Christopher Wilder And The Red Book

By S.B. O'Riley

Born of two worlds.

Orphaned at birth.

Nothing was ever normal about Christopher Wilder's life.

 

From the moment of his birth, something dark, something sinister, had been lurking in the shadows of Christopher's life. It wasn't until tragedy struck in young Christopher Wilder's life that he was forced to grow up early and confront his true destiny. In doing so, he would have to come to the realization that everything is not always as it seems.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Soul's Core Press
• Release date: Feb 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215600719

S.B. O'Riley

S.B. O'Riley is a self-taught writer, poet and nature photographer, trying to bring a touch of joy and inspiration into the lives of those who read and view his literary and photographic works.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A Child Is Born

No one should have been out on a night such as this. After all, not only was it Christmas Eve, but a blizzard was pounding its way through the frozen, New England countryside. Yet, that’s exactly where young Mari now found herself - cold, pregnant, and very much alone.

In fact, the conditions outside were so dreadful, it was only by the light given off by her car’s headlamps that Mari managed to maneuver her way along the treacherous, ice-covered, country roads. It was only by sheer luck that she was able to keep her car from sliding off into one of the many snow-filled ditches lining the road on either side of her.

Well, she thought, griping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. At least if I end up in a ditch, I could close my eyes and rest for awhile. Mari was doing her best to not only stay awake, but also keep her beat-up old station wagon from fishtailing more than it already was.

All I need is a quiet place to r-r-e-e-S-S-T-T—, she yawned, wiping a fine, foggy film from the inside of the windshield. Heck, at this point...even a barn would do! Poor Mari  was so exhausted, she could no longer bring herself to be picky.

It seemed the further into the blinding snow Mari ventured, the more blurry-eyed she grew. Yet, despite her fragile state, she pressed onward, inching her car forward through the now sideways gusting squalls. Unfortunately, it appeared that relief was nowhere in sight for the mother-to-be, because the further into the country she drove, the worse her visibility grew. Then, just as she was about to nod off for the fifth (or was it sixth) time, off in the distance, an unexpected glimmer of orange light caught Mari’s eye.

Nearly sliding off the road as her car skidded to an abrupt stop, she frantically tried relocating the flickering glow. It wasn’t going to be an easy task, however. How she even managed to see anything in the first place through the virtual whiteout conditions was nothing short of a miracle.

YES! shouted Mari, steering her car into what she hoped was a small driveway off to her right. Although the drive was extremely narrow and full of snow, she decided to take the chance and go for it.

Once safely in (what she presumed was the drive), Mari  again scanned the surrounding woods in hopes of finding the light. Ahh! There it is! A hopeful smile formed for the first time on the girl’s tired face. For a moment I thought maybe I was seeing things again? she mumbled, a sigh of relief slipped past her dry, chapped lips.

Unfortunately, Mari was forced to abandon her car at the bottom of the drive as she waded her way through the knee-deep ice and snow towards her guiding beacon. The winter winds were nothing short of cruel, showing absolutely no mercy as they beat against her vulnerable body. Her worn, tattered coat offered little protection from the frozen slivers of ice and snow slamming into her.

Yet, despite the battering her fragile body was taking, Mari refused to give up. Good thing too. For as it turned out, the ‘beacon’ that had been calling out to her, the one she’d been blindly following, was actually a small candle burning in the window of an old, country cabin. However, to the weary and cold mother-to-be, the dilapidated shack in front of her had the appearance of a castle.

For Mari, it seemed to take forever to cover the remaining few yards of snow-covered terrain, but with a resolve that would not quit, she at last reached the relative safety of the cabin’s front porch. Glancing back in relief towards the roadway and her car (which by the way, was no longer visible from her new vantage point), all she could see through her frozen breath was that the blustering winds had already covered over her footprints with a fresh blanket of snow. Now, all Mari could do was hope and pray there was someone home, anyone, for there was no way she’d be able to survive the arduous trek back to her car. Besides, as far as she knew, it was already buried up to its windows in snow as well.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Barely able to feel her near-frozen hands through her mittens, Mari frantically pounded on the wooden door in front of her.

H-Hello! I-Is anyone home? she shouted, not even sure if her voice could be heard above the wind’s deafening howl. Leaning into the door, she listened for some hint of life on the other side. There was nothing.

Mari was desperate. She refused to give up, however, shouting even louder through the rough, wooden barrier. HELLO! IS ANYONE THERE? MY CAR...IT’S STUCK! I NEED SOME  HELP...PLEASE?

Despite her attempts to fight off its effects, the bitter cold was beginning to take its toll, rapidly drawing the life out of the young pregnant teen. With her teeth chattering a mile-a-minute, and her body now one huge shiver from head to toe, Mari strained to listen once more. Still, there was no sign of life beyond the one obstacle which cruelly separated her from the warmth she prayed was waiting for her inside.

Again, with literally nothing left to lose, and the option of returning to her car long passed, Mari reached for the rusted doorknob in front of her. She prayed that when she turned it, she’d find it’d been left unlocked by the cabin’s owner. She was fairly confident that under the present circumstances, they wouldn’t mind a little trespassing on her part, at least long enough for her to get out of the cold and warm up. After all, she was pregnant, and who could turn away a pregnant woman in need?

Just as she grabbed hold of the doorknob, Mari heard what she thought was a timid, Hello? come from the other side of the weathered partition.

Instantly, Mari’s spirits lifted at the prospects of actually finding someone home. Now..., she thought, shivering as she moved as close to the door as possible, ...if only they’d be kind enough to take me in? With her eyes watering from the frigid, night’s air, she forced out one last, desperate plea for mercy. HELLO! PLEASE! WILL YOU HELP ME? I’M STRANDED...I’M COLD...AND I’M—.

Before she could get the last word past her nearly frostbitten lips, the rickety, old door creaked open. It  opened just wide enough to expose the wrinkled, pale face of an elderly woman cautiously staring back at her.

You appear to be with child as well, my dear, observed the silver-haired woman, her steel-blue eyes obviously fixated on the seventeen-year-old girl’s protruding belly.

Although Mari didn’t like resorting to such tactics, desperate times called for desperate measures. In an attempt to gain as much sympathy and pity as she could over her ‘condition’, she intentionally stuck out her belly as far as she could in the old woman’s direction. Surely, she thought to herself, she can’t refuse me shelter now?

As if she knew what Mari was doing, the elderly woman looked her in the eyes and smiled. Come in, my child, where it is warm, she offered politely, opening the door just wide enough for the pregnant teen to squeeze through. It’s not fit out there for neither man, nor beast tonight. The old woman, with a kind and gentle smile that brought her aged face to life, pushed closed the door behind them.

Willfully ignoring as best she could the musty, damp odor which permeated the cabin’s interior, Mari - who was completely and thoroughly exhausted (not-to-mention literally chilled to the bone)- huddled herself in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room. At the moment, nothing else seemed to matter as she desperately tried to absorb as much heat as the fire’s flames would surrender to her.

Her fingers stinging and her face hot and flushed as the heat met her ice-cold flesh, it was nearly twenty minutes before she turned to look for her kindhearted hostess. Who, by the way, was off in the kitchen heating up a nice, hot pot of tea, with a side of buttermilk biscuits and strawberry jam. Thankfully, it was all earmarked for Mari, her unexpected, late night visitor.   

When the elderly woman finally returned to the living room, she found her guest had moved away from the fireplace and found a much cozier spot on the nearby sofa. Placing the wooden serving tray on the table beside Mari, she began apologizing, I’m sorry, my dear, that I don’t have much else to offer you at the moment. She paused while pouring each of them a steaming-hot cup of tea. I wasn’t expecting guests at this late an hour. Very few people tend to visit me all the way out here.

Although her body had not yet fully recovered from her overexposure to the frigid night’s air, Mari was pleased to find out that her sense of smell hadn’t betrayed her. Immediately, she zeroed in on the freshly warmed biscuits on the tray beside her. T-This will b-be j-just fine, thanked Mari, shivering as she reached for her beverage. She did her best to try to control her chill-induced stuttering but wasn’t having much luck. Y-You saved my l-life, Mrs.—, I’m sorry, I don’t even know your n-name? inquired Mari, finally taking a sip of her herbal tea.

Though not really being a big tea drinker herself, Mari was rather intrigued by the drinks delicate, mint flavor, and gladly took another sip. The herbal tea, combined with the

ever-so-sweet taste of the strawberry jam, gave Mari’s taste buds a rather unexpected surprise.

My name? Why it’s Florence, Florence Quigley, dear child, replied the elderly woman. By the expression on her own face, she too was savoring the tea‘s delightful flavor. But, you may call me, ‘Flo’, if you’d like?

Mari’s smiled widened in response to the woman’s sincere pleasantness. Well, thank you again, Mrs. Quig—, I mean, Flo. This is much more than I could have ever asked for. In the midst of all that she’d been through, Mari suddenly realized that she hadn’t yet introduced herself to her kind hostess. Oh, by the way, my name is Mari, Mari Wilder. And thank you even more for taking me in tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t? Mari sighed, her teacup shaking slightly as she returned it to the serving tray. If I could impose on you once more and stay a bit longer, at least until the storm is over? I promise not to be too much of a bother?

Oh child, chuckled Mrs. Quigley politely. You couldn’t be a bother even if you tried.

Mari quickly returned Mrs. Quigley’s smile with a wide one of her own and added, I just want you to know that you truly saved my life tonight, Flo.

Well, I don’t know about all that, chuckled the elderly woman. But the pleasure has been all mine.

Mari could see that Florence Quigley was indeed a kindhearted and compassionate woman. She quickly realized just how much she lucked out by stumbling across her cabin, especially on a night as bad as this one. However, just as soon as she relaxed enough to let her guard down a smidgen, along came the question that made Mari’s throat tighten up all over again.

So, tell me, sweetie. What brings a delicate thing such as yourself out on a miserable night as this anyway? Mrs. Quigley, noticing her pregnant guest beginning to shiver again, got up from her favorite rocking chair and wrapped one of her homemade quilts around the girl’s shoulders.

Mari couldn’t help herself and gladly soaked up the quilts soothing warmth, but hesitated in responding to her hostess’s inquiry. Though the question was innocent enough, it was, nonetheless, still a very sensitive topic for her to address.

Except for the intermittent crackle of the fire’s embers, silence filled the dimly lit room. Mari sat speechless for the longest time, just staring down at her own size-five stocking feet. Wrinkling up her toes on the cold, hardwood floor, she did her darndest not to make eye contact with her elderly hostess, not quite sure what she would say, or, if she should even respond at all.

Mrs. Quigley may have been old, but she was in no way a naive woman. Seeing that her guest was again growing uneasy, she opted not to press the issue, at least not for the moment anyway. She figured that if the young mother-to-be wanted to talk about it, she would. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was add any more stress to Mari’s already fragile condition.

Then, as if not being able to stand the deafening silence any longer, Mari suddenly spoke. I-It’s a long, complicated story, Mrs. Quigley, began the teen, her nervousness very much evident in her voice. In fact, her voice was cracking nearly as much as the fire was. O-One I’m sure no one wants to hear. Mari was doing her best to change the subject, desperately hoping it would divert all of the attention away from herself, and her story.

It’s Flo, dear, and don’t be foolish, she replied with a calm, convincing smile. It was one that quickly put Mari back at ease. Of course I do. After all, what else is there for us to do on a dreadful night such as this? Mrs. Quigley smiled again as she refilled Mari’s teacup to the brim. She had a sneaky suspicion this was going to be, at the very least, a two-cup night.

Mari couldn’t resist the tea’s temptation and took another long, satisfying swig, followed quickly by a bite of the last lukewarm biscuit and jam. Taking her time in chewing, as if in a last ditch effort to prolong the inevitable, she finally settled back into the plush, flower-covered throw pillows piled up on the sofa behind her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mari watched cautiously  as her hostess slowly stoked the fire’s red-hot embers. Hoping to revive the dwindling flames, she placed another nice sized log on top and carefully worked it into the coals. Whether it was from the sweet scent of cherry filling the room as the log caught fire, or, Mrs. Quigley’s tender, sincere demeanor, Mari at last found it within herself to begin her tale.

Almost as if in a trance, she began speaking of the varied circumstances that now brought her to the doorstep of this generous, old lady. With tears welling in her deep–green eyes, Mari slowly recounted how one day her whole life had changed, of how practically overnight it was literally turned upside down. She told of the way her family (her adoptive family) virtually alienated her from them once they realized that she was pregnant. Hopelessly, she tried to convince them that it wasn’t her fault; that she had never even had sex; but to them it made no difference. For nearly two months, they continued to shun her, and in the end, wound up driving her away - abandoning her altogether. Now, some seven months later, here she was, hundreds of miles from home, on her own, and if that wasn’t bad enough, about to give birth to a child.

Looking up from the moist, crumpled tissue clutched tightly in her hand, Mari fully expected to find Florence Quigley brandishing the same, disgusted look on her face that her parents had given her when they first found out. But instead, Mari found her hostess now standing by her side, wiping a few stray tears from the young teen’s cheeks with a soft, laced handkerchief. Mari couldn’t resist the temptation to just close her eyes at the soothing touch of the delicate cloth. She wasn’t certain, but she even thought she detected the faintest scent of lavender as it brushed gently past her nose. For some unknown reason, it was a scent that she was drawn to, and it was only then that she felt safe enough to risk being completely relaxed.

I don’t understand, my child? said Mrs. Quigley, her arm wrapped tightly around the weeping, vulnerable girl. How can you be with child, but not yet have known a man?

Mari sniffled, struggling to regain some measure of composure. I-I don’t understand it myself. A-All I know is, one day I’m a typical teenager who’s looking forward to her senior prom, and the next, well...you can see for yourself! she sniffled, now pointing down at her extremely plump belly.

It was nearly half past ten o’clock by the time Mari finished telling Florence her story. She had managed to ramble on for nearly an hour, recounting the last nine months of her storied life. And, without trying to sound too paranoid, she  recalled for her the many strange, and at times bizarre, happenings that seemed to always occur around her. It was almost as if someone (or something) had been stalking her, following her wherever she went. Mari went on to describe how for the past six months she’d been traveling from town to town, always running, always having to look over her shoulder. Yet, no matter how far she fled, or how often she moved around, she just couldn’t shake that nagging feeling she had of impending doom which loomed over her head, or, in her heart.

And that’s how I ended up at your door tonight, Flo. I was just looking for a safe place to stop and rest.

To her credit, Florence Quigley had a kind, as well as compassionate heart. Actually, it was a heart of gold, and at that very moment, it was going out to the young teen. There, there, she whispered softly, brushing the long, silky-soft, auburn hair away from Mari’s moist, green eyes. You’ve happened across the right place, child. You’re safe now.

Mari sighed. Ya know something, Florence?

What’s that, sweetie?

For the first time in a very long time, I actually do feel safe. She couldn’t resist the urge to lay her head on the pleasingly plump woman’s shoulder.

Mari couldn’t recall ever having had a grandmother of her own that she could actually confide anything in like this, but, if she had, she knew it would have had to feel just like this. She couldn’t help but wonder how much easier the last nine months of her life might have been if she’d met Florence Quigley at the beginning of this fateful journey she’d been traveling.

But now I’m just s-s-so-T-T-I-R-E-D. Her words were barely audible through her long, deep yawn.

However, what Mari failed to mention, was that she’d been traveling virtually non-stop for the past three days or so. Even more, that what Mrs. Quigley thought were mere reactions to her baby’s kicking, were not simply winces of discomfort, but of real pain instead. It was a pain that Mari suspected wasn’t’ quite normal, yet was just too exhausted to care about at the present moment.

Not to worry, my child. I think I have the perfect thing for that, comforted Mrs. Quigley, gently running her fingers through the teen’s long hair. Though I don’t have an extra bedroom prepared, when opened, this sofa does make for a rather fine spare bed. Now, you just relax right here by the fire, while I fetch you some clean bed linens, Okay?

Mari nodded gratefully. Florence’s offer to stay the night was just too inviting to Mari to even pretend to resist, not that she ever considered it. A few moments later, a slightly out of breath Mrs. Quigley waddled her way back into the living room carrying an oversized arm load full of sheets, blankets, pillows, and a puffy, pink, flowered quilt.

Whew! groaned Florence, taking in a deep breath as she plopped the load of bedding next to the sofa. Here you go, honey, she added, gently arousing the nearly sound asleep girl. These should keep you warm and comfy tonight. And don’t worry, when morning comes, I’ll bet it’ll be a bright new beginning for both of us. She smiled then added, Just you wait and see, sweetie.

I-I sure hope so, F-L-O—, yawned Mari again, gladly nestling herself beneath the soft, warm, and inviting bedding. It was more than obvious that the night’s hectic events had finally taken their toll on the poor expectant mom.

With a delicate kiss on Mari’s forehead, as well as a final adjustment of the young girl’s covers, Mrs. Quigley said her goodnights before placing one last log on the fire.

Mari, exhausted, but finally feeling safe, quickly nodded off to sleep.

The small hand on the antique hallway clock was just crawling its way into midnight when Florence Quigley, who herself was fast asleep, was suddenly awakened by a rather loud scream. Not quite sure if she was simply dreaming what she heard, she sat bolt up in her queen-sized bed and listened through the darkness.

At first, there was nothing but the intermittent howling of the winter winds outside her bedroom window. But, a few seconds later there it was again - a definite scream, muffled, but a scream nonetheless. One after another, they echoed throughout the darkened cabin. From what Florence could tell, they sounded like they were coming from her living room. Immediately fearing the worst, the elderly Mrs. Quigley nearly leaped out of bed as she rushed towards the unnerving sounds.

With a youthful vigor she had not felt in years, Florence Quigley swung open the bedroom door and dashed into the living room, well, as quickly as an old woman can dash that is, even under the present circumstances. It was there that a shocked Florence found her young guest all hunched over in front of the fireplace, frantically grabbing her bulging belly as tight as she could. Even in the fire’s dim light, a look of shear desperation and panic was very much evident on the ailing girl’s face.

Looking up from the cold, hardwood floor, Mari noticed Mrs. Quigley enter the room and rushing towards her. At seeing her, Mari couldn’t help herself and screamed out in desperation, THE BABY! MY BABY! I-I THINK IT’S COMING!

Between Mari’s screams and moans, and the adrenalin charged pounding of her own heartbeat, Florence Quigley could barely make out what the poor girl was shouting. But then, she really didn’t need to understand her completely to know just what was happening. Mari’s own eyes told her all she needed to know.

Instinctively, she reached for the girl and exclaimed, Hang on, child! Hang on! Helping Mari as best she could back onto the sofa bed, she added, You’ll be just fine, sweetie. You and your baby will both be just fine. W-We’ll get you through this...I promise!

Florence then pulled out a lace hanky from her nightgown pocket and proceeded to wipe the dripping beads of sweat from Mari’s brow. Florence Quigley always had her reasons for doing the things she did, and this time was no exception. Just as she had hoped would happen, the trace scent of lavender that still lingered on the delicate piece of cloth, did its job and quickly began to calm down the distraught teen. It was only after she saw Mari relax that she felt comfortable enough to leave the impending mother-to-be’s side. Even then, she wasn’t thrilled about leaving her alone, but she needed to begin making all the necessary preparations for the coming new arrival. 

Mrs. Quigley rushed into the kitchen. Bound and determined to get everything just right, she proceeded to tear up some of her finest bed linens to be used as wrappings for the new baby; boiled water in case something needed to be sterilized; and, even went so far as to pour herself a ‘medicinal’ shot of her favorite homemade pear brandy, just to help settle her nerves a bit. She never really was much of a drinker per se, but with the situation being as it was, she was willing to make an exception.

It had been quite some time since Florence Quigley had delivered a baby. In fact, not since her midwifery days during the ‘Great War’ had she been placed in such an awkward predicament. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it. She remembered what to do all right, and good thing too. It was quite obvious that this baby was definitely not waiting around for anyone else to deliver it. That much was for certain.

After several more screams and pain filled moans, not to mention quite a bit of pushing on her part, seventeen-year-old Mari Wilder, alone in the world but for the kindness of a stranger, at last gave birth to a fine, healthy, baby boy. It wasn’t your typical Christmas present, mind you. Yet, if one were to think about it for a moment, it was like the very first ever Christmas present.

Very much relieved, Mrs. Quigley gently cleaned up the boy - who by the way, was busy crying up a storm at having to be handled in such a manner, and on the day of his birth no less. She then cuddled him herself for a wee bit longer before finally placing the newborn child on his mother’s breast.

Here you go, sweetie, whispered Florence Quigley, herself very much overcome with joy over the new arrival. And, don’t you worry one little bit. You and your little one can stay here for as long as you need, or want to. In fact, I insist that you consider my humble home as your new home, she added, doing her best to reassure the new mom.

All that Florence Quigley did and said must have done the trick, for Mari Wilder now found herself in tears of joy for the first time in such a very long time. She hugged her newborn son just as any loving mother would. Then she proceeded to do what every new parent does at times like  these - count every single one of his miniature fingers and toes. Needless-to-say, Mari was both pleased, and relieved, when she found that there were exactly ten each.

An overwhelming joy flooded her heart as the past months of sadness and rejection rapidly faded away. Even all the nasty looks and comments thrown her direction (by both family, as well as strangers) now seemed so distant, so insignificant, compared to what she was feeling at this very moment. This beautiful, tiny miracle of a child had succeeded in taking all her heartache away with one charming, wrinkled smile.

While the new mother was busy getting acquainted with her brand new son, Mrs. Quigley got busy herself and cleaned up the mess left behind by the birthing. She discarded all the soiled linens, replacing them with fresh, clean sheets and blankets. She even managed to fix up a nice, safe, and cozy spot next to the new mom for her newest guest to sleep. By the time Florence Quigley was finished, both mom and child were ready to get some much needed, and well deserved, sleep.

Mrs. Quigley, while in the process of adjusting the baby’s covers, noticed something rather peculiar on the child’s left hand. Huh? What’s this? she mumbled to herself as she examined the tiny, purplish mark on the back of his left hand. Thinking at first that it was just a smudge of dried blood left over from the delivery, she attempted to gently rub it off, but was unsuccessful.

Hum, odd, quite odd? she mumbled under her breath. This looks familiar enough, but for the life of me I can’t place where I’ve seen it before? The elderly woman let out a muffled sigh, and after realizing that the spot wasn’t all that important at the moment, she neatly tucked the tiny arm back beneath the blanket and smiled.

Feeling quite exhausted herself, not to mention proud for having pulled off so successful a delivery, Florence Quigley placed a final kiss goodnight on the foreheads of both mother and child. Then, as she looked down at the sleeping duo one last time, she whispered ever so softly, Merry Christmas, dear ones, Merry Christmas.

CHAPTER TWO

A Promise And a Keepsake

Despite the joyous events of the past few hours, for reasons unknown to her at the moment, Florence Quigley had a relatively uneasy feeling stirring deep within her fatigued, eighty-six-year-old body.

Concerned over