Lethal in Lavender

  Lethal

  In

  Lavender

  Lethal In Lavender

  Copyright © 2019 Sarah Hualde

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, event, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Indie Christian Writers

  Cover Design by Angie @ pro_ebookcovers

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-7325062-2-0

  First Edition: April 2019

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  DEDICATION

  This one is for my best friend and my most worthy foe.

  It’s also for my partner in crime and my human conscience.

  They are all one in the same:

  I love you, Sis!

  Lethal

  In

  Lavender

  Sarah Hualde

  Chapter One

  Sweat soaked her pillow. Her tank top and yoga pants fared no better. Her heart would not stop pounding. It echoed in her ears. It thundered in her throat. It stampeded faster and faster. Averie remembered her training. Hadn't she taught thousands how to overcome their panic attacks?

  Calm your breathing. Averie refused to chide her already stressed mind. Instead, she coached herself with encouraging thoughts. This will not kill you. You are not dying. This will pass. Acknowledge it and ride it out.

  It wasn't working. Not like she hoped. Averie scanned her hotel room. Through a blurry haze, she spotted her amethyst sphere. It shimmered like purple hope from atop the desk. She wished she had brought her altar. It was two states away.

  Maven, her assistant, and her best friend, encouraged her to leave the cumbersome load behind. Maven claimed the gems were hindering Averie's coping ability. She believed they'd become a crutch. Averie agreed but smuggled her amethyst and a small set of crystals in her bag. She regretted not setting up her crystal grid before bed.

  Liquid fear coursed up her spine and swirled in her belly. Heart still raging, Averie swung her legs over the bed's edge, and then pulled them back onto the blankets. She hugged her knees and rocked.

  This isn't real. It's all part of the attack. There's nothing under the bed. There's no one else here. Breathe, Averie. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose.

  A cold breeze whizzed from the bathroom door and into the bedroom. Averie almost screamed. She needed to get to her amethyst. The terror would not overtake her. She would not let it.

  She squeezed the fear of the unknown from her mind and planted her feet to the floor. She focused on the carpet hugging her toes, instead of the terror needling her neck

  One step. The breeze shifted a curtain. Ignore it, Averie. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps. She stretched out her shaking arm and secured the gem in her palm. Its icy buzz of energy rolled along her forehead as she traced the stone across her face and neck.

  Averie let out a deep sputtering breath and snuggled the stone to her heart. She'd be okay, now. She'd sleep well. She'd…

  The Shadow Man stepped out from the hotel bathroom. His figure filled the doorframe. His horrid breath sucked the freshness from the clean filtered air. Averie shook violently. She blinked.

  "No," She whispered, "you can't have followed me. Not here. Not here." Shadow Man opened his sticky deceptive mouth to reply, but Averie didn't hear his words. She crumbled to the floor as her healing stone rolled toward the bathroom. Averie watched it land at the feet of her nightmarish foe. She cried without a sound when he picked it up and blacked out completely when Shadow Man laughed.

  *****

  Lydia glided her fingers through the water's crust. A warm lackluster breeze created lazy swirling waves. The timid puffs of wind forced her inner tube to sway in a lulling rhythm. Lydia enjoyed the tender rocking. Her strained muscles welcomed the effortless motion that floating allowed. It greeted the trilling of mockingbirds and the soft shuffling of leaves as the air planted stolen kisses on their branches.

  Kat Miller, freshly healed and cleared for exercise, invited her to join the Lavender Lane 5k months earlier. The winter snow and slush meant most of Lydia's training took place to walking videos and, in occasional moments of ambition, upon Ethan's treadmill. As soon as the flurries said goodbye to Honey Pot, Kat strapped on her new trainers and rang Lydia. Lydia instantly regretted her choice to race.

  Lydia watched Kat run laps around the three-block circumference of their neighborhood, every morning. She watched but did not join in. At least not for the first couple weeks. Then, Ethan decided he'd run in the Lavender 5K. He trained at work and after work with his deputy Gus. The extra exercise toned ten pounds from his belly and ten years off his age.

  He came home sweaty and giddy. He came back bursting with conversation and energy. He came home expectant and hopeful his wife would join in on the jubilation.

  She refused until Ivy, their live-in teenage mother, complained about her baby weight. Then in a kind act of sisterhood, Lydia strapped Baby Scout to her back donned her running shoes, and hit the asphalt alongside Kat. Ivy's baby fat was minuscule and minimizing every day. Lydia's baby fat was an inhabitant of her waistline for the last two decades. It only grew jigglier and jigglier.

  After Lydia trekked the entire run with Kat her body craved solace. She stripped off her workout clothes, tossed on an old bathing suit, and sloshed into the family's inflatable backyard pool. There she drifted, dreaming of excuses to drop out of the run. The soft Honey Pot afternoon air tickled her damp skin. She nearly nodded off as she spiraled about.

  "Lydia?" Lydia grimaced as she entered "real life." She forgot she was on babysitting duty. Using her arms as paddles, she splashed her way to the small aluminum pool ladder. Ivy's calling was fast approaching, and she wanted to hide in her beach towel before the sliding glass door opened.

  "Lydia?" Ivy's voice rattled through the kitchen. She cooed and sang to Scout. The 6-month-old perched, delighted, on her momma's hip.

  Her no longer relaxed muscles shoved Lydia's bum from the float. She tripled the effort by pulling on the ladder with a grunt. Overcompensated, and now overwhelmed, the side of the pool bowed beneath Lydia's belly. Water tidal waved over her back and swept behind her legs.

  Tossed overboard, Lydia skidded across her patio's scratchy cement floor. She landed, tangled, at the feet of her outside bistro table. Her bouncing upset her favorite iced coffee cup. It upchucked over her head and splattered down her back. Sticky cocktail ice wedged into her cleavage, just as Ivy stepped outside.

  Scout babbled and clapped. Ivy held in her laughter. She set Scout down, inside the kitchen, and turned to offer Lydia a hand up. The pool regained its figure, and the last of the water sprayed all over Lydia's towel. If it would be that kind of night, Lydia needed a nap.

  "Are you hurt?" Ivy scanned Lydia for injuries.

  "Define hurt." Ivy rolled her eyes and hurried into the house. Lydia tossed her soggy towel atop a stool and picked up the remains of her cup. She slipped and skidded with each step. A hand to her hamstrings uncovered a grass burn growing into a welt across her wet skin.

  "Ouch, that's got to sting," Ivy interjected as she handed Lydia a fresh towel. Lydia nodded her thanks and patted the injury dry.

  "You think Kat will let me out of the race?"

  "I think you'd have to lose a limb first."

  "That's what I figured."

  The women walked into the Everett
kitchen. There sat Scout, the Honey Pot Christmas baby, clapping in her high chair. Ivy kissed her daughter and squeezed her chubby arm. The baby kicked.

  "Well, if you're okay, I'm off to group. I'll be back in an hour and a half."

  Lydia poured herself a fresh cup of iced coffee and nodded. "Kat says you shouldn't be sugaring up." Lydia pouted. She set her creamer back in the fridge and shut the door.

  "There," she said. This 5K health kick would be the death of her.

  "I won't tell her about the coffee." Kat also urged Lydia to ditch the caffeine until the race was over. On that point Lydia ignored her. "I don't want to see what you're like without your coffee." Ivy teased as she snatched her backpack and her keys and hurried from the house. Mr. Mike, the youth mission counselor, did not appreciate tardiness and Ivy wanted to stay on his good side.

  Before Lydia could plop down by the baby, her phone trilled. It was Ivy's ringtone.

  Her text read -Scout needs to nap. Turn on her shows, and she should go out. Remember Kat's coming for us tonight. So excited! :)

  "Pooh sticks!" Lydia clumsily typed an emoji in response and sat. "I forgot all about tonight." Scout blew spit bubbles in reply.

  Lydia was not looking forward to the next few days. The Honey Pot Lavender Festival used to be Lydia's favorite outing of the summer. She loved splitting virgin lavender mojitos with Ethan and snacking on lavender ice cream cones as the sun set.

  She never paid mind to the annual race that surrounded the event. Running wasn't fun as far as it concerned her. It wasn't fun to watch, and it was not fun to do. Escape was the only reason a body should run, in Mrs. Everett's opinion. Lately, she'd run for other purposes.

  She'd even given up pastries and late-night popcorn. Lydia became a smoothie drinking, wheat grass shooting, dry brushing running momma.

  Though not as "crunchy" as Kat, Lydia was doing her best to become the best version of herself. The more she did, the more she realized she wasn't sure how the best version of her should look. She'd always been just Mama Lydia.

  With Joan away and Ethan aging backward, she couldn't find a niche to claim as her own. Frustration fueled her drive to do and be better. She would not win the 5k. She wouldn't even come close. But she would finish it, and she would not be dead last either. She would cross the finish line with people running behind her.

  In the meantime, Scout yawned and blubbered in her seat. She reached her pudgy arms out at Lydia. Naptime was at hand. Lydia re-wrapped herself and shoved her wet hair behind her ears. She unlatched Scout from her seat and lifted her. The baby shivered. Lydia's cold skin startled her, but not enough to get it the way of cuddle time.

  Scout was a great baby. Easy to please, she fussed only when necessary. However, a tiny tooth struggled to bloom from her virgin gums. This made naptime a terror. Easy to distract during her waking hours, Scout grew inconsolable when laid down. Right between her sleep state and her play, in the tiny moment of consciousness and awareness, the pain was too intense for her to bear in silence. She'd screech to waking and wail heaving sobs until she settled. Then the cycle repeated. The sweet baby's eyes were growing purple bags that matched Lydia's.

  Lydia sang and soothed Scout. She spoke funny rhymes and bright tones out from her closet as she changed into dry clothes. Scout burbled from her portable crib. As long as Lydia kept Scout playing she had time to turn on her quiet lady.

  Quiet lady videos, as Ivy called them, were the only thing that lulled Scout to sleep before the hurting climaxed. If Lydia took too long, Scout wouldn't rest without screeching down the house. She settled for tossing on an old moo-moo. Ethan hated it. It was too house-wife for his active young bride to wear he said. But it would have to do.

  With a skilled swiftness, Lydia scooped up the baby and turned on her television. The distraction was instant, and Scout turned toward the magic box of moving light with expectation.

  Intro music queued. The baby clapped her chubby hands. She tucked her tiny head under Lydia's chin. An animated comet etched across the screen leaving three stars behind it, the logo of the quiet lady. Then it all morphed into the letters ASMR before twinkling from the screen. The happy face of the artist appeared. She welcomed her viewers to her channel in a gentle whisper.

  Today she would play with pebbles, shells, and a desktop Zen garden while describing her favorite childhood trip to the beach. Shivery chills popped down Lydia's spine and shoulders. Scout shuddered, only minutes from sleep. Lydia propped pillows on either side of her and Scout. The quiet lady always made Lydia fall asleep. As soon as Scout's sweet snore reached her ears, Lydia allowed her eyes to shut, and she drifted off.

  *****

  Kat swayed her weight from side to side. Her excitement made Flora nervous. Flora's hands shot to her swollen belly, the baby within her responded with a flutter kick. Flora smiled and exhaled. "Sit down, Kat," she pleaded. "You're making me seasick."

  Kat hesitated and sat. She stood and stretched and relaxed again. Flora exhaled once more. Kat copied her and allowed her body to sink into the chair cushions. "I can't wait to tell Ivy. She will be so excited."

  The clock on Flora's phone chimed. "Time to hydrate," She said. This late in her pregnancy and she was forgetting to nourish herself. Timers reminded her to eat, drink, and take her supplements. Tired was not the word for this pregnancy and exhausted barely scraped the surface. She was weary and worn out.

  Kat was up and getting Flora a fresh flask of water before Flora could scoot to the edge of the couch. She handed it to her friend and continued her rocking. Flora's brown eyes rolled at Kat's hyperactivity, but she said nothing other than thank you. She swigged on the water, gulping it with a deep thirst she hadn't realized was there.

  "When are the boys coming back?" Kat asked.

  "Any minute, now. We have a lot of time. We will not miss a thing." Flora took another slower drink and tried not to let Kat's energy wear on her.

  "I thought they were meeting back here at 3:30."

  "It's only 3:32. They'll be here in a flash. Thaddeus isn't late, and Kevin's with him. Kevin's the only reason I'm on time to anything."

  Now Kat's eyes rolled, though she didn't let her friend see it. Flora was never less than ten minutes late to everything. They made entire timetables and itineraries with a ten-minute Flora gap to ensure promptness. She wasn't sure if Flora knew of her infamy and chose not to be the one to tell her. Instead, she let her thoughts drift to the evening to come.

  The Hive Bed and Breakfast, where Thad worked, hosted the Lavender Festival and 5k runs every June. This winter, Bernadette Hodges, the owner of the inn, commissioned Thaddeus to construct a new building on her property. It was a spa, the only one in Honey Pot. It boasted a quiet room, sauna, massage room, indoor hot tub, and a community room. This room would serve for small meetings.

  Construction and woodworking were a passion for Thad. It thrilled him to get his hands building again. In winter, he oversaw the upkeep of the B & B and the lands surrounding it. In summer and fall, he managed the maintenance and events. He poured his heart into the spa’s creation.

  The first party in Berna’s new space belonged to the Millers. Before showing it to Berna, the family dined atop a quilt in the middle of the hardwood floor. Kat and Thad danced to their wedding song in the unused parlor as their children feasted on cupcakes. Their secret tickled the children.

  The night before every festival, Berna hosted a special event at her Bed and Breakfast. Thaddeus scored an invitation. Berna invited not only Thad but his wife and her friends. He would help, attend the meal, and bow out before the event. Kat, Lydia, Ivy, and even Flora would enjoy both the dinner and the extra activity. Kat kept the event a secret.

  Now, in Flora's comfy living room, Kat paced and bounced with manic energy. She hated being late, and though nothing started until 5:30 pm, she was nervous. Flora's sighs and gentle chiding went unheeded. Only the clock’s persistent clucking drew Kat's focus.

  Three months of juicing and cle
ansing routines, sugar-free desserts, and amped up exercise regimes produced the energy lift Kat desired. Her family and friends watched her repel from situation to situation with exuberance and speed. She talked, walked, and thought faster than any of them and frankly, it was driving them batty.

  Flora ate her healthiest, feeding the needs of the life within her. Lydia tried to keep up with Kat. She ran and fasted and juiced as best as she could. Still, Kat's energy high left them in the dust.

  Flora's garage door slammed shut before either woman registered it opening. Ever and Sam flew through the room. They plunged, hands and heads first, into the refrigerator. Kat stood behind them, at the counter, as they pulled away with frosty water bottles in one hand and slices of cold pizza in the other.

  Flora felt Kat count the carbs of the Brandes family's leftovers. She consoled her from the couch. "It’s cauliflower crust." Sam's nose wrinkled in a micro-expression of disgust. He shrugged off the revulsion and took another large chomp of pizza.

  Kevin and Thad entered the room laughing. They continued chortling as they kissed their wives hello. Flora patted Kevin's shoulder as he arched around her belly to plant his kiss. Kat wiped Thad's sweat from her cheek as he pulled away and helped himself to a water bottle.

  "How'd it go, men?" Flora asked the crowd.

  "Fine," Kevin said as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

  "These boys are hard workers. They pulled weeds and set up tables like champs." He ruffled his son’s wet hair.

  "Well," Kat grimaced, "You all stink."

  Sam laughed and raised an arm to smell his pit. He frowned when no offensive man scent hit his nostrils. Thad laughed, "Don't worry, it'll happen."

  Kat shook her head. "Why you boys want to stink is beyond me."

  "Mom, you know why," Sam searched the room for his sister and her friend, but they weren't nearby. They were playing in Eden's room. "Puberty."