Residue

by Laury Falter

  “I could tell it made you nervous to hold my hand in the beginning,” he confessed. “You’re getting better at it.”

  I scoffed and then realized he was conveying that he wasn’t picking up as many erratic thoughts.

  “I’m taking that as a good sign. Should I?” he asked anxiously.

  “Yes,” I said meaning to soothe him. “Is that why you hesitated in kissing me on the edge of the water after we got back from the village?”

  “You’ve been wondering about that?”

  “Mmmhmm…”

  He didn’t answer my question right away and I was certain he was evaluating how straightforward he should be. Then, he resolved his internal issue and confirmed, “I don’t want to move so fast that I scare you away. I figured you’ve been fed a steady diet of fear of us Caldwells so breaking down that barrier will take time. But I’m willing to wait. You’re worth it, Jocelyn.”

  His honesty was staggering, catching me off guard. “Thank you,” I replied in a whisper, unable to coax my voice any higher.

  He had stunned me, which didn’t happen often.

  Before he could witness my reaction to him, I rapidly thought of something to say, to carry on the conversation so that I could overcome his affect on me. “There’s something else I’ve been curious to know. That scar over your lip. How did you get it?”

  I felt a subconscious squeeze of his hand and wondered if I’d treaded into territory I shouldn’t have, and then he began to tell a story so riveting I couldn’t bring myself to stop encouraging it.

  “Well, the public version is that I was testing my channeling when I first figured out that I had it, around the time I was four, which is about a year earlier than most. I channeled Alison’s ability to levitate and sent a sharp object across the room where it nicked me.”

  “But that’s the official story, not the real one?” I asked, sensing there was that explanation too.

  “Right. The real one is not so politically correct.” He paused, seeming to prepare himself for his next statement. “I was almost abducted when I was born.”

  I gasped, although probably not for the reason he assumed. While I did feel genuine concern for him, it was the fact that once again another similarity between us had crept up.

  “The kidnapping failed but I was left with the scar when my family fought back.”

  I tightened my hold on his hand, an unexpected protectiveness creeping over me.

  “Did they ever…Was the kidnapper ever apprehended?”

  “Nah, got away,” he said clearly relieved. “Got away and never came back.”

  I slowly nodded my head, taking in everything he’d said. “What are the odds that attempted kidnappings are made on newborns from the two most volatile feuding families in the same year, the same timeframe?”

  He looked at me perplexed. “What are you saying? There was an attempted kidnapping on you, too?”

  Very slowly, I nodded my head, allowing him time for that fact to sink in. I knew it had when he released his breath in a rush and then he was blinking to clear the notions of the truth running through his mind.

  “You don’t think…” he said before his voice trailed off.

  “No,” I replied, already having deduced what he was thinking. “There’s no evidence to point at either family being involved, right?”

  “Nothing but the assumption of it,” he said flatly, while still pondering it.

  “Then let’s not play in to that assumption,” I suggested.

  “You know…” he said, perplexed. “The affect that news has on me isn’t what is expected of me. I still feel frustrated by the lack of facts, and angry that anyone would attempt to steal a baby, but mostly…I feel protective of you. Whether my family is involved or not, I don’t want you hurt.”

  “Funny…” I said. “I feel the same way about you…”

  Slowly, I felt his hand tighten, firm but gentle, around mine. Then his breathing quickened as his eyes locked with mine.

  Then he leaned toward me, bending to the side.

  Our shoulders touched first, the feeling of his muscles there exploding through me. Then his lips were on mine, soft and exploring, fitting perfectly to the contours of mine. Moving to a rhythm all our own, they pressed tighter, growing more intense. Then his hand was on my cheek, cupping it gently, guiding me closer to him. And his scent was all around me, tantalizing, seductive. My hands were in his hair suddenly, drawing him to me, curling through their softness.

  And then he pulled away, his arms dropping, his body straightening, distancing himself.

  In a daze, I looked at him and found he was no longer focused on me.

  He knew they were there before I did.

  Now his attention was on Ms. Veilleux and our class standing behind her.

  15 DIVISION

  “I’m so very sorry…” Miranda stood with her chin down, bashful, overwhelmed with guilt, and barely able to look at us. It was clear her apology was meant for Jameson and me. But it wasn’t immediately apparent to the rest of the group, including the Caldwells and Weatherfords, until she added, “I didn’t know it was you two.”

  Charlotte’s head snapped in her direction. “And had you known, you would have kept it a secret?”

  “I…I…” Miranda, feeling the full onslaught of Charlotte’s rage, cowered away.

  “Don’t yell at her, Charlotte,” said Jameson calmly.

  He was the first of us to stand up and then he offered me a hand. This, I thought, was incredibly bold in light of what we were facing. I wondered if he understood the magnitude of it. He had just been caught kissing a Weatherford, his family’s mortal enemy, and now he was going to help her up.

  I took his hand, nonetheless, and then stood at his side in an exhibition of solidarity.

  Without having to look for confirmation, I knew my cousins watched every movement. What I didn’t know for certain was what expressions they wore, although I could guess. Pain. Anger. Offense. Shock. All of which would be warranted by my betrayal. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to raise my eyes and confirm it though.

  “What were you thinking?” demanded Alison to her brother, a question I’m sure he would be required to answer whether here or at home.

  “Students, I asked you to stay down-” Ms. Veilleux began to reprimand but another voice began speaking over her.

  It was Jameson, who still held on to my hand and was using it to channel his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, I think our date is over,” he said as an obvious understatement and I had to restrain myself from laughing.

  “I had a great time, Jameson.”

  He didn’t respond right away but when he did the sincerity in his tone made his hesitation worthwhile. “It was the best night of my life, Jocelyn.” There was another pause and then his tone came through my head deeper, more reserved. “They’re going to try to separate us. They’ll tell us stories, try to remind us that we should be enemies. My family’s been doing this all along but I haven’t listened to them - and I won’t start now.”

  By this point, the students had cleared off the roof, our families being the last to leave, but they eventually did. It was just Ms. Veilleux now and she was walking toward us.

  Stopping directly in front, she tilted her head at our hands. “Do you mind?” she said, conveying she knew we were channeling.

  Reluctantly, we released our hold on each other and she replied graciously. “Thank you. Now, while I am pleased to find a Caldwell and a Weatherford getting along well, it does cause some consternation among others. Not simply your family, mind you. The students here, the faculty, we have quietly accepted the blossoming of your relationship. We have done so with discretion so as to avoid possible conflicts between your two families. Not to mention, none of us sought to be the deliverer of that news.”

  So, I thought, Jameson had been correct.

  “However,” Ms. Veilleux went on, “we do not…cannot allow your relationship to ignite a battle, of which I am quit
e certain would be cataclysmic in magnitude. Thus, I would ask that any future meetings between the two of you be in public view where your behavior cannot be called in to question or conduct them in an absolutely and completely private and secure setting. In other words…do not get caught.” She tugged at the ends of her sleeves indignantly and finished with, “I’ll leave the remaining details of your trysts up to you.”

  “So…” I said before I could catch myself.

  “Yes?” She stopped halfway around since she’d already been turning to leave.

  “So you don’t mind if we see each other?” I asked, not trying to hide my amazement.

  “Child, it warms my heart to know you two have the maturity and awareness to look beyond hearsay and unconfirmed scandals. Maybe, just maybe, when your families are ready, your love will warm the ice around their hearts.”

  With that, she spun around and walked across the roof. However, rather than taking the stairs, she stepped off the edge of the building. Floating there, she raised both her arms outward and suddenly Jameson and I were lifted, too, and carried alongside her, down and around to the courtyard.

  By then, it was cleared of everyone but our two families. They were standing on opposite ends, glaring at each other until they saw us coming. Then their anger was redirected to us.

  Ms. Villeiux had the forethought to land Jameson and me on the sides of our respective families and then she paused beneath the eaves to address us one last time.

  “You will remember what I relayed the last time we were all in this courtyard together.” It was a warning, one that much more potent knowing the true risk came from The Sevens threat to send in “peace-keeping” Vires.

  Leaving us to our own willpower, she disappeared inside her office and the courtyard fell silent.

  “Weatherfords,” Oscar commanded and we left in a group toward the exit. He’d done this quickly because there was a distinct sense that a conflict was brewing.

  Despite the guilt building over what I’d done and the miserable impression of again being an outsider in my own family, I looked back to find Jameson.

  He stood square-shouldered, head held high, and with an air of defiance as he faced his family.

  My heart literally pulled toward him, pressing against my chest, desperate to avoid separation. Then I was in the tunnel heading for the street and he was drawn out of my view by Burke’s massive hand.

  Not a single word was spoken on the walk to our cars or on the drive back to the house. And I didn’t blame them. Restraining anger in this situation would have been a challenge for me, too. But then the silent treatment continued on throughout the next day. I made several attempts to explain but every one of them responded the same way…a raised hand motioning me to stop as they left the room, sadness embedded in their faces.

  With Aunt Lizzy gone on an extended meeting and Miss Mabelle’s usual sparse presence, the house was disturbingly quiet, a complete departure from the constant hum of conversation between my cousins. It reminded me of a cemetery with the only difference being that the dead were actually walking.

  Not until Sunday dinner did I actually hear a voice again.

  “So, are we going to talk about this or what?” Estelle asked in a huff, setting her fork down before staring at the rest of us. “I’m ready,” she added flatly.

  “What’s the use?” asked Vinnia complacently. “She won’t stop seeing him.” Again, she surprised me with her accuracy when assessing someone else’s emotions. In this case…mine.

  “Well how do you know?” argued Spencer. “You haven’t asked her.”

  At that point, I found all heads turned toward me.

  The room fell silent again as they waited for my answer, which didn’t come quickly. I had little interest in rushing to it, already knowing they weren’t going to approve of it.

  “He’s not what you think,” I said avoiding a direct denial to their request. They saw around it anyway.

  “See?” said Vinnia, throwing up her hands.

  “Let her speak,” Oscar demanded.

  I gave him a smile, which he didn’t return. Knowing I was walking a fine line, I used the time given to disprove what they’d grown up believing.

  “His secret trips each week are to deliver supplies to the needy. He’s agreed to, and followed through on, helping me find and heal the sick and injured almost every day after school. He’s protected and defended me whenever his own family has tried to cast against me. He tried protecting you, too, but the hexes have been too strong.” I stopped and stared at them before delivering my final argument. “Are those the actions of an evil person?”

  Estelle gawked at me before saying, “You really have no idea who you are dealing with, do you?”

  My shoulders fell then, knowing she hadn’t listened to anything I just said.

  “Should we tell her?” asked Estelle to the rest of the table.

  Immediately, their eyes fell, surveying their half-eaten jambalaya. No one replied.

  “Tell me what?” I asked hesitantly.

  Oscar groaned and then explained, “Two years ago, a distant uncle of ours died, his body found to be burnt so badly he wasn’t recognizable other than from his teeth. The year before that, a distant aunt was found drowned. Two years before that, two of our cousins died in a freak hailstorm in which no other people were hit. Every few years, a Weatherford dies.” His eyes seemed to take on a shadow before summing it up for me. “All of these, Jocelyn, can be traced back to the Caldwells.”

  Estelle sighed loudly then. Having lost her patience, she demanded, “Should…we…tell…her?”

  Apparently, whatever it was Estelle was insisting be brought up had been excluded in Oscar’s explanation.

  “No,” said Spencer. “We promised we wouldn’t. Mother wants to break the news.”

  “The news about what?” I pressed.

  Nolan pushed back his chair, screeching it along the hardwood floors without care of the damage it could do. After dropping his plate in the sink, he left the room without commenting. The others soon followed leaving only Oscar and me.

  “You’re always the peacekeeper, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “They’re not mad at you. They’re worried for you.”

  “Tell them not to be. If Jameson wanted to hurt me, he’s had plenty of chances to do it. And obviously I’m still here, unharmed.”

  That didn’t seem to assuage him much.

  “Look, I just want all of you to know that I’m not giving away family secrets. When we have talked about each other’s families it has always been complimentary.”

  Oscar raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

  “He’s never said a negative word about any of you. I expected him to, but he hasn’t, not once. It’s been the opposite. You won’t believe me when I say this but Jameson respects you, all of you. I think…I think they’re just as scared of you as you are of them. There’s so much built up distrust between the families.”

  I was waiting for Oscar to roll his eyes, pierce his lips together, show any sign of skepticism, but he didn’t. He simply dropped his gaze to the table and digested what I’d relayed. Then he stood up, deposited his plate in the sink, and stopped at the door, rotating at the waist toward me.

  “That distrust has been built up for a reason, Jocelyn. Keep that in mind.”

  After the door closed behind him and all throughout the night and into the next morning, his warning stayed with me. It was a clear sign that it would take my family as much time to convince as Jameson’s. Then, I saw Jameson in the parking lot when I pulled in for school and the butterflies in my stomach helped to ebb the memory of it.

  He was waiting for me, his hands casually slipped into the pockets of his dark jeans, his book bag slung over his brawny shoulder. His mouth was turned down in a telling way, conveying that he was excited to see me but didn’t want to make it so obvious.

  “You survived your family’s haranguing,” I pointed out after he’d crossed the lot to meet me.<
br />
  “Again…” he stated and the smile he’d been hiding broke through.

  It was breathtaking.

  We stood in silence for a moment, allowing the thrill of seeing each other to pass over us, and then he held out his hand.

  “Ready?”

  I replied by slipping my fingers through his.

  Without having to discuss it, we’d both come to the same conclusion. Our families knew about our relationship, now we were about to announce it to the world.

  The hallway was busy as usual with students and teachers huddled in groups or making their way through the crowd to their classroom.

  Then the slamming lockers stopped and the chatter fell away and all eyes were on the Caldwell and Weatherford walking together down the hall holding hands. Even Mrs. Temple tugged at Ms. Brack’s sweater before turning to gawk with the rest of the students.

  “This will get the gossipers going,” Jameson channeled into my head and I didn’t bother to bury my laughter.

  He walked all the way to my classroom door where his other hand then moved to cup my cheek as he stared into my eyes. The energy that pulsed between us stunned me and I unconsciously leaned closer to it. Our lips were inches away, the heat from them, the strain of having them so close yet so untouchable left me aching.

  “I’d like to kiss you,” he whispered, unable to deny the yearning.

  “I’m waiting,” I replied, doing my best to entice him.

  Then very tenderly his lips pressed briefly against mine, the touch of them sending an instant wave of pleasure through me.

  And then gasps erupted around us.

  When he stepped back and the crowd became visible to us again, all I saw were dropped jaws and wide eyes.

  As he left me to head for his first period, he squeezed my fingers once, gently, and then he was gone, moving through the gawking throng of students.

  In class it took no longer than a minute before several frenzied girls asked me if I was dating Jameson Caldwell. The rest of the girls and every guy in the room were staring too, waiting for my answer.

  “Yes,” I said with a firm nod, putting my attention in to pulling out my laptop.