Genie and the Sandman Read online

  “I’ll drive you. Logan, go up to bed and we will talk about this in the morning.” She stood on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, and Logan scrambled out of the kitchen like a good little boy.

  “Good night.” I was starting to believe he really was five.

  “Oh, ‘night Payton. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I could tell by the sound of his voice he was already halfway up to his room.

  So, I stood alone in the kitchen with a thirty-pound pack on my back and an overprotective mother frowning at me. She smiled coldly. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  As if I had a choice.

  She was silent on the drive. It was a short distance by car anyway, so I didn’t feel obligated to fill the air with polite chitchat. She didn’t appear to be in the mood anyway. I did observe her though, as closely as I dared. She was a mystery to me. A good mother, it appeared, in this world, and yet, not so good in our world. I wondered what had led her to walk out on her family in one place, and stick it out in another.

  When she pulled up in front of my cottage the place was dark. She turned off the car and turned to scrutinize me. Instead of glaring, she actually seemed to regard me with pity…now that I was away from her precious boy, I guess.

  “Things could be far worse, you know. Don’t think for a moment it’d be easier for you out on the streets. Here, you at least get to go to sleep in a clean bed with a full belly every night.”

  “You’re probably right.” Better to be agreeable. I didn’t relish an argument with a she-wolf.

  “They don’t beat you, do they?”

  I was aghast. “No!”

  “Good. Well, it’s late.” She gestured to my pack in the back seat. “Do you need help with that?”

  I wondered if she knew I had a bunch of her food stashed inside of it. “No, I’m okay, thanks.” I climbed out and opened up the back door of the car, wrestled my backpack out, and walked toward the front door. I climbed up on the porch and pretended to rifle around for my keys. Logan’s mom started up her car and waved at me. I waved back and then turned to open the screen door, making it look as though I was headed inside. As soon as she pulled away and headed back down the dirt road, I hefted my pack and went around the side of the cottage and eased my unlocked bedroom window open. With any luck, Mom wouldn’t even know I’d been gone.

  I didn’t want to unpack in case I had to leave in a hurry, so I stashed my stuff in the closet. The bed, which was so much like my own, looked inviting to my exhausted body. I couldn’t resist sitting down on it. I must have lain down and drifted off, because the next thing I knew, bright sunlight was streaming in through the window and heating up my face.

  It was now my third day in this new world.

  Things could be worse, I reminded myself, as I sat down to eat cold cereal for breakfast. I was surprised Mom wasn’t up, considering I’d slept late and it was nearly nine o’clock. I wandered into the living room and began to notice things I’d been oblivious to before. Things like the amount of liquor bottles lined up on the antique hutch, and all the unwashed glasses littering the room. There was only one car parked outside, so I knew my dad must not have come up to the cabin yet. I was glad. Having one delinquent parent to deal with was enough.

  Unsure of what to do, I decided to hang around close to the cottage so I could hear the phone when Logan called. If he called. He was probably getting reacquainted with his mom. Perhaps she wasn’t allowing him to use the phone to get in touch with me…we might have to find another way.

  Mom staggered out of bed at five minutes to noon. I’d had my eyes fixated on the clock and the phone for the past forty minutes, willing Logan to call. Mom immediately went into the washroom, and then came and sat down at the kitchen table across from me.

  “Morning,” she said, her voice rough, as though she’d been yelling.

  She looked terrible. The word hangover didn’t do justice to describe her bedraggled appearance. “Feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, just got a headache.”

  Um hum. “Can I get you something to eat?”

  She looked at me skeptically. “Why you being so nice to me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I thought you were mad again, considering you’ve been holed up in your room for the past couple of days.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t mad. I was just writing.”

  “Humph.” She got up and fumbled around in the cupboard until she found a glass. She walked on unsteady legs into the living room, and I could hear her pouring herself a drink. Suddenly she swore loudly, and when I hurried over to peek around the corner, I could see she’d sloshed some booze onto the floor. Instead of cleaning it up, she wobbled over to the couch and sat down heavily, spilling more of her drink on the upholstery.

  As I thought back, I recalled that since I’d been here she’d hardly taken any notice of me. It hadn’t seemed strange at the time. I’d thought she was respecting my privacy. Now, as I stared at the bleary-eyed rendition of my mother, I figured I knew the real reason. She hadn’t cared enough about me. Or, at least, she’d cared more about booze than about me. There’d been no questions about what I was writing so frantically for two days. No curiosity as to my thoughts, my feelings. Just a blank uninterested stare.

  Where was the woman I knew so well? The mom who’d held me when I was sad, or made me laugh when I was down? The woman I shared clothes with and tried out new recipes with? I didn’t know that woman in there, and she didn’t know me.

  It was no wonder the other Payton had run away. Unlike me, I bet she wasn’t desperately trying to find her way home.

  Chapter Three

  Mom passed out about an hour later. I still had not heard from Logan, and I was reluctant to call him. Looking at my mother, I had an idea. I wondered if I might be able to heal her. It was worth a try. Then, if the other Payton ever came back, she might find a whole new mom waiting to greet her. Hopefully, one without a drinking problem.

  Logan had told me in the medieval world that when I healed him, I also fixed other minor ailments he’d suffered from. I’d also taken away his fear. We’d wondered if I might have the ability to fix emotional and/or psychological problems as well as physical. There was no hurt in trying.

  So, I knelt down on the floor by the couch where mom was sprawled, and gently put my hands on her legs. She flinched a little at my touch, but didn’t wake up. I closed my eyes and concentrated, willing the electrical power to come into me. After a few moments, I concentrated harder.

  Nothing happened.

  I waited another minute or so, but I knew it was hopeless. I’d lost my gift.

  I climbed to my feet and went out to sit on the dock by the water. It felt strange, not being able to help anyone. While the gift had been mine for only a short time, I’d owned it, mastered it, and actually come to appreciate it. It’d been a burden too, of course, causing all kinds of problems with powerful men who would have used me for their evil purposes. Perhaps I was better to be free of it. I wondered if I might have a different gift in this dimension. It was a possibility.

  If there was a gift, how could I discover what it might be? I didn’t want to jump off a cliff just to see if I could fly. Maybe I could make myself invisible. I began a random series of tests. I jogged down the driveway past the cottage and spread my arms, leaping into the air, willing myself to take flight.

  But I could not fly.

  Then I tried staring at my hand, willing it to disappear before my eyes. Except that didn’t happen either.

  I began to get frustrated. What good was a gift if you didn’t know what it was?

  There had to be a gift. I began thinking about the old well we’d found in the cave. A wish—no, two wishes—had been made and come to pass. The well had to be the source of power. And too, it had seemed so darned familiar to me.

  Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, was a memory. I sat back down on the dock and stuck my feet in the cool water while I delved through past events of my life. Back I went, images and even
ts flashing at lightning speed throughout the years, going further and further, deeper and deeper.

  Until….

  It was a late afternoon picnic. My mom and dad were there, and me too, of course. I must have been no more than three or four. We were having such a beautiful time together. Our blanket was spread out, a large overflowing picnic basket resting in the center. Dad had brought a butterfly net, and Mom and I had laughed and laughed over how silly he looked attempting to show me how to catch the elusive tiny pretty birds, as I’d called them.

  We’d not wanted the afternoon to end.

  As the day grew dark and a large moon began to illuminate the sky, my mother took my hand and led me to the well.

  “What a beautiful day. I wish you may always remember,” she said, dropping a coin into the water.

  Hence, my perfect memory.

  I recalled I’d tried to snatch back the coin, wanting to make a wish myself. Although, seeing it all so clearly now, I remember I had wanted to wish for a pony.

  My mom pulled me back before I tumbled into the depths of the water, my fingertips brushing the damp rough sides. She scolded me while I stood firmly, safely on the ground. I brushed the hair out of my face, getting my clammy hands on my cheeks. Mom gave me my own coin then, but after my little fright, I quite forgot about the pony. I wished for a little sister instead, though the ritual of wetting my face with the well water wasn’t carried out that time. It could be one of the deciding factors, considering I was still an only child.

  A while later I checked on the slumbering form of my mother. She’d had more than an hour to nap, which should be plenty considering she’d slept all night. There were questions that needed answering; I hoped she could tell me what I wanted to know. When it looked like she may never rise, I went into the kitchen and brewed up a strong pot of coffee. Then I went over to the couch and gently shook her awake.

  “Wha…? Oh, Payton. What is it?” She rubbed an arm across her brow and sat up.

  “I want to talk, Mom.”

  “Talk?” She pulled herself to her feet, swayed a little, and followed me reluctantly into the kitchen.

  I pulled out a chair, and after she was seated, I placed a large cup of coffee before her on the table. She made a face and began to protest, but I was insistent. When she finally began to sip the potent brew, I took a seat across from her.

  “I need to ask you something.” God only knew if she could even recall what she’d said and done last week, never mind years and years ago, but I had to try. When I hesitated, she grew impatient.

  “Well?”

  “I need you to remember something. It happened a long time ago.”

  She dropped her head into her hands and muttered the word “headache.” I got up and searched the cupboard and found what resembled aspirin. I put the bottle on the table and waited while she fumbled with the childproof cap. She popped a couple of pills into her mouth and swallowed them back with a big gulp of coffee. “What something are you talking about?”

  “Years ago, did you and Dad and me ever take a little road trip, and perchance come across a well?

  “A well? You mean like a water well?”

  “More like a wishing well.”

  She snorted. “You’re not going to start up with that again, are you?”

  “Start up with what again?”

  She nursed her coffee for a moment while staring at me with narrowed eyes. “The wishing. Always with the wishing. Yeah, you made a couple of wishes and they did come true, but then it all stopped. You know this. We even went back to the well and tried to wish again. Nothing happened though. It was just dumb luck.”

  “So my wishes came true?”

  “Just a few, but then the well ran dry.” She laughed at her pun, then broke into a spasm of coughing. “The whole reason we found the well in the first place was because the stupid old piece of junk car your father owned broke down…again. It overheated, so while it cooled off we had to sit around and wait. Your dad noticed the well and used it to fill up a jug he carried around for the radiator or something. That was when you nagged me to make a wish. Took the only dime I had on me. You thought it’d work better if you lowered the dime into the water with the old rope and bucket. I don’t know what you wished, but you plunked the dime down so hard into the bucket that the water splashed you. Ha! Now that I remember. The look on your face—”

  “You said some of my wishes came true?” I saw her cup was empty and her eyelids were growing heavy, so I got her a refill.

  “I remember saying to you if I had another dime I would wish the car worked. You wished the same thing, and a few minutes later, your dad came hurrying to get us, saying the car was fine.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Your dad had lost his job and we were going to lose this place. Couldn’t afford it anymore. You wished for him to get a great job, and he did….” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. He got a call up here when we were just about to sign the papers with a realtor to sell.”

  “So my wish saved the cottage?” Pretty impressive. This gift might not be so bad after all. The only thing bugging me was if the Payton in this world could make wishes come true, why did her life seem so miserable? Why hadn’t she wished for happiness?

  “Mom?” I said, seeing the blank stare she had fixed on her mug. “Why do you seem so sad?” I didn’t want to come right out and ask her why she was a drunk.

  “I’m not sad.” She got up and dumped the rest of her coffee down the sink. “I gotta sleep now. I’m so tired, and I have a mammoth headache.”

  “But—”

  She held up her hand. “Later, okay?” Not waiting for my reply, she walked out of the kitchen and headed in the direction of her bedroom, but before she reached the door, she looked back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t complain, Payton. The last wish you ever made that came true was for everybody in this family to leave each other alone.”

  Her door clicked shut behind her, and I could only stare at the place she’d been standing. Why on earth would I have ever made a wish like that? Granted, I must have been very young, so I could lay the blame on a temper tantrum. Although, you’d have thought I would have corrected my error by now. Unless, the Payton from here enjoyed her own space. Who knew?

  About ten minutes later I could hear soft snores coming through the door of Mom’s room. There’d be no more answers from her.

  It was early evening—after I’d eaten dinner alone—when I went into my closet and pulled out my backpack. With some effort, I hefted the thing onto my back and headed down the roadway towards Logan’s place. He still hadn’t called. Looking over my shoulder at the cottage one last time, I suddenly thought of another wish. Mom said I hadn’t been able to make any come true for a long while, but perhaps my heart hadn’t been in it?

  I closed my eyes and even crossed my fingers for good measure. “I wish my family to be happy from now on.” My wish was heartfelt, and I was certain it would come true. It was the best I could do for the Payton of this world…if she ever chose to return.

  When I got to Logan’s street, I passed by it and instead headed for the creek. I traveled along the water’s edge to his back yard, put down my pack, and nestled myself in amongst the high weeds, ready to lay low and wait for dark. My plan was to stake out his house and make sure I didn’t miss him if he by chance decided to leave and try to come to me. From where I sat I could still see across his yard and off to the side, where the driveway was. He’d have to cut across it if he was going to my cottage, and with any luck I’d be able to head him off. If there was no sign of him I’d wait until dark, when I could break into the station house and travel down the tunnel into his basement.

  As soon as we were together again, I had every intention of using my power to wish us home. Until then, I could only hope it would actually work.

  Chapter Four

  As the sun began to set I got ready to make my move. On stealthy feet I crept over to the station house and rattled the o
nly door. Thankfully it was located in the back, facing the creek and the tracks, so if anyone happened to look out the window from the main house, they wouldn’t see what I was up to. The door was locked, of course, but I was prepared. Spending summers with Logan had been a bonus, because when he was bored he’d taught me the art of breaking and entering. It was a little trick he’d picked up from some of his unsavory friends before he’d been forced to move to Trent. So, I pulled a bobby pin and a paperclip out of my pocket—taken from my cottage, for just such an emergency—and went to work on the lock. About five minutes later I tried the handle again, and this time it opened. I slunk back over to the high weeds and retrieved my backpack, and quickly dragged it over to the doorway.

  Once inside, I had to paw around in my pack for a few minutes, trying to locate one of the flashlights I’d stuffed inside. I went over and opened the door that led to the tunnel, and turned on the flashlight, shining it down the steep steps to guide my way. The only sound was the steady thump, thump, thump of my backpack hitting the steps as I descended. Soon I was standing in the tunnel, surrounded by familiar dirt-packed walls.

  Creeping along the corridor and up to the old barn door, I was amazed at how much this tunnel resembled the tunnel in my world. It was no wonder Logan and I had been fooled. I left my pack leaning against the barn door and continued on. Since we’d be coming back here anyway, it didn’t make sense to drag it any further.

  When I reached the door to Logan’s basement, I discovered it too was locked. It took a bit of fumbling to pick while trying to hold my light steady. Almost ten minutes later, I estimated, I finally stood in his basement. This whole situation could have been avoided if Logan’s parents had decided to go out for the evening. Then I could have just shown up at the front door. Or, if Logan had called me like he said he would, we could have met up at the barn door. Instead, I hid out in his basement like some phantom, waiting for the family to go to bed so I could sneak upstairs. I took a seat and leaned against the block wall, partially hidden by an old bookshelf. There was the odd squeak still sounding over my head, so I knew I had another wait ahead of me. I wondered if my mom would wake up and find me gone. Maybe she’d call down here and talk to Mrs. McCullough, and then I’d have to face that angry frowning face again.