The Deepest Cut

by J. A. Templeton

  I liked hanging out with her, and I liked the attention I was getting, especially from guys.

  It felt good to be recognized—to not just be another face in the crowd.

  “See, you don’t even know the answer to that question.”

  “Can we just go home?” I asked.

  “No, not until we get to the bottom of this. We’ve resolved nothing.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know, Riley.” Her voice became higher by the second. “All I know is that I feel like I’ve been living with a stranger these past months. I can’t get through to you. You won’t even talk to me most days.”

  I hated how sad she sounded.

  “I miss my daughter,” she said so softly, I barely heard her. But I heard her. Loud and clear

  She breathed deeply, and I could tell she was struggling to remain calm. “I have no choice but to ground you for a month.”

  “What?” I’d never been grounded a day in my life. Ever—but the thought of being grounded for a month seemed like an eternity. I could envision Ashley and the others going on with their lives, partying, while I sat in my room night after endless night doing absolutely nothing.

  I crossed my arms, furious

  “This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She gasped and looked at me with shock.

  I’d never cussed in front of her before.

  That’s when I saw the van pull out in front of us. We were going too fast. I froze, a cry of warning stuck in my throat. My mom

  saw my reaction though…but it was too late.

  The front of the car clipped the van’s back bumper and sent our car swerving toward a huge oak tree.

  I came awake with a start, my heart racing, sweat pouring off my forehead as I stared at the red neon numbers that read 3:33 on my clock radio. I ran my hands down my face.

  I hadn’t had that dream for weeks, and had hoped I never would. It was like ripping off a scab that had already healed—a horrible reminder of the worst day of my life.

  If only I could go back and change what had happened. Why had I been such a pain in the ass? Had I just come home by curfew that night, then my mom would be here now and my life would be so different. Shane and my dad’s life would be different. But I had taken her away from us. It was my fault she was dead, and I would never forget that.

  “Riley, are you alright?” Ian asked in a gentle voice. He sat in the chair next to the window.

  I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and nodded. “Yeah, I just had a bad dream.”

  “About your mother?”

  My stomach clenched. “How did you know?”

  “You called out to her in your sleep.”

  “You were watching me sleep?”

  He motioned to the bed. “May I sit beside you for a little while?”

  “Yeah, sure. I could use the company.”

  He sat on the edge of my bed. “Your mother’s death is not your fault, Riley.”

  “But it was my fault,” I said, blinking back tears. It was a reality I lived with day in and day out. Why else could I suddenly see dead people? Maybe like Ian, I had been cursed.

  He reached out, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Yer mum died as she was supposed to. Fate decided that. Not you.”

  I’d spent months listening to counselors and teachers tell me the same thing, but no one could convince me differently. I knew the truth, and my mom knew the truth.

  Tears ran down my face, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms.

  Didn’t he know it would never be alright?

  There was nothing I could ever do or say to bring my mom back. My arms slid around his neck and I rested my cheek against his wide chest. His hand moved up and down my back in a soothing gesture. He smelled like a mixture of the outdoors and a rich, spicy scent I knew I would never forget. I couldn’t remember the last time I had hugged anyone like this, with such desperation, and oddly enough, I didn’t want to let

  go. I took the comfort he offered and savored the feel of his strong arms embracing me.

  Chapter 10

  Anne Marie wasn’t at all what I expected.

  Being Miss Akin’s friend, I had known she would be on the older side, but she looked ancient, her skin like wrinkled leather. Her whitish-purple hair resembled a beehive, and she was taller and on the slim side. Polyester elastic waistband pants rode high on her waist, and her white button-up shirt had been ironed to perfection. As she stared at me, she carefully removed her navy wind-breaker and set it over the back of a chair.

  “Would you mind if we closed the drapes?” Anne Marie asked, setting a single white candle on the card table. I had read about using candles when summoning spirits––how ghosts were drawn to the soft light.

  Miss Akin nodded. “Not at all, dear.” She hopped up from her chair beside the fireplace and closed the drapes.

  “Should I lock the front door?” I asked, knowing we’d all be in deep-shit if my dad walked through the door to find us having a séance.

  “I already did, my darling,” Miss Akin said, sitting back down.

  I was glad Shane was with Milo, and I hoped he stayed away. I’d be horrified if he walked in right now.

  Anne Marie lit the candle and sat down.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Let’s hold hands and close our eyes,”

  she prompted.

  I did as she asked, taking both Miss Akin’s and Anne Marie’s hands within my own.

  I felt ridiculous.

  “We ask that if there are any spirits who wish to contact us, do so now,” Anne Marie said in an authoritative voice. “Use our energy and let us know you are here by making a noise—be it a tap or a knock of some type.”

  Anne Marie breathed deeply at least a half dozen times, and I opened an eye to make sure she was okay. She seemed to be, so I closed my eye again.

  “I sense a spirit with us,” she said, sounding pleased.

  That didn’t take long. I bit the inside of my lower lip to keep from cracking a smile.

  Honestly, I didn’t feel any spirit with us. I was skeptical. But it’s not like she was getting paid for this, and what would she have to gain?

  “My chest hurts something fierce,” Anne Marie said, her voice weaker than before.

  “And my head aches a bit.” She breathed deeply again. “Ah, she says her name begins with an R.”

  My pulse skittered. My mom’s name was Rochelle, and she’d had head and chest trauma.

  “Was it a car wreck?” Anne Marie said to no one in particular.

  Now she was going too far. I abruptly pulled my hands away. “Did you see my dream from the other night? Are you reading me instead of reading a spirit?”

  Anne Marie looked at me like I had punched her. “I don’t know anything about your dream, dear,” Anne Marie said matter-of-factly. “I know nothing about you…aside from the fact you are a fellow sensitive.

  Please trust me.”

  Miss Akin nodded and took hold of my other hand, squeezing it. “It’s okay, Riley.

  We are here to help you, not harm you. Perhaps she can give you some of the answers you are looking for.”

  She was right. Anne Marie could give me answers. Plus, I had waited to hear from my mother for over a year now and this could be my only opportunity.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  “She’s handing me a red rose, which means she loves you.”

  My throat tightened and I began to tremble. I wanted to tell her I loved her too, but I couldn’t push the words past my lips.

  “Her energy is fading fast. She just wants you to know she’s okay, Riley.”

  Is she mad at me? Does she blame me?

  Does she hate me? A hundred questions raced through my mind, but I couldn’t say the words. Not in front of Miss Akin and Anne Marie. I didn’t want them to kn
ow I had caused my mother’s death, even if I had lived with that guilt every day since the accident.

  “Are there any other spirits who would like to contact us?” Anne Marie said.

  Mom, I want to talk to you. Don’t leave so soon.

  I was desperate to keep her here. The hair on my arms stood on end as the temperature abruptly dropped. I wanted it to be Ian, but the energy felt different than his. Darker.

  I didn’t bother keeping my eyes closed. In fact, I couldn’t. I was too nervous.

  “Her name begins with an L,” Anne Marie said, her breath coming out in a fog.

  It was all I could do to hold onto Anne Marie’s hand. She felt freezing cold to the touch. “My neck hurts something fierce,” she said, her brows furrowed. “My throat feels tight, like I can’t breathe.”

  I glanced at Miss Akin, whose eyes were wide open now. She tried to give a reassuring smile but it came off more as a grimace.

  “Do you hear that?” Anne Marie asked, her eyes opening as well.

  “I don’t hear anything,” I said, a sense of foreboding coming over me. “I just sense a dark presence.”

  “She’s saying something over and over again,” Anne Marie said. “I’m havin’ a hard time making out the word.”

  My heart roared in my ears. Anne Marie looked at me abruptly. “I think she’s saying

  your name, Riley. Yes, that’s it. Do you know a young woman in spirit whose name begins with an L?”

  I nodded, afraid of what was coming.

  “What does she want?”

  “Why are you here?” Anne Marie asked.

  The table lifted a few inches off the floor and fell back down with a clatter.

  Miss Akin gasped, and we all dropped hands.

  A knock sounded from the front door, and then on the wall right behind Miss Akin.

  Knocking started on every wall, coming from all over the house at once.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Miss Akin said, her eyes wide with fear. I had the feeling she had gotten a lot more than she’d expected. I wanted to tell her that she hadn’t seen anything yet, but I didn’t want to scare her.

  Anne Marie jerked—and then she looked at me and didn’t so much as blink. “Do not help him.”

  It didn’t sound like Anne Marie’s voice at all, but a much younger voice. Someone my age. My throat tightened. Could it be Laria? I wondered with a sick feeling.

  Miss Akin must have caught the voice thingy too, because she scooted closer to me.

  “What do you mean, Anne Marie?”

  Anne Marie turned to Miss Akin and her head tilted. She continued to just stare and Miss Akin gasped, “Anne Marie?”

  The corners of Anne Marie’s mouth lifted in a creepy smile before she turned back to me. “Forget him, Riley…or else.”

  The candle blew out and the curtains ripped open by themselves. Miss Akin let out a startled scream and put a hand to her chest. “Bloody hell––I don’t think I’ll be doin’ that again anytime soon.”

  Anne Marie blinked a few times, looked at me, and then at Miss Akin. “What happened?”

  Oh my God…was she serious?

  “You don’t remember?” I asked.

  Anne Marie shook her head, glancing at Miss Akin. “I think I need to go home and rest, dear. I’m completely knackered out and my head hurts somethin’ fierce.”

  Miss Akin had a concerned expression on her face, but she nodded. “Yes, that might be for the best. I’ll see you home.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll be just fine. It’s nothing a little nap won’t cure,” Anne Marie said with a reassuring smile.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, following behind as she and Miss Akin walked slowly toward the front door. I felt someone in back of me—totally in my personal space, and I turned…only to find the room empty.

  I didn’t like feeling at such a disadvantage.

  “I’ll call you later,” Anne Marie said, before shutting the door behind her.

  Miss Akin turned and looked at me, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I honestly had

  no idea things would turn out in such a way.

  I thought perhaps she’d ask a few questions, but I would have never—”

  Someone pounded on the door and we both jumped and let out startled gasps.

  “Goodness me, I don’t think my heart can take much more of this,” Miss Akin said before she whipped open the door.

  Staring back at us was Shane, a strange expression on his face. “Why was the door locked?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about that, my darling,”

  Miss Akin said, fidgeting with the doorknob.

  I must have locked it by accident when my friend left.”

  “Yeah, I saw her. I think she left skid marks in the driveway.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  Miss Akin cleared her throat. “Would you like some lunch?”

  “Sure,” Shane said, glancing into the parlor. “It smells like smoke in here.”

  “I lit a candle,” I blurted, and Miss Akin took the opportunity to head for the kitchen.

  There was a part of me that wanted to tell him that our mom had come through, but chances were he’d think I was crazy. Plus, I didn’t want to chance it. What if Anne Marie had done her homework to begin with, and what about Laria? How could she have made all those knocks and sounds throughout the house? And what about the voice that had come out of Anne Marie? It had seemed so real, and what she had said about not helping him. She had to be talking about Ian.

  It was just all too much to absorb.

  Shane ran a hand through his hair as he walked toward the staircase. He was on the first step when he turned to me. “Did you have a friend over last night?”

  I shook my head. “No…why?”

  “I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone.”

  My heart skipped a beat. He had obviously heard me speaking with Ian. “Maybe I was talking in my sleep.”

  “No…it was like a full-on conversation,”

  he said adamantly. “You were talking to someone just like we are right now.”

  I swallowed hard. I had spent too many months with people thinking I was mental, my own family included. “I didn’t have anyone over, so I must have talked in my sleep.”

  He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but I darted past him and ran upstairs. “See you at dinner.”

  Chapter 11

  Ian grabbed my hand, his fingers sliding over and through mine. His touch felt incredible, sending a jolt of exhilaration up my spine.

  “I want to show you something, Riley.”

  His smile made me feel all wobbly inside, and my heart thudded against my chest as we walked across a meadow, the scent of heather so strong.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, elated to be with him again.

  His lips curved. “It’s a surprise.”

  We started walking up a hill, and then Ian started to run, his laughter contagious.

  “Come on, you are lagging behind.” His grip on my hand tightened. “We’re almost there.”

  The wind became stronger the higher we climbed, the trees whipping with the force. I could see we approached the top of the hill

  and what appeared to be a sudden drop-off.

  He must have sensed my hesitation to continue, because he stopped and grinned. “I wanted you to see this.”

  “See what?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes, trusting him completely.

  He turned me so my back was to him, his hands resting on my shoulders, his breath hot against my neck. I liked the feel of his body against mine, so close, and it was all I could do not to turn in his arms and hug him tight.

  “Open your eyes, Riley.”

  I opened my eyes and my pulse skittered.

  Below me I could see the entire village, the school, the inn, the cemetery, and the castle.

  I couldn’t believe the incredible view, stretching as far as the eye could see. Green grass, trees, the
river that curved through the small town. “It’s breathtaking.”

  He nodded. “I can spend hours up here.”

  I didn’t blame him. It was a place you could go to be alone…to think, to put things in perspective.

  “This is my home, Riley. My prison.”

  I glanced back at him and my stomach turned seeing the pain in his eyes.

  “This is where I am to spend all eternity…and I can no longer bear it.”

  His hands dropped from my shoulders, and he turned and walked toward the ledge.

  “Ian—”

  He stared at me, and then stepped off.

  I sat up in bed, my heart racing.

  “It was just a dream,” I said to myself, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. The dream had seemed so real, but thank God it hadn’t been. I didn’t want Ian to go away—not when he had been the first person I could talk to in what seemed like forever.

  I turned on my bedside lamp.

  “You called out my name.”

  I nearly dropped the glass. Ian had to stop doing that. Granted, it was nice knowing he was around when I needed him, but seriously… “Yeah, I had another dream.”

  He grinned, that irresistible smile that made my insides all fluttery. “You dreamt about me?” His voice held an arrogant edge that had me rolling my eyes.

  “Yes, and you jumped off a cliff.”

  He placed a long-fingered hand flat against his chest. “Ouch, lass.”

  His brilliant blue eyes held a warmth that made my toes curl. No one had looked at me in that way since Katie Jones’s thirteenth birthday party when I’d played the game, Seven Minutes In Heaven, and been forced into a closet with Stevie Steinway.

  It had been the longest seven minutes of my life.

  I wouldn’t have minded seven minutes in a closet with Ian MacKinnon though, I thought with a shiver.

  Ian’s gaze shifted to something above my head. I followed his gaze to the charcoal drawing of Mt. Hood, a mountain that had been visible from the living room of our house in Portland. I had drawn nearly all my life—practically from the time I could hold a pencil in my hand.