Elizabeth Jones and the World In Between

Chapter One: My Childhood Home

One

"Bye Lizzi! We'll be back in a couple of hours.", my Grandma said.
You see, I've lived with my grandparents in the mountains of North Carolina since I was five years old. It's hard to believe that my parents have been missing for almost 11 years now.  I went to stay the weekend with them when I was five so my parents could get away for their sixth anniversary; they never came back.  My life has been one heck of a roller coaster ride if you ask me.  While I was in the middle of reminiscing about my past, I got an unexpected phone call.
     "Hello?" I said.
     "Is this Elizabeth Jones?" said a very sad voice.
"Yes, who's asking," I said worriedly. 
     "This is Jacob from Saint Luke's Hospital.  Unfortunately, your grandparents were involved in a car crash this afternoon at 1:32 pm.  They did not survive," he said.
I think he kept talking, but I couldn't tell you what he said.  It was probably just the regular; I'm sorry for your loss, we did everything we could, blah blah blah.  I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders; I didn't know which way to turn.  All I have to offer is a truckload of problems and nowhere to dump them.
     My life had just got turned upside down, but all I could think about was my childhood home.  There was this little voice inside my head telling me I needed to go back there.  I don't know if it was for closure or just for support.   Either way, I got in my car and headed towards my salvation.
Three hours later, I was pulling up to my old driveway in my white, two-door, 2000 Jeep Wrangler that my grandfather got me a week ago for my 16th birthday.  I don't remember much of the car ride.  It was a blur of memories and tears.  It took everything I had in me to walk up and ring the doorbell.  When I did, the door opened less than five seconds later.
Standing before me was a beautiful elderly woman. She had the most inviting smile I have ever seen.  She had olive skin, like me, and the aroma of a cherry pie was leaking through the doorway. 
"Hello sweetie; What can I do for you?" she asked.
     "My name is Elizabeth Kate Jones and this is my childhood home.  I was just wondering if I could have a look around one last time?" I asked nervously.
"Oh, of course, honey! Come on in," she said.
I walked into the house and it was like I was walking into a movie.  The first thing you see is the living room.  There are grey walls and a plush colored couch to match the vase on the kitchen table.  The kitchen is gorgeous and has the best cherry pie I had ever seen sitting right at the entrance.
     "Would you like some my dear?" she asked.
     "Yes ma'am, I would love some," I replied.  "Do you mind me asking your name?"
     "Oh, how rude of me, I completely forgot to introduce myself.  My name is Margret Willson, and I would love for you to meet my grandson.  Shane, please come down to the kitchen!" she said so he could hear.
     "Coming!" said whom I presumed to be Shane.
Then he came running down the stairs, Shane I mean, and I didn't know what to say.  He had short brown hair that fell a little over his eyes. He looked to be about 5'5.  He gave the impression that he could beat everyone his age at arm wrestling, but there was something in his green eyes that told me he wouldn't hurt a fly.  We looked like we could be twins.  I have long brown hair, green eyes, and stand about 5'3.  For some reason, when I saw him, my heart skipped a beat.
     "Hi, my name's Shane, what's yours?" Shane asked.
     "Elizabeth, Elizabeth Jones," I said.
"Well nice to meet you, Elizabeth Jones."
I was about to say something dorky, but I was interrupted by Margret.  I think she did it on purpose and I will forever be grateful.
     "Hey pudding pie, I just offered our guest here some cherry pie.  Would you like some?" she asked. 
"Of course I would," I looked over as he spoke and noticed he was blushing furiously.    
"Speaking of our guest, why are you here?" he asked me.
"Oh, this is my childhood home.  I figured I would come here one last time before I am shoved into Foster Care," I said.
     "Why would you go into Foster Care?" he asked.
"My parents disappeared when I was five years old.  I lived in this house when they disappeared.  The police never found their bodies so they were presumed dead, but I don't think so.  I didn't have a say in the matter since I was five, so I had no choice but to accept it.  I went to live with my grandparents and they were in a car crash about three hours ago, they didn't make it," I said with pain in my heart. 
I hadn't let it fully sink in that I had no one until this very moment.  I would be shoved in Foster Care when they found me and I had nothing with me.  I didn't think to pack a bag so all I have are the clothes on my back and a 20 dollar bill my grandpa gave me to buy dinner.  The next thing I knew I was crying.  No, not crying, hysterically balling. 
I had just walked into this person's home and started crying.  She hasn't even gotten the chance to give me my pie yet. I felt so alone, I let this guy I don't even know lead me to the couch and sit next to me.
"Are you alright?" he whispered in my ear.
This brought me back to my senses real fast.
     "Oh my...I am so sorry about this," I said.  I was so embarrassed I can't even put it into words.  I don't cry, definitely not in front of people.
     "You're okay.  I know loss, you have every right to be upset," he said soothingly.  "Would you like to try that pie now?  It is the perfect remedy for a sad heart."
     "I guess we'll have to see," I said.
He led me back to the kitchen table where his grandmother stood, waiting for us to come get our pie.  I sat at that table with these two strangers and ate my pie quietly while they talked around me.
     "How would you like a tour of the house?  I'm sure it has changed some since you've been here.  Shane can show you around," she said as she pointed to the boy sitting next to me.
     "Would it be any trouble?" I asked.
"No, not at all. Do you like to read?" he asked.
     "I love to read," I said.  "That's what got me through life if I'm being honest."
"Great, let me show you something," he said.
He led me up the staircase behind the kitchen.   I took it every day to get to my room when I lived here.  Instead of taking a right when we got to the top of the stairs, we took a left.  I say that because to the right was all of the bedrooms and bathrooms; the only thing to the left was a door that wouldn't open for me.  I watched my parents go in it one time I think, but everything I remember about this house is very vague.
     "Where are we going?" I asked.
     "Well, I have lived here since I was five years old and this door back here would never open for me.  My grandma just told me to leave it alone.  Since she told me that, all I did was try and open it.  Finally, a week ago, the door just popped open.  The only special thing about that day was my birthday," he said.
"What's your birthday?" I asked.
"July 27th,"
"That's mine too," I said. 
I thought that was a little weird, but I completely forgot about it when he opened the door.  In front of me was the most beautiful library I had ever seen.  It had books from top to bottom of the four 10-foot walls.  The room looked like it hadn't been touched in decades; there were inches of dust on almost every book.  I didn't think I could get distracted, but something in the corner of the room caught my eye.
This book looked centuries old.  It had weird markings on the front so of course, I had to look at it closely.  I went over, picked it up, and sat it on the coffee table in the middle of the room.  Shane walked over and examined it with me.  Once we got all the dust off of it, I picked it back up and started shaking it.  I don't know what I thought was gonna happen.  I mean what's it gonna do, grow arms and punch me in the face? Something always happens to me, I don't know why, but it does.  A note fell out...addressed to me.