WhiteSpace: Season One (Episodes 1-6 of the sci-fi horror serial) (5 page)

Pastor Avery found Jon’s eyes and held them, Jon was certain he wasn’t imagining. “Sarah loved staring at the stars, pondering our place in God’s universe, and believing that the impossible kept itself just one good idea away. She loved the laughter of children, especially her daughter Emma, and every kid at Hamilton Island K-12.” He raised his hands in the air again, but locked his eyes on Jon. “Sarah Hughes loved everyone in this room.”

The pastor held the moment, then lowered his arms and surrendered his gaze. Jon felt his own tears welling as the pastor began to pace the pulpit. “Sarah would never have called herself an intellectual, but I would have disagreed. She was whip smart, understood things in seconds when they should’ve taken minutes, and minutes if hours. She may not have known everything, but she knew all there was to know about being a good person, a great mom, and leading a wonderful life. Sarah Hughes is gone before her time, and will be forever missed.”

Jon could see tears painting the sides of the faces of Sarah’s family at the front of the church; Cassidy, along with her mother, Vivian, and Sarah’s nine year old daughter, Emma.
 

Pastor Avery continued. “Sarah pointed her life toward everything that was most important to her, and everyone in this room would have to agree that her aim was true. A mother to Emma and a daughter to Vivian; confidant to her friends and a guiding light to her students; a true blessing to her sister, Cassidy.”
 

Jon was grateful for an excuse to stare at Cassidy, capitalizing on the opportunity. Though she was Sarah’s identical twin, the years had not been nearly as kind to her. While she didn’t look old, she was starting to look weary and jaded. She was still almost as beautiful as her sister, though, with long chestnut hair, green eyes, and Sarah’s porcelain, flawless skin. Jon felt as if he were looking at Sarah’s ghost, and a chill ran through him.
 

Emma buried her face in Cassidy’s chest. Cassidy pulled her closer and held her tighter, as if proximity would keep herself from surrendering to tears.

Minister Avery smiled at Cassidy, waited for her to smile back, then continued.
 

“Sarah will always be remembered by her students as one of the best teachers they ever had, by her friends as truly loyal and wonderfully funny, and by her family as remarkably strong. It has been a joy to know Sarah, from the time she was a tiny child through last Easter as an adult when she sat with her hands folded in the pew, just three rows behind where the three remaining Hughes girls are sitting now.”

Minister Avery gestured again toward the Hughes girls.
 

Cassidy managed to keep her torrent inside, but Vivian, never one to shy away from theatrics, erupted into a fountain of tears while Emma bawled between them. Seeing their grief, particularly the young girl’s, cut deep into Jon’s heart. He sniffed back some tears as the pastor went on about how we can’t know God’s will, but should find comfort that He has welcomed Sarah to the Kingdom of Heaven.

Though Jon would normally roll his eyes at such a thought, he found an odd sense of comfort in the old man’s words.

Pastor Avery then invited mourners to approach the front of the church one by one to give their farewells. Jon sat silently, heart racing, as Sarah’s co-workers, friends, and family spoke of her in loving memory. Hearing their words made Jon sad that he’d missed out on so much of Sarah’s life. It also made him wonder who would speak at his funeral. He had few people he could call friends. And the closest thing he’d ever had to love was now in a casket.

He wondered if he should step forward to give a few words. Given their history, he feared that to
not
say anything would be an insult. At the same time, he didn’t want this to become about him. If he went up to speak, someone in the audience might shoot video on their iPhone and it would be on YouTube or TMZ within the hour. That was the last thing Sarah’s family needed. The last thing any of the mourning families needed.

 
Jon stayed put, though he wasn’t sure if his gesture was kindness or cowardice. When it came right to it, he couldn’t bear to go anywhere near the urn holding Sarah’s remains. It was all he could do to look at the silver jar from the back of the church, where it was merely a shape.

* *

The memorial ended, and Jon did his best to blend in with the herd, which was nearly impossible with the dozens of eyes pretending not to stare. He shuffled behind the mourners, slowly drifting toward the hors d'oeuvres, waiting for the crowd to finish consoling Cassidy, as his heart filled, then broke with every fleeting glimpse of the small girl trembling by her side.
 

Emma looked lost, waiting for a mother that would never return.

Jon ate his cold cucumber sandwich and sipped the cheap coffee, hating his family for not donating something better, and watching the Hughes family from the corner of his eye.
 

Cassidy was bookended between Russ Haskell and Mitch Kilborn, two jocks he’d gone to school with. Time had been less kind to them, each of them looking at least a decade older than they were, especially with the premature silver flocking the tips of Mitch’s bangs and sideburns.
 

Emma had ducked from under Cassidy’s arm, then slipped away from her aunt and grandmother. She made a beeline for the dessert table and was stuffing an assortment of cookies into her purse, starting at the far side of the dessert table and gradually making her way to the right, focusing only on the smaller cookies, apparently going with quantity over quality.

Emma looked almost exactly the same as her mother at age nine. Another ghost which tore at Jon’s heart.

She looked so sad, and almost angelic in her innocence. He laughed as Emma stuffed cookies into her tiny purple purse, and thought of the way he often couldn’t help but shove matchbooks, mints, or toothpicks into his pocket, whenever he was leaving a restaurant, whether he’d ever use them or not. Jon wondered where the girl’s father was, or if she even knew
who
her father was.

Sarah had gotten pregnant after she broke up with Jon, the result of a fling she had to supposedly “get over him.”

It had been almost 10 years ago when he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. He was on the set of his first movie, when he got drunk and slept with a model. It was the first time he’d ever been unfaithful to Sarah, who had, to that point, been the only girl he’d even gone out with. He confessed what he did. At first, he thought they’d get past it. She said she’d forgiven him. Then a week later, she called him, while he was back on the set, and said she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t stop thinking of his betrayal. It was over.

He tried to make things right, but she refused to take his calls, refused to see him, and even ignored emails and letters he sent to her via verified mail. About five weeks after they broke up, Cassidy called Jon and said to stop calling Sarah, that he was making her miserable.

And that was that. He went on with his life. And she went on with hers, apparently getting knocked up along the way.
 

He’d heard from an old friend about Sarah getting pregnant, and had heard rumors about different men who might be the father, including a waiter, a visitor to the island during tourist season, and even another teacher. Whoever it was didn’t stick around, and left her high and dry.

Jon had considered reaching out to offer help if Sarah needed it. But by then, it had been so long, and she seemed to be getting along fine on her own with help from her sister and mother. Jon didn’t want to cause her any more stress by popping back into her life.

Now, as he watched Emma, he felt his heart break. The child had no mother or father. She was an orphan, all alone in the world, save for a drunk grandma and a pill-popping aunt.

When Emma was just a few feet away, Jon couldn’t take it any longer. He took one long, final sip of his coffee, set it on the large tray with the rest of the empties, then went to the edge of the dessert table, picked up the largest, fattest cookie he could find, and kneeled next to Emma.

“I think you’re missing out on these,” he said, holding up a slightly larger cookie. “They look just big enough to be truly delicious.”
 

The girl looked up at him, then narrowed her eyes as she studied the cookie. She shook her head. “Nope, that one has peanut butter in it. I don’t like peanut butter. Especially in my cookies.”

Jon looked at the cookie, noting the telltale ridges of peanut butter rippling across the surface, then back at Emma. “Hmmm, you know, I think you’re right. I didn’t even notice.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t like peanut butter, either.”
 

Still kneeling, Jon gestured toward the table. “Which of these would you suggest?”

Emma smiled, tiny but there, then pulled a wee cookie from her little purse and handed it to Jon.
 

Jon took the tiny white cookie, about the size of a quarter and the color of the island’s sand under a summer sun, freckled in white. “What is it?” he asked.
 

“It’s called a Hamilton Island Biscuit. Mrs. Rasmussen makes them, but only on New Year’s, the first day of summer, and on special occasions. It was Mommy’s favorite cookie.”

Jon smiled and blinked, his eyes getting wet. “Oh, wow. I remember these,” he said, turning the cookie over in his hand. Then, mostly to himself, he added, “How old is Mrs. Rasmussen now? She was like seventy when I was a kid.”
 

“I don’t know,” Emma shook her head. “I asked her one time if she was 100 and she laughed and said no, but she didn’t tell me how old she was.”
 

Emma looked closer at Jon, as if seeing him for the first time. “Did you live on the island when you were little?”

“I did.”

Emma glanced at her shuffling feet, then back up at Jon. “Did you know my mom?”

Jon nodded. “I did.”

“Do you think I look just like her?”

Of course Jon did, but the oddness of the question put a crack in what little voice he had to answer. “Yes . . . yes, you do.”

“That’s what everybody says, but I think we look different.”

Jon said, “That’s only because you didn’t know her when she was your age.” He smiled. “But your mom and I were great friends when we were your young, and I do think you look just like her.”

“Maybe,” she said, and made a face, a sideways sort of smile, which sent a chill through Jon. It was the exact same kind of face he made, a face he used to make Sarah laugh.

As Jon looked into her eyes, a growing realization crept over him. Yes, she looked a lot like her mother as a child, but she also looked like someone else. . . him.

He began to pick through the dates in his mind, trying to figure out if it were possible that he was actually Emma’s father. Had Sarah lied to him? And then another horrible realization.
 

Is that why she broke up with me?

Jon felt as if someone had pulled the world out from under him.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked, looking at him sideways.

“Jon,” he said, barely finding the word.

She reached out to shake his hand.

“I’m Emma, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling her best despite her sadness.

He shook her hand, so tiny and frail in his, and felt a growing certainty that his suspicions were right.

And then Vivian appeared from nowhere, with her arm suddenly around her granddaughter. “We’ve got to go,” she said, turning to Emma. “Please tell Mr. Conway to have a nice day.”

Emma’s eyes went wide, then she turned to Jon. “Wait, are you the guy in the movies?”

He laughed, still kneeling. “Yes.”

“Oh my God! You knew my mom?”

Vivian sliced the exchange to nothing, shot Jon a sour look, then led Emma past the dessert table, and to the bright light outside. Jon stood boiling, his hands twitching.
 

He turned to leave, then crashed into Cassidy, standing behind him.
 

“Sorry about my mom,” she said. “You know, old wounds and all.”

Jon shook his head. “I understand. He held her eyes. I’m sorry about Sarah, Cassidy.” He held his arms open and Cassidy accepted, allowing him to pull her into an embrace. She cried softly against his chest for a minute, then pulled away.
 

“Thanks for coming,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
 

After an awkward silence, Cassidy said, “Thank you. She would have wanted you here.”

Jon swallowed, trying to work up the courage to ask the question on his mind.

Cassidy looked back where her mother and niece went to, and said, “I should probably get going.”

“Okay,” he said, saying goodbye with an awkward hug.

He felt as if he were hugging a ghost.

* * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Milo Anderson Part 2

Wednesday

September 6

1:17 p.m.

Milo sat in his bedroom, hating everything on the other side of the door.