by Laney McMann
“I … huh?” I glanced at Benny and down at her shoes.
“Oh, well, thank you, but you didn’t need to do that. She would have been fine until later.”
“It’s no problem. See you guys.” Benny waved, winked and left.
My mom made her way back to the kitchen. “I thought you were taking a nap?” she asked in an unusual voice.
“I … uh … yeah. I was.” I turned away and stopped. “Didn’t you want to talk to me?”
“No.” She seemed disoriented. “Have a good nap.”
What is going on? I hurriedly made my way back to my room and crawled in bed.
••
“Teine! Come and play.” The little girl runs through the forest laughing hysterically, her blonde locks bouncing down her back. “Mother is waiting for you. Where have you been?” She laughs again and runs out of sight.
“Wait, I’m coming!” I chase after her, trying to keep up. The light shifts, shining directly into my eyes. “Cara, wait.”
She skips along far ahead of me.
“I can’t see. It’s too bright.”
“You’re so silly, Teine. You know the way. Come on, Mother has been waiting.”
• • •
The heat of the shower stung my face, creating red welts on my cheeks. I splashed them with cold water before strolling out of the bathroom toward the French doors with a towel wrapped around my head.
Long lines formed along the ocean’s horizon, one after the other in fluid succession, as I walked out on the back porch. Sitting in my favorite rocking chair, legs curled underneath me, I looked out over the skyline, blue water and off white clouds merging into one fluid color in the distance.
The last twenty-four hours seemed like nothing more than a blur. Maybe I’d simply dreamed it all. I fished my cell phone out of my robe pocket and checked for missed calls. Ten. Benny had called twice. Three calls and voice messages from Devon, who I assumed spoke to Benny.
I scrolled down to a number I didn’t recognize. Five missed calls from the number Max had called from the night before. Five voice mails.
My pulse quickened. I keyed his name in alongside the number, hit save and waited to hear the messages.
Instead, a knock at the door took my attention. Pulling the towel off my head, I shook my hair out and crossed the house, retying my robe before swinging the door open. Max stood leaning against the side of the house, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows raised and a grin spread over his face.
“Catch you at bad time?” His gaze roamed low and down my bare legs.
I glanced down at myself. Humiliating. Why didn’t I use the peephole? Look out the front window? Anything? “Oh … yeah, well, no, I mean, I thought you were probably Devon.”
His lips pressed together, erasing his smile.
“That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I got out of the shower and …” Why am I so nervous?
“It’s okay. I mean, he’s the boyfriend, right?” His gaze veered away from mine.
“Right …” I said to my feet.
“So anyway, I’ve been calling you all day. Didn’t you get my messages?” He sounded a little put out, like I’d been avoiding him on purpose.
“Yeah.” I raised my hand to show him my phone. “You knocked as I was about to listen to them.”
“You left rehearsals early?” He peered into the living room, leaning against the doorjamb.
“You do remember keeping me awake until four in the morning?”
“Sure, that’s what I figured.” He stared past me.
“You can trust me you know.” I leaned into his line of sight, bringing his attention back on me.
He dropped his chin and sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I can. It’s just … I worry. Answer the phone next time.”
“Okay.” Without thought, I moved forward and tilted his head back up, cupping his jaw in my hand, allowing his warmth to permeate me. “Don’t be upset. Whatever this is, it’ll be all right.” I brushed my thumb along the hollow under his eye—dark with worry. “I think you’re the one who needs sleep now.”
He bit his bottom lip, his grey eyes holding my gaze.
“I remember every curve of your face,” I whispered and leaned into him, kissing the edge of his jaw lightly. “Don’t worry so much about me.”
“Layla …” His voice trembled and caught. “That’s not possible.” He cleared his throat. “You’re all I worry about.”
I tried to wrench my gaze away, to back up, to move my hand or gain some rational thought, but my brain had turned to Jell-O.
“I think I should go,” he said, slowly taking one step back.
I nodded, looking up at him, unable to catch my breath as it raced like I’d sprinted down the beach.
A garage door opened somewhere in the distance; a door opened, too. “Teine, can you help me unload the groceries, please?”
“Coming,” I said in daze, a strange current of energy running between Max and me, holding us where we stood.
He leaned down, eyes framed with a fringe of brown lashes, and gently kissed the corner of my mouth.
I caught myself as my knees buckled.
“Your mom still calls you that?” He smirked, inches from my face.
I nodded, without breath to speak.
“I have to go.” He grinned. “Your mom and I … well, not so much.” He jerked the front door open and scrambled out. “See you soon.” He winked and left.
What just happened?
8
“I’ve been thinking.” My mother handed me another bag from the Farmer’s Market, the warmth of Max’s kiss still lingering on my mouth. I brushed my fingertips over it. “You might want to consider taking a break after the show. I think some time off might be good. Maybe we could get out of town for a while when school gets out?”
“Sure, Mom,” I said, barely listening.
“Maybe we could … Devon … it could … fun.”
“Right.” I nodded, putting the milk in the refrigerator, unsure what she said.
My dancing schedule was the least of my concerns, but the mental strain I was under was affecting my performing and my concentration.
• • •
“Layla!” Ms. Trudy roared at me again during practice. “If you cannot get it together by opening night … so help me, I will put in your understudy.”
“Sorry, Ms. Trudy.” It was all I could manage.
She restarted my music, and I attempted to focus and block out Dena‘s snickering, and the temptation to run across the stage and smack her in the face.
At the end of rehearsal, I walked out through the Grand Hall. “Ms. Trudy?” She sat slightly hidden in the dark theatre, reading over her notes. “Ms. Trudy, I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll get it together.”
“Yes, I know you will.” She gave me a brief, distracted smile. “You are the brightest here. I suppose that is why I am so hard on you.” She patted my hand and continued rifling through her notes.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I trudged up the aisle toward the double doors. The light from the fading sun peeked through the cracks, leading me to the top. I swung open the doors and my eyes watered and stung as the full flood of sunlight hit me like a slap in the face. I stumbled through the silent lobby, reaching blindly for the glass doors leading to the sidewalk.
“Layla?”
I screamed, wheeling in the direction of Max’s voice.
“What’s wrong with you?” He rushed forward, his voice laced in terror, and grabbed my outstretched arm.
“It’s bright as heck in here. I couldn’t see, and you scared me to death! What’re you doing lurking around?” What was he doing hanging around in the deserted lobby anyway?
“I’m not lurking anywhere.” He gave me an incredulous look. “I’ve been waiting for you. I got here a little earlier than I’d planned, so I watched the last part of your rehearsal.”
Who could be mad at that sincere face?
>
“You’re very good, by the way.”
“Oh … thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced toward the door as though he thought I wanted him to leave.
“I’m sorry about yesterday, too. I don’t know what’s going on with me.” I wasn’t sure what to say. The connection that was so apparent between us wasn’t something I could ignore. It was Max, not some random crush. He mattered.
“Sorry for what?” He held the door open and followed me outside and onto the sidewalk.
“I finally got you back. I don’t want to jeopardize that or mess anything up.” Maybe he had no idea what I was even talking about.
His cheeks flushed. “Of course I know what you’re talking about.” He grinned and glanced away. “You’re not jeopardizing anything.”
“Can you stop doing that please?”
“Doing what?”
“Listening to my thoughts, or whatever.” It was bad enough I couldn’t think clearly on my own. I didn’t need him eavesdropping on my brain and regurgitating it back to me.
“It’s kind of automatic.” He shrugged. “I hear you like you’re talking out loud. I’ll try not to listen.”
“Okay,” I said, playing along. “Why can’t I hear you?”
“You can. You’re just choosing when somehow. You heard me the other night at the restaurant.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“So …” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I thought maybe we could go visit my Grandmother today? If you’re up to it.”
“Your Grandmother?” My brow creased.
“She’s been dying to see you.” He caught my hand in his and swung it back and forth, smiling, like we were kids again. Coercion.
“Because?”
“She hasn’t seen you since you were little.”
I had no clue how to respond.
“Please. It will be painless, I promise.” The corner of his mouth curved up in a pleading grin as he swung our arms higher.
I laughed, giving in. “Sure.” How bad could it be?
“Ride with me?” He lifted my dance bag off my shoulder and slipped it over his own, leading us into the emptying parking lot, where his black VW Toureg sat parked beside my beat-up car in the only spot that wasn’t shaded by hovering oak trees. He tossed my bag into the backseat, holding my door open. “I didn’t mean to throw you off before,” he said.
“I know. Sorry I freaked out.”
“You have reason.”
“Yeah, about that …”
“Later.”
We drove down a winding street, in the historic district, canopied in live oaks. Ivy twisted around trellises, and boxwoods lined entryways in manicured perfection around the meticulously maintained homes. Crawling white jasmine and purple wisteria perfumed the air and draped the front porch of Max’s grandmother’s late eighteenth century house.
An elderly woman with white hair sat on the back porch swing overlooking an immense garden of red roses and glossy green ligustrums.
“Hello, Grandmother.” Max’s formal tone had me gazing up at him.
“Ah, my child.” She held out her arms, embraced him and kissed his cheek. “Who is this you have brought to see me?” Her heavy accent tugged at the recesses of my memory. It was one I’d heard from somewhere but couldn’t place.
She peered around him. I waved in an awkward way.
“This is the girl?”
“Hi, Ms. MacLarnon, it’s … nice to see you.” I smiled, unsure what to say someone I didn’t remember.
Her eyebrows squeezed together, and she rose and ambled forward with hesitant steps, most of her weight leaning on her left side. I was afraid she’d tip over, fall off the porch and into the garden.
“Come closer my child. My vision is not what it used to be.”
I advanced a little.
She held out her hands and cradled my face with a cool and gentle touch. A quick nod, and a knowing smile spread across her elderly wrinkled face, as she patted me on the hand.
“Yes … I see. You are Lorelei’s child, Teine.” She nodded again. “Many years have passed, since I last saw you. I was afraid I may not recognize you.”
“You know my mother?” Skepticism leached into my thoughts.
“Of course, child.” She waved her hand and turned, limping back toward the porch swing. “How else would I know you?”
“You called me Teine,” I said, trying to catch her averted gaze.
“That is your name, child. Everyone knows that.”
Who’s everyone? Very few people knew my mom called me Teine, and it wasn’t my name. I glanced at Max, confused, but only found his natural smile.
Ms. MacLarnon dropped down on the porch swing again and turned to Max. “As I told you, one day, you would meet again. Time is of no matter; age of no consequence. Twin souls must link to their counterpart in the end. Sometimes sooner than later. It is your destiny.” She spoke as if her words were common knowledge.
“Sorry?” I said. What is she talking about?
Ms. MacLarnon leaned back. “There have been other souls over time. None have been the ones of legend, of course, but none have been quite … right either.” Her eyes twinkled.
An undeniable sense of majesty surrounded her presence—as if she possessed an all-knowing sort of energy.
I shifted my weight. “I’m sorry, Ms. MacLarnon. I don’t follow you.”
She tilted her head, seeming agitated or maybe confused; I wasn’t sure which. Rounding on Max, she said, “She does not know yet?” Her abrupt change of tone seemed entirely out of character.
Max stared down at the ground. “No, I haven’t told her.”
Ms. MacLarnon laid a hand on her chest and patted the space on the swing next to her. “Come, my child. Sit.” She motioned to me; I did as she asked.
Max leaned against one of the porch’s columns. “Grandmother …”
“Mackenzie MacLarnon, what have you told her?”
Who?
“I haven’t told her anything.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt again, but what did you call Max?”
“MacKenzie, of course,” she said, her tone, snappy and not at all warm and welcoming.
I gave him a questioning glance.
Color rose in his cheeks. “Max is a nick name. It was easier than MacKenzie when I was young, and less embarrassing.”
“You never told me that.” I frowned.
“Like I said—embarrassing.”
Ms. MacLarnon made a throat-clearing sound.
I turned back to her. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“MacKenzie, I understand your concerns, but the time has passed for caution. Your choice has been made. Therefore, she must be told.”
“But, Grandmother—”
“My boy—you do her no favors by keeping this from her. Do not forget who she is.” She faced me again, and Max exhaled. “My dear, this may very well be too much information for you, however, you need to know your history. It is of utter importance.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. It is not my place to give you the information you will need—not at this time, but you will learn of your path. Your mother has answers for you; do not be afraid to ask her for your truth.” She smiled and patted my hand. “I am glad to have seen you today. You have made my grandson very happy. I thank you for that.”
“Oh … all right.” I stood up, too confused to say much else. “It was … good to see you, too.”
I turned to Max. He raised his eyebrows.
“Teine …” Ms. MacLarnon reached for my hand, holding it her own. “Stay close to MacKenzie—for your safety.” My chest tightened, her words ricocheting around in my head as I glanced down at her gleaming green eyes. “Gone are the days the name Layla will protect you. A choice has been made. Keep your eyes open.” She squeezed my hand and let go.
Blood drained from my face. My legs went weak.
“We’ll see you soon.” Max
leaned in to give his Grandmother a hug, seeming oblivious to my state of shock.
She whispered, “An dtuigeann tú?”
I repeated her words in my head. Do you understand?
Max glanced at me, his mouth hanging open, before saying, “Tuigim.”
Again, the words repeated in my head. I understand.
“Ready?” He held his hand out to me.
With wobbling legs, and a churning mind, I nodded.
“Mackenzie, child.”
He stopped and spun back.
“Dhá riamh fhadaigh tine, ach las sé idir iad.”
Two never kindled a fire, but it lit between them.
Max nodded and glanced at me. Squeezing my hand, he led me off the porch. “You okay?” he asked after we climbed into the car.
I paused, trying to find my words. “What’s going on?” I stared him straight in the face, forcing my hands to stop trembling. “What are you keeping from me?”
He groaned. “Lay … it’s not that simple. I wish it was. Right now, I need you to keep trusting me. Can you do that?”
My eyes narrowed, questions reeling through my head in a stream of disarray.
He held my stare with steady unfaltering eyes. “Please.”
I swallowed hard and wrenched my gaze from his.
“So, do you have plans tonight?” He started the engine and pulled away from the big, old house.
“No, it’s Monday …” I focused on the passing oak trees.
He nudged my knee in a playful way. “So?”
I sighed and tilted my head toward him. “So, don’t you go to school, or something?” I shifted my weight, crossing my legs.
“Graduated early.” He smirked, tapping his finger to his temple.
“How’d you manage that?”
“Lots of extra classes online. I was home schooled mostly. It’s always been easy for me.”
“Must be nice.”
“Dancing’s easy for you. We all have our strengths.”
After a few minutes of silence, he pulled up next to my car in the theatre lot and put the car in park.
“So does your silence mean you don’t want to hang out later?”
“I didn’t say that.” I stared out the window, mad at myself for agreeing. My desire to be near him overrode my need to argue for more information.
