Waiting for April

by Jaime Loren

  I’d never been so proud of her.

  Chapter 32

  (April)

  It was summer, and romance was in the air. All around me, couples were whispering in each other’s ears and holding hands. Stella’s heart was singing louder than everyone else’s at the Tav, though, and with good reason. Joshua had been discharged from hospital, and his parents had decided to stay on in Burlington for the summer, believing his relationship with Stella had played a huge role in his recovery.

  Of course, Burlington was just another name for Jericho, in Stella’s book. It took her all of five minutes to steal him away and bring him to the Tav.

  We sidled up to the counter to order. Joshua stood before me, with crutches and a cast on his leg.

  “How are you feeling, Joshua?”

  “Great, actually. Stoked to be eating anything but hospital food.” He grinned, seemingly unconcerned by the slur in his speech. Apparently it was getting better with speech therapy, but I felt sorry for him. People who didn’t know any better would see him as young and good-looking—and drunk. “How have you been?”

  I forced a smile and folded my arms across my chest, annoyed at the fact summer was here, yet it was still so cold. “I’m still breathing, so that’s a plus. I’m just tired. I hear the occasional bout of physical trauma can wear you out.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

  My smile became genuine. It felt weird to have someone to talk to—someone who’d been expected to die at the same time as me.

  I eyed him curiously. “So, just how much time do you think you’ll spend in Burlington, exactly?”

  He grinned mischievously. “Well, it’s pretty obvious I’m hoping to stay in Jericho more than Burlington.”

  “Stell will be pleased about that.”

  “Yeah, until she realizes just how much she’ll have to drive me around,” he said, glancing back at the booth. Stell blew him a kiss.

  It was obvious to me now what she looked like when she was truly head over heels. She’d never shown Scott this much affection. I’d always figured it’d happened behind closed doors with them.

  “Why did she make you get up and order?”

  “Personally? I think it’s because she loves to watch me walk away.”

  My stomach dropped at the same moment the blood drained from my cheeks.

  Joshua’s eyes widened. “Oh, boy. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  A moment of awkward silence passed between us.

  “The doc and I have a bet going. I say I’ll be running again in a few months—he says six.”

  “I hope you win,” I said.

  “I do love a challenge,” he replied.

  “Hmm. Okay then, how about a challenge right now? Let’s see who can drink the most shakes within the next hour.”

  “Jaysus. From hospital food to lactose overload in one afternoon?”

  I raised my brow. “Chickening out already?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me as the waiter asked to take our order. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled a fifty from his pocket and placed it on the counter. “We’ll start with one shake each, thanks.” He wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the waiter. “And keep ’em coming.”

  *****

  Henry smiled sadly at me from across the table, but I didn’t smile back. Instead, I looked down and pushed the peas around my plate. Scott’s seat sat empty next to mine, and the cold that filled his space chilled me to the core. I shivered.

  “Are you cold, April?” Henry asked.

  I put my fork down. “No.”

  “Have you heard from Scott yet, Henry?” Mom asked.

  Henry shifted in his seat. “No.”

  “I hope he’s okay. Safe,” she said.

  Mrs. Drummond, my mother’s closest friend and another regular at Henry’s social get-togethers, sighed. “I’m sure he’s more than capable of looking after himself, after everything he’s been through.”

  “Excuse me.” I stood up and moved into the hallway, out of sight.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Mrs. Drummond asked.

  “No,” Mom said. “She’s suffering from a case of Teenage Heartbreak.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. I didn’t know what was worse—the fact that my parents had insisted I attend a dinner party at Scott’s house, or the fact my love life had become the topic of conversation. After another minute, the topic changed, and I retreated down the hall.

  Scott’s door creaked as I pushed it open. Voices carried down the hallway in a chorus of laughter, cutlery clashing with porcelain. I sank into the room and closed the door behind me.

  Scott’s surfboard stood between his computer desk and his wardrobe. I wondered when the last time he’d surfed was, and whether he missed it. His walls—which were once covered with pictures of the two of us together—were now bare. Had he taken them down before or after our time at the cabin? The wardrobe door was ajar. Shirts, pants, ties—they were all there. I turned and wandered around, but my gaze kept returning to his bed—the same one we’d spent numerous study nights spread across, textbooks thumping onto the ground whenever one of us had grown tired of studying and thought it more amusing to kick the other person off the bed. Literally.

  His navy blue quilt was smooth, aside from one indentation. I traced it with my fingers, picturing him sitting there, God knows when. I took a seat next to the dent and looked around. I could hear his voice and picture him lying on the floor, covered in a blanket. We used to stay up until the early hours of the morning, talking and laughing. He would always insist that I take the bed—not because he didn’t sleep, but because he was a gentleman. What did he do after I’d fallen asleep, then? Would he watch me, thinking back to times when I’d slept in his arms? Or did he leave and return before I’d woken?

  I went over to his desk to read his notes, which mainly consisted of scribble and random words that made no sense to me. There was a name on one piece of paper, though, along with a phone number. Tom Newberry? I’d never heard of him.

  Returning to his bed, I sat down and picked up his pillow, pressing it to my nose and lips to breathe in his scent. His aftershave filled my senses and melted my bones. I slipped my shoes off and leaned down to the quilt. I didn’t know how much time I had before someone came looking for me, so I laid my head on his pillow and closed my eyes, pretending he was here. The last thing I expected was to fall asleep.

  “April?” The voice filtered into my dreams, pulling me from a place I didn’t want to leave. “April?”

  Henry. I pulled myself from slumber. “Sorry. I guess I was tired.”

  He took a seat next to me, the only light now coming from the hallway. “He misses you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I shot up straight. “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “Not directly, but he has sent word.”

  I gripped his arm. “Where is he, Henry? Is he okay?”

  He nodded. “I don’t know where he is right at this moment, but he did send me something to give to you.” He handed me an envelope. “I’ll give you a moment alone.”

  Henry turned on the light before exiting the room. A minute passed while I sat, looking at the blank envelope in my trembling hands. I ran my thumb over the corner, urging my fingers to tear it open so I could discover what Scott had to say. Was it a simple passing of pleasantries? Hi April, how’s life treating you? You should see Scotland in the summer—it’s simply amazing … The thought made me clench my jaw, and I realized just how angry I was with him for leaving.

  With the envelope now crinkling in my grip, I smoothed it out.

  Then tore it open.

  My Darling Girl,

  I love you. Never forget that.

  Yours forever,

  Scott

  What? That’s it? Nothing about where he is, or when he’s coming back?

  The mixture of heartache and fury was crippling.

  I ne
eded air, fast, but there was no way I could show myself in front of the dinner guests without causing alarm. The window squeaked when I pulled it up. Thankfully, Henry didn’t come down to investigate. The night air was cool and refreshing against my burning cheeks as I climbed outside. The moon provided enough light to see where I was going. I crossed Henry’s yard and stepped into the cornfield. The leaves fanned out two feet above my head, giving me complete privacy. I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath, and plonked myself down.

  The corn stalks rustled as a breeze swept through, carrying with it the sound of my name. “April.”

  I spun around, pressing my palm to my chest. The snap of a stalk made me jump to my feet.

  “Scott?” I called, my voice nowhere near as loud as I’d intended it to be. The beating of my heart was much easier to hear. Standing deathly still, I waited for another sound. Something to tell me I wasn’t imagining it. My confirmation came in the form of a hand around my ankle.

  My heart seized. Darkness wrapped around me. I was tugged off balance, yelping and kicking frantically as I was dragged further into the field. I raised my leg and kicked out, landing my foot against something hard. Whoever had me in their grip let go.

  I scrambled along the dirt ground, eventually finding my feet, and ran, holding my arms out in front of me to clear the way. I didn’t even know if I was running in the direction of the house. In my struggles I’d managed to completely disorientate myself. The stalks whipped against my legs and face as I stumbled through the terrifying darkness. The sound of footsteps behind me drew closer, and my legs turned leaden with fear. This moment was a nightmare—the kind where you run but don’t get anywhere. Only, this actually had happened in one of my nightmares.

  I’ve died like this before.

  “Help! Help me!” Overwhelming terror made my chest painfully tight. My muscles burned. It shouldn’t have taken this long to reach the edge of the field—unless I’d gone in the wrong direction. I glanced over my shoulder, but couldn’t see a thing. It was too dark. At the same time, I could no longer hear my pursuer’s footsteps. Maybe my screams for help had scared him off. I slowed, feeling my way through the rows, careful not to make a sound. But there was a wheeze in my breath I couldn’t control, even when I covered my mouth. I had to figure out how to reach the house, with no sights or sounds to help me judge direction.

  Stepping through into the next row, I stopped, but heard nothing, so I moved through to the next and crouched down. My breath was coming fast and shallow. Everything was loud—the blood racing through my veins; the beating of my heart; the sound of the earth moving beneath the soles of my shoes, even though I was sitting perfectly still.

  Death was chasing me down, I was sure of that now. How long could this go on? How long could I outrun him this time? First the black SUV in Millinocket, then the lake … now this?

  I widened my eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. Trying to see my surroundings. Hoping I’d see him before he saw me, and praying there would be enough distance between us for me to evade him. I heard a noise behind me, and lunged forward onto my hands and knees. The stalk rustled as he pushed through. I jumped up and sprinted.

  “Help! Help!” I screamed, my pleas painful in my constricted throat.

  The wind was knocked out of me when my attacker slammed into my back, tackling me to the ground. I couldn’t breathe. Cold bolts of terror sliced through my heart. My attacker clutched a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back, and the unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed rang through the air.

  “Scott!”

  And then there was a brilliant flash of white from the corner of my eye. Duke’s fearsome growl rumbled above me, and the thump of his body against my attacker set me free.

  Free.

  It took a moment for that fact to set in, but when it did, I sprang to my feet and sprinted, leaving behind the sounds of groaning and growling. When I chanced another look over my shoulder, I collided with someone in front of me, knocking us both to the ground. I screamed as he held me tight against him.

  “April!” Dad grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up with him.

  “There’s someone in the field! He has a knife,” I shrieked. “Call the police.”

  With Dad’s arms wrapped around me, we ran inside. The last thing I heard before we locked the door was a high-pitched yelp.

  Duke’s.

  *****

  The police scoured the floodlit fields for over an hour, but turned up nothing aside from Duke’s bloodied body. Sitting in the back of the ambulance with Mom, I watched through tear-filled eyes as Henry lowered himself onto his deck chair with grief. I’d been frustratingly unhelpful regarding a description of my attacker. Tall and strong, was all I could give them. But considering I was only five foot two, almost everyone I came across was taller than me—and therefore likely to be stronger. The officers were kind to me regardless. There was a lot of respect for my dad in this area, given he’d put a lot of criminals behind bars. Once my clothing had been bagged for evidence, and I was dressed in a mixture of Scott and Mom’s clothes, I was re-examined. Trisha, the EMT, caught a glimpse of a bruise forming on the inside of my thigh. It must’ve happened when I was tackled to the ground.

  “If there was a sexual assault, we’ll need to get you to the hospital where they can do a rape kit,” she told me. Mom looked down and covered her mouth, her tears brimming.

  “No, Mom, he didn’t,” I assured her, my voice hoarse. I looked up at Trisha. “He didn’t touch me.” Relief softened Trisha’s features. “Well your heart seems okay, but it might be a good idea to come in for an overnight stay, just to make sure. It can take some time for shock to develop after a violent attack, and I wouldn’t want to take any chances, given your recent medical history.”

  “She’ll do it,” Mom replied. I nodded, thinking hospital might be the safest option for me right now. Then again, I’d died in hospital a few months ago, too. No matter which way I looked at it, Death was coming for me, and Scott wasn’t.

  When I returned from hospital the next day, I enrolled in self-defense classes with Rowan at the local gym.

  There was no way Death was going to take me down without a fight.

  Chapter 33

  (Scott)

  Changu Narayan Hindu Temple, Kathmandu Village, Nepal – July

  The Nepalese monk sat before me, mirroring my lotus position, and smiled. “For one month you have sat here, seeking something that is not yours to seek.”

  I bowed my head. “Forgive me, but her soul is connected to mine. What affects her, affects me.”

  A hint of a smile could be seen in his eyes, but not on his face. “You seek to obtain moksha on behalf of another?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  Moksha, according to the Hindu religion, was the release of the repeated cycle of death and reincarnation. It was, in essence, the liberation of a soul unto another state of existence. A better state of existence.

  “Is she alive?”

  I nodded. “At the moment, yes.”

  “Then why are you not with her?”

  I lowered my head. “My time is better spent searching for answers.”

  “That is not true. You have stayed away from her three times before, searching for answers—how did that end?”

  My head shot up, my eyes wide.

  He smiled. “I see you. I see your path. I see your heart.”

  My muscles coiled. Did he know I hadn’t died in the meantime?

  “How did that end?” he asked again.

  My stomach clenched. “She took her own life each time. But she won’t this time. She knows the truth. She knows I love her.”

  He nodded, apparently already knowing the answer I’d give. “Ah, but her soul needs yours in order to survive,” he said, standing up. “Her soul is currently wilting.”

  I stood up too, for the first time in weeks, and was grateful my body moved as if I’d never sat down. “My soul isn’t en
ough to keep her here.”

  “Then enjoy what little time she has left, because the darkness has already closed in on her.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “There has to be a way to stop this cycle.”

  The monk bowed his head. “You will not find your answer here.”

  I stepped toward him, my muscles taut with frustration. “But—I thought you could see my path.”

  “I see your past, not your future. She needs you in the present,” he said, and turned and walked away.

  Chapter 34

  (April)

  Rowan’s emerald green eyes narrowed, but I stood my ground. He first kissed one bicep, then the other. I started to smile. When he made his pectoral muscles dance, I snorted and covered my mouth.

  “I bet you miss these, don’t you?” He puckered his lips.

  “Rowan, don’t. This is serious.”

  “I agree. It’s important that girls learn self-defense.”

  “Girls should learn? Not you?”

  “I’m too manly,” he grunted, punching his chest once. “No one would want to take me on.” He smiled smugly and flexed his muscles. “I make a formidable opponent, don’t I? You could hire me as your personal bodyguard. I’d go above and beyond, and bow down to any command …”

  I laughed. It felt strange, but good.

  “Oh, the thought amuses you? Good to know.”

  “Of course not,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  He bounced up and down on the spot. “Go on, then—use me as a punching bag. Let’s see what you’ve learned today.”