Chapter 62
James scrubbed his hands quickly and ran a wet cloth over his face, he hoped he’d removed all of the blood. He hadn’t noticed Annie following him until she said, “There’s just a smidge here. Let me get it.” She took the towel from him and wiped his forehead, and James felt his insides restrict, something he’d never experienced before. Annie was beautiful, with deep brown eyes and blonde hair, which she always wore done up on her head to keep it out of the way. She smiled at him, and he felt himself melting into a puddle there before her. “That was quite impressive back there,” she said. “Your father must be very proud of you, Jamie.”
“Uh, huh,” he said, realizing his mouth was drooping open. He closed it.
“Well, you better run along now, before your mother worries.”
“Right,” he nodded. She smiled at him again, and he felt the color rising in his face. Before he could say anything embarrassing, he dodged around her and headed for the door.
All the way to his house, he did the sums in his head. If Annie was twenty-two now, and he was twelve, that would mean, when he was forty-two, she’d be fifty-two. That should be acceptable to society, shouldn’t it?
Getting home from the hospital required him to pass by the same alleyway he’d been afraid of for as long as he could remember. Tonight, he passed it by without even realizing it until he was on the other side, thoughts of Ross Johnson and Nurse Annie occupying his mind and keeping it off Vampires. Even though he hadn’t completely forgotten the time he’d seen the shadow in the alley, he had more important things to think on than Vampires or Vampire Hunters. It was only when Uncle Culpepper visited that he even remembered the stories his mother had told him when he was younger. It all seemed like a fantasy now, like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
Even before James reached the door of his home, he heard voices shouting from inside. Actually, he only heard one voice shouting—the other only seemed to be attempting to be reasonable and clearly failing.
“You can’t keep me from it!” his older sister, Marjorie, was yelling at his mother. “When I’m seventeen, I can do as I please!”
“And I’m telling you that is not the case.” His mother sounded weary, as if she had been having this conversation for far too long already.
“It’s my life! It’s my body!”
James quietly opened the door and stepped inside. They were in the parlor, just off the entryway. His mother was standing near the doorway with her arms crossed, his sister sprawled on the sofa, a pillow in her arms, her face red and tear-streaked.
“Marjorie, please. Just because tomorrow is your birthday, that doesn’t mean you need to do this right away. Give it some time. You might decide against it.”
“I’ve already decided!” came the reply. “I’m going through with it. With or without your blessing!”
James felt hands on his shoulders. Turning, he found Sadie there. “Come along, Mr. James. Ain’t nothin’ to see here.”
His mother turned and looked at him, the expression on her face apologetic, as if she wanted to see how his day went but knew that she could not leave his sister for the moment.
James let Sadie lead him away, into the kitchen, where she was preparing dinner. It smelled like roast, and his mouth began to water as the scent enveloped him.
“I sure hope you’re hungry,” Sadie said as she went to the oven to check progress. “I’ve made enough to feed a small army.”
“It smells delicious,” Jamie replied. “I think I should go upstairs and wash up. I’ve had a bit of an exciting day.”
“By the looks of it, I’d say you have. ‘Less that’s strawberry jam trailin’ round the sides of your face.”
Jamie thought he’d gotten all of the blood off of him before he left, but he was glad Sadie had noticed before his mother did. Even though blood never bothered James or his father at all, his mother could be a bit squeamish.
Accessing the stairs meant walking back past the parlor. He had no idea what it was his sister was shouting about. Tomorrow was her seventeenth birthday, that much was certain. But what it was she wanted to do because of it, he couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t until he was climbing the stairs that his mother made a remark that registered.
“You can’t do it without Uncle Culpepper anyway, Margie. Just let it be for now. There will be plenty of time.”
A memory sparked, and he recalled his parents telling him long ago that Uncle Culpepper belonged to some secret society, one you couldn’t join until you were seventeen. It must be that Marjorie wanted to join up, and his parents were against it. What it was precisely, he couldn’t quite remember, but he thought if he pushed thoughts of his waiting school work and the surgery he’d helped with aside long enough, perhaps the memory would find its way back to the surface.
Upstairs, he washed up, making sure to get all the blood off for certain this time, and he changed his shirt after seeing a few spots there. By the time he made it back downstairs, Marjorie had regained her composure. She was still sitting on the sofa in the parlor, but she wasn’t crying any longer. His mother was no longer in the room, and James thought he heard her voice in the kitchen.
James paused and looked at his sister. Her curly blonde hair was all a mess. She still clutched the pillow to her chest, but she was staring off across the room, her hands folded in front of her. They had never been close; for as long as he could remember, Marjorie had resented him. Learning came easy to him, while she always struggled. Adults were always taken aback by his skill and intelligence while most of them hardly noticed her at all. She was tall and lanky, with long limbs, which left her quite awkward when it came to playing sports or other activities, while James always had plenty of friends asking him to play games, though he didn’t have the time anymore since starting college at eleven. Still, as he stood in the doorway, looking at his sister’s face, he couldn’t help but reach out to her. She seemed to need some sort of healing, and that was becoming his specialty.
