If At First

Part 9 - Chapter 8

8

The following afternoon I went out to get the mail only to notice several people who just "happened" to be walking by at that exact moment, and waved or made some comment about the weather as though we were lifelong neighbors. Maybe they really were just being friendly, but my newly minted paranoia told me they were after something.

I had to stop this. I had to stay away from people. And I had to tell my grandmother the truth.

I rushed back into the shelter of the house shuffling through the mail. There was a postcard from Danni, originally addressed to the house in Madison, and forwarded here. The front was a picture of St. James's gate. I flipped it over:

"Tabby, you suck. I've emailed, called and texted a thousand times. Where Are You? We've just left Ireland and are on our way to France. David has to leave when we get to Italy in a month. Meet me in Florence! We've already reserved the suite for two weeks, and I'll have so much more fun if I'm not alone. Do it!"

Right. I'm going to join Danni on her honeymoon. –Sadly, at this point it wouldn't take too much coercion.

For just over two, infinite weeks, I survived indoors; dodging a bombardment of phone calls and visits from people who either claimed to be my friend, knew some acquaintance of mine, wanted my opinion or "just had a question". Most of them really wanted to ask me about Haven. What would I possibly have said? "If you're ever sick in an elevator, he's your guy!" Or, "Watch out if he's on the other side of a door!" Or, "Well, he's kinda moody and has serious trust issues, but he's a great kisser!"
Actually, they'd probably like all of those bits of information.

Doug was right. Haven's actions ignited a new trend, and it seemed everyone wanted to follow. I found myself pursued by people I'd neither met nor heard of, to do anything from go for a walk together to spending a weekend in the Bahamas. Both men and women ranging in age from eight to thirty-eight, now wanted to be my friend, date, confidante...anything they could to gain access to me. I was somehow, impossibly, desirable. And occasionally I secretly found myself enjoying it. I hated myself for it, of course.

I tried, more than once, to tell my grandmother what I had done and what was happening, but she wouldn't hear it. Since my arrival and subsequent appearance at Fitch's party, she had been restored to her throne as a society matron, and was not about to let something like my modesty ruin her reign.

The only time I could convince myself to leave the grounds of the house was for my run in the evening when no one else was out. Beverly was convinced if I didn't partake in some form of movement my body would atrophy. So to appease her, and also because it was an excuse to leave, I agreed.

One particularly bright morning during this voluntary solitude, Beverly sailed into my bedroom, humming and whistling her merry tune as usual --I was becoming increasingly inclined to enjoy her infectious cheer. "Good morning Tabitha." She chirped, "I was sorry to have missed you before you got home from your run last night. I wanted to tell you that you received several phone calls and two visits from some of your friends yesterday. Now, let's see...there was a Finn, or Fish – something weird like that, a Kelly, and a Max, Joslyn, and....Oh, I can't remember them all. I wrote it down on a note in the kitchen." She looked at me like a nanny disciplining a child. "Now, it's none of my business, and it's not that I mind, but your grandmother gets so irritated whenever the phone rings, and it has been ringing constantly for you lately. You might consider giving these friends of yours your cellular number? It's becoming a little difficult for your dear, sweet grandmother, you know."

You would think she was being sarcastic when she referred to my grandmother in such glowing terms, but I could swear Beverly was sincere each and every time.