Strange in Skin (26 page)

I watched the first person take a swig of the container Mrs. Anderson had handed them. They
passed it onto the next person, and after each one would drink, they would turn and walk away from
the bonfire. They formed a single line as they headed to their vehicles parked across the field in a
plowed area. They got into their vehicles and drove down another path on the opposite side of the
field that must have led to another way out of Mrs. Anderson’s farm.

After each man had left and gone, only Mrs. Anderson remained. She still stood in front of the fire,
her eyes seemed to be focused on the burning poles that were now blackened and burned through. She
stood all alone and very still for a long time. She was also facing in my direction, so I leaned back
against the rock, let the coldness settle in until I felt completely numb, even with all of the layers of
clothing on, and hoped that she wasn’t going to be there for a long time. There was no way I could get
out of here while she was facing me like that. She would see me for sure if I made any sudden
movements.

I listened to my heart beat within my chest like a drum for a while as I waited. I realized I was
scared to death. Never had I expected their meeting to have gone in this direction. Never in a million
years could I have ever pictured my father or Buck Brady joining in some sort of ritual like this. Did
they believe that they were truly doing good? Was that it? I tried to find some way of reasoning with
the logic behind it. I couldn’t. It was too creepy for Seneca, way out of the range of normal. I could
only decide two things: Mrs. Anderson was not right in the head, and everyone that believed what she
said were under the influence of her insanity.

I memorized the other name she had called out as I repeated it again and again.
Lucas Banesberry
.
She had said that he had been powerful, too. What significance or relation did this man have to Emry?
It would have to be my next step in finding out anything I could about this Lucas. I doubted I would
forget the name. I doubted I would ever be able to forget this night and all its sinister charm.
Halloween had been a few months ago. Maybe someone should have told them. Oh, that’s right. They
think Emry is the one worshipping the devil.

I wanted to bend my neck over again and see if Mrs. Anderson was still standing there. I was too
terrified yet. I couldn’t let her see me. I was all alone in these spooky woods, the shiny things
dangling above my head, taunting me with their strangeness. I guess this was the kind of thing that
Emry had warned me to be careful about. He had had a bad feeling, and he had been so right. Mrs.
Anderson had just had a pep rally for her miniature army she had created in Seneca, Ohio, the most
normal place in the entire world where nothing out of the ordinary happened. Wow. Even I surprised
myself at how blind I had been my entire life to believe any of that. Seneca was turning out to be the
epitome of weird. Maybe every place was like this. Or, maybe I had just been so out of it my entire
life that I genuinely had no clue about what was going on in the world around me.

I realized that I was beginning to not be able to feel my feet. I sat still for a few more moments
listening to the silence of the night, trying to get enough courage to look around the rock again.
You
have to do this
, I told myself. You can’t sit here all night and freeze to death.

No one was there. Mrs. Anderson had gone, but she hadn’t walked down the same path as I had
come up to get to her house. I was grateful for that anyway. She would have seen my footsteps on the
way down. But where had she gone? I scanned the area one final time before deciding it was
probably safe enough to stand. I took a few steps away from the rock. Nothing. Still silence. No one
was in sight. All the cars had gone, and Mrs. Anderson had seemed to vanish into thin air.

I was trying to debate what I should do. Should I go down the same path as I had come up where I
would have to cross in front of Mrs. Anderson’s house in order to get back to my car, or should I
cross this field and go down the lane that the cars had driven down and see where it led me? But then
I thought that Mrs. Anderson had probably left down that path herself. I wanted the way with the less
chance of me crossing paths with her. I finally took a deep breath and headed the way I had come up.
Hopefully I wouldn’t fall down the slippery hillside.

My feet tingled and burned with every step. I was freezing. I made my protesting body work as I
trudged my way down the hill, my eyes wide and alert for any signs of danger as I repeatedly scanned
the area in front, around, and behind me every few minutes. This had been such a bad idea. What if I
had been caught? I probably would be the one burning in that fire right now. Buck would have gladly
thrown me in.

When I had reached the bottom of the hill and also the edge of the woods, I hesitated at the back of
the house. There was a dim light coming from one of the windows. Mrs. Anderson must be inside. I
tried to listen to see if I heard any voices coming from within. I heard nothing and continued to walk
very slowly around the side and stopped again before I headed into the open area in the front of the
house. I put one hand on the siding and peered around. I looked at the front porch. No one was there,
and no car was parked out front either. Taking a deep breath, I tried to compose myself. I knew I had
to force myself to keep going. I trudged on, starting out slow as I walked directly in front of her home,
and then I saw movement from inside one of the windows. I started to sprint as fast I could with what
I was working with, deep snow and layers of clothes, and before I knew it, I was already halfway up
the road and my car was in sight, still sideways, up the other farm lane.

I wanted to kiss my steering wheel once I got inside. Had I really made it out of there without being
seen? That seemed impossible in itself. I still had to get my car out of here and far away from this
place. I think I would have rather been sleeping in Lainey Tritt’s house of horror right now than spend
another moment in the presence of Mrs. Anderson.

The car roared to life, and I was grateful the battery hadn’t given out on me in this bitter cold. I
released the emergency brake and turned the steering wheel hard as I attempted to maneuver the car
into a straight line. It didn’t work, but I was still somehow sliding down the lane, my front end
suddenly coming forward, and I slid right out onto the road. I put the car into gear and away I went.

I got to the library early the next morning. I waved to Jeannie, the librarian, as I went in. She waved
back. She was used to me being here. I hadn’t even bothered going to the antique store yet. It had been
a few days since I had gone to the store, since the night that I had changed there from coming from the
prison and then going to the bar. It surprised me at how little I even cared if it ever opened again. My
mother was up and around once more. She could go tidy it up if she wanted to. I was probably through
with that place. I felt as if this attitude was partly her fault. So much had happened in the recent
months. I didn’t want to be in Seneca anymore. I didn’t want to be in Ohio. But the one thing keeping
me here was Emry Logan. Then again, if it hadn’t been for running into him and falling madly in love,
none of these other things would have probably occurred either. It had been a gradual cycle, an
awakening that had only been brought on by a matter of chance and events. I could only imagine how
dull my life would have continued to be if I had stayed in that slump for the rest of my life. The sad
thing was that I could picture it happening that way, too.

I began my morning by plopping down in a chair and going on the computer searching for anything
that would give me a clue into who exactly Lucas Banesberry was. Periodically I would take a sip of
the piping hot coffee that sat beside me. I had never been much of a coffee drinker before, but today I
decided I liked it.

After a couple of hours of searching, I felt frustrated. I could find nothing on any Lucas Banesberry.
Then looking through some old newspapers that had been scanned onto the Internet, I came across an
obituary.

Lucas W. Banesberry, birth March 14, 1947, death September 28, 1965. Son of Lawrence and
Juanita Banesberry of Elverson, Pennsylvania. Brother of Adam Banesberry. Faithful son, loving
friend. He’ll be deeply missed by all who knew him.

This couldn’t be the same Lucas Banesberry I was searching for. I set the obituary down and tried
to find out more information on anyone else with the same name but came up empty handed. I looked
down at the printed out piece of paper beside me. I took another gulp of coffee while holding it up and
taking another look at the dates again. If this was him, it had happened a long time ago. For Mrs.
Anderson to have known him, she would have been fairly young herself. I guess I had been expecting
to find someone still alive, perhaps in another prison, some article telling what crime that had
committed and so forth. I sighed. This had to be the one. There was no other information on anyone
else by that name. Elverson, Pennsylvania. Where was that? I went online to find a map. It was near
the border of Ohio. I glanced down at my watch. Then I stood and headed for the door, tossing the half
empty coffee cup into the trash on my way out.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting from this sudden trip to Pennsylvania. Then again, most
mornings I woke up unsure of how the day was going to unfold anymore. Surely someone in Elverson
knew something about Lucas Banesberry. Maybe they’d remember what had happened to him or lead
me in the direction of someone that did. As always, my nerves were getting the best of me, but today
wasn’t nearly as bad as what I had experienced last night at Mrs. Anderson’s little field ritual. The
memory of the night’s events was still haunting me in the bright sunlight of the day. Seneca was
repulsive.

I picked up a GPS on my way out of town. I had never been very good at reading a map, and it just
seemed simpler this way. I was grateful that I hadn’t ever been much of a money spender. I had gone
to the bank and gotten out plenty of cash for the trip for gas and food, even a hotel room if need be.

As the highway winded on before me, Emry crept back into my mind again. His face was always
there, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. I thought about him every second of the day. All of my
actions revolved around him. He had freed me, helped me gain a sense of independence I had never
known before, and now I must help free him. I could only imagine what he was going through. What
had they done to him for kissing me? Were they still punishing him? Such a beautiful creature. It was
pure torment to think of them injuring his face or for him to be in any kind of physical pain, pain that
had been caused by my sneaking in to see him.

I wondered if he thought about me as much as I did him. Would he question when he’d see me again
or what had happened to me? I was convinced we were on equal ground when it came to our love for
one another. Our connection was too strong to ever doubt that it could fall short in any way. My chest
ached for him to be near me again. I wanted so desperately to go back to the prison and see him again,
but I knew for sure that they would be on the lookout for my being there. I knew it would be an
impossible task and a waste of effort to even try. My car lurched forward as I pressed on the gas a
little harder. It was as if I thought by getting to Elverson at a faster rate, I could somehow speed up the
time we were suffering apart so that it might end quicker. I missed him so much that it was as though I
could literally feel my heart breaking. It was the worst kind of pain I had ever experienced before, the
not knowing, the inevitable future already mapped out for us yet snatched away for the moment,
possibly to never be.

Stop thinking like that
, I commanded myself. Such negativity pouring out from me. I had to remain
optimistic about my future,
our
future, or else I knew I’d be hopeless and make careless decisions.
There was no room for errors in this game. This was a battle between good and evil, although I
wasn’t exactly sure yet who was on either side, and I would bet that those battling didn’t have a
concrete grasp on the side taking part yet either. I decided to turn on the radio and settled on the first
station that had an upbeat, happy song on it. I tried to block out all the pain and all the anger that had
been building up lately. I had to put it all behind me and move forward.

After what had seemed like a long time of driving, I sighed a breath of relief when I saw a sign that
said welcome to Pennsylvania. According to the GPS, I was almost at my goal. I drove a little further
and then began to see businesses that had Elverson in their title. So I had made it. Great. Now what?

I pulled into a little diner that was made up of a small rectangle building that had been painted a
dull pink color called Tillie’s. There were only a few other cars in the parking lot. I thought maybe
I’d go in and check the place out, see if anyone in there knew anything about the Banesberry family
and maybe even grab a bite to eat. My stomach growled viciously just then at the thought of food, and
I realized that I hadn’t eaten a thing yet today.

The inside of the diner was very much like its exterior, rundown but still tidy and clean. I sat at a
little booth with black and white checkered seat cushions and looked around. The soft sound of a
country music station on the radio was playing, and other than a couple people talking to a waitress up
at the counter, the room was very quiet.