From Sky to Sky

by Amanda G. Stevens

  Redness rose in her cheeks, but it didn’t look like guilt. More like indignation. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  She wasn’t lying. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t change her mind.

  “I’ll go back to the apartment,” he said. “And I’ll collect the cure and the notes and keep them with me.”

  “That’s fair,” Rachel said.

  “I’d feel better if you walk your way to solitude and let me hang on to the car keys for a bit.”

  This drew her brows into a scowl. “I need my car.”

  “To be alone?”

  “To recharge.”

  He couldn’t keep her keys forever. Did it follow that he couldn’t keep them longer than eighteen hours?

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she said, betraying her true years so unconsciously he could have laughed. “I want my car, Zac. If you have the cure, what can I possibly do to myself?”

  Well, true.

  “You can take off and disappear so we never see you again,” Simon said. “Develop some more of the cure and take it then.”

  “No, I can’t. The cure can be derived only from the serum itself, and what we have is the last of both.”

  That felt like a gift. And a responsibility. Both of which Zac would have to process when he could sleep again.

  “Fisher Lake’s little pond can’t possibly still exist. Even if someone’s kept it dug out for the last century, imagine trying to find it now. Imagine trying to identify the organisms in their original form, if they’re still reproducing in the water. Only Doc ever saw them, and now his sketches are gone.”

  “And you wouldn’t recognize them based on his sketches?”

  “I might.” She shrugged. “Again, though—how many ponds would I have to analyze to find the right one? What are the odds a little body of water like that hasn’t filled in and become a field by now? Or an industrial zone? I’m telling you”—she turned to Simon—“if I wanted to start developing from scratch, I couldn’t do it.”

  “Okay,” Zac said.

  She must have read uneasiness in his face. Well, he wasn’t trying to mask it. “Zac, really, I won’t go far. I’ll be back in town by nightfall.”

  She didn’t hold her hand out for the keys. She stood waiting, frustration pulling at her mouth.

  “You understand my caution?”

  Her frown relaxed. “Because I’m supposed to live.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m getting there.”

  Zac dug in his pocket and produced her two-key ring, plain and fobless. Rachel held out her hand and let him drop the keys into it.

  She gave him a true smile. “Thanks.”

  “And let’s exchange contacts, in case you need anything.”

  “Contacts?”

  “Numbers.”

  “Oh. I don’t have a phone.”

  He was pretty sure he blinked at her for two or three seconds.

  “Well, who would I call? I have a tablet for internet access and photo storage. I use free Wi-Fi when I need it.”

  “Ah.” It should have been enough, but he wished he had a means to talk to her, to gauge her well-being in her voice. He nearly offered to buy her a phone, but it seemed patronizing. “Do you check your messages often?”

  “I’ll make sure to check at least once while I’m out. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “And maybe I’ll get a phone at some point.”

  They drove back to his place, and she left in her SUV, eyes bright, breaths seeming deeper, rising into her shoulders. Simon watched her pull out of the driveway and fade down the street.

  “You didn’t give an opinion,” Zac said.

  “She worries me.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed.

  “Then again, you worry me. Moira worries me.”

  “Sounds like she’s all set to join the family.”

  Simon’s mouth tipped up on one side. “Persistent cuss.”

  “We’ve got to stay close.”

  For a long moment Simon stood quietly, watching the direction Rachel had driven away. “It’s a nice thought.”

  “It’s not original. Remember which one of us called a Life Buoy yesterday.”

  “Sure, but there’s you and Moira, and then there’s all these new old folks. I would’ve been fine and happy with just the three of us for the rest of our years.”

  “And David?”

  Simon shrugged. “What about him?”

  “We needed him, man. When it all came out. We needed support and an objective voice, and he was there.”

  “Hmm.”

  “He’s solid, Simon.”

  “Oh, fine, David’s worth admitting. Doesn’t mean the rest of these folks are.”

  “You won’t know until you try them. If the rest of them come through the way David did, why not have a family of seven?” He grinned. “We’d be magnificent.”

  Simon gave a theatrical groan. “I don’t need cinema references. Or feminine adjectives.”

  “Say that again when my ribs are mended.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “But you won’t be here.”

  No matter where or when they met, an impending farewell rested between them from the first moment. Florida must hold charms beyond what Zac had ever experienced there. Simon wasn’t the type to be crazy for home, but Zac couldn’t remember the last time he’d left for more than a week.

  “I’m not going anywhere as long as the Life Buoy’s in effect.”

  “Only you can lift it.” Zac shrugged.

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  “What do I have to do, sleep through a night and eat three square meals?”

  “That’d be a start.” A current of worry ran under the words.

  “What’s the rest of it?”

  “Rachel.” Simon folded his arms, planted his feet. Expecting resistance. “You can’t be her lifeline, Zac. It’ll wreck you both.”

  “I know that.”

  The stance did not relax. “You’ve actually taken it into consideration?”

  “In the sense that I’m likely to screw up? Yeah.” He lifted his hand as Simon’s mouth opened for rebuke. “I’m hearing you. I don’t want to be anybody’s sole link to humanity, okay? I’ll work on it.”

  A moment of scrutiny, and then Simon uncrossed his arms. “Good.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, forging links among humanity is sort of your thing. Just, you know, don’t shift your overinvesting madness to that job instead.”

  Zac grinned. “Noted. So. Life Buoy lifted?”

  “There’s still the matter of sleeping through the night.”

  As if Zac were some infant. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and hoped the motion hid the heat in his face. He gestured in the direction of town. “Go forth and enjoy our town then. You’ve hardly seen David and Tiana.”

  “Maybe we’d have time to make real acquaintance if we could get through a week without a crisis.”

  “There weren’t any crises last week.”

  “Not here maybe.”

  “Oh?”

  Simon waved a hand. “Forget it. I’m going to drive around for a bit. I’ll see you tonight.”

  At last, the dunes. He’d take it slow. If he could make it to the top, he’d lie at the base of those ancient poplars and stare up through their branches to the sky. It could rain on him for all he cared. He needed to spend some time beneath its dear expanse, and cloudy or sunny didn’t matter.

  He’d been driving only ten minutes, halfway to the national park, when the clouds opened. He switched on the windshield wipers and pressed onward. Maybe it would be a quick shower. Regardless, he was going up there. Did he have a raincoat in the car?

  His phone began to ring. He fished it out of the middle console. Finn. “Hey.”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  He felt his eyebrows go up. “Rachel?”

  “Before we leave. Are you with her?”

  “Not at the moment.”<
br />
  “But you know where she is.”

  “I can get in touch with her.”

  “I’d be obliged.”

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” The edge in Finn’s voice might be impatience, or it might not. “You tell me the place and I’ll be there.”

  “Just you.”

  “That’s right.”

  He’d been so quiet at the lighthouse, no hint of his opinion. No telling, even now, what he wished to say to Rachel.

  “I’ll call back when I get an answer from her,” Zac said, signaling for a turn and notching up his windshield wipers. The shower was becoming a downpour, beating on the car roof.

  “Thanks.” Finn hung up.

  Zac pulled over at the next stop, a corner market and gas station. He parked on the side of the building, tall old pine trees forming a partial shield from the rain, and brought up the app he’d used before to communicate with Rachel. The unread notifications were overwhelming. The bookstore pic and his last post to Doc were still generating replies and reposts. He ignored it all and thumbed out a private message.

  HEY. NEED TO ASK YOU SOMETHING.

  In seconds, his message bore the check mark of having been read. Rachel’s tablet must be in Wi-Fi range. Her reply came through in less than a minute. HI. GO AHEAD.

  FINN JUST CALLED ASKING TO MEET WITH YOU. WHAT DO YOU THINK?

  Again, she saw it immediately, but this time no reply came. A knot formed in Zac’s gut. He might have just sent her on a path as far from Harbor Vale as she could drive. Five minutes later, he was wishing he’d bought her a phone.

  He sent another message. YOU OKAY?

  A last long minute and then a new message pinged. SORRY. NEEDED A MINUTE. GOT COLD.

  Cold? What was she talking about? NO PROBLEM.

  REALLY PETRIFIED.

  THIS IS 100% UP to YOU. YOU CAN SAY NO.

  IF I SAY YES, WILL YOU BE THERE TOO?

  Finn might not care for that idea. Well, Finn could go jump off a tightrope. IF YOU WANT.

  HE WANTS IT TO BE TODAY, NOW?

  WHENEVER YOU CAN.

  I DIDN’T GET FAR. I’LL TURN AROUND. And then a few seconds later: WHERE?

  Nowhere public. Depending on how things went down, even Zac’s apartment might not be safe. HEAD BACK THIS WAY AND I’LL SEND YOU THE ADDRESS WHEN I’M SURE.

  OKAY.

  In the last seventy or so hours, Zac had scorned David’s prayers, taken a swing at him, ruined a piece of his antique merchandise, and been rude to his girlfriend. Everything in Zac cringed as he called the man. What time was it anyway? Not quite three.

  “Hello?” Of course David answered his phone as if caller ID hadn’t been invented yet.

  “Hey, I could use a favor. If you don’t mind.”

  “What is it?” David said, not as if preparing to refuse but as if preparing for action on Zac’s behalf.

  That brought on another cringe. “I’m mediating a … I don’t know. I hope it’s a truce, but I don’t know. Finn and Rachel. Your place would be an ideal location. You don’t have neighbors on the other side of your walls.”

  “Ah.” A door shut from somewhere close. David might have moved into the stockroom for more privacy. “A good plan, good to be cautious.”

  Zac nodded, a futile gesture, but he didn’t know what else to say. An apology would be fitting, but he wanted that to be in person. Tonight, he hoped. Barring new crises.

  “No key under the mat, though,” David said. “You’d have to come by the store. I’ve a spare here.”

  The man had not hesitated for a moment. “Thanks.”

  “I will pray for you and for them.”

  “I’m much obliged,” Zac said. “I’ll be by in a few minutes.”

  “Very well.”

  Zac ended the call and thumbed a message to Rachel. DAVID’S PLACE. 902 SOUTH ST.

  I’LL BE THERE.

  Zac sent her a thumbs-up, called Finn and passed on the information, and drove to the bookstore.

  The shop was mid-rush. Tiana smiled from behind the counter when Zac walked in. He stood to one side while she rang up several customers, chatting and laughing, commenting on their book selections. From every customer’s pile Tiana had read at least one book. Zac shook his head. She and David were a true match. Her last customer was an elderly woman with a stack of picture books, and Tiana gushed over these the most, praising the artwork of one, the verse of the next. After the woman left, Tiana ducked behind the counter and emerged with a gold key in her palm.

  “Here you go. David briefed me.”

  “Thanks.” Zac added the key to his own ring and looked around. “Is he here?”

  “Embroiled in inventory.”

  Another customer walked in. Tiana smiled a welcome, and the young woman called out, “Hey, Tiana!” on her way to the nonfiction shelves in the back.

  “I’ll let you get back to work,” Zac said. “Hey, did he also brief you about the cost of that book?”

  “Which?” She gestured around the store with a little smile.

  “The one I ruined.”

  “Oh, you mentioned that before. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “It was in the stockroom. I … um, caused it to fall. It was an antique.”

  “Well, he’s not likely to charge a friend. He’ll say accidents happen.”

  But a friend wouldn’t accept that. A book that age, that pristine until he’d wrecked it, would be pricey. And there was the principle. “Tiana, I want to pay him.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll ask him when he comes up for air. What was the book?”

  A pang passed through his stomach. He was no relic like David, but he ached to see the destruction of old things. “Dealings with the Fairies. Dark blue, gold script on the spine.”

  Tiana went still. “Oh. Dealings with the Fairies.”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll let him know you asked about it.” She tried to smile. Failed.

  Shoot. It must have been worth a fortune, one of those rarities that went into the glass case behind the counter, handled by request only. “Don’t go all mysterious and dramatic. Just tell me what’s up.”

  “I …” She sighed. “He wasn’t going to sell that book, Zac.”

  “What do you …?” But then he remembered. The library in David’s house—bookshelves lining all four walls, except an open space where a glass case stood, filled with … “Tell me it wasn’t a first edition.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Of course it was. And it was going into his personal collection. And he’s been searching for it for years.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Crap.”

  “You’re sure it’s broken? Maybe it didn’t fall far.”

  “The binding broke, Tiana. Pages were falling out of it when he picked it up.”

  “Oh.” She blinked away tears. Yeah, actual tears. David must have been as thrilled as a little kid about that book.

  Zac scrubbed at his face. He was an even bigger jerk than he’d thought.

  “I’m sorry, Zac. All the things going on right now— It’s only a book.”

  Insight cast a ray of light. “A book by MacDonald. Crying out loud, I bet David reveres George MacDonald. Our contemporary, pioneered genres, poet and novelist, onetime minister. The guy was even Scottish.”

  Tiana swallowed.

  “Just say it.”

  “MacDonald is his favorite author.”

  Zac threw up his hands. “Of course he is.”

  “Zac—”

  “Don’t. I can’t fix this. Money would insult him. That was probably the only one for sale on the entire planet.”

  “It seemed to be.”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  She stepped closer and set her hand on his back. “You’re a friend, and it’s still only a book.”

  He shook his head.

  “Please, Zac. Go and do what you need to. I think maybe it’s s
omething God gave you to do; I don’t think anyone else would do it. And in the meantime don’t stew about this.”

  He tried for a smile. “I never stew.”

  “Don’t even.” She nudged his arm with hers.

  “Thanks, sis.”

  She blinked. He blinked back. The nickname had been unplanned.

  “Well, David is kind of my brother, so …” He shrugged. “And one of these days I expect him to make it legal.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, wholly different from those for David’s book. “I hope so, Zac.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “I try to. But he’s very scared.”

  Ah. He nodded.

  “Sometimes he …” She bit her lip and looked away. Looked around the store for anyone to overhear, but they were alone at the front.

  “You can tell me, unless he wouldn’t want you to.”

  “He needs to talk to someone who’s been through it. I’m a mere mortal.”

  Zac passed his palm over her shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye out for an opening.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “Brother.”

  He couldn’t keep from grinning. He gave her a hug, quick and impulsive, and she laughed and hugged him back. He said close to her ear, “I never had a sister.”

  “I never had a brother.” She nudged him again, shoulder to shoulder. “From fangirl to family.”

  He left the bookstore and drove two blocks to David’s home. He got out of his car and stood in the rain, looking up the porch steps. This house had served the longevites often in the last month, become a sort of haven. A house owned by a lonely old man, now open to the family he never knew before last month. Divine irony, no doubt. The trim bungalow was a thread in the fabric of them. And this afternoon would make a few more stitches in that thread.

  He mounted the steps and let himself inside and waited for his guests.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  While he waited, Zac dealt with things that mattered less than the meeting facing him. He got online and deleted the post to Doc. Yeah, deleting it would garner more speculation, but he felt easier about that than about the post staying up. And maybe some of the new speculation wouldn’t tag him. He needed a break from app notifications.

  Next he opened his email and typed a message that might be deleted the second Nate opened it, but he would send it anyway and hope Nate passed it along at some point to his son.