“It’s in the house in a drawer,” I answer, confused by theirresponse. This isn’t the first time someone has had this strong of a reaction to this ring.
Finding it by accident, but having it frequent my dreams and flood the circumstances of my newly gained estate, makes one wonder of its true origin.
“Show us,” Lollie says in a way that makes her sound unsure if she really wants to see. I decide to do just that, hoping it’ll bring me some much-needed answers as to why they are acting this way.
Once we make it to the house, I pull out the box and open it, but there is no ring in sight. Two empty spots greet me instead of just the one. The first missing one having no pull on my affliction. Probably long lost in the crack of a floorboard or amongst the grass on the property. Losing a ring like that would feel horrible, and now I know that feeling.
The beautiful ring that once drew my blood is missing. I rummage through the drawer, looking under papers and other odds and ends that were left there, but it is gone. And the looks on Ashton and Lollie’s faces that were once strained—calm. Their shoulders relax as if I just undetonated a bomb in my hands. Our reactions being so opposite.
“So, you lost it, huh?” Ashton says, seeming a little calmer than he was in the car when I first told them about the ring.
“Yeah, I had it just a couple of days ago. Damn. It was so beautiful, you guys. The metal was a bit broken or something odd with the design. It cut me actually. I was going to take it to get fixed. But you should see this door…it matches it perfectly.” I’m babbling again.
“It cut you?” Lollie whispers. She looks white as a ghost. “So, you put it on then?” She stares at me with an intensity as if she is questioning things I know.
“No, but I was in the basement.” I explain. “It wasn’t a big deal, just a drop. It wasn’t rusty or anything. It’s a quality ring. But did you hear me? You must see this door…”
“No!” Ashton surprises me with his reaction. “I’m just going to say it straight out. I don’t like it here. This place is full of bad juju,” Ash blurts out. “Jade, I think you need to come home. This house. It’s nice, but it’s not your home. The basement—it’s old. Probably full of asbestos or mold. The air quality alone is reason enough to leave,” Ashton says, reaching for anything.
Is he out of his mind? I’m starting to think everyone here has gone mad. He is the second person to tell me not to go into the basement.
“I don’t understand. Seriously, what is up with you guys? It’s just a ring. It’s just a basement. It is just a house,” I stammer, so confused with how my friends are acting.
“Jade, we just miss you. You belong with us back in Detroit. Here is…” Lollie starts to say something, but she stops. I can tell from their energy that they have something else to say.
“Look, it’s been a long night. We are all tired. Let’s just leave this where it is and know that we just want you to be careful. This place is strange, and its strangeness seems to affect everyone around here.” Ashton’s face says it all. “Just promise us you’ll be careful.Please.” Ashton pleads.
“I will. I promise,” I say. And I feel in my bones it’s a fickle promise, because if they are right about one thing, it’s that this placeisquite strange, but I welcome it.
23
LOCAL BAR
RACINE 1978
Ashton and Lollie left days ago. Our heated discussion making their departure that much more bittersweet. They called to let me know they made it back to Detroit safely. Lollie said it was much more bearable having Ashton follow her as opposed to him driving and taking control over every aspect of her car. Regardless, it grounds me in the fact that they are hundreds of miles away.
The day they left, I sat around with my thoughts, petting Carya, and trying to figure out where I could have dropped the ring. I want to go in the basement, but Ashton actually scared me a bit with the thought of the air quality. Leave it to him to know just where to strike up my worry bone.
At this point, I am antsy, feeling locked up and secluded. A coil forms its way around my spine, edging me to release what I know lies beneath its tension. I still haven’t talked to Ry, but he is a constant in my mind. The more I try to push thoughts of him away, the more I find my need grows.
The clock strikes seven pm with no sign my racing thoughts will die down anytime soon. I can’t shake the way my friends acted by pointing out the strange flaws of this house. Their worry leaves mecrawling in my skin, and I feel like I need to get out. Be somewhere to clear my head. Anywhere but in this house.
Ashton may have taken his car, but I was left a couple of very nice, very well-kept cars that went along with the estate. I may not know much about cars, but I know how to drive. Well, kind of.
With that thought, I get dressed and jump in the black Cadillac to take a drive, adjusting the seat so my feet actually touch the pedals. The keys fall out of the visor above my head, and with them a small dried purple flower. One adorned with dried delicate thorns that break upon my touch.
The devil’s gift, I seem to recall from some unknown memory looking down at its sad petals. The ring. This flower. All trying to tell me something. Warn me. I put the gearshift in reverse, an overwhelming want to be out of this house being stronger than ever.
It’s a nice southern fall night in Louisiana. I roll the windows down as I drive slowly into town. The smell of the air morphs as I continue to coast down the dirt road. The estate smells of earth and damp roots. Town smells like spice, sugar, and secrets. And the feeling you get when rolling through is one of high energy with the eclectic mix of people and food.
There is another feeling here though, and it matches the one I get at the house. The unknown hangs just above my head, permeating my instinct to let me know it’s nearby. The veil here feels thin—too thin—like something on the other side is watching back.
My car drives past an old cemetery and halts to a stop without warning. I curse under my breath. I should have checked to make sure the car was working properly before I drove it this far. Or did I even check to see if it had gas?
I turn the key again, but nothing. I look over at the cemetery, its stone tombs teasing me with their promised future. I wonder whether they buried my uncle there. Strange that I’ve never thought about it until now. I have yet to see his grave. When was his funeral even? Odd that I never heard a thing about it.
That last thought makes me gather my nerve and get out of the car. It is dark now, and I’m thankful I found a flashlight in the glove compartment. The remnants of the dried thistle blow out of the car as I open its door. I watch as they all gather at the base of an established tree. A hickory tree, no less.
