Dark Echo

Chapter 7

December 15, 2014, AHD HeadquartersWith a piercing squint, Leanne increases the font from one-hundred to one-hundred-twenty percent, trying to discern whether the letter is an E or an R. At the age of thirty-nine, Leanne refuses to believe her perfect twenty-twenty vision is failing. For months, she's been in denial, dreading the approaching age her mom started wearing eyeglasses. Lying to herself, she attributes dwindling vision to countless hours of staring at the computer and iPad. It's just eyestrain she'd tell friends, refusing to listen when they suggested reading glasses. Oh, you're so stubborn, Leanne. However, she realizes she's only delaying the obvious and her eyes are getting worse.

It's just eyestrainOh,you're so stubborn, Leanne.On the Internet, Leanne deliberates designer readers but hates the idea of looking like her colleagues—donning fashionable glasses she never thought stylish, just aging. She remembers her mom's unsightly black-rimmed spectacles despoiling her beauty at forty. And now, she nearing that age she never believed would arrive so fast. She sneers at the colorful assortment on the website. “Polka dots … on the face … now that's ridiculous.”

The phone rings and she's happy to relinquish that thought. Quickly, she answers, “Leanne Davis.” Adam's husky voice evokes his morning image—sleepy-eyed, bed hair, new facial hair growth outlining his jaw, and his topless, sculpted abdomen exposed like some sexy calendar photo. Noticing the time, she realizes he's just starting his day. She recalls the previous night's heated conversation, and instantly knows why he's calling. Although happy to hear his voice, she's not ready to give him the answer he seeks.

“Hey, babe, can I call you later? It's crazy here today,” she says, scrunching her face with the lie. She hates lying to Adam, but she's not ready for this particular conversation. “Let's talk later, okay.” But she won't have the answer he seeks, not tonight—maybe never.

Leanne swirls her chair around and deliberates her office of eight years. Lately, an inexplicable restlessness and persistent dialogue about her existence inflict her mind. She never wanted a traditional life; just a successful career. Now she wonders if she's made the right choices. Her nine-year romance with Adam is stronger than ever, but he longs for more commitment. Soon, she will have to make a decision or lose him. Her jaded belief about marriage, a product of her mom and dad's tempestuous nuptials, leaves her fearing matrimony. Our relationship is so strong and passionate. Why should we change it? Things are fine the way they are.

Our relationship is so strong and passionate. Why should we change it? Things are fine the way they areAdam is the first man she's allowed in her life. No one needs to assure her he's the right one. She understands him better than he understands himself. Long before an introduction, she'd seen Adam's past. Years ago, the first day of class, she'd sensed his presence behind her. Seconds after the professor called her name; she'd retrogressed and saw Adam scribbling her name in his notebook. There was no need to turn around. She'd felt his gaze on her back. One day, deliberately, she'd turned around, finding his tantalizing brown eyes smiling back. Without a blink, he'd held her gaze. She'd blushed and looked away certain she was aroused and annoyed at once. From that point on, a staring match ensued for days until they grew tired of the game.

She'd catch Adam's eyes across a room. Their eyes would lock until something or someone interrupted. Every feature of Adam's face was memorized during those stares. Dissecting each side, she'd ponder who he favored most—his mom or dad. Thick eyelashes feather his almond-shaped eyes, which always seem to squint. What she'd once thought deliberate, she'd realized was a characteristic, come-hither stare. She'd move to his lip's upward curve—a constant smile without trying. Short, spiky sandy brown hair revealed a slight endearing ear protrusion. The contour of his face she couldn't discern—not quite oval or heart but somewhere in between. She'd assumed his boyish looks will never fade and serve him well as he ages.

One day in class, Adam sat beside her, leaned over, and whispered, “Aren't you tired of this?” The moment she'd heard his voice, she'd lost the game, but she hadn't relented so easily, and neither had Adam, who continued to pursue her for several days around the university campus. She'd feared once he discovered her gift, he'd flee in fear. To Adam, Leanne was a mystery and perhaps the source of his attraction.

“Aren't you tired of this?”She'd grown tired of Adam's relentless chase and finally surrendered. He'd become her best friend, and months later, although determined to maintain a platonic relationship, he'd become her lover. Now, she wonders why she'd pushed him away so long. Years later, he'd uproot his life in Chicago and move with her to Charleston. She's often wondered if she'd put her selfish needs before his. She smiles, remembering the night she told him about his childhood—memories no one could possibly know but him. She'd detected Adam's initial unease, which waned with time. She was surprised at how easily he accepted her gift and will never forget his casual response. “Well, I guess I'm an open book. It will be impossible keeping a secret from you … You realize that right? How will I ever surprise you?” He'd joked. But with those words, she'd known he'd recognized the dilemma. That night, Leanne handed him a Moldavite crystal and insisted, “If you ever want to keep me out of your head just wear this.” She realizes he seldom does.

“Well, I guess I'm an open book. It will be impossible keeping a secret from you … You realize that right? How will I ever surprise you?”“If you ever want to keep me out of your head just wear this.”Leanne swivels her chair around. Her feline green eyes dilate a deeper emerald—capturing fleeting shadows in the corner. Since her first day at AHD, she's seen apparitions throughout the office. In such a historic home, she's bound to encounter past lives. She recalls her first experience inside an old Tudor home in Oaks Park Community, where she'd thought she'd seen a ghost. The moment she'd stepped from her mother's car, the home alarmed her. She'd held tight to her mother's arm, never leaving her side. Inside, an overwhelming energy tugged at her senses. When her friend summoned her to play, she'd resisted with a frown, but her mother coaxed, “Leanne, stop being silly; go play with your friend,” and pushed her away.

“Leanne, stop being silly; go play with your friend,”With trepidation, she'd moved toward strange vibes on the upper floor, while her friend stared curiously at her hesitancy. Inside the room, two shadows flitted about. Frightened, she'd backed away, wondering if her friend saw them as well. She'd stiffened when the image veered in her direction, stifling a scream as the essence passed through her. Weakness ensued, then darkness. Hours later, she'd waken feverish, tingling, and weak in the hospital. Her horrified parents stood over her, and the doctor, surprised by her quick recovery, released her the next morning.

A year later, as her gift grew stronger, Leanne realized the images weren't ghosts, but realms, or portals to past lives. Months later, she'd found the courage to revisit the old Tudor home. Till this day, she retains an aversion of old items, especially old homes, which insult her senses daily. But with time, she's learned to block images with mental chants.

Living in a historical city like Charleston is challenging and near impossible to escape its history. Leanne recalls eight years ago, an instant foreboding as she'd stood at the window of her family's small apartment in Chicago, peering at thick fog floating over Michigan Lake. The phone rang. Marion and Daniel Alcott's voices sailed through the phone presaging change. The Alcotts, relatives on her father's side, have been a constant in her life as well as her father's, supporting him financially as a striving writer.

During her final semester of graduate school, Leanne was stunned to find her student loan balance zero—every dollar borrowed repaid before graduating. Once again, the Alcotts had performed a charitable deed. Leanne's never questioned their generosity but feels forever indebted. She was conflicted when the Alcott's offered her the Website and Blog Coordinator position. She'd felt apprehensive, elated, and of course, obligated. Considering her limited choices, she'd graciously accepted the position.

On contemplation, Charleston's tragic and violent history left her more than fearful. She'd worried past lives would overload her senses. With the Revolutionary, Civil, and the Anglo-Cherokee War, there's bound to be remnants of tragic death everywhere. Not to mention the many hurricanes and the earthquake of 1886, which killed thousands of poor souls and most notorious, Charleston's infamous slave trade. Past essences in historic homes and old fixtures horrified her. No home renovation can scour history's bloodied soil. However, she'd rationalized; all states retain remnants of past lives. Chicago, one of the oldest cities in America and her hometown, certainly has its history.

Before the Alcott's offer, Leanne longed for a change. She'd never considered her father's hometown a place to start a career, but she'd never find a career as promising as AHD. She'd mulled the proposition over and rationalized her fears. Confidently, she'd informed Daniel and Marion she'd take the job, only if they'd find a recently built condo or townhouse. She still hears Marion's complaint.

“In downtown Charleston … that will be near impossible! Besides, the historic townhouses are simply gorgeous. Sweetie, don't you want a home with character?”

In downtown Charleston … that will be near impossible! Besides, the historic townhouses are simply gorgeous. Sweetie, don't you want a home with character?”Leanne had compromised. “A townhouse is okay, but only if the furnishing is new, straight from the factory,” she'd pleaded.

“A townhouse is okay, but only if the furnishing is new, straight from the factory,”The Alcotts went out of their way to find Leanne the perfect dwelling. They'd bought contemporary furniture, no old pieces, only items straight from the factory. Nonetheless, Leanne will never escape the home's history or the property on which it stands. It too is imbued with past lives. Accepting her fate, she's managed to control her senses with time.

Swiveling around to her computer, she makes the font larger, realizing soon, she'll need to shed her pride and visit an optometrist. Outside Leanne's office, rapid, clicking heels approach. She recognizes Tara's walk and heads to the door. On second thought, she halts with her hand on the knob, sensing Tara's anxiousness about the new Dream Home location. “It can wait,” Leanne muttered.

On second thoughtJust as the phone rings, she spins on her heels and contemplates letting the call go to voicemail, but instead, she picks up. “Leanne Davis.”

“Hi, honey.”

Her father's raspy voice is unsettling. I should have let it go to voicemail. She hasn't spoken to him all year and dreads talking to him now. “Dad, what a surprise.” Conversation with her father never comes easy.

I should have let it go to voicemail“How's work going honey? I've meant to call sooner.”

“Well, you finally called. How's Chicago? It must be freezing,” she says, staring out the window at swaying Palmettos tousled by Charleston's warm breeze.

“It's cold, windy, the typical Chicago weather, sweetie.”

Leanne's stomach twists in knots. Her father's sobriquets seem disingenuous. She wonders why she's never told him to stop. His terms of endearment aren't welcome. Trying to dispel building irritation she pulls a long raven tendril, and mouths a silent scream, but it doesn't silence her anger. “Have you spoken to mom?”

“I've tried, but she won't give me the time-of-day,” he says with palpable tension in his voice.

Good for mom. Why would she speak to a lying cheat? After so many years, she still hears her mom's Greek fury, words neither she nor her father understood—“Bástardos, kolos, város sti gi, Áchristos, stin kólasi mazí sas…” There was no need to understand the words; she'd expressed them clearly with vigorous gestures. As a child, Leanne would often run to her room and turn the music up loud to block their emotions. But she never could. Their rage left a permanent stain on her mind.

Good for momWhy would she speak to a lying cheat?“Bástardos, kolos, város sti gi, Áchristos, stin kólasi mazí sas…”“Well, what did you expect? Mom may never get over the hurt. Maybe you should stop trying to make amends.”

“Honey, it's been years since we divorced. You'd think she'd be over the pain by now.”

“Seriously, what man just disappears with another woman, abandoning his wife and daughter? Do you expect either of us to let you back into our lives so easily?” Aware of her swelling voice, she tries to temper her anger. On the other end of the phone, a deafening police siren approaches. The blare grows nearer, dwindling on her father's end, but growing closer to AHD. He's in Charleston!

He's in Charleston!“Okay, sweetie—”

“Stop calling me sweetie, dad. You'll never earn that right.”

“Okay, Leanne. I see you're still angry. I was hoping we could talk … Perhaps I need to give you more time.”

“You had time years ago. You never made an effort; you were too scared of my abilities and that I'd see through your lies. How do you think I felt with all your affairs etched in my head? I couldn't escape them. You've never been able to hide anything from me. I sensed all of your lies when I was young.”

“Yes … Leanne your gift is astounding. I admit I was disturbed by your abilities. I left because as a child, you would never understand what you were seeing—”

Leanne bangs the phone on the receiver, unwilling to listen to more of her father's apologies. She'd heard too many as a child. She recalls many lies he'd furnished so easily to mom. She'll never forget the night he walked into the tiny Chicago kitchen. Images of her father with another woman minutes before he came home swelled through her mind. Sauntering into the kitchen with his lover's essence he'd lied blatantly. “Honey, sorry I'm late. I met with friends over a few drinks … Time got away from me.”

“Honey, sorry I'm late. I met with friends over a few drinks … Time got away from me.”His dishonesty made her recoil. Any time he came near, she'd run in the opposite direction. One day, tired of his lies, she'd screamed, “I saw the other woman, dad …” She'd lowered her voice so her mom wouldn't overhear. “I experienced your moments with the other women.”

“I saw the other woman, dad …”. “I experienced your moments with the other women.”Dumbfounded and embarrassed, her father grasped for the first time Leanne's gift of retrocognition. Every action he'd made was open to interpretation by his clairvoyant child. Adult affairs she couldn't understand at such a young age. Uncertain how to handle her; he'd left without any explanation or warning.

I won't be like mom, dependent and helpless on a man, she bristled. Leanne takes several deep breaths to center her mind. She won't allow intrusive thoughts of her father today. Recalling the deafening siren on the phone, she wonders why he's in Charleston.

I won't be like mom, dependent and helpless on a man,The iPad beeps, announcing another fan's comment on AHD Dream Home blog site. Eager to forget her father, she escapes into the sweepstake world, noticing several comments since her last post, asking AHD's fans which room is their favorite in the 2015 Dream Home.

Waitingpatiently56: Leanne thanks for providing updates on the home's décor. Laura did a fantastic job on the interior design this year. This is definitely my style, and I'm ready to move in. I can't wait to wake up in that canopy bed and take a bath in that gorgeous master bathroom. I wasn't sure about the colors of the chairs, but now I love them after virtually touring the house a third and fourth time. So when can I move in?

Waitingpatiently56:Leanne thanks for providing updates on the home's décor. Laura did a fantastic job on the interior design this year. This is definitely my style, and I'm ready to move in. I can't wait to wake up in that canopy bed and take a bath in that gorgeous master bathroom. I wasn't sure about the colors of the chairs, but now I love them after virtually touring the house a third and fourth time. So when can I move in?TinaB82: Hi Y'all! My best place in the home is the kitchen. I can't wait to start cooking on that incredible gas range and having breakfast with my family around that gorgeous island. Love the outdoor kitchen. I'd love to cook up a mess of Texan-style barbecue ribs and roasted corn on the cob on that outdoor grill. I just wish the home wasn't in Maine. Too cold! Where oh where will the next home be? I'm hoping Texas this year, close to home, so I don't have to travel far when I win. Good luck Y'all!

TinaB82Hi Y'all! My best place in the home is the kitchen. I can't wait to start cooking on that incredible gas range and having breakfast with my family around that gorgeous island. Love the outdoor kitchen. I'd love to cook up a mess of Texan-style barbecue ribs and roasted corn on the cob on that outdoor grill. I just wish the home wasn't in Maine. Too cold! Where oh where will the next home be? I'm hoping Texas this year, close to home, so I don't have to travel far when I win. Good luck Y'all!Househappy22: I've already moved into the 2015 home, and I'm making plans for the holidays sitting around the fireplace in that glorious great room with family and friends. Come join me, everyone!

Househappy22:I've already moved into the 2015 home, and I'm making plans for the holidays sitting around the fireplace in thatglorious great room with family and friends. Come join me,everyone!Leanne's heart aches, wondering how fans feel when they turn on their computers and find they're not the winner. Over the years, she's seen them bounce back from disappointment and move on to the next Dream Home. Beep …

Amc32: My wife and I recently suffered a great misfortune. When I lost my job, we also lost our home of ten years. Family was kind enough to take us in. It would be a blessing if we won the Dream Home this year. We're desperately praying.

Amc32:My wife and I recently suffered a great misfortune. When I lost my job, we also lost our home of ten years. Family was kind enough to take us in. It would be a blessing if we won the Dream Home this year. We're desperately praying.Other bloggers must feel horrible reading other's misfortune. I wonder if they feel unworthy of the home. Another beep and a comment appear in response to the last post.

Decorlover: Do dreams and wishes really come true? Amc32 hang in there! Perhaps your prayers will be answered, if not this year, maybe next year.

Decorlover: Do dreams and wishes really come true? Amc32 hang in there! Perhaps your prayers will be answered, if not this year, maybe next year.“Aww; there are compassionate people in this world,” Leanne mumbles. Beep …

Southernbelle90: Gracious me, although I love the architecture of the home, Laura's designs didn't hit the mark this year. Some themes are a repeat of previous sweepstake homes. I'm a Southern Belle and would love to see more feminine themes in the décor, too masculine for me this year.

Southernbelle90: Gracious me, although I love the architecture of the home, Laura's designs didn't hit the mark this year. Some themes are a repeat of previous sweepstake homes. I'm a Southern Belle and would love to see more feminine themes in the décor, too masculine for me this year.Waitingpatiently56: Hi Southernbelle90. I believe Laura did an excellent job of melding masculine and feminine styles into the home. That canopy bed with the gorgeous chandelier is definitely feminine. Look at some of the other features in that bathroom—now that's a woman's cave :-)

Waitingpatiently56:Hi Southernbelle90. I believe Laura did an excellent job of melding masculine and feminine styles into the home. That canopy bed with the gorgeous chandelier is definitely feminine. Look at some of the other features in that bathroom—now that's a woman's cave :-)Leanne laughs and muses over the phrase, woman's cave, and makes a note on a pad—Use woman cave for Dream Home 2016. She scans more comments, noticing names of regular fans. Not one has won a Dream Home. She's always curious when she meets the winners for the first time and always asks if they followed the blog site. Not one ever said yes. She realizes fans consist mainly of home enthusiast searching for interior design ideas for their own home. And they're happy given a chance to win, even if their dream never comes true.

woman's cave,Use woman cave for Dream Home 2016.Suddenly, a long continuous beep sound from the MAC and the screen flashes brightly then dims. The beep stops and AHD's blog site appears in bigger bolder fonts. “What's going on?” The computer has never flashed like that before. Instantly, she's aware of the follower Mountainhigh899. The letters oscillate and then stop. “Impossible” she mumbles. Letters don't flash in and out like that without help from a software program, and not on our blog site. “Hmmm … Why is this post the only one flashing,” she mumbles. For a while, she's had reservations about Mountainhigh899, whose next comment is in response to Househappy22.

Letters don't flash in and out like that without help from a software program, and not on our blog siteMountainhigh899: It's a mistake getting too comfortable in your new home. Keep your doors and windows locked.

Mountainhigh899: It's a mistake getting too comfortable in your new home. Keep your doors and windows locked.“What a creep. What's suddenly made you so angry?” Leanne mumbles. She's been following this blogger closely for a year. Over time, his comments went from upbeat to bizarre, and now ominous. Something's not right with Mountainhigh899.