, come in! Come in!" I stepped back up the three steps and into her doorway where she grabbed me and hugged with all her might, tears coming to her eyes. "I can't believe it! All these years!" She pulled me inside, shutting the door and reaching up to brush the snow from my hair. "You look just the same!"
"I don't age, remember," I replied.
"I do," she said sadly as she helped me pull off my coat. "I'd say you must be freezing, but you always were," she joked as she pulled me into a cozy living room. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with a string of equally small twinkle lights. Below it, I noticed a definite lack of packages. "Sit down here beside me," Sarah ordered as she pulled me down onto the couch. "This is so much nicer than the card I get every ten years or so. How long can you stay?"
"I had a feeling you were going to say that," I laughed, "so I actually packed a bag. It's in the car."
"This is the best holiday treat I could have." Her face suddenly fell. "Oh, but I don't have anything in the house that you could eat...except me."
"Not to worry," I replied. "I've learned and I always come prepared. I have a cooler in the trunk that's loaded with my special diet."
"Oh Jeff," she sighed, tears in her eyes. "I haven't heard from you since Brady died."
"I know," I replied softly. "I'm so sorry. I just didn't know what to say."
"That's not true. You always know what to say. You've seen more than your share of funerals." She hesitated a moment. "You haven't been in a relationship since Frank died." Sarah didn't know about Beorn, or Tony or Terry. Frank's name felt like a knife going through me. I hadn't thought of him in several years. I had loved him so deeply, and then that hillbilly vampire clan took him away from me. I had isolated myself from humanity for a long time after that. I had no desire to meet anyone and get hurt again. I spent a short amount of time in the company of Jayron and his father Flesar. Flesar had joined me in the search for Frank and Jayron. He and his son had come from another world, the fairy world that May had spoken of. They were true fairies, visiting our world by accident. Unfortunately they became separated. This allowed my father to find and imprison Jayron. I guess supernatural beings just have a natural ebb and flow to their lives. These unusual tidal forces seemed to eventually sweep them together. Sarah will never know how tempted I was to step through that magical doorway and become human in a different world, but the time wasn't right. I felt I had to live out my existence in this one.
"So how have you been?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Fine," she smiled. "I finally retired last year. Since then I've kept busy with volunteer work and so on."
"What about the family? What's become of Brigit?" I knew Sarah had a daughter.
"She's married now and has a little boy. Can you imagine me a grandmother?"
"But they don't live nearby?" I asked. I noticed the Christmas tree. If they were here surely it would be surrounded in presents.
"No, they're in Kansas City. My daughter's husband is such a nice man. He's a little different, but really very nice. And my grandson is so precocious, such a bright little boy. I wish they were closer so I could see them more often."
I was a little surprised. "Surely they will drive over for Christmas."
"No, Brigit doesn't like to drive and Rel, that's her husband, doesn't drive at all. Can you imagine that?"
"Rel," I repeated. "That's an unusual name. Is it a nick name?"
"No," she shook her head. "That's his name, Rel. Rel Granger. They named the boy Willow. It sounded awfully like a hippy name, but Brigit said her husband really liked trees and nature. I'm so worried that the boy will get teased something awful in school."
"Did you have plans to go visit them on Christmas?" I asked. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
"No," she said forcefully. "I'm so glad you are here." I noticed what looked like tears in her eyes. "I was going to celebrate alone. My daughter...my daughter and I don't get along very well."
"Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry."
At this point she broke down in tears and began to cry. I reached over and took her in my arms, holding her. She sobbed on my shoulder, and then tried to pull back, sniffing and pulling out a tissue from a pocket. "I'm so sorry, Jeff," she sniffed. "I'm just a lonely old woman and it's so good to have you here. I don't mean to do this." I just patted her on the back and held her. "I don't know where I went wrong. Brigit seems to hate me. She has a drinking problem and we do nothing but fight when she's around. Her husband is such a good man and so patient and kind. To be honest I just don't know how he puts up with her. And that poor little boy. I worry about him so much." She continued to cry.
"It's alright," I said, soothingly. "It will all work out okay. You'll see."
She sniffed again and then dried her tears on the tissue. "Now let's go out and get your things from the car," she ordered, pushing me back and getting up from the couch.
After I brought my bag and the cooler in, we sat back in the living room and she turned out the lights, just leaving the Christmas tree illuminated. She warmed a bottle of blood for me and fixed herself an eggnog. We sat and looked at the pretty lights and caught up on our lives.
"I actually saw your movie," she admitted. "I think I was the oldest one in the theater. Mostly it was young people and teenagers. Despite the fact that it was a horror movie, I really enjoyed your performance. Are you going to make any more?"
"No," I laughed. "Making movies is interesting, but it's hard to find something that will only be filmed at night, in the dark, or in a sound stage. It's not like I can do a sunny location."
"No, I suppose not," she replied.
"Besides, I've found that being a celebrity has definite draw backs." I told her about my run in with the Van Helsing Foundation. I reminded her that Count Pinsky and warned us about them.
"Oh my, they sound very scary. I can't imagine going through that sort of thing again. If it means you have to blend in and not be a movie star, then it's for the best," she agreed. We continued to visit for quite some time until Sarah began to fade. Then we went upstairs and she showed me to the guest room, pulling the drapes over the window so the morning sun wouldn't shine in. She apologized for going to bed, saying she knew I probably was on a more nocturnal schedule, but I told her not to concern herself. I really didn't require that much sleep and could be up with her during the day as well, if we just kept the windows dark.
The next day was Christmas Eve. I got up in the morning to find Sarah had covered all her windows. I asked her if the neighbors would wonder, but she said it didn't matter. I didn't visit that often and she was determined to have a great holiday with me. We had breakfast together, she eating toast and coffee, me another bottle of type O. I told her about the company I used now that furnished human blood which was much better than the pig's blood I used to use. She was a little concerned but I told her they guaranteed that it was donated or purchased and no human was harmed. I also shared stories of my hunting adventures in the wild. She was less than thrilled to hear of me attacking wild animals.
"Jeff, you could be seriously injured by a bear or a mountain lion. And just think of the diseases you might catch from wild animals."
"There really are very few diseases we can catch," I told her. "I'm pretty much immune to everything."
"What about viruses?" she asked. "I was concerned about AIDS. I know it ravaged the gay community and you seem to have a double threat with being gay and living on blood."
"So far no vampires have reported contracting it," I assured her.
"Well there's the cure everyone has been seeking," Sarah laughed. "Just turn everyone into vampires."
"If everyone were vampires, we'd have a serious shortage of human blood. But wouldn't that make a great plot for a horror movie set in the future?" I replied. "There are other drawbacks too. No babies. Vampires are sterile."
"Oh," Sarah said with a look of distress on her face. "I never new that, or thought about it. Jeff, that's so sad. You can never be a parent."
"For most of our kind that's probably a good thing. I think basically we're too selfish to raise children. Most vampires haven't turned out like me. It's usually the older ones who become a little more mellow and able to fit in with human society. I think it helped me because I wasn't allowed to be a young vampire, but was kept in the crypt for such a long time before I finally was freed."
"Still, I think you would have made a great father."
"Thanks," I said, appreciating her sentiment if not actually sad that I had missed that opportunity. "Speaking of children, are you interested in going for a drive this evening?" I asked. "We could leave at sundown and be in Kansas City by ten o'clock. You could spend the holiday with your daughter and family."
"Good gracious no," she answered quickly, then blushed. "Thank you so much, Jefferson for the offer, but it wouldn't be appreciated by my daughter. She and I really don't get along and she has made it clear in the past that she isn't interested in any visits. I know a surprise one would be very unwelcome."
"You said your son-in-law was a great guy," I remarked.
"He is, but I would never want him or my grandson to have to deal with the anger that Brigit would foist on them if we just showed up. She never has dealt well with change."
That evening Sarah served rum laced eggnog for herself and vodka laced blood for me. We sat at her spinet and sang Christmas carols and then segued on to Broadway show tunes. It was a very pleasant night. At midnight I escorted her back upstairs to bed, admonishing her to go to sleep or Santa might not stop by. She just laughed and laughed.
Christmas morning I got up and went downstairs to fix coffee for my hostess. I also scrounged in her refrigerator and found eggs and bacon and cooked her a wonderful breakfast. Around nine she came stumbling down the stairs, asking what smelled so good. It pleased me to wait on her like she used to do for me some forty years earlier. After breakfast I took her hand and led her back to the living room. There, under the tree was a small package, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a silver bow. "See, Santa has brought you a gift," I said.
Sarah looked in surprise, then gave me a guilty look in return. "But Jeff, I don't have anything for you," she said sadly.
"Sarah, I don't want or need anything. Remember, I travel kind of light. Now open it."
She took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was a small, velvet covered box. She opened it and the light caught the diamond inside. I had picked out a pendant for her. It had a flawless one carat diamond surrounded by emeralds, rubies and sapphires. I was afraid it might be too ostentations, but she seemed to love it. "Oh my stars, Jeff, this is beautiful. It must have cost a fortune."
"Don't think about the money. I just wanted to give you something back for all you have given me. I always think of you as a precious jewel, so I tried to find something that would express that. I really hope you like it."
"I love it, but you really shouldn't have. It's just too much."
"Put it on," I begged, then took it from her and helped fasten the claps behind her neck.
"How does it look?" she asked, and then jumped up to look in a mirror. "Oh Jeff," she said as she looked at it and her image. She turned and ran to me, grabbing me in a hug and began to cry. "I love you more all the time," she gasped and tried to staunch the flow of tears. Then she suddenly thought and jumped up. "Wait right here, I do have something for you." She ran from the room and upstairs to her bedroom. A few minutes later she came down the stairs with something in her hand. "It isn't much, and I haven't even wrapped it. I hope you won't be offended, but here." She held out her hand and showed me a gold signet ring. It held the letter K in the center. "It ... it was David's. I've kept it all these years, I don't know why. But I want you to have it, if you want it. After all, you are a part of my family."
I took the ring and now it was my turn to try not to cry. "Sarah, this is the nicest gift anyone could ever give me. Thank you." I slipped it on my finger and it fit perfectly.
"It probably needs polishing, and I'm sure it isn't worth much."
"It's perfect and it's worth more than anything else I have ever owned." I gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek.
We were suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. "I wonder who that could be?" she mused and got up to answer the door. "You stay in here," she ordered as she pulled a sliding pocket door shut between the living room and the hall. I wondered if she were doing this to shut out the light, or to keep my visit a secret. But only a moment later she was pulling the door open and ushering in a plump older woman dressed in various shades of red from her boots to her coat, gloves and scarf. Her red hair clashed with the colors of her clothing. It was evident that it was a dye job. "Jefferson Smythe, this is my friend and next door neighbor, Violet Peterson."
"How do you do, ma'am," I said standing as I took her gloved hand.
"Mrs. Peterson was the one who saw you standing on my front steps the other night and called me to let me know. She thought you might be a prowler."
"You never know who might be stalking us at this time of year. How do you do, young man. Sarah tells me you are her nephew. It's so nice to meet you. I'm so glad she has company for the holiday. I won't stay. I just dropped by with a fruit cake." I saw she was holding a small package wrapped in aluminum foil. "Your nephew is so young," she observed to Sarah.
"I'm actually her great nephew," I said quickly. "Her brother was my grandfather." I had grown used to lying to preserve the illusion of my age.
The older woman gave me a curious look, then her eyes widened. "Jefferson Smythe. Weren't you in that movie, "Death and Savages?" I saw it on HBO just last night. Why Sarah, you should have said your great nephew was a movie star!"
"Hardly," I chuckled. "That is the only movie I have ever made. I'm surprised you remember me from it."
"Of course I remember you," the woman said as she began to take off her scarf and coat. "You were so handsome and dashing. And so was that other fellow, Terry someone or other. I actually thought the two of you had such chemistry together, it might turn out that you two were gay lovers instead of just friends in the movie. You know so many people are doing that sort of thing in their films these days."
"If you want the truth," I said, leaning toward the old woman confidentially, "Terry James is just a real asshole. Not at all likeable as he was in the picture."
"That is so sad," Mrs. Peterson said, clucking her tongue. "But you never really know them until they are on Jay Leno. So what's your next picture, Mr. Smythe?"
"Oh I don't think there will be another. I've retired from the cinema."
"Retired?" she said sharply. "But you're only in your twenties. How can you retire."
"Thank you for the fruit cake, Violet," Sarah said pointedly, trying to pull her friend in that direction.
"Not at all," the red headed woman answered and then gave out a shriek. "Oh my God, Sarah what is that?" She clutched at the diamond pendant. "This is beautiful. Where ever did you find such a high quality in imitation stones?"
"Do you like it?" Sarah asked proudly. "This is a Christmas gift from Jefferson, and I'm afraid the stones are all real."
"Why that must have cost you a fortune. Young man you had best not be retiring anytime soon."
I just stood and smiled as Sarah pushed the woman toward the door.
The visit was much too short for Sarah's taste. Jeff could have stayed a few weeks, but he felt the need to move on. As the sun set, he took his things out to the car.
"Jeff, I love you so," Sarah said, giving him one last hug.
"And you know I love you. I promise when I get where I'm going, I will write and send you an address."
"You better you big scary monster," she laughed, hugging him again. "I'd like to see you more that once every forty years or so. At this rate you won't be back till I'm nearly 100."
"Yes and I'll still only be 23. I envy you, your ability to live in time rather than outside of it."
"Believe me, it's no picnic," she said. Jeff kissed her on the cheek, then walked out into the twilight and climbed in his car to drive off in the snow. Sarah stood on her front steps watching after him for quite a while before wiping away a tear and returning to the warmth of her house.