by Debra Doxer
I nod and then try to keep still as his fingers softly move across my neck.
“Dad’s in for a surprise when he gets home and sees her.” He licks his lips and hesitates before asking his next question. “Do you think it’s permanent?”
“It is,” I state with confidence. Knowing that what I removed won’t return. “The damage in her brain is gone. For good.”
He nods, relieved. But he sobers quickly, closing his eyes and shaking his head at me. “I can’t believe you took a chance like that. She could have killed you.” His eyes widen. “I could kill you for what nearly happened.”
I won’t tell him that I was scared to death, that I thought I was going to die. Instead, I use my raw, scratchy voice to say, “But it turned out okay. So, you won’t.”
“It didn’t just turn out okay. Nothing you do is just okay.” He pulls me into a hug. “Thank you isn’t enough. It’s not even close.”
“You shouldn’t be thanking me at all,” I say.
He pulls back to look at me, eyeing me curiously.
“I set things right,” I explain. “I undid the damage caused by my grandmother. I wish I could turn back the clock and undo all the pain she’s caused your family.”
“It’s not up to you to make up for what she’s done. I don’t see it that way.”
“I do.”
We look at each other and the silence is heavy with the weight of what happened here tonight. “What will you tell people?” I ask. “What will your mother say?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something, and I promise you’ll be left out of it. She’s umm…She’s been mostly crying since I found you both.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Seeing you lying there like that. I thought—” He stops talking but his Adam’s apple bobs as he works his throat.
I place my hand on his arm.
He takes a deep breath and blows it out again. “She remembers everything she did to us,” he continues, “but she says she couldn’t stop herself. Honestly, I don’t know how we’re going to deal with any of this, but it’s got to be easier than what we were dealing with before.”
I nod my understanding. Then I ask something that’s been on my mind. “You’ve mostly taken care of your mother and Liam, haven’t you? Your dad leaves all this responsibility to you?”
Lucas’s lips form a tight line. I recognize his stubborn set of his jaw. This is how he looks when he doesn’t want to tell me something.
“Lucas?”
He sighs. “Dad checked out a while ago.”
I wait, but that’s all he says.
“How were you going to go to Columbia next year and leave Liam here?” I ask.
“I wasn’t. He was coming with me. I convinced my father to enroll him in a private school in the city. But that might not be necessary now. He never wanted to leave his school anyway.”
I didn’t think I could care for Lucas any more than I already did, but the affection growing in my heart for him doesn’t seem to have any boundaries. I wonder what he’s had to give up for his family. He pretends baseball doesn’t matter, but maybe he couldn’t let it matter. He maintains this unapproachable aura at school, but maybe he uses it to keep people at a distance because it’s safer that way.
His fingers brush my neck again. “That’s not going to go away so quickly. Can you heal yourself?”
“No. Ironic, huh?” I shrug.
“Why can’t you—”
“I don’t know,” I interrupt him before he can finish. “I’ll just wear scarves for a while.”
He leans in closer to me. “Tell me the truth, Ray. You’ve healed both my brother and mother one right after the other. Does that drain you?”
I shake my head. “Just the opposite. I’m already starting to feel better. What time is it? I should probably be getting home soon.”
Lucas glances at his watch. “Nearly midnight.”
I don’t need the help, but Lucas insists on steadying me as I step out of his bed and test my legs. I wasn’t fibbing when I said I felt better. I do. Other than my sore throat, I feel perfectly fine, better than fine, and I feel thankful that I was able to help his family. Lucas’s gratitude, though, doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t think I deserve it.
Lucas checks in with Liam before we walk out to Myles’s car. Then, during the ride home, he calls Myles, and they make plans for him to drive Lucas back so Myles can have his mother’s Camry sitting in the driveway before she wakes up in the morning. I hear him tell Lucas that he got a ride home in Gwen’s limo.
Myles is sitting on his front steps waiting for us when we pull up. “What happened?” he asks, standing at our approach. He’s still in his tux but with his bowtie undone, hanging to one side. I’m in no mood for a heavily edited recap of the night, and I’m craving some alone time. I turn and hug Lucas as I say goodnight, releasing him quickly.
“Wait a minute,” Myles says. “Here’s the picture we had taken when we got there.” He hands me the glossy photo. I can feel Lucas peering at it over my shoulder. It’s hard to believe this was only a few hours ago. Beside me, Myles has his arm at my waist and his deep dimpled smile is typical Myles. My grin is more hesitant, but my eyes sparkle with anticipation.
Lucas is silent, staring at the photograph, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Myles clears his throat before glancing down at the ground. “I should probably tell you that April is the one who started the rumor about you going to the prom with Chad. She confessed it to me tonight. She did it because she thought I was going to ask you. Turns out, it didn’t have anything to do with Lucas.”
This news surprises me. “It’s okay, Myles. Don’t feel bad,” I say. The truth is that I’m way beyond caring about this.
Beside me, I know Lucas feels the same when he hardly registers a reaction.
“I’ve got some good news,” Myles’s face brightens, “Our boy here won prom king.”
“Really?” I muster the energy to grin at Lucas. “Prom king? Congratulations.”
Lucas grins at me as he rushes his hands through his hair.
“Sophie got prom queen,” Myles adds. “She wasn’t pleased to be standing in front of everyone without her king.”
I feel a hand on my back. Lucas is worried that I care about this, but he has no reason to. I shoot him a weary smile. “I’m going to head inside,” I say.
“I’ll walk you.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. Let Myles take you back now. If I look half as exhausted as you do, I don’t know how you’re even standing.”
Lucas pulls me in for another hug and again, the need to flee, to just be alone right now, rises up in me. I move out of his arms, and I thank Myles for taking me to the prom. Then I walk across the lawn to Kyle’s house. His car is in the driveway and the outside lights are on as usual. Quietly, I unlock the door and step inside.
“Did you have a good time?”
Kyle’s whisper startles me. He’s sitting at the top of the stairs in his pajamas.
Telling him anything close to the truth is out of the question. “Yeah, it was okay,” I reply. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“We just got home, too. Sorry we weren’t here when you were getting ready.”
I stare up at him, wondering where they were tonight.
He sees the question in my eyes. “We’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight, Raielle.” He stands and disappears down the hallway.
Back in my bedroom, I slip out of my dress and fold it neatly away in a drawer. After the intense events of tonight, it seems strange to be standing in the bathroom brushing my teeth and washing my face like always. I pull on an old Chargers T-shirt one of my mom’s boyfriends left behind and somehow ended up in my duffle bag of stuff, and I lay down on my bed, knowing sleep is far away. The house is quiet, and I let my mind wander over every part of this night, including the worst part, the part that nearly got me killed.
I replay the dream I had about my mother. I can remember every det
ail so clearly, more sharply than I should. She told me things she would never have talked about when she was alive. She gave me a warning. One I’m not ready to think about right now.
Finally, I let myself focus on Lucas. The despair he felt when he asked me to help his brother was like a living thing threatening to destroy me in that kitchen tonight. What if his brother was too close to death for me to help? Could I have refused? But I answer my own question quickly. Most definitely, yes. I would have refused if I knew healing Liam meant possibly harming Lucas. I would not have taken that chance, and Lucas would have hated me for it. The overwhelming gratitude he feels now could have easily been a loathing he would feel just as strongly. Maybe that’s why his gratitude makes me uncomfortable. If Liam had hit his head any harder, the rest of the evening would have gone very differently, and a relationship that means everything to me may have been severed irreparably.
I swallow and wince at the pain it causes. My mother’s reluctance to use her ability is starting to make more sense. Once people know what you can do, it changes things.
By morning, the bruises on my neck have faded some. Since the forecast calls for a warm day, I dismiss the scarf idea and cover the marks with makeup before heading upstairs. I can hear the family moving around above me even though it’s barely eight in the morning on Sunday. I wonder if Penelope has another day filled with birthday parties for her school friends.
“Raielle’s awake,” Chloe says when I appear at the top of the stairs. Everyone is in the kitchen eating breakfast.
When I enter, Kyle stands. “Let’s go outside and talk for a minute.”
I glance at Chloe. Her eyes are red and puffy. She averts her gaze as she sits down beside Penelope. “Is everything okay?” I ask, confused by my strained reception.
“Come outside,” Kyle says, walking past me.
As I follow him out the front door, a feeling of dread begins to take hold. There’s no way he could have heard about what happened last night, is there? My stomach tightens as I watch him sit down on the front stoop and wait for me to join him. Whatever this is, it’s not good.
We sit beside each other in silence for a few moments. I’m trying not to visibly squirm while Kyle is staring out at the quiet street, saying nothing.
“We were at the hospital last night,” he finally begins. “We had to take Penelope in.”
This is not what I was expecting. She was sitting inside at the table just now, and she seemed fine. Although, she was unusually quiet now that I think about it. “What happened?” I ask.
Kyle grips his hands together, wringing them slowly. “She came out of her room yesterday afternoon saying her face felt funny. We noticed that the left side was drooping. It wasn’t in sync with the right side. So, we rushed her to the emergency room.”
I stare at his profile as he looks off into the distance. I realize he’s not talking about some accident she had.
He glances at me quickly, before looking away again. “The tumors in her neck have grown back.”
My heart stops and then starts hammering inside me. “Tumors?”
“They were discovered a little over a year ago. She had similar symptoms then. There was a surgery to remove them, but the doctors told us they could grow back.”
I stare at him shocked, not sure what to say. I can’t believe he’s talking about the happy little girl I’ve come to know.
“She has a disease,” he continues. “It causes her body to grow tumors along her nervous system and in her brain. They’re always benign. Sometimes they’re a nuisance and easy to remove, but other times, depending on where they appear, they can be debilitating, even fatal.” He rubs his hands over his face and abruptly stands up. He walks a few steps before turning around to look at me.
I know what he’s going to say now. I recognize the anguished plea in his eyes. How could something so terrible happen to sweet Penelope? I realize that I’ve purposely kept my distance from her. I’m not sure if I’ve ever touched her. If I did, I didn’t feel anything. I know for certain I’ve never hugged her. Her family is everything mine wasn’t, and the pang of jealousy I felt when I watched her carefree life made me feel guilty. So, I kept myself apart from her.
Kyle is standing in front of me now. “I’ve never been able to do what our mother and grandmother could do, but if you can, if you were afraid to tell me the truth before, please tell me now.” He crouches down. “Can you help her?” he asks. His eyes fill with tears that spill over onto his cheeks. I can’t help but think of all the tears I’ve seen shed in the past couple of days.
“I can try,” I answer softly.
Kyle remains still for a moment, before he finally nods at me, wiping at his wet face with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”
“But, Kyle, you should know that I can’t always help,” I’m quick to add. He needs to prepare for this just in case. “There are certain situations where there’s nothing I can do.” I hope like crazy this isn’t one of them.
“What situations?” he asks.
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t want to say the words out loud to him. “It depends,” I hedge. “I’ll know more when I touch her.”
He nods at me. “That’s how grandmother did it. She needed to touch bare skin. We brought Penelope to her after her diagnosis, but she was too far gone by then. We couldn’t communicate with her.”
That statement causes my thoughts to go running in an unwelcome direction. When Penelope was diagnosed, Kyle already knew where Mom and I were. “Did you think about asking Mom for help?”
His red eyes meet mine, and he nods. “Yes. We did ask her, and she refused.”
“You spoke to her?” I ask, completely stunned by this.
“No. She wouldn’t speak to me. Alec flew out to talk to her. He tracked her down at her job, and she basically told him to go to hell.” He grimaces. “Her own granddaughter needed her and she couldn’t have cared less.”
I’m not sure how to respond to this news. Mom never told me this, but she didn’t tell me a lot of things. I can understand her hesitation, but to completely ignore the situation was heartless, even for her. I glance up at him. “Why didn’t you ask me when I first got here?”
He runs a hand over his short blond hair. “I didn’t want you to think we had ulterior motives for having you here, because we absolutely didn’t. I also thought I had time. Penelope has been having regular MRIs and they showed no new growths. These appeared very quickly, and the doctors say they’re more aggressive than the last ones.” He pauses. “When would you like to try?” he asks.
I wonder if the tumors cause Penelope pain. I can’t stand the thought of that. “Is now a good time?” I ask.
He blinks at me, surprised. “Yes,” he breathes out. “Now is good.”
I follow him inside. When we find the kitchen empty, Kyle turns toward Penelope’s room. “In here,” he says.
He’s already inside when I step through the doorway. Her little girl room is dark with the shades drawn. Penelope is lying on her bed, and Chloe is sitting at the edge, running a hand over her daughter’s forehead.
“She wants to try now,” he tells Chloe.
“Right now?” she asks, looking both shocked and afraid.
Kyle nods.
Chloe turns wide eyes to me. Her apparent reluctance doesn’t surprise me. She doesn’t move from her spot next to Penelope.
“I need to be the only one touching her,” I explain.
Chloe only blinks at me.
“Stand over here,” Kyle instructs.
She hesitates before finally standing and backing away slowly from the bed. Kyle moves her beside him and takes her hand.
I sit down, filling the spot Chloe vacated, and look at the peaceful face of a very sick little girl. Her dark, wavy hair fans out around her head on the pillow. My guard is down, and I know I should feel the energy building by now, but I don’t. That’s my first sign that the disease Penelope has is different. I’m already fearing the worst.
<
br /> I take a calming breath and pick up her small hand. Then to my great relief, it begins. It’s only a shiver running through me, not the usual burst of vibration that causes my stomach to drop. I concentrate on the tendril of energy and try to build on it. It takes more concentration and brute force than usual, but it does grow, and I send it down my arm into her tiny hand. I know it has reached her when her eyes slowly open. Their dark depths roam from the ceiling downward until they land on my face. I notice that her left eye doesn’t open as wide as her right. I smile at her, and I can feel our connection. Her pink lips turn up in a small grin. I focus on the energy coiling between us again, and I locate the tumors at the base of her skull. I can also feel the scar that runs vertically there. I never noticed it because Penelope’s hair is always worn down. Now I know why.
I move over the rest of her spine and find no other growths there. Then I go in the other direction, up toward her brain. The coil hitches suddenly, like a guitar string being plucked, and I jerk back in surprise. For a moment, I’m confused, receiving no input at all from Penelope’s body. I aim my focus at her brain again, and I hold back a gasp, suddenly very aware of Kyle and Chloe at my back. I feel a tumor there, too, a large one. I know immediately that I can’t heal it. The energy is already trying to disperse and retreat. I’ve never felt this before, but I understand it’s meaning with a strange clarity. I wonder if this is what my mother felt when she healed her boyfriend in our apartment that night or the boy with leukemia before she left Fort Upton. I can’t cure the disease inside Penelope, but if I push a little harder, I can remove it. It will leave her body, but it won’t go away entirely. This killer will find someone else if I take it out of her. It will find someone close to her, someone with similar makeup for it to cling to. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
