Peripheral Vision: A Supernatural Thriller(29)

Sarah had the distinct feeling that her new friend, Richard might have a case of ADD, but thought he was sweet nonetheless, and decided to join him for a walk. He seemed like someone who would know a lot about the town, and possibly, her family.

“That would be lovely,” she replied.

The little bell hanging on top of the door jingled as the two walked out of the coffee shop and into the cool whipping wind.

“Richard, did you know Elizabeth Bayard?”

Richard paused for a moment as if trying to remember some old, long lost story and then replied. “I knew her.” He said. “Yes.”

Sarah smiled. “What was she like?”

“Well that depends.”

“What do you mean? On what?”

“Well, do you mean Elizabeth Bayard, the pretty girl I went to high school with, the one who had so many friends, and we called Lizzy? Or the Elizabeth Bayard, the hermit, the one that disappeared and shut herself up in that damn house for years on end. The one the school kids called the Witch.”

Sarah stopped walking. “They called her a witch?”

Richard looked at Sarah and realized he’d said something wrong. “There was a song they used to sing... I’m sorry. Why are you asking me about her?”

“She was my aunt. I never met her.”

The elderly man looked away from Sarah for a moment and then looked down at the sidewalk. He seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry for your loss. I thought you knew the stories. Didn’t realize you didn’t know. I didn’t know that you were family.”

Richard looked uncomfortable and confused. He slowly pulled a hanky out of his back pocket and blew his nose. “I should get going. Thanks for the walk, Sarah.” He folded his hanky and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I really don’t have much to say about your aunt. I hadn’t talked to her since high school. She was a nice girl. She just kept to herself when she got older.”

They both just stood there for a moment in awkward silence before Richard turned and walked away down the sidewalk. Sarah watched him slowly make his way back towards the little coffee shop. Something bothered her about the way he left. It was that little glimpse she’d caught in his eye before he turned away. It was the look of a child who’d just lied to his mother.

Sarah looked at her phone. The library should be open now, she thought, and started to walk in that direction before stopping to look into the large front window of a fabric store. It looked warm and cozy and inviting inside. It was an easy decision to get out of the cold wind.

The bells above the door announced her arrival, as a few heads popped up from behind the maze of colorful fabric rows to investigate. Their eyes all seemed to curiously take in the new girl in the room, quickly sizing her up and casting mental judgements; and then just as quickly returning to whatever craft was in front of them.

For a brief moment, Sarah wanted to head for the door and run away, far away, but something more powerful than the uncomfortableness she was currently feeling kept her from acting on that pleading urge. Sarah hated the feeling of all those eyes on her. She despised it, in fact. But there was something else going on in this little fabric and crafts store and Sarah needed to find out what. The feeling was strong here.

She gathered herself mentally, took a deep breath, and walked towards the back of the shop. Behind the rows of fabric and the small shelves displaying buttons, and zippers and things, there was an island of desks filled with sewing machines. It was strange, but it seemed to be calling to her. Sarah! It seemed to cry. You need to know. You need to understand. And you are close. You are so close!

Sarah reached out and touched the old Singer sewing machine. It was jet black and looked to be made out of iron. It was actually attached to the wooden table beneath it. Sarah’s hand moved along the vintage piece of machinery, before coming to a rest on a small latch. Her fingers twitched. Her eyes squinted for just a slight moment in time and then she flipped the latch. The sewing machine slowly spun out of sight beneath the table. Like a secret passageway. Her mind whispered.

“Elizabeth?!” A raspy voice cried from behind her.

Sarah felt ripped back to her present reality and spun to face the raspy voice. As her dark eyes regained their focus, she realized the old, bent over woman behind her was actually quite angry.

“Why haven’t you stopped by to see the boys? They miss you. They do. Isn’t right what you’re doing!”

Sarah was speechless.

“There’s a lot more to being a teacher than the tests of your life.” The old woman snapped.

Sarah swallowed hard. It hurt. It felt like her ribs were stuck behind each other, but she pushed through the uneasy, choking feeling and looked the woman straight in the eye. “My name is Sarah, ma’am.” It was all she could come up with.

The woman looked confused and then embarrassed. “Sarah? But, I…”

The woman put the back of her left hand up to her forehead like she was steadying herself against a dizzy spell. Then she suddenly reached out with the same hand and grabbed Sarah by the shirt collar. The sound of seems stretching and popping were audible in Sarah’s ears.

“You were wrong to make that choice, Elizabeth. I considered you a friend. But now... I hate you.” And with that the old woman spit in Sarah’s face.

Sarah felt the warm spital slowly run down her cheek. She was in shock. What the fuck lady?! Her mind yelled, but she said nothing. Her body was frozen.