Escaping Fate (14 page)

“Mom, I won’t be home for lunch. I’m
going to spend most of the day with Grandpa. He asked me to help
him with some cleaning and things like that. I’ll probably be gone
all day.” I smiled through the lie.

My mom patted my shoulder and said it
was fine. I would miss her. I hoped she would miss me too. My mom
was amazing. I almost reconsidered going out so I could spend time
at home, but my desperation to find out more was the only thing
keeping my hope alive. I was convinced that I could make a
difference if I could only find the key to the mystery. Kissing my
mother goodbye, I headed to my grandpa’s house.

Running the whole twelve blocks, I
wheezed with relief when his small brick home came into view. I had
not told my grandpa I was coming, but he was watching for me by the
window when I ran up. The door was open and he was waiting
anxiously for me. Not saying anything to me at first, he just went
and sat in his armchair, handing me the hot chocolate he had
prepared for me. It was way too early for the sweet drink, but I
took it anyway. I could use a little caffeine and sugar this
morning. I held it in my hands, drinking deeply. When I finally
regained my breath my grandpa began.

“Tell me about the dream, Arra. What
did it show you?”

“I don’t know, Grandpa. I know it’s
Kivera, but that’s all. Last night I saw her tied to an altar. I
saw a black knife, a fire, and a bowl of water on a table. She was
crying hysterically and the priest and guards hated her because of
it.

“It was terrible to watch. But I know
she’s the reason Katie and Maera are dead and I hate her for that.
The dreams just aren’t telling me enough though,” I said. I put
down the cup with a sigh.

“They will,” my grandpa said, “but not
soon enough, I think.”

“I know. I’ll see the rest of it
tonight. I’ll find out what Kivera did when I fall asleep. But what
good will it do me then? I need to find out as much as I can today.
I don’t know if it will help, but I have to do something. I can’t
just sit here and wait to die,” I said. Tears filled my eyes as I
spoke. My grandpa saw my distress and put his hand on my shoulder
in comfort.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked. “You
look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

I looked up, quickly rubbing my cheeks
and eyes.

“I’m exhausted, Grandpa. I barely get
any sleep at night before the dreams start. Then I wake up wanting
to scream, and if I can get back to sleep, it’s never very restful.
I want to pass out for a few days, but I can’t go back to bed now.
I’m afraid of losing even a second.” I sighed, letting my head sink
into the back of the couch.

“You’re the only one that can help me
figure this out,” I said. Tears fell down my cheeks, dripping onto
my jeans. Letting my head fall into my hands, I tried to breathe
deeply. I needed calm to face this. Desperate and scared, my eyes
pleaded for my grandpa’s help.

“I will help you in any way that I can,
Arra. Even if that means dousing you with coffee,” he said trying
to lighten the mood. “As long as you don’t tell your mom, that
is.”

I smiled halfheartedly. My grandpa was
not even allowed to drink coffee, for health reasons and by order
of my dad. Hot chocolate was not quite an equal substitute but it
would have to do for today. Picking up the mug I took another long
drink. It was better than nothing.

“I know there’s not a big chance that
I’ll make any difference, Grandpa, but I feel like I’m really
close. I feel like she’s reaching out to me. She wants me to help
me. Or maybe she wants me to help her. I don’t know which, but I
think she wants this to stop as much as we do. Why else would we
see the dreams first? I can make a difference if I can just find
out how.”

“I don’t know how you would help her,
Arra. She’s already dead and she’s the one who started it all. I
don’t know that she deserves any help even if you could give it,”
my grandpa said sourly. He was upset at the idea of helping the
person who had killed his sister and daughter, as was I, but I
wondered if I could indeed help myself without helping Kivera as
well. The look on my grandpa’s face said he was wondering the same
thing. His anger softened under my gaze.

“Grandpa, if I help her, maybe it will
finally end,” I said.

He nodded his head reluctantly. “I’ve
considered the same thing. Forgive my anger, Arra. It’s just that
I’ve already lost two of the people I loved because of Kivera. It’s
just hard to imagine helping her after that.” He smiled, proud of
his granddaughter. “You are good to even think of her needs. We’ll
figure it out, I promise.”

“Thank you, Grandpa.”

My grandpa rubbed his wrinkled hands
over his face and sighed. “What do you want to do? What do you
think will actually help?”

“I want to find out about the Aztec
sacrifices. That is the part of the dream I’m still missing. Katie
didn’t record the last two nights of the dream in her diary. I need
to know how the sacrifice was supposed to happen, and why. Why were
they sacrificing her anyway? Was it a punishment or just a ritual?
Maybe I’ll be able to figure something out if I know more about
what was happening.”

“Okay Arra. The smallest thing might
help. I’ve been through much of this already, but a fresh set of
eyes and ears may prove the difference,” he said.

Walking to the town’s small public
library passed slowly and in silence. My grandpa had a working car
and was perfectly capable of driving, but he had insisted on
walking. “It will give you time to clear your head,” he had said. I
suspected that he was trying to make the trip last longer than
necessary. Wondering if he was afraid we would find nothing useful,
I guessed that he was simply prolonging the disappointment. I was
not completely sure of his reasoning, but he had been adamant in
his decision. Irritated, regardless of his fears, I had stalked out
of the house.

Simpler than walking to the library, I
wished I had access to the internet. The waiting list to get
someone out to Grainer had put my family’s installation date still
two weeks away. Happy to leave technology in the hands of younger
generations, my grandfather had never even considered signing up
for internet service. Briefly irritated, once again, by the move to
Grainer, I was left with only the library. I was hoping to find
books that could tell me about Aztec society, but when the small
brick building came into view I worried that the trip would indeed
prove to be a waste of precious time.

I searched through the manual card
catalog for books about the Aztec’s. The small library had one
children’s picture book on the subject and one fictional novel. My
frustration deepened. I found myself for the first time in days
wishing I could go back to Manhattan, at least for a few hours. The
libraries in New York could almost rival the internet. I had no
doubt I would have been able to find what I needed.

“Grandpa, there’s nothing here. What
are we supposed to do now?” I said exasperated.

“Just be patient, Arra. Let’s ask the
librarian. Maybe there will be some other books not in the
catalog,” he suggested.

I was getting more anxious as the day
past. It was nearing midday and I was beginning to feel like I
might not succeed. My grandpa pulled me close to him and gave me a
tight hug.

“Calm down, Arra. We’re not out of
options yet. I’m here to help you as much as you need me to. Let’s
ask someone for help. Come on.”

Heading towards the reference desk, my
grandpa put on a polite smile. “Hello, Edna. How are you doing
today?” he said warmly.

“Oh Alden, I am doing just wonderful.
How nice of you to ask. And how are you doing?” the portly old
woman asked.

“Oh, I’m fine, Edna. I’m just here with
my granddaughter, Arra. She wanted some books about the Aztecs,” he
said, “and we’re having a bit of trouble finding anything
historical.”

“Yes,” Edna said with a shake of her
head, “we don’t have many books on that subject. Most of our books
were donated to us. So we don’t have a very complete selection of
topics.” She shuffled some papers into piles as she
spoke.

“We do have a couple of bookstores in
town if you’d like to check those. I can give you names, but I’m
sure you already ready where they are, Alden,” she said. “But
actually, don’t you already have a better resource than any book in
town? What about your friend Phil?” Turning back to me, she said,
“Doctor Phillip Gadner should be able to help. He used to be a
teacher at some college in Boston. He’s retired now, but he used to
teach history. I don’t know if he ever taught about ancient
America, but he’s very knowledgeable. I bet he could tell you what
you need to know.”

“Yes, thank you, Edna,” Alden said, “I
was planning on paying Phil a visit later this morning. He’s
hosting his book club this morning or he would have been our first
stop. He should be free soon.”

“Yes, I thought you two were friends.
Don’t you and Phil play chess a couple times a week?” Edna asked
casually. She seemed to know a lot about my grandpa’s free time.
The sweet smiles she gave him started to make sense. I wondered if
my grandpa even realized the attention she paid him.

“Yes, we do play chess together,” my
grandpa said.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before we
came here?” I asked. “You know I don’t want to waste any time
today.”

He looked at me apologetically. “I knew
you would want to run over to Phil’s house as soon as I mentioned
it. But trust me when I say that he would not have even opened his
door until his book club meeting was over. He takes his book club
very seriously.”

“You could have said that from the
start. At least I would have had some hope of finding something
useful.” I made an irritated noise in my throat. I wanted to leave.
We did not have time for idle chatter.

“Besides, I thought your idea of coming
to the library was a good one. I haven’t been here in a while. I
thought maybe they would have something useful,” he
said.

“Sorry we didn’t have what you were
looking for, dear,” Edna said.

“Don’t even worry about it. We’ll just
drop by Phil’s then and see if he’s done with his meeting,” my
grandpa said politely.

“Good luck, and have a nice day,” Edna
said with a smile meant mainly for my grandfather.

My despondency and irritation lessened
with this new glimmer of hope. I grabbed her grandpa’s hand and
began pulling him away. “Thank you, Edna,” I said, rushing toward
the door. “Thank you very much. You’ve been very
helpful.”

Chapter Eighteen

Phillip Gadner lived in a two story
brick house at the edge of town. The front yard was very neat,
every hedge clipped to perfection, flower beds precisely aligned
and symmetrical. Even the wildflowers planted in the flower beds
seemed to adhere to a strict design. The house could have been
straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

I was absolutely shocked when my
grandpa’s friend opened the door wearing faded striped pajama
bottoms and a terry cloth bathrobe over an old t-shirt. His hair
looked as if it had not been brushed in weeks and his beard was a
little lopsided. He couldn’t have hosted a book club looking like
that, could he have? The books must be terribly interesting. His
startling appearance severely diminished the perfection of his home
and yard.

“Alden,” he said with a crooked smile.
“Are you ready for another match already? Are you so eager to be
beat again?”

“It was just a fluke that you beat me
last time. I’m sure it won’t happen again,” my grandpa said
reaching out to shake his friend’s hand. “How are you doing, old
man?”

“He’s calls me an old man,” Phil said,
looking at me and laughing. “I’m two years younger than he is, and
smarter.” He winked at me. “But you probably don’t believe that, do
you?”

“Not at all,” I said uncertainly,
glancing at my grandpa. The man was hardly what I expected for a
retired history professor. His wild hair and eccentric behavior
made me wonder whether his retirement had been wholly of his own
free will.

My grandpa patted my shoulder. His
aging frame shook with laughter at his animated friend as well as
his my confused expression. “Get out of the doorway, Phil, and let
us in,” Alden ordered, still laughing.

“Of course, of course, please come
in.”

The three of us walked through the
beautiful old home to a small sitting room. Phillip Gadner told us
to make ourselves comfortable before excusing himself to the
kitchen. I was relieved to find that the same care Mr. Gadner
seemed to take with his yard, if not his appearance, carried over
to the inside of the house. The home looked much the same as I
imagined it would have back when it was first built. Mr. Gadner’s
antique furniture completed the picture.

Sitting on a delicate looking couch I
looked around the room in amazement. The walls of the room were
lined with shelves. Laden with books of every size and shape, the
parlor looked more like a library than the town’s actual library
had. A beautiful globe, bigger than the coffee table, sat to the
side of the fireplace. The storybook feeling persisted.