Chapter Three
Melinda
When things become stressful or just overall too much, my dad used the farm as a form of reprieve from his anger.
He would disappear before the sun rose and wouldn’t get back until the sun went down.
I would stay inside, thankful that I had no chores to do outside, but I would always worry about him.
With these suited men demanding our property, I found his time was practically always spent out in the barn. Even when I woke up this morning, I found breakfast waiting along with the absence of him.
My outlet used to be shooting cans in the backyard, but I accidentally shot out a tire on the tractor and my gun privileges were revoked. An understandable punishment, but now I had to use other healthy methods.
Once I turned the legal drinking age, I found that outlet at the only bar in town.
I didn’t drink usually, but they had four pool tables inside and I always had one on reserve for me whenever I needed it.
The people who ran the bar knew me since I had been in diapers—as did everyone else in town.
Though the residents were the most skeptical, smaller minded people, they cared for their own in this town and I was luckily one of those privileged.
I leaned over the worn wooden pool table, my eyes fixed on the cue ball.
With a steady hand, I aimed and struck, sending the ball rolling across the green felt surface.
It collided with its target, sinking into the corner pocket with a satisfying thud.
A small smile played on my lips as I straightened.
I moved to the next, but I was quick to realize I was too far from my ball.
I still attempted, only tapping my last ball a few centimeters toward the pocket.
“Looks like I’ll be stealing that hard-earned scratcher money, Rick,” I taunted as I stared at the ratio of my remaining balls to his. He let out a gruff noise before lining up his shot into the left corner pocket. “You’re catching up.”
As he continued his turn, I let my eyes roam over the bar.
The Saddleback was bustling with activity, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and the sound of laughter.
I relished in the familiar ambiance, feeling at home amidst the dimly lit room and the clinking of glasses.
My eyes landed on Rick Howard, who was an auto parts store owner that had lived here as long as me.
He was also the only person who was willing to play with me despite my running streak and competitive nature.
I caught snippets of conversation from a nearby group of patrons. Intrigued, I paused to listen, my curiosity piqued by their hushed tones.
"...heard someone finally moved into Agatha's place."
My ears perked up at the mention of the name.
Many hadn’t spoken her name since my discovery of her dead body.
Even the local police had kept everything hush hush due to the dark nature of her body and the clear indication it was a murder.
Their conversation continued nearby as I grabbed the chalk for the head of the pool stick.
"Yeah, about time. Place was getting creepy with her gone and all."
Stepping closer to the group clad in construction uniforms, I interjected, unable to contain my curiosity. "Sorry to eavesdrop, but did I hear you mention Agatha's place?"
The men turned to me, their expressions eager to spread their gossip.
Honestly, this entire town just loved a good drama, as long as they weren’t involved.
Gossip was like currency here, but the only place free of this would be the church that everyone frequented.
The only place where they listened to the rules of the good book to seal their lips and legs.
Rick had leaned into the conversation as well, eavesdropping as I had.
"Yeah, old Agatha passed away a few days back," one of them replied, his voice tinged with solemnity. "They say some city people moved into her place. Good lookin’ kids, but they stood out with their flashy outfits.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I processed the information.
Agatha's death had sent ripples through the town, but the news of the house being moved into so quickly caught me off guard.
Were they related or was the house already sold off?
Questions came as the information flowed from the two construction workers.
"Was it sold or are they related?"
"They didn’t look like Miss Agatha, but I’d only known that woman for a decade. These city kids were too well groomed for what she came across as," another man replied with a shrug. "Heard they're planning to fix it up and move in."
I nodded thoughtfully, my mind racing with questions.
What would drive someone to want to live in Agatha's old house?
These two individuals had to be related to her somehow, right?
That place was a mess, completely falling apart, staying together with boards and hope.
Countless times I had patched her porch while she argued with me about building a new one.
She was a stubborn old woman who saw no need to replace something until it could no longer function.
“I wonder why they’d fix it up rather than tear it down and start new?”
The men chuckled, exchanging knowing glances. "Who knows? City folks got more money than sense, if you ask me," one of them remarked.
I thanked the men for the information before returning to my game, but my thoughts remained consumed by the news of the newcomers to Agatha's old home.
As I lined up my next shot, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than met the eye.
Deciding to feed the curiosity, I finished the game with a few shots and took my winnings out to my truck.
I knew the way to Agatha’s but, just like any house here, walking was involved.
I still had to park my vehicle by the gate when I arrived.
There was no way I would let my truck take the abuse of this road, so I trekked down the dirt and gravel driveway towards her home on foot.
Trees formed a canopy, with only minimal moonlight coming through the gaps.
As I neared, I felt the sensation that someone—or something—was watching me, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
The feeling grew more intense the closer I got, eventually causing me to pause and look around to find what was watching me.
In the distant shroud of bushes and trees, were two golden eyes that seemed to illuminate through the shadows of the leaves.
Fear caused my heart to plummet to the gravel at my feet.
Was this a wolf? A mountain lion? Either scenario still meant a predator that I was very likely to lose a fight with.
Choosing to live, I turned on my heel and booked it away from the house, back towards my car. Once inside, I sent gravel flying behind my tires as I raced away from whatever had protected the house and mysteries the new tenants held.
That night I dreamt of those gold eyes.
***PAGE brEAK***
Waking up was rough. I was still struggling to accomplish it as I stumbled down the stairs. My hair was in disarray and my cartoon pajama set made my torso almost on full display with only my breasts covered by the cartoon face of a starfish.
I paused on the bottom step as unknown voices came from the living room accompanied by my father’s laugh. I fixed my outfit hurriedly on the stairs before making my presence known. Greeting me were two very out of place people standing in the living room.
The blonde female had a model-like figure which had me slightly envious, but her kind smile made it hard to stay upset.
She had a nice curve to her frame that made me internally frown at my stick figure frame.
Her clothes were the most out of place with brands that I was sure I’d only heard of through social media and city billboards.
Everyone here wore denim in some variation, usually tattered from farming or livestock handling. This one looked like she hadn’t handled a laborious job in her life.
The boy beside her seemed no older than a freshman with hair that seemed both neat and messy at the same time.
It was weird to see a person with gold eyes, but they looked natural and too familiar to me.
They were the same gold eyes I had seen yesterday when I tried to pay a visit to the new owners of Agatha’s home.
“Melinda, this is Isadora and Ambrose,” my father introduced as he rose from his recliner. “They moved into Agatha Oakland’s house. The one past the old maple tree on Seminole Drive.”
“I know the place, but I wasn’t aware the house had gone on the market yet.” My eyes never returned to my father’s, but instead studied the two before me. Something was different about them, something familiar, but something stranger to me. I sensed danger, more so from Ambrose than Isadora.
“Oh, we didn’t buy the property. Agatha was our grandmother,” Isadora answered with a pleasant smile. “When we heard about what happened to her, we rushed over here immediately.”
Grandmother. I racked my brain for any memory of Agatha mentioning these two, but none came to mind. To be fair, Agatha had hardly ever spoken of her past or family.
Were these two really her family?
As the words swirled in my head, something else emerged with them and it did not feel welcomed.
I winced as I felt a sharp pain in my head that became accompanied by a dull pressure.
It felt as if something was probing my head in such an invasive and blunt way that dots started to appear in my vision. What was happening?
My dad looked at me worriedly. “You okay?”
“Just a hunger headache," I lied smoothly as I offered a placated smile.
From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Isadora elbow Ambrose while whispering something to him. I took a mental note of it, my curiosity of them growing with each passing moment. These two were wrapped in mystery, but one that seemed too dangerous to investigate here.
The danger made my heart sing with enthusiasm. Mysteries were a weakness of mine and the day I found Agatha, my fate had unknowingly become tangled in this mess. So far, this was proving to almost be worth the trauma.
***PAGE brEAK***
The appearance of Agatha’s grandchildren hadn’t been a simple greeting of long-distance neighbors.
The pair had become curious about Agatha’s apothecary that she owned in town.
It was where I had taken up work when she opened, starting with greeting people or holding signs that then shifted to preparing orders and closing the store at the end of the day.
Since this town was as safe as can be, no one really batted an eye when they noticed high schoolers working prior to age sixteen.
I never complained since I was finally helping my father with more than just yard work. Being a single parent, I knew it was a strain to care for me and the entire farm. He always managed to pass it off as easy, but I knew better.
Anything I could do to help him from becoming overly stressed, if within my power, I would make sure it was dealt with.