I shake and snivel and let all the stress pour out of me. I have no clue how much time has passed, seconds, minutes, maybe an hour. As the tears finally run out I realize Nathan has once again taken all of my pain away with his selflessness. I lean the entire length of my body into him, letting him support me. My head seems to fit in the divot in the center of his chest as if it was made for me. He’s so warm and comfortable. It’s even better here than being nestled in my bed. I didn’t know that was possible.
His hand begins to stroke my hair. His fingers combing down its length, brushing over the back of my neck and trailing down my spine. Each pass leaves a path of warm ripples in its wake. If I could forget the world and melt into this feeling I would do it without a second thought.
“What are you doing to me?” he breathes the words out over my head.
The words exit his lips and tickle my inner ear. It sends a swell of warmth down to my chest, making me take a deep breath in. I let out a relaxing sigh. I want to tell him it’s not me, it’s him. He’s the one who has transformed me, taken away all of my willpower, and healed my wounds, changed me. All I manage to get out is, “It’s not me.” The rest of my thought, it’s you, goes unvoiced because sheer terror rips the night apart.
Chapter Eighteen: Home
“Help! Anybody, please. Help me!”
We both move, heading straight toward the screaming. Nathan runs with confidence so I follow without question. In what seems like a second we’re on a trail. Grinding footsteps on gravel and high pitched screams overwhelm the crisp air and then Carrie Calloway appears in front of us. She’s hysterical as she tries to talk through huge sobs.
“Help, oh no, Ashley, she’s, I think she’s, she needs help. Please, oh God.”
“Where?” I yell. “Where is she?”
“There, over there, by the hot spring.” She points down the trail. Her face is a disaster, warped with fear and tears. “Please help her!” She buries her face into her hands and looks as if she’s going to have a break down right here.
“Go call 911,” I yell at her. She nods at me but I’m already running down the trail.
“The hot spring,” she’d said. A cold slithery thing passes down my back but I don’t let it slow me down. Automatic and with no thought, my body moves faster than I ever knew was humanly possible. I may as well be flying. I have a brief awareness of not feeling my feet move when I see the handrail leading down to the water and then I’m aware of everything; the slip of every piece of gravel under my shoes, the pungent vapors rising from the water and sticking inside my nose, and the quarter moon hanging over the clearing. I feel Nathan nearby, but my focus is on the nightmare by the water.
Ashley’s body convulses on the ground. From the knees down she’s in the water, and as her body twitches, little splashes ripple across the surface of the moonlit pool. An image of a dying fish flashes across my mind, suffering in pain as it flops around in desperate need of air.
She’s not alone. As I skid down the short incline I see her boyfriend, Eric. He braces her head and neck to help control the shaking.
“Ashley, help is coming. Hang on baby. Ashley, oh Jesus.”
He looks up at me and then starts his reassurances again. “Someone’s here, you’re gonna be fine. Ashley, hang on, beautiful.”
I throw myself down next to her trembling body, ignoring the ripping sound of my jeans. I grab her shoulder and arm, praying I’m remembering right about trying to keep someone from injuring themselves while having a seizure. Within seconds of touching her, the violent shaking stops. Her body goes limp, her eyes are closed. It’s worse than the seizing. Everything feels terribly wrong.
“Ashley? Babe?” Eric sounds unsure.
“Is she epileptic?” I ask.
“What? No! I mean, I don’t know.” His voice is high. He sounds as if he’s about to panic.
“Eric, what happened?” I need him to stay calm and answer me. My hands move as I speak. My right hand reaches under her jaw while my left hand slides down her arm, grabbing for her wrist.
“We were swimming, and then, I don’t know. She… she started shaking and I think she was puking at the same time.”
“Oh Michael, oh Holy Mother.” I have never called on the Saints before but this seems like an appropriate time. No pulse. My fingers move to the other side of her neck. Maybe I had the wrong spot. I can’t find any sign of life.
“Please no!”
Her chest isn’t moving, no pulse, he said she was puking.
“Put her head down!” I stick my fingers in her mouth, finding nothing blocking her airway, and then I am moving again. The flying feeling is back. I feel separate from my body and yet I know I’m working harder than I’ve ever worked before.
Chest compressions and a breath, check for a pulse, chest compressions and a breath, check for a pulse, still nothing. Please come back. My body moves and my brain counts and repeats, over and over again. In my mind all I can hear is “come back, come back, please come back”.
Eric blithers. “This is all my fault. Ashley please… this can’t be happening…”
He sounds distant even though he’s right next to me. I glimpse Nathan standing next to a large black man at the edge of the trees. Then Chris Abeyta is forcing me off her, saying he’ll take over. I try to get out of the way but the fatigue is so sudden and so overpowering all I can manage is to crawl a few feet away and sit, stunned, on the strangely warm rocks and stare into the velvet black water captivated by the streaks of silver moonlight shimmering across its surface.
Flashing lights and yelling voices bring me out of my stupor. Eric panics, he spews off some disjointed sentences, “not happening”, “can’t be arrested”, and “football team,” is all I hear. Then I see him run off in his boxer shorts, his clothes tucked under his arm like the football that’s on his mind.
I’m lifted up and carried away, similar to Ashley, except she lies on a stretcher and I stumble along on my own feet with my arm draped over someone’s shoulder. The reflective strips of the uniforms around me catch a hundred flashlight beams as they streak through the forest, violating my eyes with obnoxious yellow and pinkish orange. The glaring lights increase a thousand-fold and I have to squint against the flashing lights of the ambulance and the cop cars. I see Ashley being loaded into the back of the blue and white ambulance. The large black man climbs in after her. I see Carrie and an EMT inside with her as well. That’s good, I think as I watch Carrie’s pale face, she’s going to need a friend.
Someone, I think it’s the same person who half-dragged me to the parking lot, asks me if I want to go to the hospital.
“No,” I hear myself answer. I definitely do not want to go there.
Other than that, I can’t recall anything specific. I answer a lot of questions, but I’m unable to recall a single one. After what seems like an endless time, a familiar voice I can’t name says he’s taking me home. The word “home” is enough to make me insist that’s exactly what I want to do and right now would not be soon enough.
∞
“Huh?” I say to some unheard question, turning away from the dog I had been mindlessly petting.
“I said, do you think anyone is home, and if not, can you get inside your house?” His voice is soft and kind in the dark.
“Where’s Jared?”
“I have not seen him.”
“Do you think he’s safe?”
“I do not know, Juliana. Is your house open?”
I turn to look at my addresser. He turns the key to his truck and the rumble I had not been aware of suddenly stops leaving us surrounded by silence. He looks over at me; a deep groove of concern knits his brows together over black eyes.
“Not unless Jared is here.”
“Can you get inside or should I take you to your grandmother’s?”
“No, I can get in. With this,” I mutter. I try to reach into my pocket but my arm is so heavy and my fingers feel like fat lead weights, it takes me two tries and then
I hold up my keys to show him.
“I am unclear about how a little stick will open your front door, but if you say that it will, then let us go in.”
“Wha’?” I’d been staring longingly at my house. I’m half aware that someone is on the front porch. They must be sitting on the bench because I can see the curve of a head above the porch railing. I look at my keys. Every muscle in me responds to movement as if I am swimming through quicksand.
“Oh,” I say embarrassed. I stuff the stupid twig back in my pocket. My body is clumsy and slow but I manage to fish out my real keys.
“I am going to stay with you until someone comes home.”
I barely register what Chris is saying. My mind is lost in scenes of flashing lights and bare skin under the moonlight.
“She died, didn’t she?”
“No, not yet.”
“What?” I ask.
“Her heart started beating again, but her spirit was not in it.” Chris’s voice is low and soft.
“Are you sure?” I try to process his answer but it doesn’t compute in my befuddled state.
“I am sure.”
What else is there to say? I reach for the door handle. Chris opens his side.
“Someone’s here. You don’t have to come in,” I mumble at him. “But, thank you,” I add.
“I will see you to the door.”
He comes around the front of his truck and helps me move my two-ton body. The night air engulfs me and all at once I’m freezing. My skin breaks out in gooseflesh, even next to Chris’s warmth. He steadies me as we walk the twenty feet to the front steps.
Nathaniel rises off of the bench. He looks imposing as he stares down at us. The extra two feet from the height of the deck makes him appear that much taller. Something else though, gives him an edge of fierceness I’ve never noticed before, as if he’s a dark giant guarding the door.
“I can take care of her tonight,” he offers in that velvet baritone of his.
The sound of his voice warms me slightly. I smile at him, grateful to see him again. I’m getting used to having him around when I am out of sorts. How weird is that?
Chris yanks me backward, catching me off guard and I trip over one of his feet. I land on one knee. I don’t think I’m in pain but I still feel so numb I’m not sure. What is going on over my head seems a million times more urgent.
“Leave this place and never return!” Chris commands.
“You misunderstand me and for all the right reasons.” Nathan’s voice is calm.
All the right reasons? What does that mean?
I climb up off the ground. Chris is blocking me with his body. His face and body language scares me. I consider curling up on the ground, it would be so much easier, but I don’t. Instead, I find the strength to duck around him, or try to. “I want to go inside,” I say, meek as a house mouse.
His arm stops me from getting any closer to my front porch.
His eyes flash to my face then back at Nathaniel. “How do you not know?”
“What? He’s… just… a... friend.” The words chatter out of my clattering teeth as I begin to shiver.
“He is not your…” Chris growls through his own teeth.
Nathan interrupts by talking over him. “I swear no harm will come to her this night.”
There’s power behind his words and mild concern seeps into me. I don’t have time to think about it though, because before I’m aware he even moved, Nathaniel scoops me up, and is back on the deck.
Poor Chris. I get a glimpse of the alarm on his face and I pray he doesn’t have a stroke in my driveway. Nathan slips, with me in his arms, through the door as if he has done it a thousand times. It swings closed behind us and the latch clicks into place. I hear an engine rumble to life on the other side. Relief washes over me. Chris didn’t come after me. The less drama the better, and what matters most is I’m home.
Chapter Nineteen: Survivors
Nathaniel heads straight to the kitchen. He places me on a kitchen chair, handling me as if I might shatter at any moment. The way my teeth clack together I might be inclined to think the same thing. He turns and leaves the room. I stare at the keys in my hand and cannot for the life of me remember Nathan using them to get inside. My brain jumps from that puzzle to the thought that he’s just left me, like Jared did at Castle Hill. I’m alone again. I start to stand, automatically seeking the familiar comforts of my bedroom and then I feel a fuzzy blanket wrap around me. A gentle nudge pushes me back onto the chair. No, I correct, he didn’t leave me after all.
“You need food. Sit right there. I’ll make it quick.”
“No. Tea, please.” My voice feels strange, too loud and as if someone else is talking.
“All right, tea and food.”
Nathan flips on the overhead light and inspects the contents of the refrigerator. I watch him with curious detachment. All night he’d either been in low light or under moonlight. Now that I have a chance to get a good look, I’m too out of it to care much. One thing that doesn’t escape me is the fact that he’s gorgeous, the whole package, long legs, nice shoulders, and a face the angels would envy. Even his movements are easy and graceful; he looks as comfortable moving around my kitchen as if he were in his own home.
He fills my tea kettle with water and places it on a burner. The whoosh of the flame igniting on the stove draws my attention away from his perfection and I stare mesmerized by the blue flames. The steam and the start of hissing sounds move me from the chair and flipping off the stove knob before I realize I’m up.
“You stay in your seat for a few more minutes. I can manage in here.”
“I’ll just do the tea,” I say. My teeth are no longer chattering but I still feel chilled. “Besides you don’t know how to make the tea I want.” My voice is starting to come back to normal but my limbs feel thick and heavy.
“Is that so? I can take direction well enough.”
“Nah.” I open the cabinet holding all of my herbs and teas and search for the right combination. Nathan is standing very close to me. His long arm lifts as he reaches for something in the cabinet next to mine. I can smell the clean air smell that seems to radiate from him and I take a deep breath. He looks down at me with a curious look and then holds up a large mug between us.
“Need this?” he asks and then he smiles down at me.
His smile is small and so sweet looking I forget what I’m doing. I stare, blank as an empty television screen, at his sexy mouth and then at the turquoise coffee cup. Even his hand is sculpted into perfection. The cup floats over to the countertop. Such long fingers.
“The tea, Juliana.”
“Oh, right.” What is the matter with me? I blink hard and then continue where I left off, shuffling around the rows of glass jars. Chamomile, definitely. Umm, what else? Come on brain, betony, yes, that should kick my butt straight into a coma. Oh God, bad choice of words, oh God, Ashley. Do her parents know yet? What is Jared going to think? Where’s Jared and the band? All right, cut it out. Tea, tea, tea.
“Are you doing okay over there?” Nathan asks from by the stove.
“I’m fine,” I lie. Chamomile, betony, and mint, any kind, who cares, here’s spearmint, great. I spoon some of each into the hot water and take my concoction to the table. I glance at the wall clock, 2:11. I fold a leg under myself on my chair and pull the blanket over my shoulders. Then I say a feeble prayer to Father Time to speed things along so I can drink my medicine and find the abyss of sleep.
Nathan places a plate and a small bowl of steaming soup in front of me and then sits down in an adjacent chair. I hug the oversized mug between my hands and absorb its heat like a sponge.
“Try to eat. It will help.”
Grilled cheese and tomato soup from a can, it makes me smile.
“What?” he asks.
“My mom used to make this for me when I didn’t feel well.”
His eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles his small smile again. “Mine too.”
&n
bsp; He looks down into his lap for a brief moment after he tells me this. Something crosses his face I don’t understand. When he looks up again the sweet smile is gone.
I pick up half of the sandwich. He cut it diagonally, the same way I do. I nibble the corner testing to see if my stomach is agreeable. Undecided. Nathan’s watchful gray eyes look expectant so I take another, bigger bite. My stomach grumbles to life with a loud complaint that it’s awake now and hungry. I dip the buttery cheesy toast into my soup and finish the first half of the sandwich without speaking.
Nathaniel’s expression changes to one of satisfaction, but he’s polite enough not to stare at me while I eat. “Don’t you want some?” I ask.
“No, thank you.”
“Some tea? There’s plenty for two cups. It’ll help you relax. You were there tonight, too.”
“I don’t need anything,” he says.
He does look all right, not a feather ruffled in fact. “It’s just me, isn’t it? Chris was fine too.” I sulk a little at the thought.
“What happened tonight is a tragedy.” He shakes his head. “It’s… horrible. What you experienced is traumatic. It’s okay to be upset about it.”
“I’m not moving or thinking right. I’m barely functioning.”
“You’re doing better already. Believe me, I’ve seen it before. Your response is normal.”
“You’ve seen people die before, or seen people in shock before?” I ask.
“Both,” he says.
“Oh.” I stare down into my cup watching the crumbled bits of plant matter swim around in the yellow liquid. I haven’t witnessed anything like tonight’s events before. It pains me to think repeated exposure to trauma makes you less susceptible to the tragedy of it. That it can harden you somehow.
My eyes lift from the tea and move to the back door. A girl’s face stares back at me. Her pupils are huge and her hair is wild. I look more horrible than I feel. I comb my fingers over my scalp trying to flatten the worst of the tangles.
Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Page 20
