"The Lightless" Chapter one

Chapter One-The sun

     Anna Park 1887 May 6^th

            Though I was but nine years of age when my father announced our departure to the new dimension I still remember my astonishment. My mother cried for days in secret, concealing her sorrow as we all knew we must go. I myself could not hide the tear streaks upon my face and was punished for my lack of control. I write this, however, not for the record of that pain but for the memory of something beautiful. That is the sun. To my future posterity I would share with you the precious memory engrained in me that last day as we packed. The sun, warm, yellow, and bright seemed to be shining particularly strong that day as if it wished to encourage me. It truly seemed to say "be as strong as I" and as I passed through the portal, never to see that sun again, I instilled in my memory its encouraging message of warmth and light.

            Abby paused to allow a car to drive by before entering the cross walk. They could not have stopped nor did they see her in time, "best to be a defensive pedestrian in California" she thought passively. She rounded a bend in the sidewalk and paused before a large tan colored house. There were full grown palm trees intricately surrounded by beautiful red and white flours and a fountain in one corner.  Abby took a deep breath. "Sure hope this is the right one" she said aloud. Her hand absently brushed through her golden hair and she winced as she felt a knot. Realizing she must look pretty uncivilized she walked back the way she had come until she could no longer see the house. Removing a brush from her backpack she calmly worked till her hair shone in the sunlight. "Sunlight," She thought absently, something I will never tire of. She smiled as she saw someone drive by and noted their AC running full blast. Some people, most people in fact, could barely stand the heat of Ontario California in the middle of the summer but she didn't mind it at all. The sun produced such natural warmth; you could even feel it on your skin and hair. Even two years on earth had not dispelled her wonder at the suns particular abilities. "There," she said finally, looking at herself in a hand mirror. At least they won't think you are homeless…" Then she paused midstride and laughed at herself. "That is to say they won't suspect the truth."

             Rounding the bend for the second time that day she walked boldly up to the front door of the mansion. A black plague with fancy cursive letters spelling the name Johnson greeted her. "That’s somewhat encouraging" she said mildly. At least it’s the right name. Abby reached out and touched the glowing button to the right of the door and listened intently. She instantly heard a soft bell chime from inside the house and she smiled in satisfaction although she wasn't really sure why. After an uncomfortably long pause she heard the weight of a person on the other side of the door.  She silently offered thanks that there were no windows to look out. The door opened. A tall stately looking man with dark eyes and dark hair greeted her with an expression to match his features.

            "Can I help you?" he asked after eyeing her with lifted brow. Abby resisted the urge to act apologetic and stiffened her body to match his own.

            "My name is Barbra Stills from the department of internal revenue," She said confidently. Abby had to suppress a smile as the man's face grew darker still. "I have some items to discuss with Mr. Johnson about last year's taxes. His company did very well by our records and some of the deductions were," She paused for effect, "unique to say the least. I must speak with him as soon as possible." The man stiffened, obviously enrage but he said nothing.  He merely stood aside and gestured for her to enter.

            "He is in his study just down the hall" he said tightly. "Knock before you enter." Abby inclined her head and walked toward the indicated door. She was painfully aware of her less that professional appearance as her sneakers squeaked on the hard wood floor. "I have to invest in some business clothes if this one turns out to be a flop," she thought to herself feeling the butler's eyes on her all the while.

            Abby reached the door and nocked gently. The deep red colored wood had a very solid sound and she couldn’t help but observe that Mr. Johnson's business must be doing quite well.

            "Enter," a deep voice said. Abby felt her stomach tighten but forced herself to push open the door, walking boldly in.  A tall lean looking man was standing at a large open window gazing out. Just to the left of him a world globe sat suspended by a three legged bronze stand and beyond that a large dark wood bookshelf consumed the north wall. Aside from a few small gold colored statues filling gaps the bookshelf was completely full of leather bound books. Abby shifted her weight as she observed the richly furnished study. Then she turned again to the man at the window.  He had not moved from his position so all she could see was his back. He had thick black hair that was combed neatly back but had an unavoidable curl at the tips. He was much taller than she with broad shoulders and wore a pinstriped light gray suit. He had his hands clasped behind him and she could just see the gold band on his left ring finger. He made no motion to face her.

            "You can leave the coffee on my desk, I'll poor." He said. His words had been unexpected causing Abby to flinch. At least he wasn't looking, she thought gratefully. His voice held absolute authority and for two seconds she didn't know now to reply.

            "Mr. Johnson." She finally said but before she could continue he turned to face her unfamiliar voice. Despite his obvious seniority she felt a flush as she observed his face. It was well structured with deep set dark eyes and a strong chin. He had white patches of hair at his temples and perfectly proportioned nose. Sure seems right she thought, barely daring to hope. His almost black eyes darted to her feet and back to her face in less than a second and he did not smile.

            "Excuse me," he said with an unchanged tone. "I mistook you for my maid. How can I serve you?" Though his words were inviting, the execution of them left no questions of his opinion of her. Abby noted with some annoyance that though he had only just met her his opinions were most likely accurate.

            "My name is Barbra Stills and I'm from the department of internal revenue" Abby held out a badge for him to see. "I was sent me to speak with you about last year's taxes." She paused as if expecting him to connect something, then continued. "You should have received an e-mail informing you of my visit today. Did you not?" Mr. Johnson was silent for a moment obviously considering her words.

            "No." He said dryly. "But I have been experiencing difficulty accessing my accounts the past few days; it is likely unopened in my inbox. Abby smiled inwardly as her plan unfolded. That’s one for me, she thought.

            "And of course the office never takes my advice to call people. Please accept my apology for coming unexpectedly."

            "No apology necessary," he replied. "Please be seated." His powerful yet graceful hands indicated a large leather arm chair in front of his desk.

            Abby walked to the chair and sat down, forcing herself to not wait for him. He followed suit, sitting opposite her.

            "Now, Ms. Stills, how can I assist you?"

            "I have a few questions regarding your taxes this past year" Abby said.

            "Personal or business?" Mr. Johnson said.

            "That’s what we would like to know," Abby replied quickly. She smiled inwardly at his raised eyebrow. I really have to watch my wit with these business men, she thought.

            "You show several trips to Hawaii and one to Jamaica, all through cruise lines but we do not have sufficient evidence that these were business related trips." She paused for his reaction but he was unchanged. "Perhaps you have some minutes from business meetings or something of that nature?" Mr. Johnson stood and to Abby's surprise, smiled for the first time.

            "Of course," he replied coolly. "I had thought we provided enough proof but the rules get more strict every year don't they?"

            "Unfortunately we cannot be too careful," Abby said.

            "I understand perfectly." Mr. Johnson replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, my secretary is not in today so I will see what I can find in her files, one moment." He made his way to a small side door that Abby had not previously noticed.

            "Oh," she said suddenly. "I will also need a genealogy of your family for as many generations as you have record, to confirm your legitimacy. Mr. Johnsons face instantly darkened again and he frowned deeply. Abby felt her heart begin to race. I guess I didn't say that casually enough, she thought. Mr. Johnson lifted his hand from the door knob and folded his arms.

            "This must be a very new requirement," He said coldly. "I don't recall my accountant saying anything about it."

            "You might want to examine Mr. Gale's record, Mr. Johnson, we have had some trouble with your taxes ever since you hired him on two years ago. We have let this slide till now but we cannot ignore regulations forever." Abby forced her hands to steady by holding them together.

            "I see." Mr. Johnson said. "Perhaps I will take your advice. Let me see what I can do for you." And with that he entered the door and left her alone.

             Several minutes later he reentered holding a small folder.

            "Sorry to keep you waiting Miss Stills, my secretary would have been much faster." Abby merely nodded as she took the folder from his outstretched hand. Mr. Johnson sat in silence as she reviewed the papers. Then when she looked up from them he spoke. "I do not have genealogy past what you see, accessible in my home. If more is necessary I will need time to obtain it." Abby looked at the list of hand written names on the top page.

            "So this man, Jeffery Johnson, was your great great grandfather then?" Abby said trying to hide her disappointment.

            "That is correct." Mr. Johnson replied. "Will that be enough?" Abby raised her eyes from the papers and opened her mouth. Suddenly, and unexplainably, she felt a twinge of suspicion. He is lying, she thought as she stood.

            "This should do it," she said as she closed the folder and stood. "If we need anything else we will let you know." Mr. Johnson stood and extended his hand.

            "Thank you," he said. Abby reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly.

            "Thank you," she said. Then she turned and walked out of his office. She felt his eyes on her as she walked down the hall toward the door. The man who had answered the door was now gone and she felt a sudden eagerness to get out. Frustration welled inside her as she realized how difficult it would be to obtain the truth about this family. Her hand reached for the door knob and she began to twist. To her surprise she met with resistance. She tensed instantly and images of her being held prisoner flashed through her mind. She gasped and jumped back. The door opened and a young man walked in.

            "Oh," he said. "Excuse me." You must be the cause of the stuck door knob. Abby inwardly scolded herself for over reacting and smiled. There was no question who the boy was. By his dark eyes and hair and fine features he was every bit his father's son.

            "I'm sorry," Abby said. But before she could continue Mr. Johnson stepped out of his office.

            "Is everything okay?" He asked.

            "Yeah dad, we just tried to use the door knob at the same time and I am afraid I scared miss…" he paused and looked at Abby with a smile.

            "Stills," she said. "Barbra Stills, Internal revenue. And I wasn't scared, I was startled." She said.

            "Oh, that's what you call it," he said, his smile broadening. Then he continued. "Internal revenue huh? Ouch," here he visibly flinched "How did someone as attractive as you end up in that mess?" I thought only ex- sergeants worked there." Abby couldn't help her smile.

            "It’s a living," she said. The boy's eyes dropped to her shoes and then returned to her eyes. He then lifted one eyebrow in question. "I see," he said. "Well, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Joshua Johnson." He extended his hand and smiled again. Abby took it smiling back. "I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Johnson, now if you'll-"

            "Wow!" he said, cutting her off. "None of this Mr. Johnson stuff, I go by Josh. Mr. Johnson is my father."

            "Okay Josh I was just-"

            "Allow me to show you to the door," he said, not releasing her hand. Then he turned around and opened the front door, leading her out. Abby looked back just in time to see Mr. Johnson watching them with a very unpleased expression. Man, if looks cruel could kill… she thought.

            Once they were outside Josh released her hand and turned to face her.

            "This must have been an unexpected house call," he said indicating her shoes. Abby felt herself flush.

            My car is being serviced and I didn't want to walk three miles in business shoes." She said. Josh instantly jumped on her words.

            "Walking huh? Well, if you have some place to go I would be happy to drive you. His hand swept out in front of him, guiding her gaze to rest on a beautiful 2010 convertible Chevy Camaro. It was coal black with tan leather seats and a gold number 3 on the passenger side door.

            "You do make a very intriguing offer," she said finally, "but I will be fine. I enjoy the exercise." Josh's shoulders sagged as he indicated his disappointment. Abby rushed on, "but maybe some other time?" She said hopefully. Josh smiled. I will need your number so I can take you up on that," he said. Abby silently thanking herself for getting a temporary cell phone as she wrote down her number and gave it to him, and as he walked inside she bit her lip to hold back her excitement. Perfect, she thought, maybe the son's words will be more truthful than the father's pen.