Coldhearted (9781311888433)
Page 35
Tomorrow…well, tomorrow would be a different story.
Tomorrow would be a time to mourn, to remember her beloved Mason, who’d died because of her. Yes, Tristan had been the executioner, but if Edie had died, when Arianna had wanted her to, Mason would be with her right now, giving Edie that dimpled smile, while holding her hand and never letting go. Edie had spoken of forgiveness to Tristan, but she couldn’t forgive herself.
Even if she were to forgive herself, it wouldn’t matter. It was Mason’s forgiveness that she needed to hear. The thought of seeing him, if his spirit were in the school, was exciting and terrifying at the same time. She longed to see him, yet she was afraid of what she may hear: would he profess his love or blame her for his early demise?
The very idea made her never want to go back to school again. Did she have to now that she was dead? Would people realize that she was dead? Would she lie or admit the truth? And how could she ever love again, and be loved in return, when her heart didn’t beat? She’d never have children. She’d continue on, stuck at seventeen, while everyone aged around her, and then died. Would she see them again? Or would they walk past each other, unseen?
The future was terrifying. She realized that despite the welcoming crowd around her, she was all alone.
“So…breakfast?” Quinn encouraged, playfully tapping Edie’s nose.
He brought her somewhat out of her depression. She was glad to have him in her life.
She smiled. “Let’s go.”
“I’m buying,” her uncle offered, smiling.
There were claps and whoops among the crowd. Quinn suggested a diner and everyone agreed, then parted ways, as Gunnar left with one group in his car, and Jules, the rest. Russell lingered awhile, hesitant to leave Edie. She persuaded him to go, and he did, driving away in his car.
She and her uncle were the last to leave Lockhart Manor.
Despite being dead, she strapped on her seatbelt—safety first—in her car that’d been under a blanket of snow the entire night; someone had brushed most of it off for her. She turned over the engine and rolled down her window when she saw her uncle approach.
“Uh, Edie, are you sure about this?” he asked, indicating her position at the wheel.
She nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m dead, but I haven’t forgotten how to drive. See?”
She rotated the steering wheel, turned the headlights on and off, and then the blinkers. One knob she didn’t turn was the heat. She didn’t need to. She felt perfectly comfortable in her T-shirt and jeans.
“Okay,” her uncle said, realizing that she was a corporal ghost and not a slow-moving zombie, delirious for brains. “But here,” he continued, offering his coat. Edie took it just to make him feel better. “You should wear it,” he suggested. “People will see you, underdressed, and you know…they might talk.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, and shrugged it on. “I need to blend in, right?”
Her uncle nodded. “Right.” He laid his hand over hers. “I’m glad to have you back. When I found out what you’d done...” He trailed off, tears in his eyes, and then continued, “I, uh, I couldn’t think, except to remember how I’d felt when Cora died, when Loren died. At the time of their deaths, I’d wanted to die too, but I knew you needed me. When I was told you were dead, though, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to save you, and I’d never thought it’d be possible, but today, I learned there are such things as miracles.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You did a very brave thing, Edie, but if you ever do something like that again, well…”—he playfully tugged on her earlobe—“I’m grounding you, got it?”
She nodded. “Got it,” she said, and then smiled. “I love you, Uncle Lan-Lan.”
He chuckled. “I love you too.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Edie reached into her jeans pocket, where she retrieved the clown nose, and handed it to him. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
“No problem,” he said, and then put it on his own nose. “I’m thinking of writing a sequel.”
“I can’t wait to read it,” she said truthfully.
In fact, she was planning on reading every one of his books. One, because she wanted to, and two, well…now she had a lot of time on her hands, considering she was going to exist forever as a corporeal ghost. There were all sorts of stuff she could do: take up the violin…hike the Himalayas…dive to the bottom of the Atlantic…
Her uncle kissed her cheek again, bringing her out of her swirling thoughts. She watched as he got into his car, turned over the engine, and then drove away, before coming to stop near the edge of the property, waiting for her. Edie raised her window, put her car in gear, and followed, but at a snail’s pace to take another look at Tristan’s window.
He’d come back and his palm was pressed flat against the pane, telling her “goodbye” again. She stopped the car, and in return, she pressed her palm against the driver’s window, mirroring him. They stayed like this for the longest time, in silence, until she heard a car horn honk. She lowered her hand and turned to see her uncle. He was still wearing the clown nose, as he stuck his head out of his window, mouthing the words, “Are you all right?”
She nodded, giving him a smile, but she couldn’t leave Lockhart Manor without taking one last look at Tristan.
He was gone, but his handprint upon the glass, remained.
Goodbye, Tristan, until we meet again.
###
About the Author
Melanie Matthews has been writing for years, ever since she read The Lord of the Rings and said, “I can do that!” She still has yet to write an epic fantasy, but it’s on her to do list. Coldhearted is her debut novel. She lives in South Carolina. You can follow her on Twitter@matthews_author.