Fall (Roam Series, Book Two)

by Stedronsky, Kimberly

  “I just don’t see the end… what are we doing? Are we trying to save… Laurel? Is it worth keeping Troy alive for… her?”

  West held me, not speaking for long moments. When he did, his voice was strained. “If he had taken your mother… or father… or Morgan, how far would you go?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m so selfish,” I brushed at my tears with the back of my hands.

  Patiently, he lowered his voice “You’re not selfish. You’re protecting her.” He looked down at the cradle. “You’ll do anything for her. No matter how old she is.”

  I realized what he was saying, lifting my eyes to the open doorway. Violet jumped back from the stove as something began to boil over. “Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit,” she cursed, playing with the dial on the stovetop.

  “What did he say to you?” He asked.

  I took a deep, steadying breath, explaining the story Troy had told me. “He said the doors are… man-made. And it has something to do with the castle. But- in my dreams- I’ve never seen the outside of the castle. Only the inside.”

  His eyes sparked with a light that I had learned to recognize when something occurred to him. “I’ve seen the outside,” he stood up, looking around the room. “The castle sits high, on an angle, and there are old- tracks,” he knelt in the corner next to the dresser, rummaging through a pile of books stacked against the wall.

  “World Book Encyclopedia,” I murmured as he chose one in particular. “We didn’t have a washing machine, but we had encyclopedias.”

  “Annie loved to learn. Almost as much as you do,” he offered me a loving smile, opening I-F. “Inclined plane…,”

  “…is a very old way to move things. Stonehenge, for example, is thought to have been constructed by using the ground to build a slope.” I brushed an unruly tear away, pulling the volume into my hands. “What did you see? Describe it exactly.”

  When he said nothing, I raised my face to his. He grinned, tilting my chin to meet his lips. “I like when you teach me something.”

  His beard brushed my nose, and I gave a breathy laugh. “I like this… but it’s harder to kiss you,” I touched the dark, blonde hair on his chin, and he raised his eyes.

  “Well, then, it’s gone,” he promised playfully.

  I froze, looking back down at the book and flipping pages. “Tell me what the ‘tracks’ look like… like a railroad?”

  “I would say that- but archaic,” he added, following the page that I read. “There are inclined planes… modes of transportation… all over the world. Man-made.”

  “Like the fountains.” I confirmed.

  “In my dreams of this castle, the main structure sits on a cliff and the ground below forms a long, inclined plane. Really, any type of ramp is one. Chili, South Africa, Austria, Hong Kong, Istanbul, LA… and there is one in Pittsburgh.”

  “And Johnstown.” Logan knocked softly on the open door. “Inclined planes? What are we talking about here?”

  “The door… to the other… world,” I closed the encyclopedia with a gentle snap. “Something that Troy said. We don’t know anything for certain.”

  “There’s one near my grandmother, in Pennsylvania. Johnstown, Pennsylvania. I don’t know how old it is…,”

  “The first flood there was in 1889. Clara Barton, the founder of the American Red Cross, actually went there to help. So it’s pretty old. That plane saved hundreds of lives during the flood, transporting people to safety.”

  “I don’t know where you store all this,” Logan said, yawning, tapping his finger against his temple.

  “Should we go there? Now… in 1955?”

  “Hold on,” West watched Logan stretch, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pack everyone up on an idea. Especially Eva. Logan, you need to sleep. I’ll take watch.”

  “Sounds great. Violet’s got something delicious going in the kitchen.” He made a face that made me bite my lip.

  “She’s trying.” West defended her.

  “Logan, lay down. Eva is sound asleep. You need to sleep,” I gestured to the bed, and he accepted my offer without protest.

  “No more than an hour,” he managed, already closing his eyes.

  I stood up, pulling a blanket over him. West watched me from the doorway.

  “You can sleep, too, Roam,” he walked to me, holding my face in his hands. “There’s only one bed. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” I lowered to the bed, lying as far away from Logan as possible.

  “Really?” he gestured to Eva, and I smiled.

  “Oh, yeah,” I whispered.

  “I need to talk to Violet, anyway.” He took a deep breath. “Long overdue.”

  “I wish I could help,” I slid my fingers into his hair. “I love you. She will, too. She’ll understand.”

  He nodded, touching his lips to my forehead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I listened to West’s voice from the kitchen as I dozed. Catching snippets of their conversation make me feel like a trespasser, but I marveled in the compassion in his voice as he spoke to his daughter.

  “I found you in the crib. You weren’t breathing.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But I began CPR, and you started breathing again.”

  “What made you think that I was immortal? CPR probably saved me.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat, his words pained. “Laurel… your mother… admitted that it wasn’t the first time you’d… died.”

  Violet was silent.

  “She was very depressed after you were born. I worked so much, and she was alone with you…,” I could feel the pain in his words. “She did an awful thing. Twice.”

  “My own mother tried to… kill me?” The tears in her voice broke my heart; I had to hold the headboard to keep from going into the kitchen to comfort her.

  “She went on medication. It helped. Violet, she loved you so much. She just needed help, but I didn’t see that. I began to piece things together… I had a strong suspicion that you were immortal, like me. I knew the numbers were coming, so I had to leave... I couldn’t put either of you in danger. The day I drove away from you was one of the worst days of my life. Violet,” his voice wavered, and she gasped. I knew he held her while she cried.

  I stared at the wall, so exhausted but unable to sleep. Eva made tiny sounds as she slept, comforting me, and Logan breathed heavily behind me. He shifted, his arm moving to drape over me. The weight of his touch calmed my frantic nerves as I finally drifted off to the sound of the rain on the roof.

  “Chocolate, with a little vanilla, but not a twist.” Logan imitates a customer through his headset, screwing his face up animatedly and sending me into fits of laughter. “Definitely not a twist.”

  “I can’t wait to not work here anymore,” I groan, squeezing the mop into the bucket of sudsy water. “I… I don’t work here,” I drop the mop, touching the hem of my tiny shorts and matching King Cone shirt. “Logan, what are we doing here?”

  He looks at me, slowly removing the headset. “At least I’m not killing you for a change,” he says, moving around the counter toward me. “And I don’t want to. What do I want in this dream…,” he grins suggestively, scooping me up and setting me on the counter, next to the cash register. “I want you, right here,” he lowers his lips to my neck, tucking my legs around his waist. “I’ve been thinking about it for two months.”

  “Logan, we’re dreaming… at the same time,” I squirm beneath his lips.

  “Shush. Don’t ruin it.” His hand slides up my thigh, and I wriggle backward, grabbing his shirt to keep from falling off the counter.

  “Logan, we’re sleeping… in 1955, in the cottage… are you there?” I grasp his face in my hands.

  He stares at me, and then slowly lowers his eyes to his arm. The numbers swim over his arm, swirling against his skin.

  “Don’t ruin it,” he groaned, his face against my neck. I wo
ke to Eva’s cries, turning my head on the pillow.

  “Logan… Logan, lift your hand, I have to get the baby,” I pushed at his shoulder. He had me completely wrapped in his arms, his face buried in my blonde hair.

  He sat up with a start, releasing me. I rolled off the bed and hurried to the cradle, gathering Eva into my arms. The sun was low in the sky, and I searched the kitchen and living room for West.

  “Hey,” Violet’s voice startled me as she came in from the back door. “West said she’d be hungry when she woke up; he changed her and held her while you two slept. He went to the mainland for supplies.”

  “Oh… what time is it?”

  “About six.”

  I watched her carefully, trying to find the right words. “Are you okay?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll take over back there,” Logan appeared at the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Vi, get some rest. You need it.”

  She disappeared into the bedroom without another word. I rocked Eva gently, staring at Logan. “Did you dream?”

  “About Crap Cone?” He answered right away, our teasing nickname for the town’s small ice cream parlor where we both worked the summer prior.

  “Yeah… we dreamed together. How did that happen?”

  “Maybe because I was holding you.” He sighed, running his hand over his thick head of brown hair. “If that’s the only way to stop the nightmares, I’m going to need your assistance every night.”

  “It’s not over,” I whispered, the reality setting in. West knew; he couldn’t bring himself to tell me, to say the words. “The numbers, the dreams… her birth didn’t fulfill the prophecy. She has to do something… to save the world.”

  Logan crossed the small living room to me, watching Eva as she waved tiny fists in the air. “Unless it involves eating, sleeping, or pooping, we have a while to wait.”

  “Do you remember,” I lowered myself to the couch, carefully positioning the baby, “when that T-ball team came in, and that one kid crawled through the serving window?”

  “And got stuck? How could I forget? We had to grease him up with whipped cream to get him out. He needed a diet, not an ice cream cone,” he laughed, and I shook my head, exasperated.

  “It seems like forever ago,” I pulled at the strap on my dress, lifting my eyes to his. “Is this weird? If I feed her?”

  Logan reached for her bare toes, touching them between his fingers affectionately. “That’s the only thing that seems normal… feeding a baby. Happens every day.”

  I expected to feel self-conscious feeding her with Logan sitting next to me, but his presence, even in a different form, was completely natural.

  “Kind of miss TV,” he said, staring at a fireplace across from us.

  “That fireplace is gone now. There’s a flat screen there.”

  “Nice.”

  “I could tell you the story that Troy told me,” I said softly. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the high back of the couch.

  “I heard. Do you think I’d just let you go in there, shut the door, and stuff my face with breakfast?”

  “I figured you were listening.”

  “He’s so full of shit, I don’t know what to believe.”

  “We’ve all had dreams about this castle. I can’t help but believe him.”

  “So what if all these people in the world… the president… actors, actresses… Katy Perry, they’re all in this other universe. Just normal everyday minions while we sit up in this castle?”

  “Katy Perry? Seriously?”

  “I’d like to know if she’s available in castle-world. Seeing as how I’m a prince.”

  “You’re crazy,” I laughed, lifting my eyes to the door. West pushed it open, carrying bags. Logan jumped to his feet to help with the supplies.

  “Hey baby… how do you feel?” He gave Logan a glance before moving over to Eva and me on the couch.

  “So much better.” I accepted his kiss, still smiling at Logan’s words. “You went shopping?”

  “The rain hadn’t let up, and I didn’t know how long it would be if the weather got worse. I needed to make sure to get rid of the van, too.”

  The sun was setting over the ocean, indicating the rain was finally over. “The van is gone?”

  “There is still law enforcement in 1955. We don’t need them knocking on the door. How is she?” He looked eager to hold Eva.

  I finished feeding her, nodding. “She’s just so… healthy. And beautiful,” I handed her to him. “Violet is sleeping.” I stood up and went to the cabinet to pour a glass of water, taking a long drink.

  “She needed to be alone,” he stretched out on the couch, cradling Eva in the crook of his arm.

  “You’re exhausted,” I carried the glass to the coffee table. “I’ll take her and you sleep…,”

  “She’s just fine,” he murmured, kissing her red curls.

  Logan continued putting the groceries away, and I retrieved my glass. “I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be right back.”

  The back door lead directly to the ocean, the dunes nothing but tiny foothills in 1955. The glass of water in my hand cut at my conscience, and I stared into the liquid, as if looking for answers.

  Finally, turning my mind off, I walked toward the shed. The door was secured with a crude lock, and I easily removed the hook from the eyehole.

  Troy sat on the dirt-sand floor, his eyes closed. I watched two ants crawl on his arm, my stomach turning. The fetid urine smell was amplified by the damp sand from the rain. Droplets of water came into the shed from the unfinished roof.

  What am I doing? I backed against the wall, holding the glass of water. Do not cry. I recalled the first-hand account of a particular prisoner of World War II that I’d watched on The History Channel, captured and tortured by the Germans. Troy is mad with revenge… he would kill you the moment he was given the chance.

  He has killed you- over and over again.

  “Hey,” I called gruffly, clearing my throat. His head rolled on his shoulders, weak. I balanced my shaking hands, glancing nervously at the door. “Open your mouth,” I could barely form the words.

  He did; I poured the water slowly into his mouth. He began to choke and I stopped, waiting for the liquid to move down his throat before pouring more. He eagerly drank, coughing and gagging, no matter how slowly I poured the water.

  When it was gone, I stepped back, ready to run from the shed. His voice stopped me.

  “Roam.”

  I stopped without turning to face him.

  “What.”

  His words became whispers. “Don’t take her to 2012.”

  I turned, facing him. “What?”

  “Magic will take it all away.”

  He closed his eyes.

  I threw the door open, smacking into West in my near-run. The glass dropped to the sand. He looked at the glass, and then at me.

  “Go in the cottage.”

  “West-…,”

  “Roam, go!” He snapped, locking the door. I clenched my fists, narrowing my eyes.

  “We can’t keep him like this!” I yelled, my emotions overflowing into my mouth. “It’s wrong! Kill him, or don’t, but this is torture!”

  “You can’t begin to know what he’s done to us, not through a handful of dreams-…,”

  “What makes you better than him, when you yourself are driven by revenge? Disgusting,” I accused, running for the cottage. He caught me by the arm, turning me to face him.

  “Disgusting?” His eyes blazed, his hands gripping my upper arms so that I couldn’t turn away. “Disgusting is finding you half-eaten by animals in France, lying next to our child- still attached-…,”

  “Stop!” I screamed, my stomach turning in revulsion.

  “Or smelling your flesh burn while he branded you in that dungeon-…,”

  “Stop now!” I tried to fall to my knees, but he held me by the arms.

  “Let her go.” Logan was su
ddenly between us, as tall as West, his jaw clenched in fury. “She hasn’t been through any of that. She’s known love and compassion all of her life. Don’t ever grab her like that again.”

  West let go and walked away. I dropped to my knees in the sand, sobbing. Logan knelt next to me. “I’m sorry…,”

  “Don’t be sorry for being you,” he said, his arms tight around me. “Don’t lose yourself, Roam.”

  I sat in the sand with Logan until I heard Eva crying from inside the cottage. He helped me to my feet, and I went back inside.

  West was gone. I changed and fed Eva, and then stood under the shower while Logan and Violet ate dinner. My thoughts were in disarray; every time I resolved to apologize to West, I stubbornly justified my actions, deciding to wait for his apology. I ate a piece of buttered bread, unable to force more into my body. By midnight, Eva slept soundly from her last feeding. Logan and Violet slept on the couch together, and I pulled a blanket over them. The moon was full against the sky, lighting most of the cottage through the windows.

  I crawled into bed alone, homesickness settling into my bones. I wished for Morgan at my side more than anyone else, longing for her easy, comforting way. My mind drifted to the encyclopedias in the corner. Maybe I should read for a while.

  Selecting one from the top at random, I settled into the lamplight by the bed. The printed word had been my closest confidant through long, lonely nights, and I dove into a passage on amnesty. From the same root as amnesia. A pardon forgiving persons who are subject to trial but have not yet been convicted.

  “You’re awake.”

  West’s voice startled me; I lifted my eyes to the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his hands deep in his pockets. His face was cleanly shaven, and my heart racketed inside my chest.

  “You look like… you,” I breathed, dropping the encyclopedia to the bed. He crossed the room and slid over me. I lay back on the pillow, touching his cheeks and chin, my fingertips delighting in the smooth, shaven skin around his mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” his mouth hovered over mine, circling, as if deciding how to best kiss me. The stirring deep within began without notice, and I exhaled, moistening my lips with my tongue.