Mirror Mirror

Chapter 5

The next day, as soon as she heard his car, she grabbed her purse and ran out.  Things between them seemed to have returned to normal.   

He pulled over at THE WRECK, a little hangout at the beach, which was very casual, very popular, and very in with the college crowd.

The place was built in a rough and tumble way and made out to look like a sunken ship.  Actually, it was a sunken ship made to look like a hangout.  There was everything from a mast to an anchor, and they loved it.  It wasn’t the whole ship though, just a wreck - a shell of a once mobile vessel that had many an adventure on the rough open seas.  All the staff that worked there dressed as sailors, and the food as well as the music was perfect for the college crowd.  People hung around idly on the beach, some seated inside while they waited for their food.

They spoke about everything else, except the other night, although Stephen seemed a little distracted.  She was about to ask what it was, then changed her mind when she saw Terry.

If Terry was around, Mickey couldn’t be far off.  She threw a chip at Stephen, hitting him on the nose. It startled him out of his thoughts. He jerked up scowling, wiping away the greasy residue and then he caught the look on Sarah’s face.  “Terry” She mouthed the words and Stephen winked back. Terry spotted him and smiled.

“Hello Stephen.”  She nodded at Sarah.

Terry turned to Stephen, “Is it true? What Mickey said, is it?”

She sounded expectant, needing him to verify what she had heard.

His gaze shifted to Sarah, who was looking around trying to spot Mickey.

There was only one way to deal with people like her.  Be vague. 

“Yes and no.”  He shrugged at her incredulous face.  “Anything else, Terry?  Soda? Chips?”  He threw a smile in for good measure.

Terry went pink in the cheeks.  Nobody dared to do that to her ever!  She let her features scrunch momentarily into a scowl, before mumbling an excuse for not being able to join them.   

Sarah reached for his hand across the table.  “Thanks.  I’m just glad that’s over.  Glad you’re over it.”  

Stephen knew it wasn’t close to being over.  He’d already made up his mind to call Jarrod as soon as he got back home.  The unease inside him was growing stronger.  He wondered how much he could find out before Sarah caught on to him.  He didn’t know why he was so fixated with the idea that she might be in some kind of danger.  She wouldn’t be happy when she found out, that was for sure, but he was her friend.  This was the way, the only way he could protect her.

Sarah waited in the car while Stephen ran across the road to Jarrod’s place.  He was different from the last time she saw him.  His blue jeans hung loosely around his narrow hips, the sleeveless white vest showing off his now broad shoulders and well toned arms, and the horn-rimmed glasses that used to dominate his face had also been newly replaced by contact lenses.  His gunmetal-gray eyes were still serious, and his dark blonde hair was still sticking up, long at the front, short at the back and mussed from running his fingers through it.  He hadn’t changed as much over the years, as he had over the last few months.  She wondered if he was the same old Jarrod at heart.  He always wore a friendly smile on his stubbled, yet handsome face.  He greeted Stephen at the door and caught a glimpse of Sarah.  Their eyes locked for a moment, before she reached into her purse for the ringing cell phone.  Jarrod turned away before she looked back.

He went to his laptop, opened up the file and motioned for Stephen to join him.  There was an article about a mysterious mirror on auction, and a short write-up about an artist, dated in 1909.  It stated that artist Vince Hawkins was constantly under the influence of opiated substances.  He had lost his wife after just five years of marriage.  There were some references to other works he had done, some paintings, many of his wife, a few sculptures, but just that one hand crafted mirror.  He had made it for his wife as a wedding gift in 1802.

 That was all there was on it-that and-

He had one heir, a daughter named Emily.  He had died eventually of an overdose at forty-five years of age-in 1847.  That mirror was a masterpiece and the only one piece unaccounted for, over the last sixty years.  It was apparently worth a lot of money now.

There was nothing about a curse.

Jarrod was sure that there was more going on than Stephen let on.  Small towns had great gossip vines.  He’d already heard that Sarah had bought the mirror, and a story about them arguing over a curse.  Nevertheless, he kept his thoughts to himself, not mentioning it, but telling Stephen instead that it was good to see him, to drop by whenever and to give his regards to Sarah, if she even cared, knowing he’d be back again if he needed him.

The place was dark for seven ‘o clock.  Sarah turned on the lights on her way to the kitchen. 

“No supper tonight.”  She thought herself.  She was not in the least bit hungry.  But she felt really tired.  She was drained of all energy even though she had done nothing strenuous all day.  She dragged herself upstairs and had the surprise of her life when she walked into her room and found the mirror mounted above her dressing table.  It was perfect.  Just where she’d imagined it.