Waiting for April

by Jaime Loren

  “She’s furious.”

  “She is. But at least she’s no longer empty.”

  I gave her a sad smile, then turned to watch April leave. I’d take Furious April over Empty April, any day. I just hoped Furious April didn’t prevent Loving April from making a return.

  After helping Celia with the dishes, I said my farewell, not wanting to venture far from the house. But really, with April gone for now, it didn’t matter. My eyes slid across the rows of corn as I reached the bottom of the porch steps. Could Rowan really have been lying in wait on the off chance April would step outside, alone, from Henry’s dinner? And how could there be no evidence? No strands of hair aside from April’s or Duke’s? No blood, after the way Duke had attacked him?

  I lowered my head at the thought of Duke. He’d saved April at the expense of his own life. I felt guilty for ever accusing him of being a useless guard dog.

  Again, that cold feeling niggled in the pit of my stomach.

  Of the six times April had been murdered, there had never been any evidence left at the scene. We’d never found the robbers who’d shot her during her first life.

  Her throat had been slit in front of me as a misunderstanding in 1766.

  She’d been kidnapped and eventually murdered in 1882.

  They’d claimed she mustn’t have had time to put up a fight when she’d been stabbed to death in 1909. Of course, in those days they didn’t exactly have crime scene investigators and laboratories like they do today, but still.

  Then there was her murder at the hands of Confederates in 1862 …

  And, well, they’d never caught the driver who’d hit her and kept going in 1949.

  I stepped into the cornfield, searching for the circle of broken stalks that indicated where April had struggled with her attacker, fighting the wave of nausea at the knowledge someone else had tried to kill her.

  Someone else. Again.

  Murder.

  I stopped in my tracks, clarity filtering through the field like music on the wind, rushing, thickening, surrounding me until it pulled me down.

  Nineteen deaths. Twenty, if you counted the lake.

  Six accidents.

  Three suicides.

  Five illnesses.

  Six random murders … with no physical evidence.

  I blinked hard, as if honing my sight would help me find the one thing currently obscured from view.

  An answer.

  I’d been over my journals thousands of times. I knew every detail. Every police report. Every medical examiner’s handwritten findings. Had I been so preoccupied in finding out the how and why of our existence, I’d failed to notice a common theme in the cause of April’s deaths?

  No. It wasn’t possible. You can’t murder someone with yellow fever. And her embolism in 1927 couldn’t be linked to falling out of a tree and breaking her neck in 1931.

  Unless she was pushed.

  I shook my head. The only witness had been another three-year-old by the name of Emma Willoughby—a girl who’d been traumatized by the incident. She couldn’t have pushed April, could she? She was so young. Or was the trauma just a symptom of guilt?

  Lost in my thoughts, I kept moving and eventually stepped into a cleared area. I turned in circles, my eyes sliding across the stems that had been broken by the police in order to examine the corn stalks for blood or fibers.

  In 1863, she’d died of cot death at just three months … A house fire caused by a fallen candle had claimed her second life … An aneurysm at the age of fifteen, in 1891 …

  Accidents? Or illness?

  They couldn’t truly be the masks of murder.

  Could they?

  Chapter 36

  (April)

  Stella kicked me under the table. “A dollar for your thoughts, Guv-nuh?”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Guv-nuh?”

  She shrugged. “I’m going with the British version of a concerned friend.”

  “Then you might want to get your monetary unit right. And my gender.”

  “Whatevs. Why are you a million miles away?”

  There was no way I was going to tell her Scott was back. I didn’t need another lecture as to why we shouldn’t be together.

  “You know we’re supposed to leave for college in, like, six weeks?” I said, figuring that seemed as good a reason as any for my preoccupation.

  “I know.”

  “What is Joshua going to do?”

  Stella chewed her lip. “I don’t know. He pretty much told me the other day he’d follow me anywhere, but …”

  “Oh, come on. There cannot be a ‘but’ in there.”

  She groaned. “I know, I know.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I just feel guilty. I want him to be wherever I am, but I don’t want it to seem like I’m flaunting my opportunity to go to college and … run, in his face.”

  “He’s happy for you, Stell. And if you haven’t noticed, everyone around him can run. It’s not just you.”

  “Yeah, but not everyone around him got a scholarship to UCLA to do track, did they? I don’t want to be all like, ‘Here, you just rest up and enjoy the sun while I go and sprint one hundred meters.’”

  “He’s proud of you. He just wants you to be happy.”

  Another pang of emptiness ricocheted through me, followed by anger … and if I was being completely honest with myself: jealousy. Joshua wanted to follow Stella wherever she went. They were a team. Scott, on the other hand, wanted to wrap me in cotton wool and place me gently in a safety deposit box. Which, of course, I could understand. But it pissed me off. He’d promised he’d never leave me again. Promised we’d—

  “And you’re gone again!”

  I looked up. “Huh?”

  “Seriously, I’ve been talking for a whole minute. What’s really going on with you, April? Is this about what happened with Rowan last night?”

  I shook my head. “No. Wait—what? How did you—?”

  “He came over straight after. It wasn’t him, Red. He was at Craig’s birthday party with, like, a bazillion witnesses the night you were attacked. Including me.”

  “Then why did he sound like the guy in the field last night?”

  “I don’t know—post traumatic stress disorder?”

  I glared at her.

  “Witnesses,” was all she said. “Not to mention the fact he doesn’t have any dog bites.”

  She was right. God, she was right. Duke’s attack had been savage. I could still hear his growls.

  I rubbed my face. “Jesus, he must hate me. First I dump him for Scott, then I accuse him of trying to murder me.” My hands dropped to my lap. “Though I shouldn’t be crying to you about it. You weren’t exactly a fan of me getting together with Scott at the cabin.”

  “Only because I think you’re supposed to be with Rowan, not Scott. Rowan adores you, April. Scott’s just … marking his territory.”

  The cold, breath-stealing hand was invisible, but I felt the slap. I had to remind myself she didn’t know Scott. Didn’t know what he’d been through in his three hundred years. Didn’t know what I’d been through in that same amount of time. This was a man who’d graduated from medicine three times just so he could learn how to save me. He’d built a cabin just so he could stare out at the lake in which I’d kissed him. He’d kept the sweetest moments of our past a secret from his closest friend, for fear of dishonoring me. He’d found me in every life, trying everything he could to ensure my survival.

  And he’d come back.

  Shit. He was back, and I was being a selfish bitch. I stood up, the urge to throw my arms around Scott finally becoming too strong for me to push down.

  “Where are you going?” Stella asked.

  “Home.”

  “What? You just got here!” she called as I beelined for the door.

  “I’ll call you later,” I replied, but I wasn’t sure if she heard me over the ringing of the customer bell above the door as I pulled it open.
>
  *****

  The first thing I noticed when I pulled up at Henry’s was that Big Blue was gone. Henry sat on the porch in the morning sun, Duke’s empty bed beside him, but rose as I bounded up the stairs. “Where is he?”

  “He’s gone,” he replied.

  My heart plummeted, pulling the sky down with it. I clutched at the porch rail to keep from losing my balance. “Again?” I choked.

  “Just for a few hours.” He took my hand, both of us easing our way back to the porch seat.

  “Is he angry that I refused to speak with him?”

  Henry smiled. “No, my dear. If anything, he’d take that as a challenge.” I didn’t smile back. He cleared his throat. “He went to chase down some leads.”

  I shook my head. “What leads? I heard him talking with Mom this morning, and she told him how I thought it was Rowan in the field, but it—”

  “Rowan? Are you sure?”

  “Well, no. Not anymore. There were plenty of witnesses to give him an alibi that night. I guess I should’ve thought of that before throwing accusations around.”

  Henry contemplated this, rubbing his arthritic knuckles across his lips. “I don’t think the lead had anything to do with Rowan. Scott feels he’s onto something, and told me he’d be back in a few hours. I didn’t get a chance to ask him what it was before he was speeding down the drive.”

  I moaned, frustrated. Henry patted my knee.

  “I told him I was managing just fine without him, Henry,” I said, leaning down to rest my head on my old friend’s shoulder. “When did I become such a liar?”

  Henry threw his arm around me. “He wouldn’t have taken it personally.”

  “Yeah, but … he’s the last person in the world I’d want to hurt. I hope he knows that.”

  “He does. And if you need to remind him, he’ll be back before you know it.”

  “If I live that long,” I mumbled.

  “Hey—there’ll be no talk of death on my porch,” he cautioned.

  “Sorry.”

  A moment of silence passed us by as we watched the breeze rolling across the cornfield.

  “What’s it like, April? Death, I mean. Do you remember what it’s like in between?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “I thought there was to be no talk of death on your porch.”

  Henry must have felt me stiffen under his arm. “You don’t have to talk about it—”

  “It’s cold,” I said. “And dark.” My hands tingled as I held myself tighter. “Like being pulled from the sea in the dead of night and dumped in an abandoned warehouse.”

  He shifted uncomfortably against me, and I realized he’d been asking for himself.

  “But I’m sure it’s not supposed to be like that,” I added quickly. “I think that’s just reserved for me.”

  A pause, and then, “How long does it last?”

  I shrugged. “Until I’ve forgotten why I’m there. Forgotten who I am. It feels like an eternity, but obviously it’s not, if I’m returned to this world nine months after my previous death. But I remember who he is long after I’ve forgotten who I am. The memory of him is the last to go,” I said, my voice trailing off into the breeze.

  For the first time, I wondered if there was another reason pregnancies lasted nine months. Perhaps that was the amount of time it took souls to forget who they were entirely before starting anew.

  Well, I won’t forget him next time, while I’m rolling in darkness. I’ll hold on tight to the memory of Scott Parker, and I’ll know him in my next life. I will remember him. Perhaps that was the key to breaking this curse.

  Henry squeezed my shoulder, and I settled deeper into his side to enjoy the warmth he had to offer. “Henry?”

  “Mm?”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  He kissed the top of my head, and I closed my eyes.

  I didn’t open them until I heard Big Blue about an hour later. Henry had fallen asleep, too, so I had to slide from under his arm. Scott slowly slipped from the truck as I moved to the top of the stairs. He looked down as he approached. I rubbed my hands together, nervous as hell, wishing I could read his face.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look up.

  “I’m April Fletcher,” I said, softer, holding out a tingling hand as he climbed the porch stairs and headed straight for me. “I’m the girl who—”

  His fingers reached me first, but they didn’t go for my hand. They slid around my waist as he drew me into his arms, his lips finding my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth of his body. The solidness of it. He lifted me, little bursts of pleasure following his lips along my skin until he found my mouth, where he kissed me softly.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered as he lowered my feet to the ground and kissed me again. I slid my hands down to take his collar in my fists. “And I’m so angry with you, Scott Parker.”

  “I know.”

  My eyes wandered his face. “But I love—”

  His lips crushed mine, kissing me until my knees weakened, his fingertips replacing his mouth when he pulled away. “Don’t say it. I need to remain invulnerable.”

  “Bup vwy?” I asked against his fingers.

  “To protect you.” He kissed me again, dropping his hand to my waist. “Among other reasons.”

  I drew back. “Like what?”

  He glanced at Henry, who was still sleeping, then took my hand and led me to his room. Once he’d closed the door behind us, he pulled me to his bed and urged me to sit down. I didn’t want to, but I was so unsettled, I didn’t think I could stand much longer.

  After taking a seat in his desk chair he turned to face me, knee-to-knee, then hesitated for a minute before speaking. “I’m working with someone now—someone who knows … what I am.”

  My mouth opened in horror. “You revealed yourself?”

  “His name is Tom Newberry. He’s a professor—”

  “Jesus, Scott!” I all but leapt from the bed. “How could you?”

  “There was no other choice,” he said, standing up. “You nearly drowned, April. I wasn’t going to just sit by your side and watch you die again.”

  I opened my mouth, but the lump in my throat was so large, it was difficult to squeeze words past. “I fought really hard to stay.”

  His eyes filled with sadness. “I know.” He reached for me.

  I sidestepped him, unable to stand still. “They could take you away and do God only knows what to you!” My stomach tightened into painful knots.

  He took my face in his hands, his eyes drilling into mine. “They can’t kill me. And as long as you’re safe, they can’t hurt me.”

  “They could lock you away in some secret government facility. I could lose you forever.” My hands flittered over his chest. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

  “You’ll never lose me.”

  “Promise me.”

  He exhaled.

  “Promise me.”

  “Okay.” His eyes filled with sincerity as he looked down at me. “I promise—I will never die.”

  I opened my mouth, then snapped it closed.

  The corner of his turned up.

  “Did you just …?”

  He broke into a grin.

  I whacked his arm. “You can’t Team America me at a time like this.”

  “Come here.” He snagged my shirt and tugged it.

  “No,” I said, lacking all conviction as I let him pull me back to the bed. I straddled him as he sat down, his hands warm on my waist, his fingertips finding my skin to trace small circles.

  “Tom and I are being really careful. He doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t even know my real name.”

  I slid my finger into the gap between his shirt buttons. “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Oxford. Greece. Nepal. Wherever our leads have taken us. My next stop is Hong Kong to talk to someone knowledgeable about the Taoist belief. We could learn something v
ital there.”

  My chest filled with renewed heartache at the thought of being without him again.

  “We could learn something vital there,” he said, squeezing me.

  My mouth rounded in question.

  “I won’t leave you again,” he said. “Which means you’ll have to come with me.”

  “Are you serious?” I searched his eyes for any sign of bullshit. “Don’t mess with me.”

  Scott smiled. “I wouldn’t dare.” His grip slid lower, sending sparks of excitement straight through my center as he pulled me harder against him. “You’re better now and I made you a promise we’d work together this time, and …” He leaned in; his nose tickled my cheek, his breath was warm against my skin. “I need you.” He lifted his fingers and trailed them down my arm, raising my flesh as he kissed the sensitive spot below my ear. “So much.”

  Every inch of my body tightened in response to his light touch, his words.

  “You need my help?” I asked, breathless.

  “That too,” he whispered, planting another kiss on me.

  My heart somersaulted. “Oh. Well, I can help.”

  “Hmm?” His fingers slid down to my knees, then back up my thighs and underneath my skirt.

  I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. “With the thing, I can … Oh,” I moaned as he shifted me on his lap, his hardness pressing against me in just the right spot.

  “Help?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, that.” My eyes rolled back when he gripped me, pushing his fingertips inside my underwear to slide against me as I moved.

  Just like that night at the cabin, I was bombarded with memories.

  The breeze rustled the long grass around us, but I could barely hear anything above the sound of blood pulsing past my ears as Scott’s tongue warmed my neck. With shaky hands I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his shoulders, then dragged my fingers over his collarbone, the muscles of his chest, his stomach …

  I watched his face when he pulled away to look at me, and wondered if my eyes were burning as intensely as his right now. I knew my cheeks were.

  He removed his fingers from my underwear and pulled the straps of my top and bra down, leaning in to kiss my skin as he exposed my breast. I bit my lip, quivering inside and out as he gently ran his fingertips over my nipple.