Their work done, Evan and Celia, have gone. Only Lev remains, sorting through the last of the books to be re-shelved. He opens one, and a cache of photos spills out. Jimmie must’ve put them there. There is a picture of me in pigtails with my front teeth coming in. I looked like a dork, and I scramble to snatch them up before he can. Still, my reflexes are nothing compared to his, and he’s already looking.
“Can I have those?”
“Sure,” he grins. “Just give me a minute.”
“You’ll have seen them,” I grumble, grabbing at his hands, but he isn’t giving.
He keeps looking. “I’d forgotten what a beanpole you were.” I snap hold of his hand and he lets them go.
“Remind me to burn these later.” I shove them back in the book and shelve it.
“Destroying the pictures won’t change the fact. They’ll remain with me.”
I smack his arm. “Don’t you have something else to clean?”
He waves his arm around the tidy house. “It’s done, and all in less than five hours.” He crosses to the recliner and sits. The chair that should’ve been ruined. The attacker had dragged a knife across the cushion and pulled out the stuffing.
“How did you fix the it?”
“Trade secret.” He props his arms behind his head.
Part of me wants to be annoyed, but Jimmie loves that chair, and I was dreading having to tell him the creep who’d attacked him had ruined it. I can remember so many days Jimmie has sat there, watching football or Jeopardy. Whenever he’s not working, he’s like a part of it.
“Thank you for doing this.” I sink down in the to chair and lie my head against his chest.
“I’m glad I could help.” He stares at the wall where the graffiti had been, now re-covered in a light brown that red letters won’t bleed through. Again, it should have taken a ton of paint, but somehow Lev has managed it without even a second coat.
We sit like that for a while, neither of us speaking, listening to the clock down the hall, ticking off the minutes. How many? Ten? Twenty? I’m not sure, and anyway, it doesn’t matter.
“I should probably go back to the hospital and see Jimmie. Maybe the doctors have told him when he’ll be released.” It’s probably wishful thinking, but….
“I’ll take you.”
“No, I’d rather drive myself. Besides, if Griffin really is the creep, I may not really be in danger at all.”
“I’m not counting on it.” Lev shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea, Elizabeth. That maniac is out there, and you are his number one target, not Jimmie.”
“It’s not like my location is a mystery. You jump into my head at the spur of the moment and it’s not like I could lock you out, anyway, even if I wanted to.” I shake my head. “Besides, it’s a hospital. What kind of moron is going to come after me at a place like that?”
“Someone desperate.”
I stand and step around the room, trying to see the house in the way I did before all of this happened, but I can’t. I’ll never be that person again, and I miss her. “I’m going a little stir crazy. Jimmie used to do this to me after my dad disappeared. It took him years to lighten up even though we were states away from here. He cared a lot, and I know you do, too, but all this has been too much. I need some time alone to sort things out, and the hospital isn’t that far. I’ll be okay.”
“I disagree.” He sits up and pushes down the footrest. “Being alone isn’t safe. You know that.”
“I just want a little time with Jimmie. I’ll be careful. I promise.” I grab the rubber band from around my wrist and draw my hair up into a pony.
He shakes his head and pulls out his cell phone. “Call me every hour. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be at the hospital so fast you won’t believe it.” His deep blue eyes are fixed on mine with that aching I can’t name, and I feel the swells of the sea lapping around me. His hand gently squeezes my arm just above my elbow, and his palm warms my skin. His mouth is set in a grim line, as if he suspects everything is spinning out of control, again.
“I’ll be all right,” I whisper, leaning into him. “I just need time to regroup.”
“I love you, Elizabeth.”
I kiss his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin. Whenever I’m this close, I wish I could stay, feeling his hand at the center of my back, the press of each finger a pulse of heat through me.
Lev shudders and steps back, his voice uncharacteristically short. “Go. I want you at my place before dark.”
I nod and force myself to turn, taking one last look at my house and the unbelievable way it seems to have been pieced back together. Our time is short, I know and part of me aches as though he’s already gone.
I take a deep breath and grab my coat, keys, and purse, heading out beneath a low gun metal sky. I hear Lev step onto the porch, and when I open the Jeep’s door, I toss him a wave.
His face is a neutral slate. Right now, he looks as human as I’ve ever seen him, stoop-shouldered and bent slightly forward at the waist, hands thrust deep into his back pockets. His hair is mussed from cleaning, and errant strands lift in the breeze like corn silk. So human now, and so beautiful. It would be so easy to lie to myself, saying, “I’m just a girl in love with a boy and there’s a happy ending just around the corner,” but then the future is out of our hands, and any ending by nature isn’t going to be a happy one. So I force myself into the Jeep, pushing both the past and the future away with equal distain and frustration.
When I get to the hospital, Jimmie’s sitting up in bed, the rolling table close. He nibbles at his dinner. He doesn’t hear me come in and glares at the Beef Stroganoff before him. I have to admit, it doesn’t smell edible. And Jimmie isn’t much of a sour cream fan.
“Looks yummy,” I say, ambling across the room so I can set my purse on the window ledge and bend to give him a kiss. The bruise on his cheek is healing, but it looks even worse today. It’s a sickening yellow and mottled purple. Then again, that happens with most bruises, so it doesn’t worry me. He smiles and motions for me to sit.
“You eat it.” He nudges the table toward me.
“It’s not that yummy.”
“You think this is funny? I can’t wait to get some real food.”
I laugh; he sounds good. Much better. “Has the doctor said anything about releasing you?”
He nods. “Tomorrow, thank God. I think he’s as tired of my bellyaching as I’m tired of being here.” He glares around the room as though even the furnishings are annoying him.
“Sounds really good, Jimmie.” I’m smiling despite all my fears; despite everything he’s been through, Jimmie is really okay. Tears prick my eyes, and I try to wipe them away without Jimmie spotting them.
“You should’ve known I was too ornery to die, Lizzie.” He squeezes my hand. “Give me a few days and I’ll be as good as new.” He glances around the room. “Where’s your partner in crime?”
Trust Jimmie to put it that way. “Home. We’ve got everything put back together. After I leave here, I’m staying with Celia again.”
He nods. “That’s, probably better. Evan said he’d watch out for you until I can take over.” He looks out the window. “It’s getting dark. You might want to head off.”
The door swings open, admitting a janitor, and as I glance that way, I realize he looks familiar. It is Mr. Henley from school. He doesn’t look any happier to see me here than he did there and glares at me while switching out the trash bags, and leaves without a word.
I look outside at the waning sunlight. A splash of orange sherbet dapples the clouds, a herald of sunset. Where does time go? I know I need to leave, but I’m not ready, not yet.
“I used to think nothing exciting would ever happen to me, Jimmie, not in a small town like this. Now I find myself wishing for the boredom I’d expected. It was sure easier to think maybe my father ran off rather than ending up as the pile of bones those hikers turned up.” No matter how hard I try not to think about what happened to him, I st
ill see him, his face that I imagine from pictures.
“They don’t know it’s Ephraim.”
“But how many people go missing around here, Jimmie? What’s the likelihood it’s somebody else?” I look him in the eye, wondering if he’s going to deny it, not that it matters, considering what Celia told me.
“I don’t know, Lizzie. Fact is that no matter who the person is, somebody’s heart is going to break in the end.”
“I know.” I fold my arms across my chest and rub my arms, trying to stave off the sudden cold. “Some part of me just wanted my father to be off somewhere living a happy life where nobody could hurt him again.”
“That’s what I want for you.” He pushes a button and lowers the head of the bed, and I can tell that even though he’s feeling better, exhaustion is creeping up on him. “I know we aren’t going to find it here, and we don’t have to stay put. There’s a whole world out there and as soon as this house sells, we’re out of here.” He shifts slightly in the bed and pushes his head deeper in the pillow. His eyelids are growing heavier, and it won’t be long until he’s completely drifted off.
I glance back at the window and find to my dismay that the sun has sunk beyond the horizon. I kiss Jimmie’s face once more and whisper a parting “I love you” he doesn’t hear. Turning, I head out into the hallway and pull out Lev’s cell. As I head toward the parking lot, I dial Lev’s house number, and after two rings, he answers.
I tell him I’m leaving the hospital and that I’ll be home soon, and before I hang up he gives me the standard “Be Careful” spiel. The lot is empty and dark, and I pick up the pace. What is it with this town and street lamps? At least two of them have burned out. How long ago, I wonder. A week? A month? In Hauser’s landing, who can tell? In small towns it seems to me, change happens so gradually no one ever knows it’s there.
I reach into my purse and pull out my keys, trying not to tremble from the cold and fear, unnerving my fingers. Steady, Lizzie, I think. Surely nobody’s going to grab me from a public parking lot. The Jeep is just ahead, and I hasten my steps. My breath stammers in heated wisps. I hate the cold even more. I really do.
I reach for the Jeep and shove the key into the lock—and then there is nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Elizabeth, where are you?” The voice seems so loud it hurts. Each syllable is like a glass shard jabbing into me.
“I’m right here,” I try to say, but my mouth won’t move. My throat is parched, and pain blazes through my skull where an image of white light fills my mind and Lev appears, his wings burning behind him in a white-hot fury that makes his skin and hair that much more ethereal.
“Where are you?”
Pain. Something is wrong. I struggle with opening my eyes, but that doesn’t do a whole lot of good. Even when I finally manage to pry them open, there is yet darkness.
What’s going on?” I force myself to remember where I was last. With Lev? No. At the hospital with Jimmie. The memory is fuzzy, out of focus, and it’s so hot. It feels like I’m moving.
“Where are you, Elizabeth?” This time, I know the voice isn’t a dream. It’s Lev in my mind, his voice worried.
“I don’t know, I think. How long has it been since I called you?” My mouth hurts and it takes a moment for me to realize a gag there.
“An hour. I never should have left you alone. What happened?” His face fills my thoughts and I know he’s just doing that to try to keep me calm. Surely he feels the fear slowly escalating inside me.
“I remember unlocking the Jeep door and then I think somebody hit me.”
“Do you have any idea where you are?”
“In some kind of vehicle. We’re moving. I can’t see anything and I can’t move.”
The vehicle begins to slow and finally comes to a stop. I’m shaking, sweat dappling my forehead. I try to move my arms and legs but can’t. Panic rises inside and a wordless cry escapes, a sound I don’t even recognize, animalistic and frightening.
“Elizabeth, what’s going on?” Lev asks frantically, sensing the panic.
“We’ve stopped.” I struggle harder against my restraints, but no matter how I thrash, I can’t give myself an inch. Suddenly I hear a key being inserted into a lock, and I expect to be able to see, but everything’s still dark, the feel of hands grabbing my body muted by something. A blanket?
Still, I struggle, trying to make it more difficult than it’s worth to pull my body out of the vehicle, but I’m no match. I feel myself being lifted and carried. A peaceful whistle breaks the silence, and I cringe at the way the notes echo in an upbeat song. It seems to go on forever and then suddenly my body drops. The unexpected motion steals my breath, and I use that opportunity to start struggling, but the motion gets me nowhere.
“Quit squirming. It’s only gonna make me madder than I already am. And you really don’t want to do that,” a calm voice tells me.
The darkness spins around me, and the heat is beginning to get to me. I’ve never dealt well with closed-in spaces, and right now it’s all I can do not to focus on the midnight I can’t shed no matter how desperately I want to. Suddenly the spinning is no longer just inside me. My body is being jerked around repeatedly, until I spin out into the night and my head slams into something. I gasp and hear the rasp of my breath and an involuntary groan escapes my lips.
“Elizabeth,” Lev says, “You okay?”
“Head hurts,” I think, slowly lifting one hand to touch my head. A sticky goo greets my fingers. I pull my hand back and see scarlet staining my skin on at least three hands in my blurry vision. The light around me is dim. But we are inside a large room. Half the room still has wooden floorboards. The other half, where I lie, is rough earth. For a moment I look around and see the line of windows like at the school.
“Here you are, making a mess for me to clean up. At least this will be the last one.” The voice that had seemed so unfamiliar now takes on a recognizable form. Mr. Maguire, my history teacher.
“It’s Mr. Maguire?” Lev asks.
“Yes, I think.” I blink, trying to clear the darkness from my eyes.
“Can you tell where you are yet?”
“The new wing of the school,” I think, struggling to sit up even though I feel lightheaded.
Maguire leans on the handle edge of a shovel stuck into the ground. He’s actually smiling as I struggle to move, and I recognize the rage in his eyes.
“This is my new classroom, Elizabeth. This way, you’ll always be with me and nobody will ever know any better. Except me.”
I rub my head trying to ease the pain. I still feel blood oozing on my hand so I’m guessing the wound hasn’t scabbed over.I manage to get to a squatting position where I can lunge away if necessary.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice weak and raspy.
“I was in love with your mother. I loved her since the first day I saw her. But the only guy she would look at was that red trash who had no business with Anne. And that night when she had to drive to the bar to get his sorry drunk ass after he’d been laid off work, she wrecked. He knew the roads were bad. She never should have been driving. But she was. Because of your father. So I killed him and hid the body. It was all good until now. And those damned hikers finding it. So it forced me to tidy the last of the unfinished business—you. Once you’re dead, your father will cease to exist, just like Anne.”
He pulls something out of his pocket. It takes a few moments for my eyes to discern the black rectangular barrel of a gun.
“What’s going on?” Lev thinks. “What do you see?”
“He’s got a gun.”
The teacher laughs. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a button down shirt like he always does in class. He still has his plastic identification card dangling around his neck. A wicked gleam lights his eyes and he steps toward me, the gun almost invisible against the darkness.
“I’m coming, Elizabeth.” I hear Lev’s voice fill my head. But he’s going to be too late
. I lunge past him and the first bullet rips into a wall, barely missing me.
Someone grabs me. I look up. Lev. His blue eyes narrow determinedly. Another shot. Those eyes widen. His lips part. A spurt of red gleams from a hole in his chest. Then the two of us begin falling. Mr. Maguire is still coming, the gun raised. He stops right in front of me. Dead aim. Then, just as I sense his finger pressing the trigger, I see movement behind him. Griffin, shovel in hand, swings. The dull silver of the spade clanging against Maguire’s temple. He falls over.
“Lev,” I whisper. I feel his warm blood saturating my coat, and I wonder how much has leaked out. How much is still in his body?
“I’m bleeding on you,” he whispers, scarlet ebbing from the corner of his mouth. His body shivers, and I don’t see the shimmer that normally wraps around him.
“This can’t be.” I whisper, my body shaking.
“But it is.” A fit of coughing claims him. His breath is labored. A siren distantly wails. His eyes seem unfocused and he blinks a couple of times. “No more bad dreams, Elizabeth. I’ve taken them from you.”
“No,” I whisper. I know what that means and I won’t accept it.
He inhales sharply and then the breath stutters once or twice before stillness. I start shaking so hard, and a scream rips through me. It’s a keening wail, high-pitched and awful. Griffin is there, trying to pry me from Lev’s body, but I won’t let go. I can’t. All I can do is scream and scream.
The EMTs arrive and speak to me but I don’t understand. I clutch Lev to me. At least until one of them slowly uncurls my fingers from his while the other detangles our bodies. Dully, I watch one of them start CPR. The other looks me over, trying to figure out of I’ve been shot, too.
“Lizzie?” Griffin kneels beside me. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” His expression is haunted. I keep staring at the EMTs. It seems to go on forever until finally one nods to the other and they stop. I draw my thighs to my chest and rest my head atop my knees.
Sojourner Page 20
