chapter fifteen

Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's diary

'Where do shadows fly hence the sun sinks underneath the darkening world? They disappear. Or do they? Do shadows follow the Sun, their Creator, into a realm we cannot see, hear, smell, taste or touch? Like salmon, returning to their native rivers, to be reborn? Are our shadows born new every day, bathed and purified in the primordial seas of the Underworld? Guiding the Sun, their God and Maker, and his boat through the treacherous waters, battling those who would dare to rise against the peaceful divine?
We believe shadows are our gentle companions; timid and shy. A simpleton, living in a world of their own, startled at the slightest intrusion into their utopia. Yet are they? Could our shadow, black as ebony, be flawed? A shadow is not seen as the master, yet is it the inept puppeteer, holding up the marionette that is our life? Snagging the strings that always seem to break when they shouldn't? Black, without light, without life, without goodness. Our evil twin? Banished from this world it seeks to destroy? Forced into submission, mirroring our every movement. Even in defeat do they mock us, snarling and cynical in their punishment? . . .'

~ * ~
September 11th, 1998
Albany, New York

Watching Taylor closely, playing chess with nobody but himself, Isaac couldn't help the tiny shiver that crept up his spine. Absently, Tay moved the pieces high above the board and, with subtle flourish, set them down again, not really seeing them at all. He'd been so quiet lately, rarely speaking except to answer a direct question. Even then, he often mumbled incoherently, his mind elsewhere. That he wasn't sleeping was obvious; the black circles underneath his drooping eyes told all. The tour was taking a lot out of all of them, but Tay was being affected the worst. His face was pale, all the colour had been sapped from it weeks ago. He walked around like a prison escapee, constantly looking over his shoulder, creeping around as if he was being followed. All up, he existed like a man haunted, and it was showing. Performances had been routinely lacklustre, speaking to the audience with forced enthusiasm - did anyone else notice he shrank away from the crowd as far as he could? - interviewers had been answered with mumbles and staring out windows had become number 1 on the 'World's Most Popular Past-times According To Jordan Taylor Hanson'
"Well?" came the soft voice behind him. Tay had turned quiet ever since . . . well . . . but never this quiet. Thinking he was being spoken to, Ike turned . . . but his younger brother was staring over the chessboard at the opposite empty chair.
"Aren't you going to move?" who on earth was Tay talking to? "Or are you just going to sit there staring at me?" what the -
"Damn you, do something!!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and knocking the board off the table, sending the pieces flying everywhere.
"Taylor for Christ sake!" Isaac yelled, dodging an airborne rook. But Tay hadn't heard. He'd stormed off to his room.

Pepsi Arena

Watching the crowds and reading the banners from behind his dark glasses, Zac found he was spending more time staring at his brother. Taylor had been weirding him out something major lately. He'd talk to a chair or a wall as if there was someone there; only problem, there wasn't. What was wrong with the guy? Tay had been the one who played off the audience the most; now, they were lucky if they got the trademark point during 'I Will Come To You'. It seemed every performance, those keyboards shuffled back a few inches more. What, was he afraid of the audience or something? Jeez, those girls might have been crazy, but they weren't stupid! Were they? Hmm . . . could Tay be onto something? Maybe . . . nah.

Tay was forcing himself to keep playing, to not run off stage, away from the horde of Rhiannons. All screaming in pain, all screaming in fear, all reaching out to him. Accusing. He could hear the words in deafening screams.
" . . .thought you cared . . . thought you understood . . . you let it happen . . . you did it . . . all your fault . . ."
How much will-power was it taking to not scream back at the thousands of Rhiannons? To run away from them? To run away from the pain?
'She's not there, she's not there, it's not real' he repeated to himself over and over again. Could Ike and Zac see her - them - too? No, they couldn't see her now, they hadn't seen her then . . . no, he wouldn't think of that! He couldn't think of that! So he thought of something else.
. . .it hadn't been his fault. He hadn't known they were going to California . . .

~ * ~
July, 1996
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Putting away the last of the dishes that Rhiannon was supposed to have done that night, Arian rested her tired eyes for a few seconds. It'd been a rough day.
First the crisis at the paper this morning had thrown everyone off, especially her, trying to adjust to the responsibilities of the promotion she hadn't wanted. She'd come home very late expecting dinner to be on the table and to be able to put her feet up. But no, Lew still wasn't home from the University, Rachael was making a mess of her room instead of cleaning it like she'd been asked that morning, Carlton was sitting on his butt watching some ridiculous TV show and Rhiannon was nowhere in sight.
"Carlton, what's going on? Where's your father?" she'd asked.
"The way Dad sounded on the phone, don't be surprised if we don't see him till tomorrow morning!" Carlton had answered.
"Why didn't you start dinner?"
"It's Rhee's turn to wash up,"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Well, we've got a deal that if you or Dad aren't home, whoever's turn it is to do the dishes gets dinner,"
"Well why didn't she start dinner then?"
"I dunno, ask her,"
"Carlton, I expect you to be responsible enough to look after the house if either myself or your father don't get home till late, that does include making sure that dinner's at least started!" he shrugged and didn't say anything, totally absorbed in the TV. Frustrated, Arian grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.
"Mom!"
"How about instead of sitting there, you get up and get dinner started?!" he'd given her one of his looks, then had simply picked up the phone and ordered pizza.
"There. You happy now?" had picked up the remote from where his mother had thrown it down and turned the TV back on.

Forcing her eyes open, Arian opened the cupboard where she kept her spare 'stress-relief' pharmacopoeia. She took two aspirins and felt slightly better; she had a monster head-ache. Lew had managed to come home Friday night, making it with barely a minute to spare before it became Saturday morning. Rhiannon had been found, meditating in the glass room. She was starting to get worried about Rhee. The girl was spending more and more time in her room, she spoke less and less. She was withdrawing. Pray it only lasted a few days. God forbid that Rhee - NO! Rhiannon was better! Dr. Polanski had said she was better, and he ought to know! Rhee was better! Massaging her temples, Arian decided some coffee would do her the world of good. Lew'd probably want one too. A tiny smile; it was way past his bed-time!
She trudged up the four carpeted stairs and into the study. Sitting at the desk, his head resting in his hands, Lew was dozing.
"Hon?"
"Wha- Huh?" he jerked awake, hands going instantly to the keys of the computer. Blinking, he forced his eyes to focus on the door. His expression softened. "Oh. Is that coffee for me?"
"No, I made them both for me,"
"Greedy woman," she smiled, handed him his coffee, and sat on the arm of his chair.
"How much more have you got to do?" she asked gently. This late at night, Lew could be extremely touchy about his work.
"Don't ask," apparently not tonight, though. Almost absently, his arm went around her and came to rest on her thigh.
"That much?" almost absently, she tucked the dark hair behind his ear. What was it with women and tucking hair behind ears, Lew wondered suddenly. It was 1:30am, he was allowed at least one crazy thought for the night!
"Yep,"
"You can't stay up all night,"
"Want to make a bet?"
"Yes I do. I bet you the last chocolate biscuit from my secret horde under the bed that the second I walk out of this room you'll be asleep," he laughed.
"I'm afraid you've got it pretty well right there cariad, but I at least have to try,"
"Can't it wait?"
"Work knows no night and day,"
"Well, then your work won't know the difference if you do it in the morning," there was a little twinkle in her eyes.
"Ah no cariad! I'm too tired!"
"Did I say anything?"
"You didn't have to," she smiled and kissed his temple before slowly standing up.
"Well, you can kill yourself working if you want, but I'm going to bed," the look she gave him was half-expectant. Lew glanced at the computer screen, then at Arian. Cold coffee, Microsoft Word and an aching back, or a warm bed, Arian and sleep? Was there even a choice to make? He shut down the computer and stood up on stiff legs.
"Got room for one more on there driver?" the humour was misplaced, but his excuse was valid. It was nearly 2am.
"I knew you'd see sense," she smiled and took her husband's hand.

Staring out at the backyard through the glass, Rhiannon slowly relaxed. She'd been sitting here for hours. What was the point? It wouldn't change anything. Taylor'd still be leaving for California, she'd still be left here alone. Meditating the point wouldn't change a thing!
She really should be going to bed. The moon was in the western sphere of the sky, the black of night had eased to the dark blue of near-dawn. The sun would be rising soon. She couldn't sleep now it was this close to daylight. She hadn't been able to sleep all night, why should now be any different? Quietly, she blew out the single white candle in front of her and got to her feet. It'd be warm outside.

Sitting on the verandah, Lew stared at the tyre swing, and the girl sitting on it. Rhiannon had been a few weeks short of being born when he'd made that for Carlton, nearly four at the time. The rope that tied it to a sturdy branch of a maple had been replaced so many times he couldn't remember the exact number, but it was still the same old tyre.
Rhiannon had been sitting there all day. From the drawn look on her face, probably all last night too. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, unless - no! He wouldn't think about that! She was better! - and he'd only been able to think of one thing that might have upset her, and that was the Hanson kids getting a record deal. Why that would upset her, he hadn't the faintest idea. The school holidays had just started, and while Rachael and Carlton had barely been seen around the place, Rhee hadn't even left the house. Elisabette had been calling almost non-stop for the first few days, she must have given up by now.
Carlton had quietly slipped him Rhiannon's report card yesterday. The boy must have overheard him asking her about it. The look Carlton had given him had been almost begging.
'Please Dad, try to understand'
The entire row of 'F's had explained why. Did either Rhee or Carlton realise that he knew exactly how much, or rather how little, time Rhee spent at school? He'd had enough calls from the principal to tell him his eldest daughter had no love for school. Which was ironic, because Rhiannon was extremely smart and she loved to learn about things that interested her. He didn't need to be told to know why she kept away.
He tried to understand her. Myn Duw, he tried! When the doctors had told him what was wrong with his Baby Rhee, he must have scoured through every book in the university library to find out more about it. The one thing that he'd picked was how lonely it could become. He'd done everything he could possibly do to make sure she never felt alone, to let her know that he'd always be there.
Maybe that was part of the problem. He indulged her too much. Maybe Arian had the right of it. She'd tried to treat Rhee the same as she did Carlton and Rachael, he'd tried to show Rhee that he loved her as much as he did Carlton and Rachael. Maybe that was why he and Rhiannon were so close now. He remembered when she'd been younger; when she'd just come back home . . .

May, 1992
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Around midnight

A light tap on the shoulder woke Lew up. Moonlight shined softly in from the window above his head. Arian was fast asleep beside him, it hadn't been her. He rolled on his other side. Long dark hair and wide dark eyes greeted him. Eight-year-old Rhiannon stood before him in her pale blue pyjamas, clutching a smiling soft-toy koala with a eucalyptus leaf in its hand. A perfect study in contrasts.
"What's wrong Rhee?" she just looked at him mutely. "Did you have a nightmare?" she nodded. "Well, all right," he threw back the blankets, "Lets go back to your room-" before he could finish speaking, Rhiannon was clinging to him, shaking her head and murmuring,
"No!" surprised, Lew lifted his young daughter onto his lap; Rhee wasn't just scared. She was terrified!
"It's okay Rhee! Shh, cariad, it's all right. You don't want to go back to your room?"
"No,"
"Okay hon," she was half asleep already, "You can stay here if you want,"
"Da," she muttered . . .

July, 1996
Tulsa, Oklahoma

And it hit him! Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? What had she been asking him ever since she could talk?
"Take me to Cymru, Da!"
Why not? It was school holidays, the kids wouldn't mind, and Arian would gladly take some time off work to visit their beloved Cymru.
He walked inside and towards the phone.

Sitting together, Taylor and Rhiannon waited for their respective planes to be called. Neither had said a word.
'Is Rhee still so angry at me?' Tay wondered with a sinking feeling. He had to speak! This silence was driving him crazy!
"Rhee?" she turned to look at him, "I . . . um . . . uh, how long are you going to Wales for?" it was the only question he could think of.
"I don't know, a few weeks maybe," the cool in her voice surprised her. Was she angry with him? No, just . . . the best word she could think of was disappointed. But why? She'd known that Tay would have to leave her some day. Why had she gotten her hopes up? It was her own fault, not his, so why was she taking it out on him?
'Hell Rhee, quit it with the Ice Princess and be nice to him!'
"Oh, right," they sat there in an awkward silence for a long time.
"Tay?"
"Rhee?" they asked at the same time, then laughed, "You first," Taylor said.
"I . . . I just wanted to know how long you were going for,"
"Um . . . I don't know either," he did, roughly, but he wasn't game enough to tell her.
"Do you know whereabouts you'll be staying?"
"I think we're renting a house up there, I'm not sure. Why?"
"So I can send you a postcard,"
"Well, where are you staying? It won't be much good if I can't send you one back,"
"Um . . . Dad!" Both Lew and Walker turned around, "Where are we staying?"
"We're staying with your grandmother,"
"What's the address?" Lew walked over and sat in the chair next to Rhee.
"What for?"
"So me and Tay can write to each other,"
"Got a pen?"
"Yeah," rummaging around in her bag, Rhiannon brought out a pen and a forest-covered book. Ripping a page from the back, she handed both over to her father. He quickly wrote out the address and handed it to Taylor.
"Thanks Mr. Lougher, but I don't know where we're staying," Tay folded up the note and stuffed it in the front of his journal, so he wouldn't lose it.
"Don't worry, I'll ask your father,"
"Thanks Dad," smiling, Lew gently ruffled his daughter's loose hair and walked back over to the other adults.
"How come just you and your Dad are going?"
"Mom couldn't come, something to do with work, and Rachael and Carlton decided to stay so 'Mom wouldn't get lonely',"
"Oh," another pause of awkward silence. Taking a deep breath, Taylor cracked the ice, "Rhee, please don't be angry with me,"
"I'm not,"
"Then why are you talking to me like I'm some stranger?" good question, why was she?
"I . . ." the tiny, almost invisible scar on the tip of her finger began to throb.
"I don't wanna leave here when you might still hate me,"
"I don't hate you Tay. I can't hate you," she still wouldn't look at him.
"Rhee! Look at me!" she did. Her face was impassive, her eyes showing nothing more than a dull metal shield, "Why won't you talk to me then?"
"I . . ." because she was uncomfortable, because she'd let herself get her hopes up, because she'd pinned them all on this one boy, who was only human at the best of times?
"Don't you understand? I didn't have a choice!"
"You didn't have to take a blood oath either," her voice was very quiet.
"Do you think I knew we'd be going?" she forced herself to nod, "Christ Rhee, I didn't have the faintest idea!! Would I have made a promise like that if I did?!"
"I always knew you'd break it,"
"Then . . . why?"
"I had to," and that was all she would say.

The crackling voice of a woman over the PA system startled them both. Calling all passengers on flight number something-or-other to London via New York to board.
"Is that your plane?" Tay asked hesitantly.
"Come on Rhee, don't want to miss the flight," Lew walked over and picked up her cabin bag.
"Yeah, Dad, I'm coming," she turned back to Taylor. The memories rushed over her; for almost a year, she'd lived with a sense of security, knowing that her best friend would always be there when she needed him. Now . . . now what? She'd finally been granted her most precious wish, to see Wales. She should have been overjoyed, instead, all she felt was a rush of bittersweet nostalgia. The deep blue eyes that gazed at her now held more understanding than she'd ever known. There'd be letters of course, but that wasn't the same. Phone-calls would be impossible, her grandma didn't even have a phone. Lew had already told her they'd probably be gone for at least a month, only-god-knew how long Taylor'd be gone for. To be without Liz and Rachael and Carlton and Arian would be hard enough, but it was Tay she knew she'd miss the most.
"I guess I . . . I better go," she said finally, the sadness in her voice surprised them both.
"Yeah, I guess you should," he answered. Neither moved.
"I'm gonna . . . miss you Tay,"
"Me too," and she was hugging him fiercely. He didn't mind, he hugged her back just as tight.
"Don't forget me," she whispered.
"I won't forget you Rhee. Ever," gently, she sighed and eased away.
"Goodbye,"
"Bye," staring at each other, something more, unsaid, passed between them. On impulse, Rhiannon leaned in and quickly kissed him on the cheek, then turned away and walked towards her father, waiting in line to board. She didn't look back.

~ * ~
September 11th, 1998
Albany, New York

The door closed with a satisfactory click; Taylor walked into the room and collapsed on the bed. It was all getting too much. Why couldn't they cut the tour short now? Maybe then he'd stop seeing her.
She went everywhere with him now.
He couldn't stop seeing her.
Was it her ghost?
Was she haunting him?
Because it was all his fault?
Lately, all he'd been able to think about was her, and . . . what had happened. And all the pain. Everything he'd locked away in the tiny prison cell of his heart was rebelling, coming closer and closer to breaking free.
"Rhee, why are you doing this to me?" he asked the apparition sitting in the corner. She just looked. Like always, she didn't speak. He hadn't expected an answer.
"Why won't you talk to me?"
Nothing.
"Why are you here?"
Nothing.
Her ebbing constantly by his side had become an almost normal occurrence. The glassy look in her eyes, the blank, yet slightly accusing look on her face. It was strangely comforting to at least see her; to at least know that she was there.
"Are you here for any reason at all?"
Nothing.
He sighed. Why was it so important to get her to talk. This was all just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare that one day he'd wake up from, and it'd all be right again. Rhiannon'd be real, not the ghost of a memory sitting in the corner of his hotel room. And he wouldn't be plagued with the thoughts.

He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly. Hoping sleep wouldn't be interrupted by dreams of her.

What was that?
The black peace of sleep was fading.
Fast.
Why?
Tick tick tick tick tick
That bloody clock.
Or was it?
Forcing his eyes open, Tay stared across the room.
That was no clock.
A movement by the door, that was all he could make out. The image of blacker on black. In her hand, a candle that slowly began to glow, of its own accord. It threw long shadows across the room. One finger tapping lightly against the wall. All he could see was her mask-like face. Pale and blank, like a marble statue; hauntingly beautiful, bitterly cold.
Rhee? He tried to speak, but the darkness swallowed his voice. Was it just the shadows that made his hands look like they were trembling?
What was she doing?
She stopped.
He watched with a growing horror. What the fu-
She walked through the wall.
"Rhee?" she was gone.
"Rhee?!" she was gone?
"Rhee?!?" she was gone!
"Rhee!!" he jumped from the bed, racing to the wall, trying to somehow bring her back; he couldn't stand losing her a second time. Screaming and shouting, the hot tears of anger and frustration trickled down his cheeks,
The door burst open.
"Taylor?!" Diana rushed into the room, panicking from all the noise. She froze.
"RHIANNON DON'T LEAVE ME PLEASE! COME BACK!! DAMN YOU COME BACK!!! RHIANNON!!!!"
"Walker!"

* * * *

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