The Price of a Gift (The Price of Secrets Series) (2 page)

I even wrote of my grandma's death. Grandma, my dad's mom, died on my 13th birthday. I waited for weeks wondering if she would visit me. I think my dad was waiting on it too. He never said
anything, I just felt the anticipation from him. But my grandma never did, which to me meant she had no unfinished business and she was ready to go be with Grandpa. A part of me wished I could have seen her one last time, but the other part was relieved because I wasn't sure how I would handle seeing her ghost. I don't think that's something I would have been able to get over. I ended my entry with writing about Samantha. I can't really figure her out. She has came to me while I've been awake and in my dreams. She doesn't remember much at all about her life, just the basics; her first name, she's 16 years old, and she was somehow separated from her family. She wants my help so she can move on, but she thinks the key to that is to remember her life and how she died. I really feel protective of her. I don't know if it's because she died so young or because she seems so fragile. Maybe it’s because I feel like that could be me and I would want someone to help.

Ok, I'm making myself depressed. Dad said the only way to make it through my teenage years with this gift is to have balance. So, I'm
gonna follow his advice by doing what every ordinary 15 year old girl does, mini makeover! I walked into my zebra themed bathroom to look through my nail polishes. Not having to share a bathroom is just one of the perks of being an only child. Jaycee is always complaining about having to take a shower after her little brother, Brandon, does. To hear her tell it, there is a rotten egg stench that seeps out of pre-teen boys and lingers for hours. So, needless to say, most sleepovers are at my house. I found the nail polish. Pink, no. Purple, to dark. Orange, will look good with my tan, perfect. I needed to remove the old polish first, I hate that part, or maybe I can just paint over the old light pink color. I'm a genius. It's not like anyone is gonna be up close and personal with my toes to inspect them.

Just right outside my bathroom I heard the floor creaking.

"Mom, Dad?" No response. So I put the nail polish down to go investigate. I had to do the heel walk, so I wouldn't mess up the three toes I've already painted, into the hallway. No one was there. "Mmmmooooooommmm." I screamed over the railing, because yes I'm that lazy, instead of walking down the stairs.

"In the kitchen.
What do you need?"

"Were you just up here?"

"No Hannah, I'm loading the dishwasher. Which is something you should be doing." She can turn any conversation into a guilt trip.

"What about Dad?"

"No, he’s in his office. Why?"

Well crap, it sounded just like someone walking down the hall.
"Thought I heard you. Nevermind."

Back in the bathroom, I finished my toes while singing with the radio. I have an
ipod but I always either misplace it or forget to charge it. Plus, turning on a radio is so much easier. I put on a face mask, then a coat of polish on my finger nails. While waiting for my nails to dry I examined my reflection in the mirror. Aside from the green goo on my face, I think I'm pretty, even though I would love to have Jaycee's blondish brown hair and blue eyes. Or Phoebe's Long straight black hair and piercing green, almond shaped eyes. And then, of course, there's Kayla with her sun bleached blonde hair with hazel eyes.

But even being stuck with just plain brown hair, and eyes that I think are too big, would be fine, except I hate my curly hair. It's so thick that I can only use a straightener on it when I know it's
not going to rain or be humid, which, summer time in the South, is never. Mom says that when she was my age people paid good money to have their hair look like mine. It was called a spiral perm or something like that. Giving up on a new hairstyle, I opened my drawer to find a hair bow to clip my hair up, and I froze. I felt someone up here with me. And this time I knew it wasn’t my parents. This someone felt wrong. To the point I was feeling nauseous just from the waves of energy coming off of it. No wait, IT is a he. It’s a very strong male presence.

My legs began to shake and my ears were ringing so loud I couldn't even hear the music from the radio in my room anymore. I couldn't move. Hannah
get ahold of yourself. This is your house, your stupid gift, you have to make it leave. I tried to block it but it wasn’t working because I can't focus. Wait, what if it isn't a spirit? What if it's a person hiding in my house to rob us.... or worse? My parents are downstairs! I have to go warn them. Ok, on the count of three, run. One, two, three! I started running out of the bathroom, but not as fast as I had planned because my legs still felt weak. It was like trying to run in a swimming pool. Once in the hall I made my way toward the stairs, which are down the hall to the left. Straight in front of me, at the end of the hall, is a spare bedroom. The bathroom light makes the room lit up just enough that I could see that something was moving near the bed. That stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't get my legs to move, as if the connection from my brain to my limbs had been turned off. But my lungs still worked. The scream that came out of my mouth was so loud it echoed throughout the entire house. In mere seconds my parents were up the stairs and at my side. I saw their approach only from my peripheral vision, because I couldn't take my eyes off of the large, black, thick, shadowy mass in the bedroom that was slowly fading away.

"Hannah what's wrong? What is it?" My parents asked, as both look in the same direction I was. Of course they saw nothing. It didn't matter, by that point it had all but disappeared.

"It was evil." I said as I ran to my bathroom and let go of what felt like my breakfast, lunch and dinner into the toilet.

I sat up on the counter of my parent
’s bathroom downstairs. There is no way I’m going back upstairs tonight. My mother was washing off the face mask for me. Her fear was growing the more she wiped because the green goo was gone and my pale white face was showing through. I had told them what happened as soon as I brushed my teeth. I had to get that taste out of my mouth after throwing up.

My Mom cried, she tried to hide it but I saw. "You're too young to have such a burden put on you." She said. That was the first time she let her doubts about my gift show, even though I have always known she had them. My Dad came in with a t-shirt and shorts for me,
then stepped out so I could change. I was being showered with attention. They even said I could sleep with them tonight, but I think the couch will be just fine. Their bedroom is just off the living room which was reassuring. "You know I love you and that I would take this from you and handle it myself if I could, right? Your Dad too." Mom hugged me and kissed my cheek.

"I know, Mom. Thanks. I'm really ready to lay down now. My legs feel like I've ran a marathon and my head is killing me."

My parents had tucked me in like I was five, I was surprised they didn't try to read me a bedtime story, but I didn't mind. Somehow the old night time routine was comforting. I said my prayers, then laid there waiting for sleep to come. Tonight’s event kept playing in my head. That definitely wasn't Samantha. So someone new, who was spying on me and is evil, had been in my house. I really doubt that he came to me for help. So what does he want? I finally fell asleep before I could come up with any explanations.

Chapter 2

"Thanks for staying home with me today Mom, but I could have done this by myself." After last night I didn't want to take any chances, so this morning I burned sage throughout the house to cleanse it.

"It's no problem. I told you I was cutting back on my hours at work. It’s a good thing we didn't have to show the house today. You have it smelling like we just smoked a joint."

Wait, what? Did she really just say that? "And just how do you know what that smells like?”

“Oh please, Hannah, in the late 80's early 90’s you couldn't go to a hair band concert without smelling marijuana. That's not a smell you can forget."

I've seen pictures of my mom when she was my age. With the big hair style, fluorescent clothes, and bleach splattered jeans, it looked like she was the one smoking pot back then. Looking at her now, as she poured herself a cup of coffee, I compared her past self with her present. She has gotten better looking with age. Or maybe just a better sense of fashion. Her hair is flatter now, well as flat as curly hair can get. She was wearing the outfit I bought her for her birthday- a pair of blue jean shorts and a red and white striped, scoop neck, shirt. It brings out her dark hair. Her makeup is missing the electric blue eye shadow she wore in most of those old photos. She's a very pretty woman, even for a mom. Good thing too, since I look so much like her.

She caught me staring at her. "What?" She asked.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about what you looked like at my age."

She laughed. "Oh please don't. But hey, if you ever want me to show you how to get your hair that high just let me know."

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"You just wait, your kids will make fun of your yearbook pictures too. Have you heard from Jaycee?"

"Not since right before she got on the ship. She should be coming back Thursday I think." That's not what mom was wanting to ask, cause she is taking t
oo long stirring the sugar and cream into her coffee.

"What about Josh, have you heard from him?" There it is.

"No."

"Are you ok with that?" She's not
gonna let it go.

"Yes. It was my idea to just be friends. I want a heart racing, sweaty palms,
butterflies in my stomach, relationship. And that is never gonna happen with Josh. When did you know Dad was the one?"

She sat down on a bar stool beside me at the counter. "It was my senior year of high school when I met your dad. I was working at the drugstore and he came in and asked for something to heal poison ivy. He was a sophomore at Appalachian State and was down here visiting his grandmother for the weekend. He had been mowing her yard and pulling weeds and somehow got poison ivy on his legs. I thought he was very cute. I sold him the medicated lotion and he walked out. Less than a minute later he was back at my register. His pick up line was 'hey could I have your number just in case I have any questions?’. I gave him the store number and he said 'no, I need your number'. I
asked him what question I could answer that the pharmacist couldn't. And it was so cute, he said 'what time I should pick you up tomorrow night for our date.' I was hooked. Although I didn't know he was the one until we had been dating for about three months and I had came down with the flu. He drove all the way down the mountain just to bring me a stuffed bear and a get well card. Then he had to drive all the way back, knowing he had a big psychology test the next day. But your father told me, after we were engaged, that he took one look at me and knew I was the one. Now 20 years later, I still get butterflies when I see him pull into the driveway."

I have heard most of that story many times before, but I liked hearing it. It reminds me that they are real people, not just my parents. "Did you think dad was crazy when he told you about the family curse?"

"It's not a curse and no I didn't. I kind of picked up on little things that he would say or do. Like I would get cold and, without me saying anything, he would give me his jacket. Or when my Grandfather died he called me before I had a chance to call him. He was frantic asking me what was wrong and if I was ok. So when he told me, it all made sense. Do you worry about that? When you meet the right guy, he will accept you for you."

"No, I don’t worry, I just think about it sometimes. But hey, Jaycee knows and she didn't run away screaming. She just followed Dad around for a week asking 'what am I feeling now', and making big plans for me to pick the lottery numbers. You
gotta love her." I couldn't help but laugh.

Mom joined in and added, "Yes you do. Now that girl is the one that should be labeled crazy." She looked over at the time on the microwave. "Baby girl I love talking to you, but I have a phone conference in ten minutes I need to prepare for."

"That's ok, I'm going outside to get some sun."

I went to the laundry room and grabbed a towel and lounge chair and headed out the back door. I set my chair up and went back inside to get my radio. While upstairs I changed into my bikini and decided to get my diary from my hiding spot and take it with me. I wasn't ready to write about last night when it first happened, but I figure I need to get it on paper now before I forget anything. Which I doubt will happen any time soon, but I need to do it just in case. I moved my chair, so I would have full sun, and
laid down. With my eyes shut I listened to a slow love song playing on the radio and pretended I was on a tropical island lying on the beach. Jaycee was with me and two hot guys were fanning us with oversized palm leaves. No wait, I was being fanned by two hot guy with oversized palm leaves. Jaycee could get her own fantasy.

The sound of a baby crying woke me up. Where was that coming from? I was alone in the back yard and I don't think there would be a baby in the woods. Looking at my cell phone I saw I've been out here for an hour and that I have a missed call. It was from a weird number 521-1902. I hit redial and heard "You must first dial the area code when calling this number
...” It didn't show an area code. It must have been a tele-marketer. Time to flip, I didn't want to get burnt. I hate lying on my stomach, but at least I can write in my diary in this position. I had asked Dad why not just keep a diary on my laptop. He said it was more personal and more therapeutic to write instead of type, and I'm starting to agree. It's getting easier and easier each time to put my thoughts down on paper. I just pretend I'm writing a letter to a friend.