THE IMMORTAL
Chapter 2 - The Coin
Clea remained to rooted to the floor, staring in shock and disbelief at the now empty bed where seconds ago a man had been lying.
“Mom!”
Joey’s scream of terror broke the spell, and she raced to where it had originated.
She discovered him standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His face was sheet-white, and he was visibly trembling.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” she demanded.
Mutely, he pointed into the kitchen.
Brushing him aside, she took two steps and spotted the figure on his hands and knees in front of the back door.
“How in the…” Rushing over to the man, she managed to drag an arm over her shoulders again and eventually get him back onto his feet. “I don’t know what kind of hocus pocus you’re trying to pull on us, but it’s not appreciated,” she chided him.
The stranger struggled to keep up with her as she guided him back to the bedroom. “Trust me, madam. If I could control it, I would.”
He fell onto the mattress where she pulled the covers back over him. That done, she stood there, hands perched on her hips. He noticed her expression and gave a weak chuckle.
“Thank you for watchdogging me.”
“Am I going to have to hogtie you to that bed so you don’t try that trick again?”
“Tie me. Cuff me. Glue me. It won’t matter.” He drew a ragged breath. “But, trust me, if I do vanish again, it won’t be voluntary.”
Clea felt her eyes widen. “It won’t be voluntary? Are you telling me you had no control over what I just witnessed?”
“None whatsoever.”
“But you’re able to do it as you wish?”
He started to smile when a hacking cough interrupted him. Rolling onto his side, he vomited onto the floor, evoking Clea’s mothering instinct.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held his sweaty head as the mucus that had gathered in his lungs and stomach poured out of him. When it was over, the man slumped against the mattress with a groan. She hurried into the bathroom to wet a washrag, then took it back to the bedroom where she wiped his face and mouth.
“Forgive m-me, madam.”
“Don’t apologize for being sick. When was the last time you ate?”
“I… I don’t…re—”
“That’s what I thought. Lie back down. Try not to move. Anywhere. I’m going to get you that tea. Then I’m going to fix you some soup. Something you can keep on your stomach.” She added a pat to his shoulder and left the room, but not for long.
While the water heated in the kettle, she returned with some rags and a bucket of soapy water, and cleaned up the mess by the bed. In the short time she’d been gone, the man had fallen asleep, or appeared to be asleep. His facial muscles were relaxed, and she got the impression that he hadn’t had a decent night’s rest in a long time.
As she tended to the stranger, her son remained in the living room and watched TV with the volume down to where it wouldn’t disturb their visitor. When she returned to the kitchen to empty the bucket, Joey followed her.
“How long’s he staying here?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Until he gets better.”
“Are you going to send him to the hospital when the roads open up?”
“I might. I’m still debating it.” She turned to face him. “Is there some reason why you don’t want him—” It suddenly dawned on her, and she winced. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t want him here. Not after what we witnessed.”
The boy walked over to lean against the counter. “How did he do that, Mom? Was it some kinda magic trick?”
Clea shook her head. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me to explain it. But he said it was involuntary and voluntary.”
Joey gave her a perplexed look. “What does that mean?”
“I think it means it happens to him when he’s not expecting it, but he can make it happen to him when he wants to.”
Her son’s eyes widened. “Is he some sort of alien? Like the kind we see on TV?”
She started to chuckle at the absurdity but stopped herself. Who was to say the boy was wrong?
“I don’t know, honey. He told me he was immortal, whatever that means. But for now, let’s just go with the fact that he’s a very sick man who needs someone to take care of him.” Reaching over, she tousled his hair. Normally her son didn’t like for her to do that, but today he accepted it, almost with a sigh of relief. “I’m going to take this tea to him. Then I’m coming back to fix us some soup.”
He brightened. “Can we have grilled cheese sandwiches with it?”
Clea made a face. “With potato soup? I guess we could. Oh, why not? Now go back to the living room. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Oh, and if you hear the man call out, come check to make sure I know about it.”
“Sure thing, Mom.” The boy returned to the other room.
Setting the mug of tea on the small tray she used to carry food from the kitchen, Clea eyed the lone napkin and spoon. “How does he take his tea? Would he prefer sugar? Honey? Cream?” Another thought hit her. “What if he doesn’t like tea? What if he prefers coffee?” She quickly squelched those thoughts. “He’ll drink the tea whether he wants to or not. It’ll warm him up inside.” But just in case, she added the sugar bowl and the small jar of honey.
She expected the stranger to still be asleep when she reentered the bedroom. When he slowly opened his eyes, he remained silent as she set the tray on the nightstand. It was only until she glanced over at him and discovered him watching her that she jerked back, startled.
“Forgive me, madam,” he hoarsely apologized.
Clea managed to give him a small smile. “Don’t be. I thought you’d still be asleep. I brought you some tea. It’ll help knock out some of that sinus infection you’re dealing with.” She raised an eyebrow. “You do drink tea, don’t you?”
“I would love some.”
“How do you drink it? I brought sugar and honey. If you want cream, I can go get it.”
“I would love a little honey added to it.”
Nodding, she scooped a teaspoonful of honey from the jar, dropped it in the mug, and stirred. The stranger tried to rise up on his elbows but she placed a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Whoa, there. Stay down. You’re as weak as a kitten.” Before he could protest, she picked up the straw she’d brought and set it inside the mug. Bending down, she held it out to him and watched as he took the straw between his lips. “Careful. It might burn your tongue.”
He tested it, then took three quick sips before leaning back onto the pillow. Clea reached over with a napkin and wiped his mouth and beard.
“What is your name?” he softly inquired.
“Clea. Clea Hatch.”
“And the boy?”
“Joseph, my son.”
“And Mr. Hatch?”
She averted her gaze for a moment. The stranger sighed. “My name’s Jonah Cobb. I owe you a debt of gratitude I’m afraid I can’t repay.” He seemed to have realized he’d touched upon a delicate subject.
Clea gave him a grateful smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cobb. And you owe me nothing.” She held up the mug. “More tea?”
He answered by pursing his lips for the straw. For a crazy split-second she wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, especially with his beard and moustache. She’d never kissed a man with full facial hair. A days’ growth, or the morning before a shave, yes. But nothing like the thick, dark blond hair sprinkled with gray.
When his mouth closed around the straw, she was finally able to gather her wits back around her. This time he took a half-dozen sips before stopping.
She set the mug on the tray. “I’m going to the kitchen now to fix some soup. It’s going to be potato soup. If you fall back to sleep when it’s ready, do you want me to wake you up to eat?”
“I haven’t had a full meal in…a long time. Soup sounds delicious. Thank you.”
She didn’t ask if he wanted a sandwich to go with it. After what he’d told her about not eating properly, on top of his illness, she knew his stomach wouldn’t be able to tolerate anything substantial for a while.
She’d reached the door when she was struck by a thought. Turning around, she noticed him watching her. “In the event you disappear again before I get back…”
“I won’t be too far away, madam.” It sounded like a promise.
Nodding, Clea left the bedroom, pulling the door to but not completely closing it behind her.
A little more than a half-hour later, the soup was ready. After serving Joey his grilled cheese with his soup, she carried a partial bowl of soup and spoon to the back bedroom. Cautiously pushing open the door, she peered inside. As she suspected, he—Jonah—was sound asleep. A quick check of the mug showed it was empty, and she smiled.
Setting the bowl and spoon on the tray, she went over to where his dirty clothes lay on the floor. After she picked them up and draped them over one arm to wash, she started to leave but stopped on her way out.
She watched him sleeping, noting how vulnerable he looked. Yet her instincts kept warning her to stay vigilant. He was weak and didn’t pose a threat to her and Joey for now, but once he regained his strength, he could become a danger.
I have to keep a close eye on him, and as soon as the snow thaws enough, he’ll have to leave, she firmly informed herself. Satisfied with the plan, she took the filthy clothes onto the porch adjacent to the kitchen where the washer and dryer were located.
Stuffing the shirt and socks, she automatically checked the jeans pockets for anything that shouldn’t be washed. It was a habit she’d developed after discovering a dead lizard inside the drum years back while doing her son’s laundry.
There was literally nothing. No money. No ID. Not even a wallet.
Until her fingers encountered something rigid.
She dug into the tiny pocket inside the right front pocket. The one her grandfather always called the watch pocket. Feeling the object, she pulled it out to examine what she’d found.
It was a gold coin with the face of a woman on one side wearing a crown bearing the word Liberty and a bird she guessed was an eagle on the other side. The year 1875 was stamped on it.
A gold coin.
Clea had no idea how much the thing was worth, but it had to be a lot.
She looked over her shoulder in the direction where her son’s bedroom was located. “No wallet. No money. No ID. But you have an expensive looking gold coin. Who in the world are you, Jonah Cobb? And why are you here? More importantly, how are you able to do what you did?”
She had a hundred questions to ask him, she figured the least he could do to repay her for her hospitality would be to answer the most important ones.
Slipping the coin into her own pocket, she threw the jeans into the washing machine, added detergent, and started the load.
TO BE CONTINUED
No comments:
Post a Comment