Happily Never After (4 page)

Then, she whispered the anguished words she
always did. “He w-was going t-to leave me.”

Swallowing thickly, I picked up the pace.
Love scared me. Everyone I’d loved had been taken away from me.
There wasn’t anyone to take my hand and explain why it turned ugly
or desperate, to tell me that one day I’d meet a guy and all my
beliefs would change. Considering everything else that was going
on, the idea of meeting anyone of the opposite sex seemed silly and
remote.

Chapter Four

A week later Marietta sent me on a mission to
find some kind of frilly fabric for one of Anna’s dresses. Things
had been unnaturally quiet since the incident in the kitchen and
I’d been so on edge I didn’t even have the urge to do any research
into Catherine and William.

Pageant errands were the bane of my
existence. I lost track of how many dresses each of them needed,
they were all so big and ruffled and ridiculous. I always assumed
most girls bought their dresses but Marietta was a talented
seamstress and insisted on making theirs. According to her, it made
Anna and Suzie stand out even more. In my opinion, it made them
even more spoiled.

After already trying two of the fabric stores
in town, I decided to try one a little closer to the
waterfront.

The waterfront and old downtown were my
favorite parts of Savannah. I took my time strolling down the
sidewalk and studying the buildings. It was such a pretty city but
what gave it that creepy, yet almost magical feel, were the trees.
Tall, drooping trees, draped in Spanish moss were twisted and
gnarled from hundreds of years. Thick, green 'town squares' dotted
the neighborhoods nearest the river and I always compared it to
living near the forest. You didn’t have to walk far to find a large
open park and plenty of green space.

Every free second I had, I spent taking
pictures of the trees and the squares. Right now, I had enough to
make a very impressive coffee table book. Photography gave me the
chance to escape. When I looked through a camera, the world
disappeared. Along with it, all the taunting, and the sadness and
the being ordered about faded away. Then, all I was left with was
the object in my viewfinder. The simple plays of light and dark,
the brutal honesty of the image, it helped my world make sense even
if it’s just for that second.

Staring across the street at a particularly
massive live oak and considering how I would capture it in the best
light, I didn’t see the person standing right in front of me. The
collision would have knocked me off my feet if someone with a
strong pair of arms hadn’t held me upright.

“I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot...” I
started before getting a really good look at who still had their
arms supporting me. It was Jason Preston. I couldn’t believe it and
the shock struck me speechless.

He didn’t say anything either, just smiled at
me with that little dimple in his chin and his dark brown eyes
sparkling, dark hair falling across his forehead. He was even
hotter in person.

I noticed a couple beefy guys nearby watching
me like a hawk and assumed they were security.

“You okay?” he finally asked. I still
couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say so all I did was nod.
“Good, you were looking around like you’re lost. Are you lost? I’m
not from here, but I can pretend and help you find your way.”

There was the cocky grin I remembered from
TV.

“Are you flirting with me?” It was such a
ridiculous thought and saying it aloud really made me wish I were
anywhere else. I heard my voice and recognized the snarky tone, as
if I found the idea of him flirting with me repulsive.

He let me go and looked at the ground as he
laughed. “Maybe but I’m not doing a very good job at it,
obviously.”

“I’m from here. I was just looking at the
trees.” There, I said something even more idiotic. I expected him
to run away at any moment and not spare a single glance
backward.

Instead, he turned towards the tree I’d been
staring at and cocked his head to the side.

“I can see why, they’re very mysterious. Like
sad old ladies draped in veils.” That surprised me. It was the last
thing I expected him to say. “It makes sense that Savannah has the
kind of reputation it does.”

“Reputation?” I got the uneasy feeling I
normally got when people started talking about my home. It was hard
to listen to them wonder or mock the presence of ghosts when I’d
felt them my entire life. Most of them treated it as a novelty or a
tourist attraction.

“Yeah,” he looked back at me. “They say it’s
the most haunted city in America. I’d love to find out for sure
while I’m here doing this movie. I’m Jason, by the way.” He held
out his hand.

I heard a squeal come from the end of the
block and knew he’d been spotted by his adoring fans.

“I know who you are.” I stared at his hand
without taking it, vaguely aware it was rude. The whole
conversation felt a little surreal to me. My brain completely
stopped working which didn’t help with trying to find something to
say. “My stepsisters are crazy about you.”

He lowered his hand and tucked them into the
front pockets of his jeans. He flashed the cocky grin again. “Are
they as beautiful as you?”

With a shake of my head, I rolled my eyes and
walked away.

“Seriously?” He called after me.

“Yep,” I answered over my shoulder as I saw a
group of girls running towards him.

“Where do I find you if I need another cruel
shot at my ego?”

It was hard to not answer him. I kept on
walking but his laughter followed me the rest of the afternoon.

I didn’t have much experience with boys, but
not from lack of interest. Seeing how the boys at school bowed to
my stepsister’s whims I knew they weren’t for me. I hated the fact
that Jason did all the stupid cliché things like making my heart
speed up and my palms sweat. I growled in frustration.

When I reflected on the five minutes I spent
with Jason, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed with
myself for not even attempting to be charming and with him for
being almost exactly what I expected.

I finally found the fabric Marietta sent me
in search of but it had taken much longer than it should have.
Luckily, when I made it back to Baubles, she was with a customer
and in full suck-up mode. To make matters even better, the twins
were also out and it was Saturday, which meant it was my one night
to go out, my one night a week I had with an extended curfew.

Hoping not to upset Marietta any more than
necessary, I took extra time with my chores to make sure there
wouldn’t be anything worth complaining about.

“Quinn?” My head jerked up at the sound of my
name. It was Mrs. Hoppel, my high school English teacher and head
of the Photography Club.

“Hi, Mrs. Hoppel, what brings you here?” I
caught Marietta watching me intently.

She patted her short grey bob. “I’m getting a
little trim. I wanted to congratulate you after graduation but I
wasn’t able to find you.”

Mrs. Hoppel had always been my favorite
teacher and taught me a lot about photography. I considered her my
mentor in a sense.

“I’m sorry. It was so crazy I must have
missed you.” She was another one of the people I cared about who
had no idea what life was like at home. Oh, I’m sure she heard
about the trouble I got at school but that was different.

She reached into her large tote purse, pulled
out a couple brochures and handed them to me. “These are some
schools I wanted you to look at. This first one, obviously, is
Savannah College of Art and Design. I know how much you love living
in the city so I assume it’s your first choice. It’s getting down
to the wire for late applications so you might want to do that
soon. If you haven’t already, that is.”

I knew she was trying to be helpful but it
made me uncomfortable. There would barely be enough money for me to
set myself up somewhere new let alone start any kind of college.
Going to SCAD was my dream but I didn’t see it happening. I took
the brochures from her and smiled.

“The other one,” she continued, “is for the
Hallmark Institute of Photography in Massachusetts. I understand
the idea of going to the North and those frigid winters is
appalling to any of us Southern women but this is an excellent
school. Maybe you want a change of pace.”

Marietta hovered nearby, not even making an
effort to conceal her eavesdropping. I’m glad Mrs. Hoppel didn’t
notice her because she would have launched into an embarrassing
conversation about my future.

I thanked Mrs. Hoppel for giving me the
information and walked her to the front door of the salon. When I
turned, Marietta ripped the brochures out of my hands.

“I’ll take these. You won’t need them.” She
sneered and walked away, leaving her awful jasmine perfume behind.
I tried to ignore the faint musty water smell hiding beneath it.
The scent scared me a little.

Later that night I went downstairs to remind
Marietta I was leaving. She and the twins were in the family room
watching a recorded pageant as if it was the evening news. For a
brief flash, I had a vision of how the room used to look.

Once upon a time it was full of pictures of
me, of our family. Now if you looked through the house, you’d find
no proof of my existence. They hid me away like a dirty secret.

“Just wanted you to know I was going out,
Marietta.” Anxiety slicked over my skin, I never knew what kind of
mood she would be in or more important, what her mood towards me
would be.

“Fine, remember be back by midnight.” She
tore her gaze away from the TV and fixed me with a look of malice.
“Don’t forget what happened last time.”

Before I could answer she turned back to the
TV, dismissing me.

Walking out I heard Suzie yell, “Have fun
with your lesbian witch friend.”

All three of them laughed as I closed the
door.

Chapter Five

I stood on the sidewalk and took a deep
breath. For the next five hours, I was free.

Abby had succeeded in roping me into doing
amateur ghost hunts with her for the last few months. She was the
only person who knew about my so-called ability. Her theory that I
was some kind of sensitive or medium made me uncomfortable but it
didn’t stop me from wanting to learn more.

Until now, we had only conducted our little
experiments in my house, when everyone else was gone, or at the old
restaurant where Abby’s mama worked. I sold a couple first edition
books from the attic without Marietta knowing and bought the kind
of equipment we saw on TV; a digital voice recorder, a video camera
with night vision and a still camera as well, which I also used for
my photography.

So far, we thought we’d come up with some
pretty great evidence – multiple shadows and voices from various
parts of my house and one really impressive piece of video footage
of what appeared to be a shadow person. No matter how many times we
caught something significant it took a long time for me, the girl
who sees ghosts, to admit it wasn’t a fluke or an explainable
shadow. Holding a piece of evidence that showed the hidden world I
saw everyday sobered me.

Mostly I had the option of pretending the
ghosts I saw were all in my head. Investigating with Abby stole
that from me little by little.

Tonight, we were going to Colonial Park
Cemetery, Savannah’s oldest burial ground, to try some of our
equipment outside. Abby said we needed to step up our game and the
Old Cemetery would be perfect. Even though there were only about
600 markers present, we heard rumors that close to 9,000 people
were buried there. That kind of atmosphere made it a perfect place
to try to contact restless spirits.

The waning moon peeking through the clouds
made it exactly the kind of place a ghost would call home. Savannah
had a way of turning from beautiful to straight out of a horror
movie in seconds.

I saw Abby standing at the gate to the
cemetery. “Hey girl, you ready?”

She grinned at me and held up our bag of
equipment. “I’m always ready. I have a feeling this is going to be
awesome.”

We picked our way to the oldest part.
Drooping trees sheltered most of the cemetery and the crooked
crumbling tombstones were like a drunken army standing watch.
Already I knew we were not alone. My consciousness began to sense
various spirits nearby. I tried not to let the atmosphere dictate
my reactions. It was still easy to spook myself considering
everything else going on lately.

“This looks about as good a place as any. I
think we’re far enough from the street that we shouldn’t have any
noise interference.”

I stopped under a giant tree and Abby pulled
out our cameras. It surprised me that even in the middle of a busy
city, the silence could be so thick and complete. I couldn’t hear
anything. Wispy clouds passed over the moon and threw strange
shadows all around us.

Off behind a large tombstone, I watched one
shadow move in the opposite direction of the others. Learning how
shadows fall and react to light was important and I knew from
experience this particular shadow was different. If I opened my
mind, the emotions and desperation of the dead would overwhelm me.
I read stories of people claiming to be sensitives who couldn’t
step foot in a cemetery or a battlefield or even a funeral home.
Thank goodness I was slowly learning to tune it out, sort of like
switching a channel.

Abby handed me my expensive still camera. I
attached the infrared lens and started snapping pictures while she
began recording. No matter how many times we’d done it, starting
one of our investigations, as Abby called them, gave me the feeling
of being on a rollercoaster, on the big hill teetering over the
edge.

During the first couple attempts, I felt
silly asking questions to the dark, asking someone who might not be
there to make themselves known. Familiarity came with practice and
now I didn’t think twice about asking a spirit to identify itself.
Especially after getting some very convincing answers back.