Some type of mission
Or only a vision?
Can a change of heart…
Tear us apart
The feelings are true.
Oh God, What did I do?
If I choose not to believe…
Will I ever be free?
Can there be any trust…
When death lies between us.
I throw the notebook across the room and climb off the bed. I close my eyes for the length of ten deep breaths and will myself to let go of everything I can’t control. I remind myself that I did nothing on purpose over the last couple of weeks that warrants any regret. Even so, I feel the hurt, confusion, and jaw-clenching frustration riding me like a nag.
My stomach gurgles and a clenching sensation fills the space below my ribcage. Dinner. The body needs sustenance no matter what the mind is doing.
Jared shovels in forkful after forkful of my mom’s rice and veggie casserole. He’s already eaten more than my mom and I put together. It’s good to see him back to his normal appetite. I noticed he’s wearing a new belt and he really needs to. He’s the skinniest I’ve ever seen him. It disgusts me to think it’s because of the methamphetamines, but what else can it be? Both his eating and his attitude were all over the place this last week. So tonight his old gusto for food is back, but his personality is lacking to the extreme.
“I got a letter from Lance De’Lao,” I say, trying for some conversation.
“Did he say when he’s coming back from France?” Jared grumbles over his food.
“No. But he sent all those flowers.”
“Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“What’s your problem?” I ask, but not expecting a real answer especially in front of Mom.
“I don’t have a problem! You started it.”
His temper is rising for no reason I can figure. I look over at Mom who watches us in silence. “I started what? What are you talking about? You freak.” I don’t have much patience for this crap tonight. My day hasn’t exactly been rosy either.
“Talk about Lance!” he barks back.
“What about Lance? You’re still in contract with him, aren’t you?” A sudden fear grips me that the contract has been cancelled because of everything that happened.
“Yes! But look at me. What good is a contract when I can’t play anything!” He holds up his cast.
“That’s going to come off and your hand will be back to normal.” I say feeling sorry for him. This is the first time he’s brought up his injury since it happened.
“Not soon enough! So tell me, Dr. Know-it-all, how long does physical therapy last?” He slams his casted arm down on the table and all the dishes jump. So does my mother. She reaches for her glass of water as it sloshes over onto the table.
She starts to say, “Jared, the doctors…”
He doesn’t even glance at her as he interrupts. The whites of his eyes are red as he glares at me. “The band’s going on tour without me, with Blue Nouveau, for the rest of the summer. Isn’t that fucking terrific!”
“Jared, I’m so sorry. But your hand, it’s going to heal then you can join the band.” I feel all the blood drain out of my face. I know what a devastation this is.
“Are you sorry? If you hadn’t...”
He doesn’t finish his bitter accusation, but I hear it anyway. If I had not followed him to Castle Hill that day then his hand wouldn’t be broken now. The hate coming out of him and the dirty red color growing around him makes me shrink back in my chair. “Jared, I’m….” I didn’t have the words. I couldn’t even see my brother in those tainted eyes.
“You’re what? Nosy? A nobody who has nothing better to do than follow her brother around?”
“Jared, your sister didn’t mean for any of this to happen and you know it. You need to apologize, or you can leave this table.” Mom defends me which is good because I’m incapable.
Jared’s chair bursts out from under him and he disappears from the kitchen before the crash has even finished. My hands shake as I reach for the edge of the table to push myself back. I move but I don’t feel my body.
“Jules, he didn’t mean it. Sweetie, sit back down. He’ll apologize later.”
“It is my fault,” I whisper. I don’t think she hears me but it doesn’t matter. I stumble up to my room, feeling as if the world is upside down, and close the door. How many ways can someone’s reality change in a single day?
Jared’s music blares from across the hall. I can’t function properly. My body is stunned into not recognizing signals from my brain, or is it that my brain isn’t firing any signals? Jared is so right. I am responsible for his broken hand. I’m the one who chose to follow him to Castle Hill, and I’m the one who acted like an idiot when Mason was freaked out. Now I’m to blame for Jared missing his first real tour with a world famous band. Oh God, what have I done? Was I supposed to even be here? What if I had died like Chris thought? Did Nathan really come to take my life and then had a change of heart? What if Nathaniel had been here for Ashley and then for some unknown reason decided to help me out? That seemed the most logical if I had to guess. Ashley was the one who died after all and she was there at Forge Creek the first time I met him. Could it be? Could I really believe Nathan was some celestial being? How did I start thinking about him again? My brother hates me and all I can do is think about Nathaniel. What’s the matter with me?
The heavy thumping and screeching coming from Jared’s room is more irritating than the time I had fleas in my sleeping bag at camp. It makes me want to scratch my skin off along with the peeling guitar riffs I can hear from his awful CD. Death Metal or Thrash rock. Something normally on the edge of being tolerated now feels as if it’ll make me rip all my hair out if I have to listen to one more second. Sleep, which is the only thing I need, will be impossible now. I make a hasty decision right there in the middle of my darkened room. I have to get out of here.
My body did respond to that. It’s as if it knows better than my head; for survivals sake, “let’s get the puck out of dodge.” I grab my backpack off of the floor and dump its contents onto the bed. Then I head downstairs and start filling it up.
∞
The moment I turn east onto the highway I know where I’m going. It’s not too remote, but private, so I don’t have to worry about running into anyone, such as tourists. I don’t need any money, or a camping permit, and I can drive up to the spot which is good because it’s already dark out.
I pull up to the gate and hope my Grandma hasn’t changed the lock. The combination is the first five digits of her phone number. The forty acre lot she and my grandfather bought as an investment eons ago is partly wooded and partly meadow but its most valuable feature is the creek and the National Forest access. I drive through without any problem, closing and relocking the gate behind me, and follow the narrow trail as far back as it goes. When I see the rock fire ring, I park the car. I have a moment of hesitation at my brash decision to flee my house so late at night to go camping. Screw it. I’m here and I don’t want to go back to the house.
It’s as I thought. No one is out here. I turn off my engine, but leave the lights shining on the campfire circle. First things first, I want a fire.
The last person who stayed out here was thoughtful enough to leave a stack of wood and kindling nestled against a nearby tree trunk. If I had to guess, the thoughtful person was probably me. I take advantage of it, no matter who it was. Within minutes I have the beginnings of a small fire. I slip my hoodie over my head, grab my backpack, a jug of water, and my sleeping bag from inside the hatchback of the car, and then switch off the lights. I decide to forget the tent — too much work and sleeping under the stars has its own rewards.
I unroll my sleeping bag on the ground in front of an old stump and plant myself on it, leaning my back against the smooth wood. I feed the fire and blow on the embers until I have decent warmth radiating at me. Flames dance to th
eir own crackling tune and the smoke permeates everything as I sit mesmerized and grateful for the fire and the quiet night. Too bad my life couldn’t always be this simple.
It’s not that simple though. I wanted to get away, even for one night. Is this really helping? I ask myself, and if I have to answer honestly, which of course I do — lying to oneself has to be a mistake — then I would have to answer yes, and no. Yes, being outside always helps calm me down. And no, running away doesn’t change anything.
“Nathaniel Evans, where are you? And what did you do to me?” I ask the night.
If I could only escape from my brain.
At some point I must do just that, at least in the ways of sleep.
My body jerks itself awake, yanking me rudely from unconscious splendor, and instantly concerned about the need to put wood on the fire. I’m still sitting up and it surprises me I fell asleep that way. My hand is already on a stick of wood and reaching toward the flames when I see him.
Chapter Thirty: Beyond
Nathaniel
She’s more beautiful every time I see her. Her lips are slightly parted and the front of her pale neck is exposed to the firelight as she sleeps. I had no idea if she would, but I wanted her to call for me. It became about the rules again, and I was in a gray area by going to her when she slept. I wanted to make another attempt on my end to see if there was still a connection between us. I’m here now. She wanted me to come.
During our time apart my thoughts would return to her a thousand times a day when I was supposed to be focusing on my latest case. Since I’ve met her, I feel as if I’m spinning on an endless carnival ride going around and around with Juliana as the center hub. I would try to get off the ride and do my job but then I would be right back on, thinking about her curves, her hair, her multi-colored eyes. Those brilliant emeralds are about to appear, I think, as her eyelids flicker. Her hand moves to a pile of wood by her side before her eyes are even open. Is she having a dream? I watch, bemused, as she grabs a piece in her sleep. I have to stop myself from laughing out loud when she opens her eyes and moves with such speed it tickles me from head to toe. The fear on her face keeps me from making a sound. Her mouth pops open with a small intake of breath.
She sees me through a screen of smoke. I don’t think she recognizes me at first because her heels dig into the blanket she’s sitting on and she shoots straight up like a rocket. As she retreats backward, brandishing her stick like a mighty sword, she lands heavily on the stump behind her. With the momentum of fear propelling her, she rolls like a stone off the side of a mountain. My reaction is either from habit, the rescuing Juliana habit, or from the guilt of startling her. Either way, I throw myself under her and somehow manage to catch her before she tumbles onto the ground. I cradle her in my arms and then lean back so her weight presses into me.
Her recognition of me is confusing. Her scared face transforms to one of warmth and pleasure, I would have sworn it, but then it’s replaced with a different type of fear. She rolls out of my arms and scrambles away from me. She looks me up and down and shivers visibly.
“Should I have let you fall?”
She crosses her arms over her stomach and doesn’t say anything.
I can’t read all the thoughts playing over her face but I see confusion in the mix. “Was I mistaken when you called my name?”
“Did I?” she whispers.
“I heard you.”
“I thought I was talking to myself.”
“Do you prefer to keep it that way? I can leave.”
“Do I really have a choice?”
She narrows her eyes and tightens her lips as she waits for the answer. What did that mean? Does she think I’m a stalker? What was the standoffish look for? “If you want to be left alone, of course I’ll go.”
“Where did you come from?” She looks toward her car as if expecting to see another vehicle.
“Work,” I say in truth.
“Aren’t you working now?” There’s accusation in her voice.
Now I get it. She must have figured me out, or thinks she has. The look. I knew I recognized it, only she’s never given it to me before. It’s the look of fear of the unknown and anger toward death. She knows I’m not like the living people of the earth. “No.” I shake my head at her and plead with my eyes that she’ll go back to seeing me as before. “I swear I mean you no harm, Juliana.”
Were our few moments of connection to be over already? Was my happiness in this afterlife done after one tormenting, blissful night and a few stolen moments? Could I leave now and be content with what I did have, no matter how brief?
After a painful pause, she says to the ground, “Then stay.”
She’s hiding her face behind a screen of hair.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“I am afraid.”
“Then I should leave you alone.” How can I stay when the girl I love thinks I’ve come to end her life?
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of myself.”
I take a step closer to her. The firelight reflects off her hair like a black mirror in the night. “That can’t be right.”
She gives me a shaky smile. I see a twinge of sadness in it. My hand reaches for her face because I want to take the pain from her. She drops her arms to her sides and looks up at me.
“I’m afraid because I don’t care what happens to me as long as I can see you again. You can be anything and I don’t think I care. It’s crazy.”
“You’re perfectly safe.” I let my fingers rest on the top of her shoulders and let the relief of her words penetrate my being. She wants me to stay.
“Tell me if I’m living on borrowed time.”
So she does know about me. “You’re not. I mean everyone is, but I was here before for someone else, not you.” I can’t tell her it was her brother right now. Things are too tenuous.
She bites her lower lip and then asks, “Am I dreaming again?”
“Do you want to be dreaming this?”
“No, but I’m having a hard time believing that... that is real, and you’re really here.” She tips her head, indicating what she is looking at.
I look over my shoulder and see the shadow of an animal sniffing around the front tire of her car. Its low profile and long tail give it away. It slinks closer to the circle of firelight, nose down and ears erect. I’m positive Juliana unknowingly has brought the fox into her camp. It lifts its head and stares at us in what looks like a contemplative way. Checking to see if we have anything to offer it.
“She’s as real as I am,” I say. The fox skitters back away from the light at the sound of my voice. Her narrow chin lifts up for one last look and then she trots away under the cover of night. Appropriate and fitting does not begin to describe the gift of her appearance, and it makes me smile inside. “Did you know foxes can see what others do not?”
“Like me,” she says under her breath.
“Yes. Like you.” I turn back to face her.
“I don’t know how, or why, I see… things.”
“You don’t have to know why. It’s part of who you are.”
“Then we can add it to our list.”
“I like adding things which are inexplicably good.”
“Nathaniel, since I’m not dreaming, can you tell me why you feel so real?”
I take another step closer so we’re only inches apart. I reach down for one of her hands and lift it up, placing it on my chest. “I am real.”
“But you’re not like me, are you?”
“In some ways I am.”
“I’m glad. Maybe I’m beginning to understand, and maybe I don’t care right now if nothing makes sense.” She casts her eyes down again.
“You make sense to me,” I tell her.
I want to watch her delicate face. I want to see if she is distraught. I didn’t come here to upset her. I tip her chin up with my fingertips. She lets me with no resistance. I don’t see any of the previous confusion or fear. In fact,
I only see beautiful, receptive eyes. I watch as those jewels flutter down to my mouth hiding beneath her long lashes again, and I can take it no longer. My own gaze moves down. Her mouth is too kissable. The need takes over and begins to throb. It’s pulling me down like an anchor. I’ve been here once before, at night, in the forest with her lips so close to mine, and I had the strength to stop myself, but not now. I lean down and brush my lips over her velvet soft mouth. Ecstasy doesn’t begin to describe what passes over me in that moment. I back up an inch, making sure she’s okay with what I’ve just done. She must be, because I feel her hand on my neck and then she cups the back of my head and pulls me down to her again. Our next kiss familiarizes me with her in a way I could never have imagined.
“Juliana,” I breathe and pull back.
“Hmmm?” she hums.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
“Exactly what you’re doing to me.”
“Not possible,” I say in a breathy whisper. My entire being excites to a new level at that revelation. Could she feel as deeply as I do? The look she gives me leaves no doubt she does. “Juliana, I need to add something to our list of things that are inexplicable.”
“Besides the way your voice feels inside my ear,” she says and then her cheeks flush like a self-conscious schoolgirl.
One side of my mouth twitches. She likes the sound of my voice. “Besides that. This one is a universal mystery.”
“A mystery on that level has to make the cut, doesn’t it? What is it?”
“How the right two souls manage to find each other.” I stare into her eyes as I say it. I want her to know how serious I am.
She meets my gaze. “Beyond space, and time… and death,” she adds.
“Yes, beyond all that.” I sigh out of contentment and also some regret. “I wish I would’ve met you when I was alive.”
She doesn’t look disturbed. In fact, she grins at me.
“They say time is relative, and you told me yourself death is only a change. You changed into something… amazing.”
“Are you sure you want me here? What if I’m not so good… for you?”
Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Page 30
