Sunday, November 8, 2015

Chapter 39 - Hiding in Twinbrook

Before Delia left the beautiful town of Hidden Springs, she searched for a place where she could disappear. Twinbrook seemed just the spot. It was a nice town but the remote areas were hidden away. She found a little cabin for sale online that had a basement; perfect for hiding her potions…and her ghosts. It was quite run down, but that was okay. Less attention would be paid to her.  

She spruced up the inside a little and added a garden. But that was it, she had no way to earn money so had to use what she had sparingly; the outside remained untouched other than the garden. It allowed her to blend in. Even the Wilburmobile looked appropriate among the brush and willow trees.

Being alone was taking its toll on Delia. She was tired all the time and she missed her family – not the ghost ones – the live ones. She thought a lot about Aiden and wondered how he was managing his 'magic'. She wondered how Francie and Nate were doing and she sorely missed her grandson Nick. 

Delia couldn’t leave the cabin because of little Alexander. No one would understand. She was unable to even think about getting a job until Alexander was old enough to stay by himself. That would be quite awhile. 



So while Alex slept she tried to keep things up. She did housework and worked in the garden. She really had no energy for anything else, nor any desire to do anything else. 

During the endless hours alone in the house, she kept finding herself looking at the computer and staring at the folder that contained all of her mom's journals. She decided it was time to begin reading. She wasn’t sure why she waited so long. She just didn’t want to know. After reading all the horrible things about Nicholas, she wasn’t sure wanted to read it. It was easier to think she is normal. Clearly, she isn’t.

She wasn't quite sure where to start so she clicked on one of the older documents titled NEWT. Her mom described a man she had met at the spring fair. He had jet black hair and gorgeous blue eyes. His name was Newt Jamison and they had fallen hard for each other and she desperately wanted to see him again. She looked at the photo she still had of he mom and the man she assumed was her father. The description matched. Then Alexander cried for her with his ethereal voice. She shut down the computer and went to care for her baby. As she was holding Alex, she starting thinking. Her lover' name was Newt and her last name was Newton. How odd she thought. If Newt Jamison was indeed her father, well, it seems, her mother had secrets too.
















Once little Alex was fed and changed and down for a nap, Delia couldn’t deal with reading anymore of her mother’s journal. Instead she opted to open the last bottle of wine leftover from her and Francisco’s wedding. How appropriate she thought. Here's to you Newt Jamison whoever you are she toasted to the air. 

The wine eased the tension a little but not much and only made her feel more sluggish. But who cares. No one. She kept finding love and losing it. She hadn't even had anymore dreams of her dead husbands - hah - so not dreams.  Well Francisco better just stay away. Look what he caused last time he appeared to her and pretended to be comforting. 

The one bright spot was that Alex was thriving and growing up 'normally' - well as normal as a ghost child can be she figured. She was certain now that he would live. He needed to be cared for just like her other children; potty training, learning to walk and talk and there was no one there to help. She had to do it all.

Alex was a toddler and that worried Delia even more. She had hoped as he got older, he would begin to 'fill in' for lack of a better description. She was the only living person he EVER saw. If it weren't for television, he would think they were the only two people on the planter, but he didn't seem to to mind. Regardless it worried Delia. He was just so isolated. She just didn't know what she was going to do. She knew she was probably slipping into a deep depression as she was just going though the motions. 



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