I wish I had the chance to find out.
“So what’s wrong with that? Is it your boyfriend?” he asks softly, his gaze turning toward me.
“I don’t know. Maybe. That’s not all of it.” I know I’m crazy, thinking of telling this old man about what Lev really was, but I need to talk about this. I want to. I don’t care of the whole world thinks it’s me. It’s not.
“What else is it?”
“Do you believe in supernatural stuff?” The minute the words are out, I want to take them back and shake them into something that doesn’t sound so stupid; the trouble is, I can’t for the life of me think of what that would be.
“Yeah, I do.” His answer is quick, non-judgmental. “What’s on your mind?” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his face.
“Do you believe in angels?” It’s a closer probe, something to let me gauge whether I need to back off, but Bob isn’t suddenly blinking faster or acting weird.
“Sure. Not sure where this world would be without angels, Lizzie. Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“But I’ve seen them,” I say, crossing my legs at the ankles.
The quiet suddenly explodes into a loud ripping of wings through air as a murder of crows suddenly launches skyward, clotting the air with blackness. One bird skims close to my head, and I duck, but Bob just sits there, unaffected by the near crash of the beast. We both silently watch as the murder wings across the sky, the blackness basted across light blue like a strand of thread sewing an ‘M’ into the heavens. A moment later, the group dwindles from sight, and I turn toward Bob.
“That was weird.” My heart is beating fast, and I put my hand on my chest, as if that will slow it down.
“Just crows. Nothing big.” He turns to me. “Now what were you saying before?”
“I have seen an angel before, Bob.”
“Really?” He seems excited, not concerned, and relief floods through me. “In what way?”
Here’s the test, I think. “Lev was one.” My voice is breathless, but it feels good to get it out.
“But I thought you said he died?” Bob’s gaze has narrowed in confusion. “From what I understand, angels don’t die.”
For the first time, I wonder about that, at how a supernatural creature could die from a mortal wound, and in that moment, I suddenly find I don’t understand my world anymore. Bob is right. That shouldn’t have killed an angel. So what happened? And where is he?
I look around, wondering if he’s somewhere nearby, watching, suddenly aware the joke has been on me. My heart starts speeding up, and I suddenly don’t know where to go. Nothing makes sense.
“Lizzie?” Bob stares at me in concern. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. I just need to go.” I stand.
“Did I upset you?” He struggles to stand as well, but I wave for him to keep sitting.
“No, it’s been a long day. It’s not you. Really.” I turn and rush back to my Jeep, my eyes blurring long before I get there, and I wish these damned tears would just dry up and get it over with. Nothing like getting sucker-punched again.
And again.
Chapter Twelve
I know I promised Jimmie to be back before dinner, but I can’t, not knowing Theresa and Jayzee are both there, and I’m supposed to act like all this is perfectly normal. But it isn’t—none of it. So I drive around, not really caring where I’m headed, only knowing that anywhere is a better place to be. With any luck, maybe Jimmie will rescind my parole from begin grounded, thereby saving me from an awkward evening with Jayzee.
I glance at my watch: 7:45. I’ve silenced my phone, so I don’t know if Jimmie or Griffin has tried calling, not that it would have brought me running back. As it is, I figure I’ve given them about enough time to get through dinner, and maybe both Theresa and Jayzee have decided to head out.
I’m on the highway just outside of town, almost ready to turn back when suddenly the world behind me flares into brilliance from the blue and red lights behind. Immediately, I look at the speedometer, but I’m only going 55, well within the limit here. As far as I know, I don’t have any lights burned out. So I don’t have a clue what’s going on.
“Great,” I mutter, pressing the turn signal and pulling off onto the shoulder. The cruiser follows, lights still flashing, and I grab my purse, my trembling fingers searching for my wallet as I see the silhouette of the officer get out of his vehicle and start toward my door. I manage to get my license free before he gets there, and I reach for the insurance from the glove box when I hear his knuckles rap on the glass, telling me to roll down the window.
My fingers wrap around the small card, and I comply, ready to hand them both to the officer when I look into his eyes. Scott stands there. As he isn’t wearing his hat, the garish red and blue lights shine off his blond hair.
I shake my head in disbelief. “Aren’t you just a little outside your jurisdiction?” My tone is as tight as my chest feels.
He nods. “Yeah.” His voice is softer spoken than I remember, and he isn’t looking me in the eye; the frown on his face is clearly uncomfortable, as though he doesn’t want to be here any more than I want him to be here. “We need to talk.”
“We have nothing to say, Scott. Nothing.” I rest my hand on the window knob, ready to roll it up so I can drive away. Then again, I’m wondering just how much trouble that would get me in.
“Really. Have you taken a good look at the bruises on Sarah’s arms lately? Any guesses on where else she might be hiding them. What about hospital visits? Has she told you about any of those? Colin has given her lots of chances to see the emergency room.” His jaw is clenched, and he leans against the window, his whole body tensed as though if he tried to move, something would break.
“I don’t know Sarah that well. Those are pretty personal questions.” It suddenly feels like I’m on a space shuttle and there’s no gravity around me. I’m suspended in the air, and I can’t even control my own body anymore.
“That’s my whole point, Elizabeth. You have no idea whom you are hanging around. Colin, Kane, and Jayzee are capable of getting you into so much trouble you aren’t prepared to deal with. It’s worse than Knoxville. Trust me—”
“Why should I?” I demand, shaking my head. “Everybody thinks I should just trust them, but nobody gives me a reason, Scott. And your badge doesn’t count.” I start to roll up my window. “Just leave me alone.”
“Lizzie, we need to talk. I have something important to tell you. I promise it’s important. I am an angel.”
I start laughing. I don’t know why. Nothing’s funny. I didn’t even need him to tell me that. So why is he bothering? I pause rolling up long enough to say, “Yeah, I know what you are. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t really even matter anymore.” Anger boils inside of me. “I wouldn’t care if you suddenly became Lev, because a friend just made something really clear to me. He pointed out that angels don’t die like humans, which only means that Lev, wherever he may be, has left of his own choosing, and the only reason it mattered that you were an angel was because of him. Now you’re just a damned thorn in my side—a thorn with wings.”
I don’t bother rolling the window up completely before driving away. As I see the flashing lights get smaller and smaller, part of me wonders how much trouble I could get into for doing that. I mean, Scott is a cop. Granted, he doesn’t have jurisdiction here, but that doesn’t change his chosen profession.
Watching the rear-view mirror, I keep expecting he will drive up behind me and try to force me to pull over, but the mirror only reflects the darkness. The lights are all ahead of me as I drive back into the outskirts of Tellico Plains. Of course, there isn’t much to the outskirts and if I blink, I’ll probably miss the turn-off that takes me home.
Even as I pull into the driveway, I keep replaying Scott’s conversation, and his words about Sarah really don’t set well, considering just how fixated she seems on Colin. Granted, I
don’t much care for Scott and it felt really good just to drive away and leave him standing there all stupid in the red-blue glow of his cruiser lights, but I am smart enough to know when I hear something that should warn me, and his words about Sarah definitely struck a nerve. As someone who has barely penetrated that circle of friends, I’m just not sure what he thinks I can do about it. I mean I didn’t even get a chance to actually meet Colin. The only thing I remember is that he was even bigger than Kane, which means the guy is huge. Sarah, on the other hand, is thin, and I mean, thin as in a storm could blow her over if she’s not careful.
I force myself to stop thinking about Sarah and Colin to get back to the problem at hand: Jimmie and Griffin. Or more precisely, Theresa and Jayzee. I fish my phone from my purse to find that I have one missed call from Jimmie, probably the blatant warning that I’ve missed supper and I am in trouble, his usual spiel when it comes down to me not doing what I should be. The front porch light glows, and the moths flutter about it at random. It’s kind of weird that neither Jimmie nor Griffin has come to the door.
Taking a deep breath, I shove my phone into my purse and yank my keys from the ignition. I reluctantly stride up the walk and, as my hand touches the knob, I peer into the front window to see Jimmie and Griffin sitting on the couch. The television rambles on, suggesting either a sportscaster or talk-show host. I stand there for a moment, looking at them both, grateful they seem to be alone. The red convertible is gone, at least.
I twist the knob and step inside. Nothing better than both of them simultaneously looking at me, and, for the record, I was right. It’s a baseball game—not that they that even see it now I’ve walked into the room. I’d still feel better if Jimmie was sitting in the recliner, but at least he’s here and seems to be cognizant of what’s going on around him.
“Where have you been?” Jimmie demands, rising fluidly and walking toward me. “And don’t even bother lying about the cemetery.” A vein stands out in his forehead, and his face is pasty. His hands dangle at his side, and he twists his fingers into fists.
Griffin eyes both of us, starting with me and then going back to Jimmie. I glance at him, find discomfort in his expression, and turn back to Jimmie.
“I was at the cemetery.” It’s not a lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth, and if I can help it, I won’t.
“All this time, you were at the cemetery?” He waves toward the clock, as if I’m not aware of what time it is. “You said you’d be back for dinner. Both Theresa and Jayzee left because they were worried about you.”
“Is that what really bothers you? That they left?” I never meant to utter that aloud, but the words came out, and I’m not sorry.
“Not even close. Damn it, Lizzie. How am I ever going to count on you when you keep doing stuff like this?” He paces around me, glaring, as if he can read exactly where I’ve been from my posture.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” I say in a contrite tone, even though I don’t mean it. This probably isn’t the best time to play the truth game. “I was at the cemetery. I promise.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Griffin heading toward his room, leaving me to field Jimmie’s never-ending questions alone. Lucky me.
“Try again, Lizzie. There aren’t that many statues to take pictures of. I wasn’t born yesterday.” He shakes his head, still pacing. I could tell him to chill and stop wearing out the carpet, but somehow I don’t think that will go well. So I do the next best thing. I walk over to his recliner and sit, effectively cutting off the circle he’s been pacing around me.
“You’re right,” I finally admit. “I wasn’t taking pictures of statues. “I was sitting on a bench, talking to a little old man who was still mourning the death of his wife.” I set my purse on the table beside the chair.
“That’s the best you can do?” Jimmie stands over me, glaring. “Talking to a little old man so much you lost track of time? I’m not buying it. You were in Knoxville, weren’t you?”
“No, I wasn’t. Not that you’ll believe me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You don’t exactly give me reason, Lizzie.” He shakes his head.
“And how would you know? It’s not like you’ve been home much before o’dark thirty.”
“So this is about me seeing Theresa, is it?” He turns away. His tone suggests a question, but I know better. The last thing he wants me asking anything about is Theresa.
“I didn’t say that.” My heart is racing, and I wish this whole night would go away. I’m so tired of fighting with Jimmie. I don’t want it to be like this.
“You didn’t have to. She could tell you didn’t much care for her. Why do you think she isn’t here?” He levels an angry gaze at me, and it suddenly occurs to me Jimmie looks like a total stranger, and I’m not even sure I’d recognize myself at this point. All of this feels so painfully wrong, and I don’t understand what’s happening to us.
“Jimmie, I just felt claustrophobic with everybody here. How exactly could I tell you that when Theresa’s sitting right there and you want me to just sit on the couch and play the get-to-know-each-other game?”
“She was just trying to be friendly.”
I stand, realizing that no matter what I say, Jimmie is not going to react well, and every argument we have tonight will all go back to Theresa and the fact I don’t like her. I had only thought I was doing a good job of being discreet about my negative feelings about her. So I do the only thing I can think of. I start toward my bedroom.
“Lizzie, don’t you walk away from me.” Jimmie’s face is turning a bright red to match his furious glare.
I stop and whirl. “I’ve had it, Jimmie. Enough is enough. I can’t take anymore. Why don’t you just go back to Knoxville and spend a little more QT with Theresa? And I’ll get the hell out of your way.” Then I change course. I started out heading to my room, but now I’m heading back to the front door.
“Damn it, Lizzie. Stop!”
I grab the door and jerk it open. My keys are still in my hand, and I don’t give a crap that my purse is on the table where I left it. It doesn’t matter because I’m not going back for it. By the time I get to the Jeep, my whole body is shaking, and I realize that even though I’ve been plenty mad at Jimmie before, I’ve never come close to losing my cool with him like this, but I meant what I said: I’ve had enough. With that little go-round with Scott, having Jayzee and Theresa over, and realizing certain things about Lev, I really am at my wits end. I don’t know how much more I can take.
I don’t even know where I’m going. I just can’t be here. I shove the keys into the ignition as Jimmie opens the door; the engine catches and I slam the shifter into reverse, zipping backwards, hoping he’ll let me go. I can feel him watching me as I drive away, and my heart is racing.
“What are you doing, Lizzie?” I whisper to myself, knowing there is no real answer. It’s a small town with no real options, and I don’t think I’m up to Knoxville. I have a whole five bucks in my pocket, which won’t even get me enough gas to get out of this stupid town. So I drive back to the cemetery.
Although it’s dark, I’m not daunted. To me, the places where the dead are have to be some of the calmest spots going; right now, I could use calm, and I’m sure not going to get it at home. I’m shaking as I wander among the headstones, and I feel myself tearing up. I’m just not sure if it’s because I’m so angry or hurt or something else I can’t begin to name. Then again, it really doesn’t matter, I realize, making my way to the empty bench beside Bess Hudgens’ grave. I know Bob won’t be here, and right now it’s a good thing because I can’t talk about this feeling ripping me up inside. Jimmie and I often argue, but not like this—not trying to hurt each other because we can. The wind tugs at my long hair, and I see the sun is setting the sky on fire as it slowly sinks beyond the horizon.
I push my hair back and shake my head. “This is really crazy, Bess. Now your husband has me talking to you like I know you, but I’ve got to talk to someone.” I pause a
nd my body aches from the tears I’ve been restraining. I’m tired. “You were a lucky lady. You had a good husband who loved you like crazy. And you got to spend your life with him. I would have given anything for that.”
The wind ripples through the branches, and I get the feeling I’m not alone. I turn, and that’s when I see Scott there, his hands deep in his pockets. His face is full of pain, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, his shoulders curved under an invisible weight. It’s then I realize just how much I hate him.
“I told you to leave me alone. What part of that weren’t you smart enough to get?” I yell, standing. My whole body is shaking wildly, and I feel that any minute I’m going to lose control of what sanity I have left.
“I….” He starts to say, but his voice twists like someone has jerked his arm behind his back, threatening to snap the bone. “I…have to tell you something.”
“Go away!” I launch myself at him, my palms landing on his chest, pushing him back.
“I can’t.” His voice is broken, the way accident victims speak when they’ve been hit by a car and didn’t know half their bodies are mangled beyond hope.
“It doesn’t matter what you have to say. I don’t care!” I shove at him again, thinking he’ll stop me and order another stupid trip to his shrink friend. Won’t that be nice? But he doesn’t fight me. He lets me push him, which I hate even more because it scares me. His whole demeanor scares me, and when I finally stop pushing, I look into those blue eyes and realize just how damned I am, tethered to a loss I can’t seem to find the bottom of. Maybe I never will.
“Go on?” I finally manage, hoping maybe if he just gets out whatever he thinks he has to say, he’ll leave, and I can go on raving to a dead woman about an angel and how things are so twisted I can’t seem to untangle them.
“You were right. I am an angel.” He swallows hard so his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. “And I am your angel. I am Lev.” He closes his eyes and lowers his chin.
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