chapter four

Jill stood outside her house with the keys jangling softly, poised at attention before the lock: waiting. She had been about to unlock her back door when she could have sworn she’d heard a steady thump ensuing from within but when she stopped so did the noise. So here she stood, wondering if the sound would come again.
She wasn’t afraid, just curious. Of course the possibility of an intruder had crossed her mind but being the pragmatic person she was she understood the unlikeliness of a danger in this home of hers. The occasional neighborhood cat was known to crawl into her perpetually open kitchen window in hope of sympathy scraps and Jill knew this to be the most likely of events but still she stayed her hand, still she waited. Maybe it was left over and unnecessary instinct but she didn’t entirely trust the obvious in any situation. Instead she kept an—
There it was again. She knew she hadn’t imagined it! It was an odd sound, like most sounds seem to be when they come in spite of the absurdity of their existence, as if a bowling ball were rolling down a lane and vanishing right before impact. Why is it your mind comes up with the most unlikely of images to go with an unknown noise? She decided she had to know, risk or no, and stayed the jingling of her keys with her free hand and placed it into the deadbolt lock as quietly as she could manage, turning them ever so slowly. When she heard the silent ‘click’ she turned the handle and pushed open the door.
Her living room was as it always was: nothing appeared amiss. A scarlet love seat and armchair sat on perpendicular walls to just forward and to the left of the front door while a matching couch lined the opposite side. Almost the center of the room lay a rounded cherry wood coffee table laced with paper and hardbacks alike and ranging from poetry to erotica. A large antique secretary stayed put up against the wall and not five feet to the right of the doorway Jill now stood quite still in front of. Her dark grayish-purple carpet mirrored the ceiling and clashed pleasantly with her mint julep walls, hung with various Ansel Adams photographs.
She stood listening to the sound and when she discerned that it derived from the kitchen she went through the opening on the opposite wall and to her right, which led into the hallway. To both sides there were closed doors leading to a bedroom, den and bathroom, respectively. Straight ahead was the kitchen. All that stood between her and that particular domain was a white half-door on hinges that swung either way, the kind she’d only seen on sitcoms before finding this place. The sound was louder now and she could almost put her finger on what exactly it was. Not quite though so she continued, wondering why she wasn’t more alarmed.
When she got to the threshold she could see over the top of the door and into the kitchen right at the source of the heretofore-mysterious sound. His back was to her, facing the countertops and working hard at whatever was before him. She stood looking at him and realized why she wasn’t afraid: she’d been awaiting him. Although the form was as unfamiliar as she knew the face would be she knew this man only too well. Knew about his childhood, knew about his family, knew him so well she could practically guess his very thoughts. The only piece that didn’t fit was why here was here, for though she knew him he knew nothing of her. Except perhaps the sound of her voice…
If she weren’t watching him so very closely she wouldn’t have been able to tell she had startled him when she said his name, the giveaway a mere tensing of his back muscles. He turned around and she finally saw what he was doing, although apparently seeing isn’t always believing. There was a thin layer of dough on top of her counter speckled with various and non-threatening generic shapes. Settled nearby was a rolling pin.
He couldn’t possibly have seen it in her face, more likely he understood the ridiculousness of the situation and explained, “I bake when I’m nervous and since you had the ingredients I thought making cookies could be a good ice breaker.” There was a too-long moment of awkward silence. “Well then, I guess not.”
If it hadn’t had been so damn hilarious she might have laughed. The only thing that came out of her mouth, though, sounded harsher than she’d intended. Habit she supposed. “How do you know where I live? Hell, how do you even know who I am?”
He patted his hands together in a futile attempt to battle the tenacious flour and disregarded her questions, just like she knew he would. “We need to talk,” he said.


Dryly Jill put in, “Oh, we’ve got lots to talk about, for instance, your trespassing or your breaking and entering.” Her sarcastic tongue was a result of her quickly fading curiosity of his identity, leaving only an extreme sense of her impeded privacy.
“We could always talk about Oralia,” he struck softly.
“What do you know about Oralia?”
“I think we should sit down to talk cuz this could take awhile. Unless of course you just wanna come with me without any questions but I don’t suppose that’s gonna happen, knowing you.”
“You don’t know me,” she said, admittedly a little sulkily. She considered her next move. “I don’t think we should sit down just yet. You just get to cleaning up that mess of yours while you answer some of my present questions before you start thinking of giving me any more, huh?” She waited till he turned around to finish his cookies, opting to roll them into balls rather than shape them now that he was no longer loaded down with free time. Walking around so that she was facing him with the linoleum counter between them she noted he appeared grateful to have his hands busy once more. “Alright then. Why didn’t you call me like you usually do, why burst in here? For that fact, why didn’t you wait till I was home and knock on my door like a normal person.”
“I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible and I had no idea when you’d be home. You should have come straight home after you were sent home early and then you’d’ve been here when I came but for some reason you were later than we expected. I couldn’t call you because potentially all phones could become tapped, especially ones in use thanks to government funds.” Funny but although he answered both her questions she suddenly had twice as many.
“Wait a goddamn minute. How the hell did you know I was sent home early? I know you haven’t been following me. What does any of this have to do with Oralia? Why are you acting like there’s some sort of time limit and what’s with all this ‘we’ shit?” she demanded.
He faintly smiled without looking up, annoying Jill to no end, and replied, “You haven’t been followed. I only knew you’d be sent home because we were responsible for your last call, in order to rile you up and get Tara to take her only option. "We" meaning my team and I. But please don’t ask anymore about them or why I know about you and your reactions or Oralia for now and allow me to explain that in a little while.”
“You certainly sound as though you’ve done this before. Have you?” Jill, temporarily placated, asked.
“I’ve done this countless times. You were always a last result. We don’t call you to help us unlacquired tastes this ion, as you’ll see if you look back on the few times I’ve contacted you. And it isn’t always me in this position either. In this case I have been the only one calling you, therefore setting up familiar ground, so here I am: not completely a stranger.”
He had just put the loaded cookie sheet in the oven and turned to look into Jill’s eyes. He just stayed like that for the slightest of moments and then said, “Are you satisfied? Will you listen to me now?”
She nodded and led him into the hall and then the living room, tentatively trusting him at her back. She could feel he kept a polite distance behind, apparently attuned to her wariness. She sat down in the armchair next to the love seat and waited for him to sit before nod her head in assent.
“I’d like to ask you not to interrupt with the questions I know will pop into your head the moment you here what I’m about to say. We’re already short on time and you need to hear it all.” He continued when she nodded once again. “Let me start at the beginning. My real name’s not Ravyn. It’s Arthur Maddoc. I’m not what you all think I am but you can tell some of that just by looking at me.”
He was right; he wasn’t exactly what Jill had thought. She’d tried her best not to set any sort of expectations on him but apparently they’d snuck up on her and hidden themselves deep within her conscious for as she studied him now, the shallow part of her was disappointed. He was young looking. Jill couldn’t be sure but he seemed to be somewhere between 16 and 19. It was really that ambiguous. But then when she asked him she found out he was actually two years older than herself and she stopped pretending she could discern anything about him that easily. He was a few inches taller than her, not too tall, and thin overall despite the hint of broad shoulders. His hair was dyed a dark red and he had missed his still dirt brown eyebrows. His nose stopped right before being too long and his mouth was wide and quick to smile. He had large eyes so dark they were almost indistinguishable from his pupils. If they had been any smaller Jill would have considered them wide-set but their size compensated for any noticeable distance. But then he also wore glasses and it was easily that Jill could imagine him taking them off and remedying both mentionable dimensions. He also had a black cast covering his left wrist that Jill hadn’t noticed in the kitchen due to his fluidity with the dough in spite of it. Given it was well disguised by the solid night t-shirt he had on that went all the way to the edge of the cast, giving Ravyn the appearance of simply having one sleeve rolled up.
Jill was back and Ravyn was saying, “—not even my family life is what you’d expect, but we can talk about me later. Right now I want to talk about just that: right now. Oralia is with us and has been since the day after you saw her last. When we found out what happened with your situation we took her in because of hers. You see her husband had a pretty powerful family or brother to be more exact. His death would’ve been very dangerous for Oralia if she weren’t hidden at once. I know you haven’t seen her in so long but she never stop thinking about you we simply couldn’t let her contact you when her brother-in-law was still searching for her. It’s been some years now though and his search has cooled off dramatically these last couple so Oralia has finally convinced us to invite you to stay with us.”
“You have her? She’s okay then? Well that’s wonderful but why would I come stay with you? Why can’t I just go and see her?”
“You might consider this paranoid but we don’t make many two-way trips from our safe house. It’d just put all of our minds more at ease if you stayed for a week or so, plus Oralia is so excited to see you again and a prolonged visit is more than welcome.”
The prospect of seeing Oralia again incited a ravenous familiarity that Jill had always had a love hate relationship with. It certainly was tempting… Also, having had solely “Ravyn” on the brain for the last few years she was curious to get to know the real him a little and see this organization of his. Also, as illogical as it was, she felt sort of like she knew him well enough to be abandoning him if she vanished now. At that moment she felt the vague stirring of déjà vu. “I guess if it’s that important to you I could go with you. I could always drive myself of course but if you don’t mind waiting I’ll go with you. I still think it’s a colossal waste of time on your part but since it is your time…do what you will.”
She stood up and walked into the hall heading for the belongings she had promised herself she’d never accumulate. Funny how time makes our little self-betrayal acceptable. Throughout this time she took a few trips around the house and when she crossed the living room one again she was unsurprised to see Ravyn still sitting on the couch, unmoved and unsettled.

No comments: