After Dawn, What Came Next

Megan watched her mom’s expression change and the fogginess of confusion in her eyes clear. Ah, she’s back, Megan thought to herself. For how long she had her mother in the present was anyone’s guess, maybe ten minutes, maybe ten hours. “How are you feeling, mom?”

Gloria flopped into a chair and studied her daughter. Today had been one of her worse days. These days there were only two kinds of days she had, bad ones and worse ones. Most of the day, what she had done, what she had eaten, why the contents of her home were neatly boxed up, was a blur. She remembered bits and pieces of the day, the feel of Megan’s fingers in her hair as she washed and dried the strands and going to the doctor. But, beyond that nothing much made any sense. She was to herself again. Who knew how long it would last this time. She had something important to say to Megan. Something critical she needed to tell her daughter while she was still clear enough to do so. “You know, I’ve lived in this town my entire life and I know a thing or two about the people who call it home.”

Megan was busy, carefully packing away another box of her mother’s treasure of absolute junk she had collected over the years. Why in the hell anyone would save jewelry made out of bubble gum wrappers and pop can tabs was beyond her. But, if they were important enough for her mom to keep, they were important enough to pack. “What mom?”

Gloria concentrated hard on staying in the present and not disappearing into the past or a haze of confusion and muddled thoughts, as she was so prone to doing. “Megan, honey I know what you are. You haven’t aged a day in twenty years. Don’t worry so about me. I’m a nutty old woman, just ask the neighbors. They’ll tell you. But, you Meg, you’re something special.

“I never believed Mack’s story about a wild animal attacking you. I had to pretend I did, because of your father and the people in this town. But, I knew better. I saw the marks on your throat before Doc Sterling stitched you up. I know what I saw and I knew then that I had lost my little girl forever. You have a gift, Meg, and a curse. Soon, I’ll go to join your father in heaven, but you, my beautiful baby girl, you’ll keep right on living, on and on and on.

“I know what you are, Megan. I’ve known for a long time. A town this size has its fair share of secrets, but not everything is as much of a secret as some would like to think it is. Maybe, in a way it isn’t fair. I wouldn’t trade you places. I would take this curse from you if I could, but I can’t. I suppose it is some comfort to an old woman to know she’ll live on through her daughter and her daughter will live for a very long time.

“As long as you live, Megan, I’ll be remembered. I’ve kept your secret, but I can’t guarantee it anymore. My mind, now that’s not a secret. I could slip and tell someone something I shouldn’t. I’ve always known this could happen. It happened to your Granny Thelma and your auntie too.” Gloria thrust out her chin proudly. “I out lasted them both, but it’s time.”

Gloria reached up high and carefully took a candy dish down from a shelf. The dish was old and over the course of being handed down from mother to daughter through the generations, it had held its fair share of secrets. She reached inside and pulled out a bottle. Gloria liked to call it her contingency plan. When her mind first started to go, she had gotten the prescription and filled it immediately. She hadn’t been convinced she needed to go to such measures, not quite yet, not so soon. So she stashed the pill bottle away someplace safe. Someplace she would remember where she had put it when nothing else would come to mind.

Megan’s hands shook as she took the pill bottle and the glass candy dish from her mother’s gnarled fingers. She had never ever been allowed to touch the candy dish until now. Her mom had guarded that dish and kept the glass polished and shined within an inch of its life since the day her mother had passed it down to her decades before.

Her mom had known and had never said a word. They hadn’t seen each other since her dad’s funeral, but the phone calls and cards…why hadn’t her mom ever said something? Tears fell fat and bursting on the candy dish’s beveled glass top. The candy dish was ugly and her first instinct was to smash it to bits on the wooden floor. The empty plastic bottle shattered in her grip. “No, mama. We’ll figure out something. I swear. I’ll….I’ll take you somewhere safe. Nobody will believe you anyway…and it doesn’t matter if they do. I’ll do…I’ll,” Megan sputtered.

Gloria patted her daughter’s cheek and wiped the tears away with the pad of her thumb. “I already have, baby girl. I already have. This is my choice, not yours. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I’ve lived a happy life and a good one. And your father, bastard that he sometimes was. I miss him.” She chuckled softly to herself. “I can’t wait to see his face when Saint Peter opens those pearly gates and he sees me standing there on the other side.” She sighed and patted Megan’s cheek. “I love you, Megan, more than life itself.”

Megan fumbled with her phone. There had to be some kind of drug to stop the poison. Her mom couldn’t die. She couldn’t! Her mother’s gnarled fingers tightened their grip around her wrist. How much longer did her mom have? How long did the pill take to work before it was over and her mom breathed her last? Megan hadn’t really ever paid attention to such things. Thinking mistakenly that she would never need to know about them. She had always assumed a much more humane death was in store for her mother. That someday she would get a phone call saying that her mom had passed away quietly and peacefully in her sleep.

“We’ve got a bit of time yet,” Gloria said. She pried the cell phone out of Megan’s hand and gently set it on the dining room table. She could feel her mind beginning to slip again and lethargy seeping into her bones. It would be a good death and one of her choosing. She was luckier than a lot of people. To die and old woman at home, with her daughter by her side, and who could ask for anything more than that when the time came?

Megan helped her mom ease into the rocking chair and covered her with a soft throw pulled from the back of the sofa. Her mom’s translucent skin was pale, the blue veins stood out in stark relief from the whiteness of her cheeks. Her mom’s eyelids grew heavy and then suddenly they popped open to stare up at her bright and clear as a morning sky. “Mom, do you want some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, dear.”

Megan sniffled and blinked to hide the tears collecting behind her lashes. “Ok.” Reluctantly releasing her mother’s frail hand, she moved blindly toward the kitchen. She was afraid to let her go, as if the contact of their joined fingers was the only thing still holding her mother bound to the earth. Her body trembled as she filled the kettle from the tap and put it on the stove. She could hear her mom’s heart beat and the slowing intake of her shallow breaths. How much time did she have? How many minutes were left until that gentle, loving, tender heart stopped beating forever? She measured each heartbeat, counting them as she waited for the kettle to whistle. Her hands shook as she reached in the cabinets for a mug.

Gloria smiled a happy contented smile. Thinking back on her life, it hadn’t been bad at all. Sure, her life had had its fair share of challenges and difficulties along the way, but whose didn’t? She had always heard people saw their lives flash before their eyes at the moment of their death and it was true. She didn’t regret the choice she had made, only that Megan would suffer. But, she knew her daughter well. Megan would be absolutely fine. “Megan honey, be a dear and use the good china.”

Megan put the mug back into the cabinet. Turning the printed design and the handle outward so that it was one of a dozen soldiers lined up neatly in a row. She went to the china cabinet and took out one of her mother’s prized cups and a saucer. That she knew of, her mother had never used the good china, not even when company came for dinner. That she had asked to use them now, for this auspicious occasion, spoke volumes unsaid.

Megan could not hold back the tears as she blew a layer of dust off the delicate handle. Carefully as she could with trembling hands, she carried the cup and saucer into the kitchen. The gold rims shone dully in the afternoon sun. The violets hand painted around the lip of the cup were dainty and intricate The china truly was beautiful. Antique and expensive, but not so old that it was like the candy dish and had been passed down through the generations. Her mother had never told her exactly how she came to be in the possession of such a fine set of china. The story behind it had never mattered before, but suddenly it was the most critical thing ever.

The china, the beautiful cup and saucer with the gold rim and hand painted violets tumbled from her fingers and crashed to the floor as her mother’s heart, the heartbeats Megan had been so carefully listening for, stopped. Megan scrambled on her hands on knees on the kitchen floor ignoring the sting of the cuts on her fingers and gauges of splintered shards as she crouched amongst the shattered china.

“Mama, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She cried rocking back and forth, clutching her knees to her chest to hold herself together. Her mother had stepped back to give her the space she needed to live her life. Her mother had lived alone for years all the while knowing her mind was slipping and suffering through it silently. Her mother had died to protect her secret, carrying it with her to the grave.

All Megan could do after she had cried out her tears was clean up the mess on the kitchen floor and pour the boiling water down the drain. She gently picked up her mom’s lifeless shell and stretched it out on the sofa. Her mom was at peace. Probably in heaven arguing with her dad and beyond a doubt scrubbing the pearly gates until they shone brighter than they had ever shone in heaven’s perfection before. The thought of it, of her mom inspecting heaven for the slightest speck of dust and hastily sweeping it away made Megan smile. She swabbed a stray hair away from her mother’s lax face and pressed a kiss to her cool lips. The strangest thing of it all was that Megan didn’t miss her a bit. She didn’t need to because although her mom was gone from this world. She was still with her in her heart where she had always been and would remain until Megan drew her last breath.























Chapter 36

It was amazing, truly amazing how much a set of freshly laundered sheets and a tidy bed, made up nice and neat, the corners tight and comforter without the slightest hint of a wrinkle could set the world to rights again. Despite the tinge of fall’s chill in the air and the promise of an afternoon rain shower, Fallon had thrown the windows wide open and given her bedroom a thorough airing out. The hour long shower under a spray of water as hot as she could stand it had helped a lot too. The sharp, cool aroma of her peppermint body wash and the sweet creamy scent of vanilla lotion had done wonders for her disposition. After all, how was it possible to be in a bad mood smelling minty and sweet, like a Christmas morning?

After a thorough washing and deep conditioning treatment, she had let her air dry instead of blow drying it and running a straightening iron through the thick strands. The house was a din of activity around her. Voices and the pound of boot falls echoed up the stairs from the floor below. Above her head, she heard the scrape of furniture and thump of something heavy being dragged across the floor. The heavenly aroma of baking bread wafted through the heating ducts to tempt her nose. She hadn’t been in the mind to eat or even search out as much as a cup of coffee earlier this morning. Her stomach complained noisily at her inattention.

Her hair kinked into loose spirals falling into a spray of brilliant crimson around her shoulders. She eyed it in the mirror with a grimace of dismay. She had inherited this mass of unruly curls from the Gray side of the family tree. Her mother’s strawberry blonde and her father’s shade of dark walnut, almost black hair had tamed the fire engine red tint that Alex and Uncle Alexander boasted and given her hair a gingery color not quite auburn but not exactly a true carrot top orange either.

The females of the pack envied her because of her hair. Well, she would gladly trade them this mass of unruly, impossible red curls for the sleekness of midnight dark, velvety satin and positively straight hair the vast majority of the pack possessed instead. Her skin was pale and peachy and thankfully not the ruddy red so common to redheads.

Blue eyed and redheaded, she was an odd combination of mixed DNA. Most of the pack boasted the dark eyes, midnight black or deep walnut brown hair, and russet skin tones of their Native American heritage. She had always envied them, their uniformity and commonality of their shared lineage.

Growing up, she had always stuck out. As a kid, hide and seek had not been her favorite game to play. Her red hair and paler skin always gave her away. Her mother said her red hair and blue eyes made her unique. Fallon had never seen it quite that way. But, last night being loved to the point of physical exhaustion, she had felt, not pretty, but beautiful. Her eyes automatically wandered to the bed and quickly glanced away to land on her reflection. Thinking in terms of last night did her no good. There was the here and now.

Daniel had obviously made it a point not to be seen and he hadn’t searched her out. Thank heavens for that. She wasn’t hiding in her room, but the door was shut and the lock turned. As a physician, she didn’t get days off. Whenever somebody called. She went. So far, there had been no medical emergencies demanding her attention. She was going to indulge in a bit of private time while she could. Pamper herself with fragrant lotions and a bit of primping in front of the mirror on her dresser. Enjoy, for once, simply being a girl. It’d be great though, if some kind soul would bring her up some food so that she could avoid going downstairs into the kitchen to get it.

No, she wasn’t avoiding anybody, like say…her mom and dad, Mouse, and especially not Daniel. Nope, she wasn’t putting off bumping into him at all. Assuming, he was still around to be bumped into. For all she knew he was already gone, and well, that would be a good thing too. They had one glorious night together and other than that shared experience what did they really have in common? There hadn’t been any promises whispered in the dark. There had been pleasure mingled with the slightest twinge of pain, plenty of giving and taking, and the fulfillment of a vow. But, even that was behind her now.

She had lived without physical pleasure for thirty-seven years. A part of her wondered that if once a person went past that point…that tender knowledge of the pleasures of the flesh. Was there really any going back? Could she live without it? There was nothing in her medical journals that indicated celibacy was terminal. Statistically speaking people in relationships lived longer and were healthier than single people. But, those were old statistics and she questioned the validity of the research.

Any kind of a relationship with Daniel beyond a causal ‘hi, how are ya’ in passing or a random phone call, was probably more likely to kill her from the sheer stress of it alone. Daniel was a loose cannon and she would rather live without him than take the risk of living with him. She would always wonder when she would wake up to find him gone. She didn’t want to let herself go and love and chance that kind of pain. She was definitely better off without him. Too bad she hadn’t realized that before last night though.

He had tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Not after waiting for him to come back for twenty-five years. She truly felt he owed her. Last night he had paid his debt in full and she had eagerly collected her due. All things being what they were, the two of them at long last were even. She had thought it would be an easy thing to move forward. That one night would finally get him out of her system and she could go on with her life. Hiding out behind a locked door, it was. Facing him though, if she ever got the chance, might be a different story.

She had fallen off Jack once. Bawling and red faced, screeching like a demon over a bruised backside, she sat in the dirt and cried all the louder to try to get some indulgent sympathy from her uncle Alexander. Jack was quite taken aback by the ruckus she had made. He whinnied and nibbled at the ends of her hair with his soft, leathery lips in means of apology. Her uncle had simply sauntered across the paddock in that slow lumbering gait of his and hefted her up into the saddle again.

After shooing her mother and Aunt Leigh back into the house, he had handed her the reins and given Jack a firm swat on the hindquarters to get him moving again. Sniffling and confused, wondering why he hadn’t tended to her bruised backside and scraped elbow, Fallon had taken the reins from her uncle’s hands. Her mom would have, in the efficiency that all moms were famous for, ushered her into the bathroom, thoroughly scrubbed out her boo-boo, and patched her back together with bandaids, kisses, and a heaping scoop of chocolate chip ice cream. Her uncle hadn’t even bothered to dust her off or whip out his bandana to dab at the scrape.

Uncle Alexander had hauled her out of the dirt after assessing that she was in no imminent danger of suffering anything worse than a bruised ego, clucked his tongue at her, adjusted the ever present ball cap over his shock of faded red hair, and after parking her firmly on Jack’s back, placed her in charge of the horse.

After an unsure start, her bottom lip quivering and tears drying on her reddened cheeks, clinging to the reins and a bit more cautious than she had been before. She had ridden Jack, working up the courage to coax him into a canter, and had the time of her life. Maybe, sometimes you had to fall to learn your lesson. Maybe, sometimes the best you could hope for was not the coddling you thought you deserved when you did fall, but the courage to get back up and climb into the saddle again.

Unfortunately, men weren’t horses. Did she want chocolate chip ice cream, sympathy, and Snoopy bandaids or did she want to climb back into the saddle after such a hard, tooth-rattling fall? Ice cream, sympathy, and Snoopy bandaids sounded better in a lot of ways, definitely safer than the saddle. The truth was her ego had suffered a bit when she had been left with the stained sheets and tenderness of a body invaded and thoroughly conquered.

She had never been one to shirk a challenge. That summer day way back when, she had been terrified to climb into the saddle. She could have refused. Uncle Alexander wouldn’t have forced her. She could have run for the house and the comfort of bandaids and chocolate chip ice cream, but she hadn’t. She had gotten up, sniffled up her tears, and climbed into the saddle. That day she had ridden longer and faster than she ever had before. Her bruised butt and scraped elbow had been quickly forgotten. The memory replaced by the wind in her hair, the horse beneath her, and the sheer pride that she had put her fear aside.

Fallon took her time, indulging in life’s simpler pleasures. She painted her toenails a vibrant red. Hooker red, Alex called the particular shade she chose. Janine, God love her, constantly shopped for things she couldn’t use and Fallon had reaped the benefit of Janine’s no limit Visa card. She had bottles and tubes, brushes, and more makeup than any woman could ever hope to use. Not that many of the other women in the pack ever wore makeup, but what there was in the community bathroom was public property. But, she, with her unusual coloring, had her own private stash.