Ena brought the camera to her face again. The only part of her head visible was her pink hair. “Righto. We can’t choose our family, and it’s not fair to be judged by our past either.” The shutter whirred as she snapped a picture of Alanna.
Liam used to say the same when Alanna moaned about her past.
“Put the camera down and look at me, please.” Alanna waited until the other woman lowered the camera and exposed her eyes. “I wish you’d quit hiding behind that thing, Ena. People love you, you know. You’re the first one to try to bandage a hurt. You don’t judge others.”
“Been judged too many times meself,” Ena mumbled under her breath.
Alanna was the only one in the group who knew Ena’s full story, because it was so similar to her own: shuttled from one Traveller’s home to another. The only difference was what Ena had had to do to survive and support a foster brother who’d ended up in the same abusive home. The shame of being forced into prostitution for a time had left her unable to look other people in the eye.
The story could easily have been Alanna’s, so she had a special empathy for her friend. Barry had said nothing more about Thomas’s accusation. She needed to ask him if he’d heard from his friend on the status of her citizenship.
Alanna put her hand on Ena’s shoulder. “Thank you for not judging,” she said. “What do you think of Jesse?”
Ena met Alanna’s gaze briefly, then glanced back at her camera. “He reminds me of Liam. Something about the way he protects you.”
Alanna inhaled sharply. “I thought it was my imagination. He really does think Liam has possessed him or that something from Liam transferred to him at the moment of death. It is a bit wonky though, don’t you think?” Her hand rested on her belly, where she felt a small flutter.
“I like Jesse,” Ena said. “He’s real, just like Liam was. He cares about people.”
“Liam didn’t care as much as I thought,” Alanna blurted out. “He told Jesse things I thought he’d never be sharing with another person.”
Ena frowned. “I want to show you something.” She flipped her camera over to the view mode and toggled back a few frames. “Look at this picture.”
The photo was of Jesse. The way he stood with his hands in his pockets and his head tipped to the side was a carbon copy of Liam’s usual stance. He even had one knee bent with the other one mostly supporting his weight, the same as Liam.
Alanna averted her eyes. “I can’t look at it. It hurts too much to see him imitating Liam.”
“What if he’s not imitating him?” Ena whispered. “He was with Liam when he died. What if he’s right? What if his soul moved to Jesse? Maybe a piece of Liam is in there.”
“A soul doesn’t transfer to another person. It goes one of two places,” she said. “And I know Liam is in heaven waiting for me.”
If she made it there. With the anger she felt, her destination was in doubt. A real Christian wouldn’t be angry with God, would she?
“Watch him,” Ena pleaded. “Don’t discount a mystical connection.”
“I’ll be watching him. But that’s all I can promise.” Alanna smiled at her friend. “You want to call the others? I think they’re down having tea in the kitchen. I’ll be in the ballroom.” She wanted to sweep up some debris before they started.
Ena shrugged and flicked her pink hair behind her ears. “Just think about what I said.” She left the room.
Alanna followed her as far as the hallway, then turned right when Ena went left. She followed the hall to the rear stairs and climbed them to the ballroom. Grady was already there and had cleared away much of the debris. The wood floors shone from a polishing, and he’d arranged the instruments on the raised stage.
“Blimey, it looks fabulous, Grady,” she said. “I was going to do it.”
He leaned on the broom handle. “You got guts, little sister. Defying Barry like that.”
Her pulse jumped. “He said something to you?”
Grady grimaced and began to sweep again. “He didn’t have to. It was all over his face. He’d planned to have you all to himself, and your friends are spoiling his romantic interlude.”
“You’re here,” she pointed out. “And his parents. We’re hardly alone.”
“We stay out of his way. I don’t think your friends will be inclined to tiptoe around him.”
“He was just gobsmacked. He’s fine now.” She hoped the words would reassure herself. Barry had been quiet ever since he found Ceol in the back wing. “We couldn’t very well let them sleep in the van now, could we?”
Grady grinned. “It’s your funeral, sis.” He picked up the vacuum and went toward the door. “Hey, what about your friend, Ena?”
“What about her?”
“She have a boyfriend?”
Alanna hid a smile. “No. But don’t you hurt her, Grady. She’s too sweet and vulnerable.”
He rolled his eyes. “And I’m some kind of Casanova? I like her. She’s different.”
“Her pink hair will clash with your orange hair,” she said, smiling as she teased him.
He grinned. “I could dye mine to match. What do you think? Would I earn some points with her?”
“Maybe. Have you talked to her at all?” Ena could do worse than Grady. For all his mohawk and nose rings, he was empathetic and sweet. She counted him as an ally in a place where she wasn’t sure who was out to hurt her.
“You could introduce me.”
“I might do that at dinner. Who’s cooking tonight?”
He wrinkled his nose. “You seen anyone else cooking around here? Grady Kavanagh, slave and cook.”
She studied his crooked grin that hid more than she could decipher. “Why do you stay, Grady? You’re so talented with landscaping. And cooking too. You could get another job.”
“And leave all this?” He swept his hand around the room. “Where else can I be abused by family?”
Her heart clenched for him. He wanted to belong. She imagined his goal in sticking it through was to earn a place in the hearts of his brother and father. Poor guy might be chasing the wind.
He turned away as though he couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes. “Dinner is at seven. Fix it so Ena sits beside me.”
“I’ll do just that,” she called after him. She picked up her fiddle and tested the strings. It was still in tune. Closing her eyes, she dragged her bow over the strings in a plaintive tune.
When she heard footsteps in the hall, she thought Grady had forgotten something until she heard the whistled tune. Holding her breath, she turned as the whistler grew nearer. Liam! Whistling the song from the music box, the tune he’d set words to. Was his ghost here? She knew it was impossible—hadn’t she just told Ena she knew her husband was in heaven?
The whistling stopped, and Jesse appeared in the doorway. He carried a basin of water in his hands. He glanced at her face. “You okay? You’re a little pale.”
“Tha-that song you were whistling. Did you remember the title? Do you know the words?”
He shook his head. “It’s like they’re just around the corner in my memory, but I can’t quite catch hold of them. Just like all my other memories. Why do you ask?”
Had Liam played the song for Jesse, or was he just remembering the bit of it she’d played on the tape recorder? “Are you remembering more?”
His lids hooded his golden brown eyes. “Just bits and pieces. Nothing that makes any sense.”
For a moment, she imagined stepping into the shelter of his arms. Her head would fit just right in the hollow of his shoulder, and she could almost feel the taste of his lips on hers. She took a step back. What was wrong with her? She had no business being drawn to him. This Jesse was so different from the one she knew before the explosion. His manner was calmer and his eyes were kinder. She didn’t know what to make of it all.
She laced her fingers together. “What does the doctor say?”
“That my memory may come back in time, or that it might never come back.”
She tried
to imagine what that might be like. Stuck in a limbo where she didn’t remember friends, her music, her time with Liam. A horrible situation. Pity stirred for this man she was determined not to like. She pushed it away.
“Is there anything you can do to speed the process?” she asked.
“Not that they’ve told me. The more I try to grab the memories, the faster they run away.” His grin was wry. “I’m learning to live with it.”
She listened to the sound of his voice, huskier than Liam’s but with such a familiar inflection. Was it deliberate? Ena didn’t think so. Guilt made people do funny things.
“You never said.” His voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Never said what?”
“Why you’re so fascinated with that tune that was on the music box.”
“I . . . I heard it somewhere and was trying to figure out what it was.” She could tell by the twist of his mouth that he didn’t believe her.
“Do you know the words?” He sat the basin of water on the floor and pulled out a looped piece of plastic. “You asked me if I knew them. Did you forget them or something?”
She’d seen Liam do this a hundred times. He made up his own gigantic bubble blower with plastic. Her mouth gaped as she watched Jesse dip the folded loop in the basin, then step away and swing it in the air. A huge bubble emerged, glimmering with color from the light in the many windows.
The fascination on his face was an exact copy of Liam’s when he played with his bubbles too. Alanna couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. This was more than coincidence. “Liam,” she finally managed to whisper. The sound was too soft to reach Jesse’s ears.
She stared at the man in front of her and tried to convince herself it was all her imagination. But she knew Liam. Knew him well and intimately. Though it was impossible, something of Liam had transferred to Jesse, but how? And would it last once his memory came back?
The rest of Ceol trooped into the ballroom. Laughing and talking, their presence made her gather her composure.
Ciara stopped when she saw the room. “Whoa, this looks fantastic! You did this?”
Alanna shook her head. “Grady did it.”
“I’ll have to be thanking him.” Ena picked up the guitar on the stage and strummed it lightly.
Jesse put down his bubble loop and strode to the drums. He picked up his sticks. He ran through a few preliminary beats as the others got their instruments and filed into place. As they segued into the first song, Alanna could almost close her eyes and imagine they were back at Hibernian Hall playing together before everything changed.
“Sing, Alanna,” Fiona urged. “We’re just not the same group without your voice. I love it when you play your fiddle, but we need your voice too.”
She lowered her fiddle to her left side. “I don’t know, Fiona. Barry thinks you sound better without me.”
“Barry is an eejit,” Ciara said. “Give it a go, Alanna. See how your voice feels.”
She did miss singing. “Let’s try an easy song,” she said. “‘Scarborough Fair?’”
“I need to run to the loo,” Ena said. “My coffee went right through me. I’ll be back.” She dashed for the door.
Jesse picked up her guitar. “Let me see what I can do with it while she’s gone,” he said. “I think I might be able to play it.” He flipped it to his other hand so it was upside down and backward to the way Ena played.
Everything slowed as Alanna watched him play with the flattened tips of his fingers, just like Liam.
Just. Like. Liam.
Backward and with the tips of his fingers. Surely her mouth must be hanging open, but she couldn’t control her reaction. She dimly heard Ciara’s quick inhalation, Fiona’s smothered exclamation.
Oblivious to the disbelieving stares around him, Jesse strummed the guitar in the chords of the song. Alanna couldn’t have sung the words if someone held a gun to her head.
All she could do was watch in fascination as Jesse transformed into Liam right before her eyes.
Twenty-Six
Jesse let the guitar music fade when he realized how the rest of the band was staring at him. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“Wh-where’d you learn to play like that?” Alanna asked. She swayed where she stood, and she licked colorless lips.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just when Ena put it down, I thought I might be able to play it. I guess I could.” His fingers seemed to know just what to do the minute he’d picked up the guitar.
“Liam played the guitar backward like that,” Fiona said. “And he flattened his fingertips just the way you did.”
Jesse glanced down at his fingers, which throbbed a little from the unaccustomed pressure on the strings. “Liam probably showed me how. I don’t remember, but we shared a room for four years.” He gave a crooked grin. “And there’s that whole possession thing.”
His stomach plunged, and the tune he’d been humming filled his head. The words from the song floated just out of reach again. Was Liam trying to take over his life? Maybe he should just let him. It would be the only way his best friend could live again.
“Who are you?” Alanna asked in a choked voice.
Did she expect his head to swivel like the possessed girl in The Exorcist? Or for Liam’s voice to suddenly come out of his mouth? He started to say he was Jesse Hawthorne, but he wasn’t sure anymore. Who was he, really? Little by little he seemed to be changing into Liam Connolly and losing his own identity. Maybe that was for the best.
He lowered the guitar to the floor and walked out, colliding with Ena in the doorway. Alanna called after him, but the words seemed far away and distorted. He couldn’t face her now. He raced down the steps to the van. The keys were still in his pocket, and he fished them out. Someone had to know who he was. His mother.
He drove to his parents’ home and parked the van at the curb. The aroma of gumbo filled the house, but his stomach was clenched too tightly to feel any hunger, though he hadn’t eaten since eleven. He walked through the living room to the kitchen and found both of his parents at the table.
Dan and Alice. Even their names suddenly had a foreign ring to him, as if they were strangers. He stared from one to the other. Alice in jeans and a pink T-shirt. Dan in the gray suit he wore to the office.
His mother rose and came toward him with a welcoming smile. “Jesse, I wasn’t expecting you.”
His earlier certainty that Liam had taken him over faded with his mother’s warm greeting. Surely she’d sense it if another spirit resided in her own son. He embraced her and inhaled the aroma of her perfume, some kind of flowery scent that was becoming familiar and dear. She’d stood by his side through every step of this nightmare. The love he felt for her intensified. He clutched her to his chest.
She returned his embrace until she finally struggled to pull away. “Son, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
He dropped his arms to his side. “I don’t know, Mom. I keep having these weird memories.” He ran his hand through his hair.
“Memories?” His dad stood and came close enough for Jesse to smell his cologne. “That’s a good thing, Jess. We should call the doctor. Your memory must be coming back.”
“But they’re not my memories,” he blurted out. “I’m remembering things that Liam knew.”
His mother frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand either.” He faced them both, glancing from one to the other. “Did you wonder when I wanted to take drum lessons? When I insisted on buying that big bass drum? When I wanted to learn to play the bodhran?”
His mother stared up at his father, then glanced back at Jesse uncertainly. “Well, yes, it did seem odd. You’d never shown an interest in music, though we took you to piano lessons when you were five or so. I assumed the injury brought that latent talent to the surface.”
“What else doesn’t fit the Jesse you knew?” His life was like the beach by his house. Where his foot left an imprint, the s
ea left it distorted and unrecognizable.
“What’s this all about, Jess?” His father’s voice boomed with displeasure.
“I don’t know who I am,” Jesse said. “I hoped you might.”
His mother cupped his face in her hands. “You’re our own dear son. Jesse Hawthorne. Go to your room and look through your scrapbooks again. The doctors said that would help anchor you.”
“Why am I so confused?” He wanted to beat his head against a wall. Maybe that would open up his memories.
“It will come back,” his father said firmly. “You have to be patient, Jesse.”
“Have you noticed anything else odd about me?” he asked. His parents exchanged glances. “What? Tell me!”
“You seem to be right-handed now instead of left-handed,” his mother said.
He needed to sit down. Grabbing a chair, he sank onto it and put his head in his hands. “What’s happening to me,” he whispered. “Am I turning into someone else?” Had Liam been right-handed?
A knock sounded at the door and Jesse raised his head. His mother glanced at him with worry in her eyes, then went toward the living room. He heard the murmur of voices, then steps approaching the kitchen. His mother appeared in the doorway with Detective Adams in tow.
Jesse rose to face the officer. “Detective Adams.”
“Sorry to bother you at suppertime, ma’am,” Adams said to Jesse’s mother.
Jesse stood. Was he about to be arrested? He realized he didn’t care. Maybe in a jail cell he’d have time to think. He could find a way to get back to who he was.
“I need to get a DNA sample,” Adams said.
Jesse wanted to roll his eyes. “You already got one, didn’t you? Right after the bombing?”
Adams nodded. “We need a sterile sample this time. For a new test.”
“I’m not sure our attorney would approve,” Dan said.
“Is this about the bomb?” Jesse’s mother asked.
“It’s just routine.”
Dan folded his arms over his chest. “I think you’d better get a court order.”
Adams frowned. “Okay.”
“Oh, let him have his DNA,” Jesse said. “He had it once. I don’t have anything to hide. He’s not going to find anything from me on the bomb.”
Because You're Mine Page 19
