Nowhere to Hide
By Deveena Wood
It
was the past. Margret had repeated this mantra in her head for the last three
days. There was no way she was seeing Mark. He was dead, buried, gone. She
could come up with any number of adjectives to describe how he wasn’t in her
life anymore. She had dealt with the grief and loss the best she could. Now she
was seeing him on every corner. He was popping up in locations he had no
business being in.
Mark’s
disease was aggressive and fast. It took his life less than five days after
they found the first tumor. She had just enough time to take his last name and
consummate their marriage before he was stripped out of her life. She held her daughter tighter to her as she
walked toward their house. Mabel was the spitting image of Mark. It was a shame
he would never meet her. Margret rubbed Mabel’s bald head as the baby slept.
The baby Bjorn her mother gave her was the perfect carrier. It kept her close
to Margret’s heart. It was baby Mabel’s favorite place.
Margret
kept her blue eyes focused on the concrete beneath her feet. The house was only
five steps away. She knew that because the cracks in front of the house were
very unique. She had never seen any like it. Thinking about it now, she
believed Mark put them there. Logic said it wasn’t possible, but logic also
said what was dead and buried couldn’t come back.
“Margret?”
His voice startled her. When she looked up her breath escaped her in a hitch.
“MM..a.a.r..r..k,”
she stuttered.
He
stood there staring at her and the bundle tied to her body. His brown hair was
actually waving in the wind. He looked real enough. His jeans and blue t-shirt
were typical Mark. She wanted to smile, but fear gripped her hard. She swiped
her curly brown hair away from her eyes to get a better look. It had to be a
trick.
“Who’s
this?” he said pointing to the baby.
“You’re
daughter,” she replied.
“My
daughter?” he questioned.
“She
was born nine months to the day you died,” she revealed.
“I
see.”
The
two of them stood there staring at each other for what seemed like hours. It
wasn’t until Mabel was uncomfortable with her wet diaper that either one of
them moved. Margret patted her behind and soothed her cries with gentle
whispers and kisses.
“Invite
me in,” he said.
“Why?”
“I
want to meet my child,” he said taking a step closer to her.
“What
are you?” she asked. She had taken a step back from him without even thinking
about it. She just knew there was something unnatural going on here and there
was no way she was exposing her baby to it.
“I’m
your husband,” he said still trying to close the distance between them.
“But
you died,” she complained.
“Semantics.
I’m still me,” he said reaching out his hand to her. She closed her eyes not
knowing what this was going to do her. When his hand touched her cheek it was
warm. She was expecting it to be like death, cold. His body had been cold and
clammy when he died.
“What
is happening?” she asked pushing her cheek into his hand. He put his arm around
her and pulled her into his chest. She felt at home there. It was her place.
She had missed it these last ten months.
“I
was given a second chance,” he whispered in her ear. His hand was stroking her
thick curly hair as she buried her nose in his throat. She inhaled deeply. It
was still him.
“How?”
She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer to that. His answer could
change her reaction to him.
“Does
it matter? Now can we go inside?” He had drastically changed the subject. Alarm
bells started to shoot off in her head.
She
stepped away from him and put her hand over Mabel. The baby had been quiet
until now. The more distance Margret created the louder Mabel started to cry.
Margret decided to test her theory. She stopped and started moving back toward
Mark. Mabel quieted the closer she got.
“Even
the baby wants me to be near,” he said with a smile.
“If
you want to be near her, answer me,” she demanded.
“Fine,
but not here. We needed to go inside, now!” His voice was now more insistent
then before. Just then she heard what sounded like a flock of birds. Her panic
started to rise. He had his hand out to her. He was begging her with his eyes.
“Fine,
come in,” she said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her so quickly into the
house it seemed like a blur. He slammed the door shut and bolted the lock. The
humming outside had gotten even louder. It was as if the house was surrounded.
She knew this wasn’t right.
“What
are you?” she asked out of breath.
“It’s
hard to explain.”
“Try,”
she demanded.
“Fine.”
He moved away from the door and closed the curtains. He sat down on the couch
and sighed. She moved closer and sat down on the coffee table in front of him.
“Tell
me,” she pleaded.
“Can’t
you just be thankful that I’m back?”
“I
am. I just need to know what you are. It’s not just me anymore. We have a
daughter to look after now,” she said pulling the baby out of straps.
“I’m
called a nephalim,” he replied.
“Half
angel?” she questioned.
“Yes.”
“So
does that mean our daughter is too?”
“It
does.”
“Then
what is outside?” She had noticed his effort to shield her from what was going
on, but she wasn’t as naïve as he thought.
“They
want her,” he said calmly.
“They
can’t have her,” she shouted.
“That’s
why I’m here. I won’t let them take her, ever!”
