Chapter X: Glimpses

I tried to remain strong, for Xander and the children. I did everything I could to make things seem “normal”. But, our whole family was affected by the loss of Buster. My feeling manifested in relief, coupled with a lingering dread that somehow I may not have seen the last of him or his hold on my family. Lilah became something of a loner, not picking on her brothers nearly as much, though she still had her moments. She spent most of her time in her room, painting.

The boys were often sad and would talk to Xander and I about how much they missed Grandpa, but they seemed to be adjusting to the loss in a healthy manner.

I was beginning to think maybe Lilah had grown out of her wild child phase, assisted by the loss of her indulging grandfather. But one day Timo wandered into her room.

When she caught him in there, looking at her painting, she must have tackled him, resulting in a knock-down drag-out fight.

Obviously, I intervened and sent them to separate rooms for a time out.

But as Lilah stood staring morosely out of the window in my room, she muttered something.

Thinking she was talking back, I asked her to repeat what she had said. Turning, with a defiant expression on her face, she stared me down. “I was just telling him that that was a stupid idea,” she replied.

“Telling who?”

“Grandpa.”

I froze, unable to process what she had just said. Lilah saw the shock on my face and grinned. “What, Mom, you didn't realize he's still here?”

“He's... here?” I glanced uneasily around.

Lilah rolled her eyes. “Well, not anymore. He left after I told him he was stupid. The guy can't take criticism. Don't worry, he'll be back, though.”

I felt myself start to tremble, and then anger overwhelmed every other emotion I felt. “Lilah Hemlock, I have had enough of this! First you're defiant, rude, and a bully. Then you literally beat up your little brother. And now, while you're supposed to be being punished, you're standing here lying to my face? You are grounded young lady! You are not going to homecoming this year.”

Lilah's grin faded, replaced by an intense glare. After a beat she shrugged and turned back to the window. “Fine,” she said nonchalantly. “I couldn't find a date, so I probably wasn't going to go anyway.” She began examining her nails while I stared at her back, trembling again. I just wanted to shake her, to scream at her and demand she return to me the bright, sweet little toddler I had cherished so many happy memories with years ago. Who was this child? And why would she make up a story about her dead grandfather talking to her?

Taking a deep breath, I left the room. “I'll call you when it's time for dinner,” I said, and shut the door.

Lilah didn't speak to me for days after that, and she was more surly and unresponsive than ever.

Meanwhile, one morning Bebe showed up, and almost on cue, Xander announced he was taking the boys fishing. “I'll give you girls a little girl time,” he said, grinning, and with a peck on my cheek, all the males in the household were gone. 

Bebe grinned at me. “What's going on?” I asked with a skeptical smile of my own.

“You'll see!” Bebe assured me.

Soon, other women started arriving, and Bebe ushered me out to the backyard, where a buffet table had been set up. “Surprise!” she announced. “Time to celebrate your last few moments of spinsterhood!”

The party was just what I needed. For so long I'd been walking on eggshells, terrified in my own home by a monster of a man, and even after he was gone, a cloud had rested over our home, depressing the children and Xander, and still causing me to look over my shoulder every time I heard a noise. And then there was Lilah...

But all that seemed to go away as Bebe sent me to go change while she hooked up an iPod speaker system and it began pumping out electronica. Someone cheered as two men dressed like skimpy firefighters came around the corner of the house.

“Whew!” Bebe shouted, fanning herself dramatically. “Is it just me or is it getting hot out here?” She grinned at me.

One of the party dancers came over and introduced himself to me as Walter. “I'm here to make sure you have a good time today, ma'am,” he said, and winked at me. I giggled, and we started dancing together.

I was having such a fun time, that is until I looked over and noticed what Lilah was doing.

What exactly did she think she was doing, dancing like that with a fully grown adult man? And what was she wearing?!

I was about to walk over and having a word with her when the thought occurred to me: not only had she come out and joined the party of her own accord, but she actually seemed to be enjoying herself, and even socializing-- albeit somewhat inappropriately-- with the other guests.

Not to mention, I felt a nagging voice whisper in my head, she's only doing exactly what she saw her mother doing.

Abashed, I changed my mind. Let her enjoy herself with a little naughty dancing. There was no harm in it, provided the party dancer was a professional. He'd know she was underage and keep his hands to himself, surely. Besides, who was I, some sort of overprotective Outsider soccer mom? Gypsy girls danced in more suggestive ways than that from almost the time we could walk, and we were often married younger than my daughter's age. I realized with a start how accustomed I had become to this life among suburbanites and their customs and family expectations, and I felt suddenly sad. Despite my best intentions, the Romani heritage I had hoped to pass on to my children seemed to have been left by the wayside, and here was my daughter, nearly an adult, with no pride or interest in the mysterious and colorful legacy she had inherited from the Family. I sighed, and turned to get something to drink.

“I get the feeling I'm not doing my job very well,” I heard a low voice say near my ear, and when I turned, Walter the Dancer was standing there smiling gently.

“Pardon?” I asked, bewildered.

“You don't seem to be enjoying yourself very much,” he explained. “Are you alright?”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Yes, I'm... I'm fine. Sorry. I just, um... needed a drink. All that dancing...” I made a show of taking a nice long draw of punch from my cup, belatedly realizing it was alcoholic and wouldn't do much to quench thirst.

“Well, then, let's make it two and get this party off to a good start!” Walter said, scooping another cup and offering me a toast. I gratefully clicked my cup against his. “To the most beautiful woman here, unfortunately for me,” he said, and I blushed, looking bemusedly into his eyes. He winked, and before I could say anything else, was taking a drink, so I followed suit.

“Come on,” he said, setting his cup on the table. “Let's go dance again. I want to enjoy you as much as possible before you're officially taken!” He laughed and took my arm. Suddenly, I felt dizzy.

There were no images this time. Only sounds. A rushing noise, punctuated by sharp cries. I focused and the sound sharpened like someone tuning a radio. Waves, crashing on the beach. And seagulls. I felt warm and groggy... behind my eyelids, I could see the red light of the sun beating down on my skin, and I was so comfortable. But someone was shaking me, urging me to wake up. I moaned.

“Ma'am, Miss Hemlock? Are you alright?” Walter stood supporting my arm as I came too, shaking it slightly. Bebe was on her way, weaving between people on the lawn to come to my side.

“Moriah?” she said, worriedly, and I gave her a thin smile.

“I'm fine,” I assured her. She still looked worried, but nodded. I had told her about the visions once, and though I wasn't certain she believed me, she at least believed that I had “episodes” once in a while which-- while disturbing-- were essentially harmless. Bebe moved to intercept a couple other women who had been watching my episode and were coming to ask questions. Meanwhile, I turned to Walter. “I'm sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“I'm fine,” I assured him. “It's a family condition. Nothing serious.” He looked comforted by that, and released my arm, and as he did so, the last vestiges of warmth left me feeling suddenly chilly in the spring air. I studied him, and he smiled uncertainly.

“I... I'm sorry, this might sound like a weird question, but... would it be alright if I tried to do a reading on you?”

“A what?” he asked.

“A reading. It's... sort of a psychic thing.”

Walter laughed. “Well, I'm not really into that sort of thing, but I'm here to make you happy. So go ahead.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes at my own foolishness, then placed my hand on his forehead, closing my eyes and concentrating.

Nothing. No sounds or images, not even a feeling, besides the embarrassment I was feeling as he stood there grinning at me. Whatever I had experienced, it was a one-time-only glimpse. But of what?

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I... thought...” I shook my head. “Nevermind. I must look crazy.

Walter grinned. “Only a little. And you're cute when you're crazy,” he said. “Come on, let's dance.”