Chaos

CHAPTER 1

THE WAND’S WARNING

Arden jerked awake and shoved herself upward in panic, nearly falling from the sheets that had twisted around her middle in her sleep. Taking a steadying breath in through her nose before releasing it slowly, she sat up and tugged the elastic hair band off her wrist to tie her slightly damp, overly frizzy turquoise and violet waves into a knot on the top of her head. She was getting so sick of the dreams. Every night for the last month, she’d drifted off to sleep only to find herself walking along a twisted, wooded path as a storm raged in the distance. She would eventually encounter a rickety, wooden watch tower that had been abandoned on the edge of a cliff. The dream tended to climax with lightning striking the tower, and the rotting timbers would fall down, crushing her beneath their weight. Sometimes it collapsed and toppled off the side of the mountain.

This time had been different for two reasons. One, the storm had hit fiercer than it had before, and two, she hadn’t been alone. She didn’t know who her companion had been, but she knew without a doubt that another person had been there. The other person had been lost beneath the falling beams of the tower in a criss-crossed pattern, but she could hear them screaming.

Flinging her right hand out in an attempt to remove the final blanket, her elbow smacked against a cardboard box filled with craft supplies. With a rattling crash it fell to the floor, its contents spilling across her rug. A cluster of ribbon wands fell out and clattered loudly in the early morning quiet. Arden froze, staring down at the ribbon swathed, wooden rods. Goosebumps erupted down her arms. The wands had fallen in the same pattern as the timbers from her dream. Stretching, she reached into the box that was resting beneath the one she’d knocked over, and her fingers closed around the silk cloth that she used to wrap her Tarot Cards in.

As an intuitive, Arden knew how to interpret tarot cards. She’d been reading The Tarot since she was old enough to get into her mothers endless collection of decks. From basic to elaborate spreads, she had helped many people over the years, and predicted many outcomes that had floored friends and acquaintances and left them gaping in disbelief. Unfortunately, when it came to her own readings, she didn’t find the card’s messages nearly as helpful as she would have liked. It would be great if they said things like, “Hey, massive collision ahead, take this detour.” No, they were never that straight forward, especially when it came to the future, and they could always change based on the choices she made along the way. So much for guidance. Still, it never hurt to ask.

She sat cross legged on the disturbed sheets and shuffled the deck, focusing on her breathing and the dream, trying to recall the details in her mind’s eye. The feel of the rocky path beneath her feet, the cut of a sharp stone, the wind on her face and the tower in the distance. Feeling her heart rate deescalate, she pulled three cards and placed them face down in front of her, then setting the rest of the deck aside, she flipped the cards upright in order from left to right. Past, present then the final card, future.

Arden glared down at her tarot cards in utter disgust. The Five of Cups glinted up at her, its smooth surface unassuming. Next to it in the spread sat the Seven of Wands, immediately followed by The Tower. The Five of Cups represented a loss, usually of a relationship. It also correlated with the storm part of her dream. One moment the storm was at a safe distance, the next she would be overwhelmed, the wind and rain threatening to consume her. That had already come to pass, she didn’t need warning. Her relationship with Grayson had gone up in flames last month. Like the storm, she could see it coming, but the sudden onslaught of it all had still managed to catch her completely off guard. Overall, not very helpful.

The next card, the Seven of Wands heralded momentous happenings in her life. She honestly didn’t think she could handle many more demanding encounters right now. She eyed the wands on the floor, and then counted them. Seven, of course. How could it not be? The big break up, the even bigger relocation effort. That at least made sense. Again, not very helpful.

The final card in the spread didn’t give her any reassurance of the future. The Tower always represented a sometimes catastrophic and irreversible change. The winds of change were blowing, alright, and she was caught in the middle of the maelstrom. Whether she would survive it or not was the question.

“Hey hun, you want some breakfast?” Arden twisted around to face her mom in the doorway. Jamie was thinner than her, and more petite in frame, but apart from that, they could have been sisters, not mother and daughter. Arden had the same wavy dark hair, though she had dark violet and bright aqua highlights sprinkled throughout her tresses. Jamie had only been eighteen when she’d gotten pregnant with her, but as far as Arden was concerned, she had done a phenomenal job at being both mom and dad.

Early life had been chaotic and akin to that of circus life. They’d moved often, living for stents in hotels, an RV, and even Jamie’s old Ford Taurus. Jamie cleaned professionally, but she would occasionally moonlight as a mystic psychic reader for local festivals. Things would be great until they weren’t. She’d give a bad reading, or some other misfortune would befall them and next thing Arden knew, they would be moving on.

Arden used to wonder who her dad was, what he’d been like, or if he had been involved with their lives, would things have been more stable, but the older she’d gotten the less she cared. Jamie never talked about it, other than to say he wanted to get married and she didn’t. She had talked constantly of breaking toxic cycles and moving on in life.

When she’d refused his proposal his family had forced him to have no contact with Jamie as did her own. Apparently, a child born out of wedlock in the deep south was too much of a cardinal sin twenty years ago. Better to ignore the situation completely and hide the supposed shame than admit you could have done something wrong. Jamie had completely rejected their overly religious theology and had thrown their doctrine out the window. You shouldn’t have to be married to love a child you created, and Arden completely agreed.

“Not really.” Arden grumbled. Jamie frowned at her, then wove through the towering stacks of cardboard boxes that were scattered throughout her room. She sank down across from Arden onto the rumpled bed, and considered the cards that were still lying face up.

“Past, Present and Future?” She inquired, pointing at each card respectively. Arden nodded, then squirmed into a more comfortable position. Jamie picked up the Seven of Wands and held it to her face, scrutinizing the glossy surface, then plucked the final card up as well.

“I’d say you are in for an interesting time in Silver Fork Falls.” She commented after a moment, then glanced at Arden’s open laptop, where a photo of a quaint mountain town sat open on her home screen.

“Well, you know how the cards are.” Arden snorted with derision.

“Arden, honey, are you sure you need to be doing this big move right now? Maybe it’s too much. Trust me, that town is nothing but trouble and heart ache.” Jamie said. Arden rolled her eyes, despite having her palms pressed against them and felt them flutter softly under her lids.

“Yes, mom. If I can go and clean out this shack Ed left me, and sell it, it could fund me for at least another two years. And that’s two years I can focus on my art.” That was the truth, if only part of it. Maybe it was because of how she’d grown up, or perhaps it was the universe trying to sway her way of thinking, but a change of scenery, an upheaval, or fresh start was what she needed. Only this time would be different, because she would be doing it alone. She needed to prove to herself that she could do it alone, because at this point she was always going to be alone. Everyone always ended up thinking she was crazy, anyway. Grayson was no exception.

“Honestly, sperm donor dropping dead when he did and leaving me his property is the best thing that could have happened at a time like this.” Arden glanced down at the cards once again, seeing the tower that was so reminiscent of her dream, alongside the wands that looked like scattered timbers along the ground. If only the message could have been as clear as the visuals. Besides, it didn’t matter. The path was already laid out before her. The power was going to be hooked up within the next twenty four hours, and her bags were packed. Now it was a matter of the eight hour drive separating her past from her future. Her cell chirped beside her. She picked it up and swiped to unlock the screen. A text from Grayson sat in her inbox. She growled and then heaved herself to her feet.

“Is he here to pick up his stuff? It’s awfully early for him.” Jamie commented as she rocked from her knees up into a standing position as well.

“Yeah. I should have just had him pick his shit up after I left tomorrow.” Arden grumbled. She should have burned it all, but she was trying to be a better person. The last thing she wanted was to have to see or speak to Grayson.

Their breakup had been messy. It had started with him overhearing a discussion she’d been having on the phone with her mom about going crystal shopping. He’d snorted from his place on the couch, where he’d been half heartedly ignoring her all afternoon, before making the comment that crystals and tarot cards were security blankets for adults who refused to listen to science. Arden had finally lost control and threw a set of dishes at him from across the room, where he had vehemently been trying to defend himself, swearing that he had not intended to be offensive when he’d said she was the hot kind of crazy. Things had only deteriorated from there.

That had been four weeks ago. Arden officially considered the relationship terminated. She’d had to burn multiple bundles of sage, do a cord cutting ceremony and eaten several gallons of chocolate and peanut butter ice cream. She had hoped that would all have been enough to help her to start to move on from her anger.

Grabbing a box by the door full of t-shirts, books, a handful of DVD’s and a Rolex, she stomped down the hall, her bare feet thudding against the hardwoods, forcing herself to breathe. Most people who’d spent more than five minutes with her knew that she had a short fuse and a zero tolerance for bull shit. She was a get-to-the-point, say-what-you-mean type of person. Lies and manipulation had no space in her world, and once someone crossed that boundary in her life it was over. Feel free to see yourself out, never come again, please and thank you.

Once she was sure she wouldn’t throw the box at him, she popped open the door to see Grayson standing on the porch. He must have just gotten off rotation, because he was still in scrubs, and a faint five o’clock shadow could be seen along the edge of his jawline. She would have been perfectly content to never set eyes on him again, but he wouldn’t stop texting her about his stupid damn watch. It’d been a gift from when he’d graduated medical school. She’d ignored him until he’d started harassing her mom. Only after he agreed to leave them both alone had she relented for a final face to face meeting to return his things, with the stipulation that he had to come to her. She wasn’t going out of her way to him again, ever. She held the box out to him wordlessly.

“Thanks. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t burn it all. Or sell the watch” He said, taking the box out of her arms. She snorted, and then crossed her arms, annoyed that he would know her well enough to know that had been exactly what she had wanted to do, but not well enough to not be an offensive prick.

“Just be glad I didn’t. Now go.” She snapped. He hesitated, and shifted the box’s weight in his arms.

“Arden, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” he said. Arden scoffed.

“Oh, I’d be careful with that. Don’t want to hurt yourself.” She spat, taking a step back and preparing to slam the door in his face. He frowned and then placed the box on a small patio table beside the steps.

“I just hate all the bad blood between us. Things were going well, we were having so much fun.” He mumbled, looking at his feet. Arden’s anger rose.

“No. You don’t get to stand there and pretend like you don’t understand why I would be offended.” She snapped.

“You know I only meant it as a joke,” he defended, but Arden cut him off.

“Only you didn’t. Because you kept saying it.” She growled.

“Come on, Arden. You can’t actually believe in that crystal and card crap can you?” He asked, exasperated.

“Why not? You believe that those enhancement pills I found in your medicine cabinet actually help. But we both know the truth there, too, don’t we?” Arden snapped before giving him a vicious smile.

Turning red, but not saying anything, Grayson shrugged and turned to pick up his box.

“Whatever. You need help, Arden” His tone had adopted that arrogant, know-it-all, condescending attitude that she absolutely hated. Arden glanced to her right and spotted the garden hose her mom used to water the monster aloe plant on their porch, its nozzle still dripping. Before she could think better of it, she jerked it up, aimed and released the hinged handle. A powerful jet stream exploded from its head and she proceeded to spray Grayson down. He yelped and then took off towards his car, jostling his box of trinkets, trying to avoid being sprayed in the face.

“Crazy bitch!” He shouted as he dove for the driver’s side door of his convertible Porche. Arden leapt off the porch steps, dragging the hose with her and aimed it directly into the car’s exposed interior.

“Fuck you.” Arden hissed, her breath coming in short bursts. Grayson fumbled with the keys, as she continued to hose him down, before finally he jammed them into the ignition and with a rumbling growl, pulled into traffic, screaming profanity as he went. Good riddance.

With one final glance of disdain she dropped the hose, stepped back and slammed the door with a window rattling bang, and flipped the deadbolt. Jamie hovered next to the window and peeked out at the porch from behind the sheer, bohemian style curtains.

“Asshole.” She muttered. Her mom wrapped an arm around her shoulders and popped a kiss on the side of her head as thunder rumbled overhead, signaling a fast approaching storm. Arden grimly hoped that Grayson’s car got caught in the deluge.

“You know, you may be right. Getting out of town might be best for now.” Jaime amended.

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Dawn was just beginning to break as Arden adjusted her final box precariously in the backseat of her rusted, dented Taurus, its contents rattling. It was stacked floorboards to the ceiling with boxes full of painting supplies, crystals, tarot cards, candles, books, and beads for her jewelry making kit. Two woven laundry hampers held all of her clothes that she’d crammed into the passenger seat, fresh from the dryer. Jaime stood on the porch, her arms wrapped around her middle, a slight frown on her lips.

“You make sure you call me every couple of hours until you get there.” She insisted as Arden shut the back door. When it didn’t latch, she frowned, then rammed her hip into it. The door clicked with a satisfying snick. The car may be ugly, but it had never let her down.

“I mean it, Arden. You better call me.” Arden rolled her eyes. Her mom was such a worry wart.

“Mom, it’s gonna be fine. And yes, I’m going to make sure to call you.” She confirmed as she edged around the square hood of the car. Jamie hopped off the low stoop and before Arden could stop her, had launched herself into Arden’s arms.

“Mom, can’t breathe!” Arden wheezed. With a hearty sniff, Jamie released her and planted a kiss on her temple with an audible muah.

“I’m going to miss you so much baby girl!” Arden’s eyes burned. Despite her mom’s clingy and sometimes annoying habits, she knew she was going to miss her as well.

“Love you, mom. It’s only for a few weeks. Once I get everything sold and settled, I’ll be back. Probably before the end of the summer.” Arden reassured her as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Through the windshield she saw Jamie dab at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I’m sure your Uncle Murrell will be able to help with all of that. Be careful! No speeding, just take your time.” She called as Arden cranked the engine and then plugged her cell with her GPS into the car charger. She had close to an eight hour drive ahead of her. Waving one final time, she slowly backed out into the street, and then shifted into drive, joining the other early morning commuters.

Even though she was alone, the drive was anything but monotonous. Beautiful mountains rose up in every direction once she was an hour outside of the city, and every twist and turn brought another stunning vista. She would stop periodically on the side of the road to stretch her legs, take in the view’s and snap a photograph or two and send the images to her mom. Farms dotted the countryside and Arden couldn’t help but feel excited. Moving three states away from anyone and anything she knew was terrifying, but worth it. She’d always wanted to see all fifty states, and this was her first official solo trip. Moving to the southern Blue Ridge was going to be an adventure of a lifetime for her, and that was just what her soul needed.

The further she drove, the more her reservations dissipated. Her expenses were paid for the next six months, her bank account was padded enough to cover move-in expenses until she could get her online boutique set back up, and Grayson was officially six hundred miles away. By late afternoon the rolling hills of the Applachains had appeared in the distance, each hill making way for the next as they faded into a blueish blur of background through her windshield, climbing progressively higher. She stopped and refilled her gas tank for what she hoped would be the last time before she reached her destination. Firing off a final text to her mom, she double checked her GPS once she’d rebuckled her seat belt. Two hours left. With any luck she would be pulling into her new home by five o’clock. She edged her car up to the exit of the lot and stopped, waiting for a break in the traffic pattern.

On the sidewalk next to her passenger door stood a man in what she assumed was his mid- fifties due to his wrinkled brow and gray streaked hair. He wore ripped, dirty jeans and his plaid shirt had seen better days. Arden paused and blinked. He looked familiar. She couldn’t decide where she’d seen him before. He stared at her, his piercing hazel eyes unblinking. Feeling creeped out, Arden broke eye contact with him and reached over and clicked her automatic locks. When she looked back up, the man was fading from sight where he stood. She stared, open mouthed until he had completely vanished from view.

Arden jolted, and then twisted around in her seat, looking for where he’d gone, but saw no sign of him. She knew she wasn’t crazy. That man had been as solid as the ground beneath her car one moment, and completely gone the next. Arden knew the only thing capable of that was a ghost or a spirit. Goosebumps prickled down her arms despite the sweltering heat of the late afternoon, causing her to shiver involuntarily. It’d been years since her last ghost encounter, but it had been hard to forget. Shaking off the unnerving feeling, Arden pulled back into the flow of traffic, trying to make sure she didn’t scrape the curb with her wheel rims.

*******************************************

Two hours later the Taurus rounded a sharp curve before finally rolling past a giant wooden sign that proclaimed welcome to the town of Silver Fork Falls, population two thousand. Next to it stood a speed limit sign with a maximum speed of thirty five miles per hour. A far cry from the fast paced city life and a much larger population that exceeded one hundred and fifty thousand.

Arden gradually pressed the brake and coasted to a stop at a four way stop sign. She double checked her directions, then eyed the intersection. Several signs were posted in the grass along the side of the road. A couple of produce stand advertisements, a general store, and a multitude of religious signs that urged viewers to repent, and that Jesus saved, along with the logo for a local church. Her GPS had lost signal about two miles back. Thankfully, Arden had downloaded directions in advance.

After deliberating for a second longer, Arden urged the tired Taurus through the intersection and in the direction of downtown. Cute little shops lined the street in antiquated buildings with large containers filled to bursting with bright, flowering pots at perfectly spaced intervals, before giving way to a spectacular mountain lake, complete with boardwalk. Across the lake she could make out a large RV park that was part of a year round campground, with seasonal boating and hiking that boasted trails for beginners as well as the more experienced.

She continued through the town and followed Main street as it wound around the curves of the lake and hugged the foot of the towering peaks. Halfway between the town and the entrance to the campground there was a large general store that sat right on the water with docks that led out to the lake and a restaurant with outdoor, water-view dining. Arden took a sharp left just past the store and began up a gradual incline toward what would be her home for the next eight weeks, if not longer.

At last, the car crawled to a stop, its wheels crunching on the crushed gravel of the driveway. Arden dug through her purse for the print out of an email from her uncle, who was also an estate lawyer, to confirm that she was in the right place. She perused the printout and then lifted her gaze back up to the ramshackled cabin in front of her. No way. NO. Freaking. WAY. The print out showed a 1950’s style, two bedroom cottage of only eight hundred square feet, nestled beneath swaying oaks and surrounded by flowering shrubs straight out of a fantasy. It looked like the perfect little vacation house you would expect in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The fantasy ended on paper, however.

The manicured rhododendrons had been allowed to grow out of control, some towering past the roof in places. The siding that wasn’t obscured by twisting plant life was discolored with algae. The steps on the front stoop were sagging, the shutters hanging crookedly by their hinges, and an overflowing garbage bin was on its side off to the left, paper trash disgorging onto the overgrown grass. A tired picnic table with peeling red paint sat in the overgrown grass.

Flinging off her seat belt, Arden tugged her keys from the ignition and clipped them to a belt loop on her cut off shorts. The mid-June heat washed over her as she climbed out of the car, her butt stiff from the last several hours. She could smell the sharp, sweetness of pine as the humidity caused her wavy hair to curl even more. Grabbing her phone she edged up to the porch, eyeing the overgrown grass, hoping and praying there weren’t any snakes.

Tentatively she stepped onto the bottom step of the short stairs and it bowed warningly under her weight. Muttering a swear she took another cautious step until she reached the screened storm door. A crisp white envelope with her name in cursive was taped to the hard frame. She pulled it off, tearing it open. Inside she found a house key and a small map of the town with a list of all the stores. How helpful, she thought acidly.

Arden ducked past the spiderwebs layered over the corner of the door’s arch and slid the key into the lock. It twisted easily and the door creaked open. Hot, stale air hit her, and the reek of cigarette smoke clogged in her throat, threatening to choke her. She slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and reached to her left, flicking on the overhead light. An 80’s model ceiling fan rattled to life, the blades whirring, causing the entire fan to wobble in its cradle. Arden eyed it cautiously, before moving further into the room. The old hardwoods were covered in grit that she could feel even with her sandals on. The air was suffocating, hot and wet humidity clung to her skin, forming beads of sweat across her brow. One wall was dedicated to a working cast iron woodstove that, according to her email, was the primary source of heating for the house. It was flanked by beautiful built-ins that had seen better days, but she could definitely work with it. The other wall was a blank slate with a single window in it, holding a monstrosity of a window A/C unit. The back wall had a huge cut out that allowed her to see into the kitchen.

Moving to the window unit, she pressed the ON button. It growled to life, and cool air blew through the vents, but the air smelled of more cigarette smoke. Gagging, she pulled the front grate off to look at the filter. It was covered in a sickly brown and yellow with god only knew what. She turned the air back off, and moved to the next room. Opening windows for fresh air was going to be top priority in a minute or she was going to suffocate.

She found two tiny bedrooms, with absolutely no furniture. Tonight she was prepared to sleep on the air mattress she and her mom had used on numerous camping trips over the years, but buying a bed would be an immediate necessity.

Towards the back of the house she found what she assumed would be a kitchen, only it had no cabinets, no refrigerator and no stove. Just blank empty walls with a giant utility sink taking up most of one wall. Hookups for a washer and dryer had recently been added. Where the hell were all the appliances?

The bathroom was the size of a closet, and the tub had a rust stain to match the one she’d seen in the kitchen sink. Cautiously she lifted the seat lid of the toilet and nearly gagged. The bowl was coated in a thick layer of black mold. Slamming the lid back down, she turned on the taps, and the pipes gurgled for a second before discolored water gushed out. She let them run for a full minute before the water was clear.

That probably wasn’t a good thing. As she turned the tap back to off, a shrill ring tore through the air, causing her to jump. It continued to ring as she wove back through the rooms before finally spotting a corded phone attached to the wall of the kitchen by the back door. Edging up to it, she reached out hesitantly before picking up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” She answered tentatively.

“Oh, good, you answered!” A chipper voice echoed through the line.

“Excuse me?” Arden asked, taken aback.

“This is Arden, right?” The caller asked.

“Umm..” Arden hedged, unsure if she should confirm her identity to a stranger over the phone.

“Honey, it’s me, Murrell.” He explained. Arden sagged against the wall the phone hung on, relief spreading through her.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I’m Arden.”

“Listen, honey, I’m glad you got in all right. I just wanted to call and make sure you are aware there is no cell reception up there, and to let you know that I’ll be by tomorrow to answer all your questions. Probably around ten in the morning. Sorry, I couldn’t make it up there this afternoon, I got stuck at the office.” He said all of this in a rapid, yet flat drawl.

“Uh, yeah sure. I definitely have some questions.” Arden started, eyeing the bare walls of the kitchen.

“Hold that thought, honey. Yes, Patricia, that hutch is an original. Arden, honey, sorry, I’m going to have to let you go, I’ll see you tomorrow around ten.” and before she could respond, the line disconnected, and a dull dial tone filled her ear. Arden swore before hanging the phone back up. She pulled her cellphone out of her back pocket to see that she indeed, did not have any signal. Swearing again, she pulled up her mom’s contact information and then cautiously dialed the seven digits on the landline. The phone rang twice and then her mom’s voice cut through the air, panicked.

“Arden? Are you okay?”

“I”m fine, mom, chill. I just got to the house. How’d you know it was me?” Arden asked, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.

“Let’s call it mother’s intuition.” Jaime chirped. Rolling her eyes, Arden turned to survey the kitchen again, and spotted the outlets for where her appliances should have been.

“ How is everything? Did you have any trouble finding the place?” Jamie asked. Arden turned in a slow circle, eyeing the discolored walls, a frown dragging down one side of her mouth, then walked towards the bedrooms, but jerked to a halt. Grimacing, she spun herself back around to unwrap the phone cord that had snaked around her middle.

“It’s … really close to town. And the rhododendrons trees are even prettier in person.” Arden said, trying to skate around the house itself being a dump. Quiet fizzed through the line, and she knew that Jamie was not being fooled.

“How’s the house?” Jamie pressed. Arden chewed on her lip and glared at the rust stains in the sink and smoke- stained walls. They had definitely not started out the awful yellowish brown that they were now. She was going to have to scrub them and paint. And that was if she survived sleeping here long enough to make it habitable.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I brought all my cleaning supplies. It’s very-” she paused. “Rustic. I don’t think anyone’s lived here in months.” And probably died from emphysema, she added privately.

“I’m sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?” Arden smiled to herself, and a pang of sadness flashed over her. Her mom was always trying to help, even if she was six hundred miles away.

“No, it’s all fine. It’s definitely going to require a little initial investment if I want to make any money off of it, though.

“So, will you have enough room for all of your art stuff? I know you said it had two bedrooms.” Arden swung around and eyed the two bedrooms that she could see from her vantage point in the miniscule hallway.

“Oh, yeah for sure. More than enough room..” She admitted.

“Good, good. Well I guess I’ll let you go and start unpacking.” Jame hesitated on the other end of the line, “Have you heard from anyone yet?”

Arden could visualize her mom twisting her hair so tight around her finger that it was ready to part from her scalp.

“Yeah, Uncle Murrel called right before I called you. He said he’d be here in the morning to chat and check on me.” Arden confirmed as she stretched towards the sink and turned on the tap. Less brown water gushed from the spigot than in the bathroom, but Arden wasn’t very confident in the sanitation score, regardless.

“Well, that’s nice of him.” Jaime said breezily.

“ Mom, what exactly is the deal with all of them and you? I just don’t get it.” Arden asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

“It’s not so much him as it is Debbie and our parents. Growing up with them was a nightmare. Debbie was just so perfect, and never could do anything wrong. And Murrell was the boy, so it was the divine right for him just being born with a penis. It’s not his fault. He wasn’t around much when I was growing up anyway. He’d already gone off to college. But Perfect Miss Debbie.” Venom crept into Jamie’s voice. “ I just couldn’t do anything right with her around. No matter what I did, Deb did it better and she was just such a kiss ass, meanwhile I was the screw up. And I got tired of it.” Jaime sighed, and Arden could hear the clatter of her mom dropping a mug in the sink over the phone.

“But what about my grandparents?” Arden pried, as she turned her own sink tap off again.

“It’s just so much, honey. I don’t want to get into tonight. It’s ancient history, and besides, you have a lot of unpacking to do. I’ll check in on you tomorrow. If you need me, you just call.” Jamie said.

“Alright, fine. Love you, talk to you tomorrow.” Arden forced out. Jamie said a final goodbye and then the line went dead. Heaving a sigh, she hung up the phone and then looked around bleakly. She was going to have to scrub this dump from ceiling to baseboards and everything in between before she felt comfortable with even bringing her items into the house, let alone sleeping in here for the night.

For a moment she considered sleeping in her car, but then shook off the despair. She could do this. Going from window to window, she was able to pry them all open allowing for fresh air to begin circulating through the stagnant fumes. Then traipsing back to the car she popped the trunk. Inside she dug around and located her box of cleaning supplies. Vinegar, dish detergent, Baking Soda, cloths, Magic erasers, Lysol, Bleach, window cleaner, paper towels, toilet brush cleaner, gloves salt and sage were all stuffed inside a five gallon mop bucket, her broom and mop crammed alongside the tire well. Just the short walk from her car back into the house had her brow beading with sweat from the humidity. Who knew that the mountains were supposed to be this hot?

After going old school, and loading a CD into her laptop for music, she filled the tub with water, then added two cups of bleach before doing the same for the toilet. Leaving it to soak, she moved from room to room and began sprinkling salt and baking soda along the floor to help absorb the stench along with any negative energies. She would burn sage later. From there she mixed a bucket of water with vinegar, dish detergent and headed for her bedroom. Propping the box fan she’d brought with her in the window, she first wiped down the ceiling fan, then turned it on as well. From there she used her mop to begin the initial wipe down of the ceiling and walls. Hours ticked by, and her back and arms ached. She constantly had to refill the cleaning solution.

Finally satisfied with the walls of her room, she swept the accumulated grit from the floor, swapped the vinegar solution for bleach, and vigorously scrubbed the wooden boards. Chest heaving, she took a moment to step back and survey her work. The room was small but adequate. It had an antique fireplace along one wall, and the lone double window in the room faced the west, affording her a beautiful view of the lake at sunset, but first she’d have to trim back the rhododendrons. The walls still had a distinct stain to them, but with the window open and the fans running, she felt that she could at least sleep in this room tonight. Painting was definitely going to be a priority.

Satisfied with her work, she quickly moved through the rest of the house and swept the floors, ensured all windows were open, then wiped down the bathroom with bleach as well as the kitchen sink, then mopped the floor. At nearly three A.M. , she scuttled out to her car in the pitch black. The faint glow of the front porch light was unable to permeate the darkness past about six feet. She hurridly dug around in the back seat until she found her air mattress, a box of snacks, her toiletries and a couple of throw blankets. She tossed all of it into one of her laundry baskets along with a few candles and her air compressor and then hauled it all back across the yard and up the rickety front steps. The mountain air had cooled considerably after the sun had set and a dense fog had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Between the shit visibility and brisk air hitting the sweat on her skin, Arden felt an extreme loneliness and isolation that caused goosebumps to erupt up and down her arms briefly.

Arden tossed a tarp onto the floor in her bedroom, unfolded the air mattress and then began using the air compressor to pump it up. While it filled with air, she arranged several candles in and on the fireplace, and lit them. Back aching and sweat dripping, she then moved methodically through the tiny house, burning sage as she went.

The overwhelming bleach smell dissipated almost instantly and her lungs dragged in the fresh oxygen greedily as the smoke lingered in the air in swirling patterns. She loved sage. Its ability to purify the air and remove negative energy was untouched in her opinion.

Placing the still smoking bundle onto an incense burner, she stood for a moment, surveying her efforts. It was hotter than hell inside the house, but the windows being open helped and most importantly, she was no longer afraid of developing lung cancer. At least not from the cigarette smoke. The bleach was probably going to kill her, though. After a quick shower, she fluffed out her extra blankets on the air mattress, blew out her candles and collapsed, her arms and legs spasming from the exertion of her evening.