I laughed and spotted a side door. “Should we try there? Do you think it’s open? What are the odds?”
“Not very good,” Caspian said, but he followed me to it.
I gave the silver metal push bar a slight tap, and the door swung right open.
We crossed the threshold and entered into the school. The hallways had that classic stale smell to them—papers, erasers, new sneakers, and old cafeteria food—and I wrinkled my nose. “I hope they air this place out before the new school year starts.”
Caspian didn’t answer. He was too busy looking at rows of black-and-white class pictures hanging up in the hallway. Most of them were hidden behind dusty glass and faded wooden frames.
I turned to the pictures. “Are you here?” I tried to find him, searching for his hair, but the photographs were yellowed and grainy.
He put one finger on a frame, and I leaned in to see where he was pointing. Even with the washed-out coloring, I recognized the hair and eyes. “There you are,” I whispered. He had on a plaid shirt and brown pants, his eager smile showing a missing front tooth. “I was right. Adorable.”
He turned and gave me the same smile as in the picture, and I giggled. “I knew it. You’re still nine.”
Caspian nodded and ran his finger over the glass one more time. “Feels like a lifetime ago.” His voice was wistful, and then abruptly changed. “I have one more thing to show you. Out back.”
We left the school, and he took me to where a small fenced-in playground stood. It was shabby, and obviously not very well taken care of. The peeling paint on the red-and-yellow monkey bars barely clung on, and the swing set had only two swings, both with cracked wooden seats. A small row of plank-wood bleachers had been set up in the corner of the playground, looking out at what passed for a baseball diamond.
Caspian led me there.
He bent down and looked under the first seat. “Down here.”
I bent down too, and saw a mishmash of carved initials, just barely making out a CV. “You were here,” I said. “I see your initials.”
“I carved them on my first day of school. I saw some older kids doing it, and they lent me their pocket knife.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Six, I think. Old enough to want to make my mark on the world.”
I ran my fingers over the CV, committing the feel of it to memory, and sat the cigar box down carefully. “It’s too bad we don’t have a knife now. I’d like to add my initials there too. Maybe next time.”
“If there is a next time.” Caspian gazed at me with a serious expression, and the mood turned somber. I didn’t want things to stay that way, so I hollered, “Race you to the monkey bars!”
I got a head start and was already hanging upside down when he caught up. All the blood was rushing to my head, making me feel dizzy. “I can’t stay like this much longer,” I told him. “Head rush.”
He leaned down and stuck his face next to mine, gifting me with a beautiful smile. “I know the feeling,” he said. “You give me a head rush all the time.”
˜ ˜ ˜
We left the playground around two, and I was surprised by the fact that I wasn’t hungry yet. We went back to Main Street, and Caspian pointed to a little gas station on the corner. “Go get something to eat.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“All you’ve eaten since last night was a bite of pizza and a burrito. You need to eat more. Go fill your stomach with some food. I’ll wait for you here.”
I wanted to protest, but he had a point. And the smells of relish and hot dogs drifting out of the store were slowly starting to awaken my sleeping appetite.…
I went inside and grabbed a bag of chips, a hot dog, and a can of soda. I practically inhaled the food, proving that I was hungrier than I thought, and went back to the counter to buy a pack of gum.
I popped in a piece of minty freshness and chewed thoroughly, hoping to disguise any leftover hot dog on my breath. Caspian was waiting outside the store, the sun reflecting off his hair. The white-blond color practically glowed. “Ready to go?” I asked him.
“Where to next?”
“The cemetery.”
He led the way, and I followed him silently. As we walked, a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the light around us, and his hair didn’t glisten anymore.
I tried to pay attention to where he was leading me, but I got turned around and couldn’t tell which way we were going. He moved quickly, and I found myself jogging to keep up with him as we started down a gravel road.
A white clapboard church appeared, with a small graveyard directly across from it. There was a dark metal fence surrounding the cemetery, and a faded sign arched between the two main fence posts.
“Welcome to Saint Joseph’s Cemetery,” Caspian said. “My final resting place.”
I placed one hand reverently on the metal post and took a deep breath. This is it. I’m here.
The tiny graveyard was vastly different from the one in Sleepy Hollow. There were no mausoleums, no ornately carved headstones, no statues of angels… no statues at all. Just simple, square granite markers punctuated with carved names and dates.
I stepped up to the first stone. It read: WALTER ROSE, BORN JULY 7, 1923, DIED AUGUST 21, 1983. There was no “beloved husband” or “he will be missed.” Just an empty name with an empty date.
“I’m over here,” Caspian said, and I looked up. He was standing by a small gray stone, clearly set apart.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, I moved purposefully toward him. This was what I’d come all this way for. To see him. The real him. I steeled myself for the possible tears that might come and concentrated on walking.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Move one, then the other.
His head was bowed when I reached him, and I felt myself falling. Suddenly, the ground was underneath me. Rough stone caught my fingertips.
C, for Caspian. V, for Vander. He was here.
I spread my fingers and touched the rest of his name. Closing my eyes, I imagined…
Caspian in a black suit, eyes closed, head on a white satin pillow. Polished mahogany surrounding him, then slamming shut. Sealed forever.
Fresh dirt. Rich and dark, landing with a hollow thud against his closed coffin. New grass. Growing slowly. Tiny blades appearing from little seeds planted so many months ago.
The pictures reversed, and new images began to play.
Black suit, head bowed, rain streaming down, at Kristen’s funeral.
Crying over her grave on prom night. Caspian finding me at the river… saving me.
Starry skies. The necklace he made me. All alone in his crypt, bent over a small candle and working with his hands to make something beautiful.
Lying on my bed. Green glowing over our heads. My own private constellations put there so I could have them anytime.
The library… smells of books and old papers. His hand grasping mine. That black stripe falling into one eye.
A kiss…
My eyes flew open, and I gasped. Caspian was beside me in an instant, kneeling on the grass. “Are you okay? Talk to me, Abbey.”
With one hand on his name carved in stone, I steadied myself and brought up the other to his face. The feeling was stronger here, and I held my trembling fingers in place.
“It doesn’t hurt, Caspian. I thought it would. Thought it might be too much to bear. But it’s not.” A sense of awe came over me, and I looked at him in amazement. “If I’m strong enough to handle this, then I’m strong enough to handle whatever else comes my way.”
Silent words that I did not say floated on the tip of my tongue. Revenants… death…
Caspian turned his head slightly to move closer to my hand, and a thousand tiny charges erupted under my skin. “Do you feel it?” I whispered.
He nodded. “It must be stronger because I’m here.”
I shook my head. “It’s stronger because you’re here.” I pulled my other han
d away from the stone and placed it over my heart. Keeping my gaze steady, I smiled at him. “I finally feel it now. The missing piece.”
He gave me a confused look, so I tried to explain. “When Kristen died, it felt like my heart shattered into a million pieces. And no matter what I did, or how I tried to make it better, I couldn’t. Then I met you. And it started to heal. The cracks went away, bit by bit.
“I didn’t realize that all the pieces were there except for one. But now, being here, with you, It finally fits. We fit, Caspian. I feel whole. Here, in this place. And I’ll do whatever it takes to hold on to that.”
I brought my hand down from his face and folded both hands together on top of the gravestone. Almost like I was praying.
“Even if that means I only get to touch you one day a year. I’ll take it.” I turned my face up and felt the sun’s warmth. “I want you, Caspian. I want your body, your heart, and your soul. And any part in between.”
I took another deep breath. This was the scary part. “That only leaves one question to be answered.” I wanted to look away. I wanted so badly not to see hesitation, or reluctance, cross his face. But I had to know. “Do you want me?”
“Forever,” he said. And in the quiet stillness, the hushed authority of a solemn vow ran behind his words. “I want you forever.”
Chapter Twenty-five
UNFORTUNATE
What passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know.
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
We stayed in the cemetery for the rest of the afternoon. When it was time to go back to Shepherd University, I met Ben there on time and we drove to the hotel. Ben talked about the junkyard the entire time.
I nodded my head and listened with one ear, but I wasn’t really paying attention. My thoughts were on Caspian. I didn’t know what would happen when we got back to the hotel. What could happen.
Ben suggested that we get Chinese for dinner, and I caught enough of the conversation to agree. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He pulled into the bait shop–Chinese restaurant, but we were both too grossed out to eat there, so I suggested that we find another one.
The closest place ended up being almost an hour away, but it was worth it, and we returned to the hotel with several boxes of leftovers. Ben carried them in and walked me to my door. I just wanted him to say good night already so I could spend the rest of the evening alone with Caspian.
He started fidgeting with the boxes as soon as I pulled out my room key. “Are you sure you don’t want to take any of these?” He held them out to me. “You might get the midnight munchies.”
“They’re all yours.”
He looked down at the floor. “Do you want to come watch a movie or something in my room, then? I feel bad. I didn’t get to ask you anything about the school.”
I slid my key into the card reader and pushed open the door. “That’s what we have a six-hour car ride home tomorrow for. We’ll talk—” The phone in my room started ringing and I glanced over at it. “That’s probably my dad. I should get it.”
Ben nodded and opened his door too. “See you tomorrow. Night, Abbey.”
He sounded kind of disappointed, but I told myself that I’d let him talk my ear off the whole way home. I’d buy him a bag of Funyuns, too. That should make him happy.
I crossed the room and reached for the phone just as it stopped ringing. My foot kicked something, and I reached down to pick it up.
It was the bottle of lotion I’d had this morning.
Caspian stood by the door, and he slowly came toward me. I scooted backward, dropping the lotion, and felt the hard wood of the headboard at my back. “Lie down,” he commanded, with a slight tremble in his voice.
My knees turned to jelly.
I inched my way down onto the bed, stopping when my back was flat. “This isn’t, um, fair, you know.”
“No?” He leaned over me, and I blinked several times, trying to keep my thoughts straight.
“No, it’s not. You use that sexy voice and I go all melty.”
“Mmmm, melty? Is that the technical term?”
I could barely breathe. He was wreaking havoc on all my senses.
“We can’t… do anything,” I finally said.
“We can’t?” He whispered in my ear, “Let’s find out what we can do.…”
I closed my eyes.
“Are you cold?” he said. “You have goose bumps on your arms.” His gaze fell to my hair, and he lifted one hand, almost as if he was going to touch it. “I like seeing you like this. Your hair is all wild.”
“And witchy?” I teased, remembering prom night. When I babbled about my wild and witchy hair.
He smiled. “I’m thinking, yes. You definitely cast a spell on me. It drives me crazy.”
“There you go with those pickup lines again.”
He shook his head and lowered his face. We were nose to nose. Lips to lips. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” he whispered.
“How much?” I taunted.
He licked his lips. “Very, very much.”
“If you had to choose between kissing me once right now and then dying, or living forever without my touch, which would it be?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “I’d die a happy man, with the taste of you on my lips.”
I tried very hard not to blush. “I’d make the same choice too.”
“You would?”
I nodded, then closed my eyes.
The hotel phone next to me rang loudly and completely broke the mood.
Caspian groaned. “Ignore it,” he pleaded.
“It’s my dad. I know it is.”
“He’ll call back.”
“He already called once and I missed it,” I argued. Truthfully, I was feeling a little bit of relief at the interruption. I was getting completely carried away.
Caspian sighed, and sat up, moving away from me. “You’re right,” he said. “You should probably answer it.”
I reached for the phone, trying to compose myself before saying hello.
“Hi, Abbey, it’s Dad.”
Yeah, like I couldn’t tell. “Hi, Dad.”
“I called earlier, but you didn’t answer. Were you in Ben’s room?”
“No, Dad,” I sighed. “I wasn’t in Ben’s room. We went to get Chinese food for dinner, so that’s why I wasn’t here to pick up.”
“I’m trusting you, you know,” he said. “Both your mother and I are. Speaking of, she wants to know what you thought of the college.”
I so wasn’t in the mood to talk about that right now. “It was okay.” I tried to think up something to tell him. “I wasn’t really all that impressed by it, honestly.”
“Did you meet the dean? What did you think of the campus? What’s the curriculum like?”
How could I answer those questions? “Like I said, Dad, I wasn’t really happy with it. So it kind of all passed by in a blur.”
“Oh.”
Inspiration hit. “I think I’ll tour some more colleges closer to home. Maybe I’ll find one there that’s more to my liking.”
“Oh, yeah?” He sounded happier. “That’s a good plan. I’m sure your mother can arrange something.” He chattered on for another twenty minutes. Finally I told him I had to get to bed, and I’d see him soon. He agreed, and I hung up the phone with another warning to “be good” ringing in my ear.
I glanced over at Caspian. He seemed to be waiting for my reaction. “That was fun,” I said.
“I could tell.”
“Do you mind turning out the light?” I asked him. “I really need to get some sleep. Long drive home tomorrow.” Sort of true. But mostly I wanted the light out because I felt awkward that our moment had been completely interrupted thanks to my father’s call.
He nodded, and hit the switch. The room was plunged into darkness, and I slipped off my pants and into my pajamas.
Something crunched in my jeans pocket.
> “What was that?” Caspian asked.
I pulled out a cellophane wrapper. “Fortune cookie.” Padding over to the window, I parted the drapes slightly and cracked it open to read what was inside. Every gift comes with a price. Choose wisely. Clutching the fortune tightly in one hand, I climbed into the bed.
“Good fortune?” Caspian asked, settling down on the covers beside me.
I rolled onto my back and looked up at the dark ceiling, silently wishing for glowing plastic stars. “Yeah. It was. I think I’m going to hold on to it.”
He was quiet, and I said, “I miss my stars.”
“I have mine,” came his reply. “Right here next to me.”
I rolled to face him, but I couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. It was like talking to a shadow. “Sweet dreams, Caspian,” I said. “Even if you don’t dream, think of me.”
“Always,” he replied.
I closed my eyes, with a smile on my face and the fortune in my hand.
˜ ˜ ˜
I got dressed quickly the next morning and packed my stuff in a hurry. Then I went into the bathroom and made a call. Gesturing for Caspian to follow me, I left the room.
“Where are we going?” he asked, once we made it outside.
“I have something I need to do. It won’t take long.”
When the cab picked us up, I told the driver to take me to the florist shop on Main Street. I asked Caspian to wait for me outside. He agreed, and I went in, unsure yet of what I was even looking for.
The florist greeted me pleasantly and asked if he could help me with anything. I told him I was undecided, and went to go look in the giant glass display cases. Most of them held roses. Pink, yellow, red, white, peach, and striped varieties of all kinds. My head was spinning just trying to decide.
Finally, I checked back with the florist. “I’m looking for something… maybe a spray of flowers? But I don’t want it to look like it’s for a funeral.”
He pointed to several small baskets, filled with white and yellow daisies, and then to a fern arrangement. But I shook my head. They didn’t feel right.
“Of course there are always roses,” he suggested. “I could put together a bouquet for you.”
The Haunted Page 29
