Falling into Forever by Tammy Turner Page B

massive oak ahead of them sat a crumbling, overgrown shack.
    Stopping in front of the shack, June watched the doorway. “Are you in there?” she called out.
    A figure hovered in the shadows of the doorway, watching the gray-haired woman approach.
    Dixie’s paws snapped a twig, and she whimpered again. June clung tightly to the leash. “May I see you?” she shouted toward the shack.
    â€œDer a storm comin.” An old woman’s thick Gullah voice echoed through the trees, speaking a mixture of Jamaican Creole and English.
    â€œThe girl did not disturb anything in the attic,” June called to the figure. “I don’t know why the door was unlocked. It won’t happen again.”
    â€œMe think someting bad gonna happen,” continued the voice in the doorway.
    â€œCan I see you?” asked June, stepping closer.
    Out of the doorway came a white-haired woman with brown skin and deep wrinkles. She stood in the faint light shining through the treetops. “Me dun seen it, June Bug. De spirits shown me,” she hissed.
    â€œIs she in danger?” asked June, tears welling up in her eyes.
    â€œFor sure. You know dat,” she shook her head and slid back into the shadows of the doorway.
    â€œFor every gift there is a price,” June said softly.
    Stumbling backward, she yanked Dixie’s leash and fled toward the driveway. When she reached the gravel, she was panting breathlessly. She pulled at the locket dangling from her neck and pried it open with her shaking fingers. Inside, a chubby-faced, pigtailed, five-year-old Alexandra smiled at her. “The age of innocence is over, my dear,” she said tearfully, staring at the picture. After a minute she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and began walking to the house to see if Ian had arrived yet.
    Meanwhile, Taylor and a still-soggy Alexandra were winding their way back to Peyton Manor. Finally a cloud of dust and scattered gravel trailed from the rear end of the convertible as it purred down the tree-lined driveway toward the house. Clinging to her patience, Taylor dug her sharp, pink nails into the steering wheel, while her foot lightly grazed the gas pedal.
    â€œWhy doesn’t your grandmother have this thing paved?” she asked Alexandra as the car slowly wound down the brown, dirt path.
    â€œGranny says it keeps the traffic down,” Alexandra explained as the front porch eventually came into view.
    â€œDo you ever feel like you’re being watched here?” asked Taylor, her eyes darting back and forth over the curtain of silent oaks lining the driveway. They came past the gate with its bronze plaque, which said “Peyton Manor.” Alexandra remembered that Granny June and her husband Thomas put up that plaque after Granny June’s parents passed away.
    â€œYou’re just not used to being around so much nature, city girl,” Alexandra offered as her eyes were drawn to the attic window under the roof. She thought it best not to mention the rustling attic curtains to Taylor as the car pulled up to the house.
    In front of the porch, brown and red cobblestones paved a circular roundabout where a long, white Cadillac sedan sat parked. From a rocker on the wide front porch, Granny June waved at the girls.
    â€œLook, Ian. They’re back,” she said to her visitor.
    â€œWho is that?” Taylor whispered in Alexandra’s ear as she skipped past her and up the porch steps, her right hand extended to greet him. Damp and exhausted, Alexandra trudged behind, mustering a smile.
    â€œWhat happened to you?” Granny June asked as she patted Alexandra’s tangled hair.
    â€œShe decided to go for a swim,” Taylor said, giggling.
    â€œGoodness gracious,” said Granny June as she sat back down in the white wooden rocker. “You remember Ian, don’t you, Alex? He knew my brother.”
    â€œOf course,” said Alexandra. “It’s nice