“Say good afternoon,” Cameron replied with a grin.
He looked like a shy little boy with a crush. Kyle laughed, and he gazed at her quizzically.
“What?”
“Your smiles,” she replied, “they’re so fleeting.”
“I guess that’s because my happiness always seems to be that way, too.”
Kyle resumed her folding, shaking her head with a frown. “You’re awful hard on yourself.”
Those words struck a familiar note, not unlike the ones he’d heard so many years ago from the first love of his life. He wanted to give himself a break—he needed one—he just didn’t know how.
“I’ll work on it,” Cameron finally said, forcing an unconvincing smile and an even less convincing lie.
Somehow, she wasn’t sure she believed him, anyway.
He paused for a moment to think, then said, “It’s funny, you know.”
“What is?”
“This whole thing. I mean … not funny-funny, but interesting … how people’s paths cross, what brings them together—” He stopped himself, and a pained expression suddenly materialized on his face. “I’ll miss you.”
Kyle felt a lump forming in her throat. She’d been thinking the same thing but was afraid to tell him. There still seemed to be so much left unsaid between them. “I wish there were an easier way for us to do this. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I have to.”
“I know …” he said. But he didn’t. “Will you come back?”
“I don’t know.” Kyle could see the loneliness in his eyes. Even worse, she could feel it.
“Why not?” Cameron replied, half-asking, half-challenging her.
She placed a folded shirt inside her suitcase and turned around, only to find his eyes meeting hers. “Please don’t make this any harder. You don’t know how much I want to stay.”
Cameron caught her hands and held onto them, as if never intending to let them go. “Then stay. Don’t go. Stay here with me.”
Kyle sighed. She felt exhausted, as much emotionally as physically. “I have a private practice back at home, Cameron. My only family life is there.”
“That’s logical. It makes perfect sense.” He put his hand over his heart. “But right here, that’s where you lose me.”
“Maybe someday,” she said, turning around, and hastily moving more shirts into her suitcase.
“Maybe…” Cameron repeated the words as if trying to make sense of them, while at the same time, sounding defeated. Then he tried to lighten the conversation. “Well, at least you got all your questions answered.”
Kyle started zipping her suitcase. Suddenly she stopped, looking up at the wall, thinking. “As far as this town goes, yes, but there will be new mysteries to uncover … there always are.”
“What kinds of mysteries?”
Kyle laughed and shook her head. “Who knows? It never stops. I’m constantly being bombarded with information.”
“Must be annoying as hell.”
She continued to pull the zipper but struggled. Cameron noticed and stepped forward to help. For a brief moment, they were skin to skin and she felt a strong urge to move into his arms and close her eyes. Instead, she pulled away, as if the action in some way would minimize the emotion.
“It can be, sometimes,” she said with an awkward smile. “Other times it’s not. I guess I’ve just become used to it by now.”
“Well, at least this one is solved. Case closed.”
“I suppose ...”
Cameron noticed her apprehension. “Is there something more I should know? Something relevant here?”
“I’m not sure. Can’t tell whether it belongs here, or somewhere else.”
“It could be your next assignment: Earth calling Kyle,” he joked, forcing a smile.
Kyle looked down as if deliberating over something, then up at Cameron. Her expression was very serious. “There’s a strong image that’s been with me. I have no idea why. But it doesn’t seem to be relevant to anything that’s been happening here.”
“What is it?”
“A child.”
“Another one? Who is she?”
“Not a she—it’s a he, and he’s been hanging in the background ever since I came here. That’s why I think he may have some kind of connection to this town,” Kyle said, her tone distant. She paused, then added, “I’m just not sure how.”
Cameron felt his heart strike hard. He was afraid to ask, but did anyway. “What does he look like?”
“He’s six or seven, maybe? Blond. Very blond, in fact—a real towhead.” Kyle laughed. “A beautiful child. Big blue eyes and—”
“Like mine?” he asked impatiently while gazing up at her.
She looked into his eyes and a flash of recognition crossed her face. “Yeah, actually… a lot like yours.”
Cameron looked away. He focused his attention on a picture on the opposite wall. Generic motel art.
Kyle sensed his discomfort. “What’s wrong, Cameron?”
He turned around and took a deep breath.
Kyle noticed tears forming in his eyes. She tilted her head, watching him, concerned.
“I know who he is.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Desert Spring Motel
Faith, New Mexico
“Your son? Kyle asked, still stunned. “I didn’t know …”
It made sense now, the anguish, the guilt, the deep sorrow—feelings that had been eating away at him all these years. Kyle herself had felt them when they’d first met, so strongly, in fact, they’d landed her in the hospital.
Like Bethany, Cameron’s son had not yet crossed over, was still trapped between two worlds. Kyle wondered what unfinished business the boy had that had kept him here so long. She had a feeling it involved the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed man standing in front of her.
“I knew the minute you began describing him that it was Dylan.” He turned and sat down on the bed.
Kyle took a seat beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He could smell her perfume; the aroma wrapped itself around him like a hug. It felt comforting.
For a few moments they sat, saying nothing. Kyle had always figured she was drawn to Faith for one purpose: to help solve the mystery taking over the town. Yet, there had been another reason for coming here, one she had not realized until now.
“What does he want?” Kyle asked suddenly. “Why do you suppose he stays?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
Kyle turned to face him. “The deceased usually always cross over to the other side right away, but some are left behind.”
“You’re saying my son is one of them?”
“Yeah. I think so … just like Bethany, who needed to exonerate her brother, your son also has something he needs to take care of before he can leave this world.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” She stood up and walked across the room, facing a corner, her back toward him. “You could talk to him and find out.”
The blood drained instantly from Cameron’s face. After all these years—contact with the son he lost, the one he missed so terribly, and who occupied his mind every single moment. How could it be?
Kyle turned around to look at him. “You don’t have to be here, but I do need to do it. He needs my help so he can cross over. I know how painful this must be.”
Cameron met her eyes. “I want to be here. I need to be here.”
Kyle nodded.
“When can we do it?” he asked.
“Right now, if that’s okay.”
He fell silent. His heart felt like a boulder sinking in a river of despair. He hadn’t expected that.
Kyle realized she’d just thrown him a curve. She spoke gently. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”
“How will you get him here?”
Kyle looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. “He’s already here, Cam.”
Tears filled his eyes, one of them brimmin
g over, then crawling slowly down his cheek. Then another. He looked toward the other wall and brushed them away, as if denying their existence.
Kyle walked quickly back to the bed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. She could hear his quiet, aching sobs.
Then she began to cry, too.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Desert Spring Motel
Faith, New Mexico
Cameron broke from her embrace, wiped away a final tear, and looked into Kyle’s eyes, his voice becoming firmer. “Let’s do this.”
She studied his face for a few seconds, then stood up, focusing her attention toward the corner of the room. Dylan had been standing there the whole time. Cameron turned to see what she was looking at, but saw nothing. It didn’t seem to matter. He knew. Her eyes told the story.
Kyle walked toward the boy and knelt down so she could be at eye level with him. She smiled warmly, and the child smiled back, his expression seeming older than his years. Kyle wasn’t surprised: children who died often seemed to receive the wisdom they’d missed because of a premature death. With Dylan, however, it seemed more pronounced than usual.
“Hello, Dylan. My name is Kyle,” she said in a voice appropriate for a child.
The boy nodded as if showing his approval. Cameron watched the exchange from across the room. He couldn’t see Dylan, but felt his son’s presence through Kyle.
Kyle appeared to be listening to the boy and her hands seemed to be holding his. It looked so strange to Cameron, and the immediacy overwhelmed him.
She remained focused on Dylan while she spoke. “He wants you to know that he misses you.”
“I miss you, too.” Cameron forced the words out, sobbing and speaking through fresh new tears. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I miss you more than you could ever know.”
Kyle wiped a tear from her cheek, still looking into Dylan’s bright blue eyes, as if he were the only person in the room. “He says he knows that. He’s always known that.”
Overwhelmed, Cameron was speechless.
Kyle sniffled, then smiled, and Cameron leaned forward with interest. “He wants to know if you remember the time when you drove all the way to soccer practice before realizing you’d left him behind at home.”
Cameron laughed through his tears. “I was so nervous about coaching the team. I don’t know where my head was that day.”
“He says he and his mom looked all over the house for you. They couldn’t figure out where you went.”
Cameron smiled, shaking his head in a way that seemed reminiscent. “Dylan loved to tell that story.”
Kyle looked back at Cameron for the first time since she’d started talking to Dylan. She smiled and winked at him. “Looks like he still does.”
Cameron’s eyes filled with tears, and his voice caught, barely a whisper. “God, I miss him.”
Kyle watched Cameron for a moment, smiling sadly, then turned her attention back to Dylan. “He says that’s what he loved about you most—your laughter. He loved when you laughed.”
Cameron realized that part of him no longer existed. It had gone away when Dylan had.
“He says you don’t do that anymore. Laugh, that is. He wants to know why.”
Cameron, still choked up, said, “I don’t know. Nothing seems funny anymore, I guess.”
“He wants you to laugh again the way you used to do back when he was still around. He misses seeing and hearing you laugh … and smile. Says you always made him feel better about things when you smiled. Like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. When Dylan was still alive, laughing and smiling seemed so natural, so effortless. He had reason to then—every single day was filled with so much joy. Now they were full of nothing but sadness … and loss.
Kyle perked up and smiled.
Cameron looked over at her, curious. “What?”
Kyle hesitated for a moment. “He says he likes me. He thinks you should marry me, that he won’t mind.”
“Tell him I’m working on it.”
Kyle shot him a look, then turned back to the boy. Her face became serious. She listened to Dylan, then shook her head sadly, looking down at the ground, trying to gather the right words. Kyle turned to Cameron. “This is important.” She took a deep breath. “He wants you to know his death was not your fault. That he doesn’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
Cameron winced. He turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut: the answer he’d always hoped for but never expected to get.
Kyle held her hand up toward Cameron, still focused on Dylan. There was more. Cameron watched and waited as if his next breath depended on it. Kyle listened while nodding her head. She turned toward Cameron, paused, then spoke very softly “He says it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“It’s time to start living again. He’s no longer alive, but you still are. He wants you to stop acting like you died that day. Life is precious … and short. You don’t realize that until you no longer have it. One life lost is enough. Stop throwing yours away. Take advantage of what you still have. Embrace it.”
His son was right, but the truth had never hurt so much. It cut like a knife through the tough outer skin he’d always pretended to have.
“He wants you to move on and live out the rest of your life. With happiness.” She stopped as if being interrupted, listened some more, then nodded her head, eyes closed, as if with sadness. “Do you remember that night you almost killed yourself?”
Cameron’s head shot up in surprise. He tensed, not knowing what to say. Then shame replaced the emotion. He gazed at the floor, embarrassed. “I’ll never forget it.”
Kyle kept her eyes trained on Dylan, concentrating on what he was saying. “Remember when you felt something wrapping tight around your shoulders? Something warm?”
“Yes,” he said, shocked.
She turned to Cameron and smiled. “That was him, Cam—it was Dylan. He says he hugged you. It was his way of begging you not to do it. And you listened. He thanks you for listening to him.”
Cameron was still and silent. He remembered that night as if it had happened only a few minutes ago. That moment changed everything, although he never understood why. He’d made the decisive choice to go on living.
Kyle looked at Cameron for several seconds before she spoke, as if knowing that what she was about to say would hurt. She spoke softly. “He says that if you don’t live your life, his will have meant nothing.”
Cameron dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, saying nothing for a long time.
Kyle stood up and came over to him. “He’s leaving now, Cam. He’s said what he needed to tell you. He’s ready to pass through to the other side.”
Cameron looked up quickly, his voice panicked. “Wait! Tell him not to go … not yet!”
Kyle looked over at Dylan and nodded. She turned toward Cameron, waiting for him to speak.
“Tell him … tell him thank you. Thanks for … for everything … for giving me the best years of my life.” He spoke through tears. “And that I love him … I love you, son!”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
Cameron looked around the room, startled. The voice was not Kyle’s; it was, without mistake, Dylan’s: familiar, filling the air like an echo, then fading as quickly as it had come.
A flash of light exploded in the corner of the room, then dissipated, with his son standing in the middle of it. Dylan looked exactly as Cameron remembered him: Soft yellow hair, blue eyes, cheeks the color of peaches, and a smile that seemed like it would never end. Cameron gazed at his son, for once feeling a sense of deep inner peace. He wanted the moment to last forever, but knew it could not. Finally, he whispered, “I’ll always love you, son.”
The vision shimmered and then faded away.
Kyle smiled sadly, reaching for his hand. “He’s gone, Cameron.”
He was. Gone. And that was something Cameron c
ould finally live with and no longer feel any guilt about. His son would find happiness. So would he.
They embraced.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Thank you, too. Thank you so much … for everything.”
Kyle shook her head. How could she take credit for a moment so beautiful? She realized this was goodbye for them too, that she might never see him again. She knew she’d fallen in love with him. Unfortunately, however, life dealt the cards, and life did not see the two of them sharing theirs together.
She reached for his hands and squeezed them. “Goodbye, Cameron.”
He just smiled.
Kyle didn’t know that when Cameron decided he wanted something badly enough, he never took no for an answer. He’d already lost two people who had meant the most to him. He wasn’t about to lose this one, too.
He wanted her—more than he could remember wanting anything else. She’d never had the chance to see that part of him, there had been too many other things happening at the time, but she would, just as Sarah once did.
Kyle may not have known it, but this was not the last she would see of Cameron Dawson.
He would make sure of that.
###
Acknowledgments
I didn't write this book alone.
Well, I did, but in a way, I didn't. I say that because throughout this process I had the support and love of so many people who, through their encouragement and support, helped light my way, even during my darkest moments of uncertainty. Were it not for them, I'm not so sure this book would have ended up being what it is. They inspired me to keep writing through those difficult times—the ones when I faced a blank screen and a nasty case of writer's block, those lonely moments of truth, filled with self-doubt or a general lack of confidence. There isn't enough room on this page, or in this book, even, to name all of them, or for that matter, to thank them. But truth be known, this novel is a product of their love and support.
To Jeannette Angell Cezanne, my editor extraordinaire and good friend, who is in fact truly extraordinary. She whipped me into shape when I deserved it, encouraged me when I needed it, and praised me on the occasions I warranted it. Through it all, she made sure not a single word was wasted and even managed to teach me a thing or two about writing along the way.
While the Savage Sleeps Page 27
