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Authors: A.Jacob Sweeny

Tags: #romance, #suspense, #history, #paranormal romance, #paranormal, #young adult, #myth, #heroes, #immortal

Pulse of Heroes (46 page)

BOOK: Pulse of Heroes
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While enjoying the amazingly chunky
strawberry preserves, Michelle watched two girls that looked to be
about her same age walk into the room and line up at the buffet.
One girl was quite thin with very bright yellow hair, while the
other had wavy hair similar to Michelle’s. The girls laughed and
giggled and Michelle realized how lonely she really felt. Before
Samantha left on her trip with James, Michelle had made sure to
tell her to e-mail her because that was going to be her only mode
of communication until she got back.

 

There was a computer room right across from
the dining hall, and Michelle settled into one of the large black
leather chairs. She looked at the screen and clicked on the
familiar icon for Internet. The window opened up to the home page,
no problem, except that it was all in Hungarian. Michelle looked
for anything that looked like the word ‘English’, and eventually
spied the little British flag icon and clicked it. The window went
black, then returned to the original home page. No, this can’t be
happening she thought, and clicked the British flag again, only to
have the same exact thing happen. Irritated, Michelle tried the
next computer down the line and couldn’t even get it to turn on.
She jumped out of her seat completely frustrated and even thought
about kicking the thing a few times, but she stopped herself out of
courtesy to the foreign country. She needed to find someone who
could help her, but who?

Just then the girls from the breakfast room
walked in and startled her. They looked at one another, then the
yellow haired girl said something to her friend and walked up to
Michelle, asking her in a thick accent if she was American.
Michelle felt embarrassed, wondering what it was that gave it away.
She didn’t say anything in English, and she wasn’t wearing anything
that screamed USA on it, but somehow they still knew. “Yes I am,”
she answered shyly.

“I am Vilna, or Veli, it doesn’t matter,” the
girl said, showing a smile of smallish teeth. She shook Michelle’s
hand and the other girl introduced herself as Marika. Vilna offered
to help Michelle with the computer, and in no time she was on the
Internet reading her e-mail. Michelle asked the girls if they were
from Hungary and Marika, who hardly spoke any English, replied in
Hungarian. Vilna translated.

“She says she from Buda but she wants to know
if you’re Hungarian because you look like you could be it?”
Michelle took that statement as a compliment because she thought
Marika was very pretty. She smiled at her and told the girls that
she was from America, but that she was half Hungarian and half
Irish. Vilna told Michelle that although she could speak Hungarian,
she was actually Ukrainian and Romanian and had just flown in to
visit Marika. “We wanted to get some food so we came here. Everyone
knows they have good breakfast here,” she said excitedly while
pulling open her large black leather purse to reveal two pastries
wrapped in napkins. Michelle laughed and wished that she had
thought of that herself. Just then a middle-aged man in gray slacks
and a burgundy V-neck sweater walked into the room.

“Apa,” Marika said with a smile. The man was
Marika’s father and he had come to fetch the girls. They exchanged
phone numbers, with Michelle giving them the number to Eranka’s
house. Michelle walked out of the computer room with the girls and
immediately saw her parents entering the buffet line. She asked the
girls to stay put for a minute because she wanted her parents to
meet them. Michelle’s parents were happy that she had already made
friends in the country without even stepping outside the hotel.
They had been worried about her getting bored with their outings,
because after all she was only seventeen, and they knew that if she
didn’t get her own time to do some of the things she wanted, there
would be a major blow-up on the horizon. Before saying goodbye,
Vilna told Michelle’s mother about a large music festival coming up
that weekend and asked her if Michelle could join them? Her mother
replied that they would have to check their schedule, prompting
Michelle to give her mom a sideways glare. Marika said something to
her father in Hungarian, and he proceeded to suggest to Michelle’s
dad that he knew a good restaurant if they were interested? That
way the girls could meet up prior to the weekend.

 

Although Michelle was aware that she was in a
different country while staying inside the hotel, it was only once
the family exited its protective heavy doors that she really felt
she was someplace completely foreign. While her father struggled
with the colorful road signs that weren’t always in English,
Michelle scanned the city streets, taking everything in. There was
the morning traffic and the streets were filled with strange
looking small cars in a variety of bright colors. The lanes varied
from extra wide to extra narrow and Michelle wondered how it was
that nobody was crashing into one another on a constant basis. The
buildings on either side were a mixture of architectures that
seemed a bit contradictory. On the one hand there were beautiful
old buildings with ironwork and stylized windows reminiscent of the
ones in San Francisco, only here they were prettier and felt more
authentic, but in-between them there were modern structures that
reminded her of the ones she saw in Los Angeles or even San Jose.
Michelle liked the little green patches of grass and flowers
springing from the road dividers, and those seemed to be present in
every city block. The streetlights were also pretty and made to
look like old-fashioned gas lamps. All in all, what she saw of
Budapest impressed her. But once they headed towards the outskirts
of the city, things started looking more shabby and careless. Gone
were the handsome ironworks and the little trees with benches and
fountains placed so carefully beneath their shade. These were
replaced buy run-of-the-mill metal garbage cans and concrete
benches. The buildings were old and in need of some major TLC. They
looked like they were designed in the seventies. They were very
blocky with a lot of square windows, and many had small shops at
the street level that seemed to get dingier the further they got
away from the city center.

Michelle did a lot of people watching too.
She studied them in the bus stops or in the different cars driving
by. The faces themselves didn’t look much different than the ones
back home, but what was different was the way women wore their hair
and the amount of makeup they applied. Over here, even the young
women wore a complete makeup look that included foundation, blush,
mascara, lipstick and eye shadow, while in the States it was mostly
old women who did that. It made the Hungarian women look much
older, she thought, and the fact that almost everyone she saw had a
cigarette dangling from their lips probably didn’t help matters
either. It was like a fashion statement or something, as if the
Hungarians had never heard about the health risks of the nasty
habit, and they seemed not to mind the stink of it either. Michelle
rolled up her window, unable to take in any more of the acidic
smell. It was like driving through an ashtray, she thought.
Gross.

The scenery became more pleasant again as the
Andrews made their way outside the city limits. They crossed
spacious farmlands and small towns. The air smelled fresher, and
Michelle relaxed in the back seat listening to her mother describe
how things hadn’t really changed since she had traveled out to
Abony with her own mom and grandmother. Eventually, Michelle tuned
her mother’s voice out and it took only a few seconds before she
began thinking about Elliot again. What would he think if he knew
how far away she was? ‘I miss you,’ she said to him in her
thoughts, wishing he could hear her. A wave of melancholy swept
over her. She still loved him so much, and she worried that she
would never feel complete without him.

 

Eranka was much taller than expected. Even in
her ripe age, she towered over Michelle by at least four inches.
She had waited patiently for them, and there were tears of joy in
her eyes when they arrived. Eranka was the only one left alive from
Michelle’s great-grandmother’s generation. She had two sons, who
themselves had children and grandchildren, but some of them lived
in Australia while the others had moved to London. Much as Eranka
loved her boys, she had always been disappointed that she had never
given birth to a girl, and neither had either of her
daughters-in-law. For whatever reason, she had always taken a
special interest in Michelle from the day she was born, keeping a
little place in her heart for the young girl even though they had
never met.

 

Throughout the years, Michelle’s mom had sent
Eranka postcards and short letters telling her about Michelle’s
progress and, when Michelle was old enough, her mom would send
Eranka some of her artworks and short notes written in large block
letters. Eventually, Michelle took it upon herself to continue the
ritual, and although her letters weren’t as intimate as Eranka had
hoped they might be, she told her great aunt enough to make her
feel that she was part of her life. Now Eranka in her summery dress
had her still strong arms wrapped around Michelle. She hugged her
so tight that eventually Michelle relaxed and let the moment be. It
felt good, it was genuine and Michelle put her arms around Eranka
as well. When they finally pulled apart, Eranka still held on to
Michelle’s hands and looked her over from head to toe

“You are very skinny,” she said, shaking her
head. “Come, please,” she urged everyone, dragging Michelle along
with her. They entered the small dining room that had an oval table
covered with a crochet tablecloth. On the table there was a
rose-shaped plate heaving with homemade cookies, and a beautiful
samovar of silver and porcelain, ready to serve the warm liquid
into an array of dainty teacups. Everyone sat down and enjoyed the
treats, even Eranka. While sipping on the fragrant sweet tea,
Michelle couldn’t help but think of Francesca back at home. She
took joy in eating as much as Eranka did. Before leaving the
states, Michelle’s mother had helped her arrange for a flower
bouquet to be delivered on Francesca’s birthday. Michelle hoped
that it would make her feel less alone. Eranka got up to clear the
table while Michelle’s mother protested. In a feisty voice, Eranka
ordered Michelle’s mother to sit back down.

“I can still remember where my kitchen is, so
don’t treat me like an invalid. And you are my guest. If you do
work it will make me sad.” While Eranka disappeared into the
kitchen, Michelle’s father teased her mother that she had just been
completely demoted. Michelle laughed at the funny face that her mom
made, and reflected that her parents were starting to act like
small children. It was fun seeing them that way, and for the first
time she imagined them the way they must have been when they were
young and in love. Elliot. Michelle’s mind reminded her once again
that her love was not with her. She sighed, loud enough for her mom
to ask her if she was all right.

“She is just tired from the airplane. After
she eats maybe you go take to sleep for a little bit?” Eranka said,
walking into the dining room carrying a plate of cured meats in one
hand and a plate of pickles and dark bread in the other. Michelle
jumped up to help, but Eranka shooed her away too.

“This is all too much, Eranka,” her mom said.
“We had a late breakfast, and we just finished all the cookies, and
now this? You’re going to feed us to death.”

 

Eranka showed Michelle where she would be
sleeping. It was a private bedroom, and she was grateful for that.
Eranka’s farmhouse wasn’t big at all, and originally only had two
bedrooms. But when Peti, Eranka’s oldest son decided that he
couldn’t stand his younger brother Joska any longer, he built a
loft style bedroom right under the gable. The stairs leading up
there were very steep and there were no handrails. But Michelle
didn’t care as long as she had some privacy.

“Here, you take this for the bed,” Eranka
said, handing Michelle fresh bedding. “I had my girl clean it from
dust last week, but I want you to have fresh. I don’t go up, it’s
too much danger with my legs.” Eranka looked down at her ankles and
Michelle was shocked at the amount of swelling she had in her lower
legs and feet. “It doesn’t hurt, just bad circulation in the blood.
It goes in our family so you need to be careful and keep with
sports,” Eranka added. Michelle thanked her and climbed the wooden
stairs, carrying her large duffle bag on one shoulder and the
linens in the other hand.

To Michelle’s surprise the little room was
quaint and clean. It had all wood walls but nothing dark or gloomy.
There was even a large window that overlooked some of the land and
what looked like a river beyond that. The bed was a twin size and
had a sturdy mattress. Michelle spread the flowery sheets on the
mattress in no time but it took her some time to figure out that
the creamy crocheted blanket was actually a duvet cover and the
blanket fit inside it like a letter in an envelope. Once the bed
was made Michelle smiled at the old fashioned look of the lace
ruffles and rosy prints, but it looked inviting. She let her body
relax on the bed and closed her eyes; she even pretended not to
smell the mothball odor emanating from the small chest of
drawers.

 

The next morning, Michelle found everyone in
the backyard sitting on plastic chairs enjoying the sun. Michelle
didn’t want to think about anything bad happening to her great
aunt. She couldn’t help but notice that Eranka seemed strong and
full of life. This, considering that she had told her mom she
feared she wouldn’t make it till next summer. She probably just
really wanted them to visit. When Michelle swung open the screen
door Eranka smiled at her and told her that she had a job for her
to do.

BOOK: Pulse of Heroes
7.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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