by Alyson Noel
I continue to stand there, awkwardly dangling the bottle of water by my side as I weigh my options of trying to find Jude to tell him I’m leaving, or hanging out just a little bit longer for appearances’ sake, when Ava waves at me from the other side of the room, and as she makes her way toward me, I quickly calculate how long it’s been since we last spoke. Wondering if she too belongs to the small group of people who feel abandoned by me.
“Ever.” She smiles, leaning in for a brief, warm hug. Her heavily ringed fingers still clutching my arms, her large brown eyes carefully scanning mine, as she pulls away and says, “You’re looking well.” She laughs, the sound of it light and airy as she adds, “But then, you always do, don’t you?”
I gaze down at the long purple dress I designed and manifested especially for this occasion, since Jude strictly prohibited the wearing of black. Claiming that Lina would hate to gaze upon a crowd of people all wearing the same, depressing color. She didn’t want people to mourn her life—she wanted them to celebrate it instead. And since purple was her favorite color, we were asked to show up in some variation of it.
“So, is she here?” I ask, watching as Ava squints and tucks her wavy, auburn hair behind her ear, her whole face changing when she assumes the worst, assumes it’s Haven I’m asking about. “Lina,” I say, before she has a chance to even go there. Haven’s the last thing I want to talk about here. “I meant Lina. Have you seen her?” My eyes grazing over the citrine pendant she always wears, to the embellished purple cotton tunic, the skinny white jeans, and the cute gold sandals on her feet, before meeting her gaze once again. “You know I can’t see the ones who’ve crossed over, I can only see the ones who still linger.”
“Do you ever try to talk to them, convince them to move on?” She hitches her purple purse up high onto her shoulder.
I look at her like she’s crazy, the thought never even occurred to me. It took me so long to learn how to ignore them, to tune them out completely, I can’t even imagine engaging them now. Besides, I’ve got no shortage of my own problems to solve, the last thing I need to do is get involved with a bunch of misguided ghosts.
But Ava just laughs, gaze dancing around the room as she says, “Trust me, Ever, they all manage to find their way to their own funerals. I’ve yet to see the spirit who could resist! The chance to see who shows up, who says what, who wears what, and who’s truly mourning versus who’s merely just faking it—it’s pretty tempting stuff.”
“Are you truly mourning?” I ask, not really meaning it in the way that it sounded, like she might be faking it or something. I mean, I’m mostly here to support Jude and to honor someone who was kind enough to help me at a time when I really needed it. But even though I know Lina was Ava’s employer, I have no idea if it went any deeper, if they were actually friends.
“If you’re asking if I’m mourning the loss of a kind, generous, compassionate, awakened soul”—she looks at me without blinking—“then the answer is yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be? But if you’re asking if my mourning’s more for her than for me—then I’m afraid the answer is no. The majority of my sadness is purely selfish.”
“That’s exactly what Jude said,” I mumble, my voice wistful, as I gaze around the room, searching for a glimpse of him.
Ava nods, tossing her mass of curls over her shoulders. “And when you lost your family, who did you mourn for the most?”
I look at her, surprised by the question. And even though I want to say that I mourned entirely for my parents and Buttercup and Riley’s unrealized dream of being a teenager and turning thirteen—I can’t do it. It’s simply not true. Even though I felt their loss in a horrible, gut-wrenching, deep-down kind of way, I have to admit that the majority of my sadness was due to the fact that I was left behind while they all moved on—away from me.
“Anyway.” Ava shrugs. “To go back to your original question, yes, I did see her. It was brief, only for a second really, but boy was it beautiful.” She smiles, her face lifting, cheeks flushing, as her eyes shine at the memory. And I’m just about to ask for a little more elaboration when she says, “It was right when Jude got up to speak. You remember the way he faltered and started to break down? When his voice cracked and he had to pause for a moment before he could start up again?”
I nod. I remember it well. Remember the way my heart broke for him at that very moment.
“Well, that’s when she appeared right behind him. Hovering just ever so slightly as she placed her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes, and surrounded him with a beautiful bubble of love and light. And I tell you, not a second later he was back on track, able to finish his eulogy without a problem as she faded from sight.”
I sigh, trying to imagine how that must’ve looked and wishing I could’ve seen it for myself. Gazing at Ava when I say, “Do you think he actually felt it—her presence? I mean, obviously he felt it since it helped him get through it, but, like, do you think he was aware of it? Do you think he knew it was her who helped him get through it?”
Ava shrugs, motioning past the glass doors toward the patch of grass where he stands, talking to a small group of Lina’s friends. His long hair spilling down his back and over the sleeves of his purple tee that bears a picture of some vaguely familiar, multicolored Hindu deity on its front.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she says. “I hear you two are growing much closer these days.”
I balk, my gaze immediately returning to her. Wondering if she actually meant it in the way that I think, and wondering who could’ve possibly informed her of that.
“Well, obviously you’ve been skipping school in order to fill in at the store, even though I’ve made it perfectly clear, many times over, that I’m more than happy to do it. And then, there’s the fact that Damen’s been looking pretty despondent these days—or at least that’s what I’ve gotten from the few glimpses I’ve had of him, though the twins have certainly confirmed it. They see him much more than I do, you know. What with him constantly whisking them off to the movies, or go-cart racing, or shopping at Fashion Island, or the water rides at Disneyland—just about every local Orange County attraction you can think of has been covered—at least twice. And as much as they love it, and as kind and generous as it is of him to do it, you really don’t have to dig all that deep to realize what’s really behind his sudden burst of altruism.” She pauses, looking right at me. “Clearly he’s looking for a distraction. Desperately trying to stay busy so he won’t obsess over you, and the fact that you’re no longer there for him like you once were.”
My shoulders droop, all of me droops, thinking how the old me would’ve gotten very angry by now, would’ve already launched some ridiculous argument to defend myself or, at the very least, cut her off before she’d had a chance to say all of that.
But I’m no longer that person. Not to mention there’s no denying the fact that everything she just said is true.
I’ve made Damen sad.
And lonely.
And in need of distractions.
And there’s just no denying it.
Though it’s also not as simple as that. There’s a lot more to it, and I doubt she’s even vaguely aware of that fact.
Still, like she said, I have grown closer to Jude. Though not in a romantic way like she assumes.
While there’s no doubt that there’s definitely some kind of undeniable pull that seems to eternally link us—ironically, this time around, Jude’s the one who’s applying the brakes. Making it more than clear that he has no interest whatsoever in gaining only a temporary part of me.
He wants me for reals.
He wants me for good.
Wants to be sure I’ve made a clean break from Damen and all that we share.
Wants me to take a sure step toward him without a single glance back at what I once had.
Claims he can’t risk that kind of heartbreak again.
That just because it’s happened multiple times through the centuries doesn’t make it
any easier this time around.
And since I just can’t give him that yet—despite what he told me about our past life in the South, confirming my very worst suspicions that Damen bought me, removed me from my family, and turned his back on them forever so that he could have me to himself—I’m still not ready to go there.
Even after he revealed the rest of it—that shortly after Damen took me away, he, along with the rest of my family, perished in a terrible fire they never would’ve been in if only Damen had bothered to save them. Resulting in a string of tragic deaths there’s just no logical excuse for.
I mean, once his immense wealth and formidable power is taken into account, well, an act like that, an act so cold, so calculating, and so callous that ended in such tragedy—is completely inexcusable on his part.
And yet, I’m still not ready to give up on him.
Though I’m not ready to see him yet either.
But even though I’m not about to share any of that with Ava, I still just shake my head and say, “There’s a lot more to it than that.” I purposely hold her gaze.
She nods and reaches toward me, her hand grasping mine in a gentle squeeze. “I’ve no doubt about that, Ever. No doubt at all.” She pauses, making sure she has my full attention when she adds, “Just make sure you don’t do anything rash. Take the time to dig deep, to really think it through. And when in doubt, well, you know my favorite remedy—”
“Meditation,” I mumble, laughing and rolling my eyes, grateful for the burst of light she always seems to provide even in the darkest of times. Pulling her back to me when she starts to move away. Not ready to part with her just yet, my gaze practically pleading with hers when I say, “Ava, do you know something?” I grip her arm tightly, finding myself suddenly desperate for her guidance, for a few enlightened words. “Do you know something about this? About Damen, Jude, and me? About who I’m supposed to choose?”
She looks at me, her gaze soft and caring, but still she just shakes her head slowly. A lock of auburn hair falling over her forehead and into her eyes, obscuring them briefly before she pushes it away and says, “I’m afraid that’s your journey, Ever. Yours and yours alone. Only you can discover which path to take. I’m only here as your friend.”
seventeen
“Thanks for all your help.” Jude tosses a damp dish towel over his shoulder and leans against the ancient refrigerator that’s nothing like Damen’s or Sabine’s—not stainless, not the size of a walk-in closet—just old and green, with a fondness for making loud, strange, gurgling noises. His thumbs hitched in his empty belt loops, legs casually crossed at the ankle, watching as I load the last of the cups and glasses into the dishwasher, before closing the door and pressing the start button.
I reach up, removing the elastic band from my hair, allowing the waves to spill down my back, stopping just shy of my waist, while trying to ignore Jude’s intense stare. The way his eyes narrow, drinking me in, hungrily following the trail of my hands as I smooth them over the front of my dress and lift a fallen strap. His gaze lingering for so long, I know I have to break it, find a way to distract him.
“It was a nice memorial.” I meet his eyes briefly before looking away. Busying myself with tidying up the tiled counters, the white porcelain sink. “I think she would’ve liked it.”
He smiles, wads up the towel and drops it on the counter, then heads into the den and sinks onto the old brown couch, just assuming I’ll follow, which, after a moment, I do.
“Actually, she did like it.” He kicks off his flip-flops, settles his feet onto the cushions.
“So, you saw her?” I drop onto the chair just opposite him, before propping my bare feet onto the old wooden door he uses as a coffee table.
He turns, slowly looking me over, spliced brow raised in surprise. “Yeah, I saw her. Why? Did you?”
I shake my head, quick to dispel it. Fingers playing with the cluster of crystals I wear at my neck, favoring the rough stones over the more polished ones. “Ava did.” I shrug, letting go of the amulet, allowing the stones to warm up my flesh. “I’m still unable to see Lina’s kind.”
“You still trying?” He squints, sitting up briefly, grasping a small pillow by his feet and placing it behind his head before lying back again.
“No.” I sigh, my voice wistful, gaze faraway. “Not anymore. I gave all that up a while ago.”
He nods, still looking at me, though in a more thoughtful, less intense way. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen her either. Riley, I mean. That is who we’re talking about here, right?”
I lean my head back against the cushion and close my eyes. Remembering my adorably feisty, pain-in-the-bum little sister with the penchant for wearing crazy costumes and wigs—and hoping that wherever she is, she’s having a truly awesome time.
Pulled away from my thoughts and back toward Jude when he says, “Ever, I was thinking—” He stares up at the wood-beamed ceiling. “Now that things are starting to settle around here, well, it’s probably a good time for you to start thinking about heading back to school.”
I stiffen, allowing for only the shallowest breath.
“Turns out Lina left it all to me—the house, the store—everything. And since all the paperwork seems to be in order, I figure I can just let the lawyer take over from here, which frees me up to get back to full-time. Not to mention Ava already offered to pick up any stray hours I’m unable to cover.”
I swallow hard, but I don’t say a word. His expression tells me it’s handled, arranged, he’s got it all figured out.
“As much as I appreciate your help, and I do—” He peers at me briefly, before returning to the ceiling again. “I think it’s probably best for you to—”
But I don’t even let him finish before I’m saying, “But, really—it’s no—” Biggie—I start to say it’s really no biggie. Start to explain the conclusion I’ve recently come to regarding school, the normal life path one’s expected to follow, and me—and how they no longer mix—no longer make the least bit of sense.
Though I don’t get very far before he waves his hand and says, “Ever, if you think for one moment that this is easy for me, well, think again.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Trust me, there’s a big, loud, overwhelming part of me telling me to just shut up—to stop talking, and quit while I’ve got you right here in my house, well within my reach, and more than willing to spend your free time with me.” He stops, hands clenching, fingers fidgeting, a sign of the battle that rages within. “But there’s also another, far more rational part, that tells me to do just the opposite. And even though I’m probably crazy for saying this, I feel like I have to, so, I just…” He pauses, swallowing hard before he starts again, “I just think its for the best if you—”
I hold my breath, pretty sure that I don’t want to hear it, yet resigned to the fact that I will.
“I think you should sort of…just…stay away for a while, that’s all.”
He opens his eyes and looks right at me, allowing the sentence to hang there between us like a barrier that cannot be breached.
“Because as much as I love having you around, and I think you know by now that I do, if we have any hope of moving forward, if you have any hope of making a decision anytime soon regarding your future—or our future—whatever the case may be, well, then, you really need to get back out there. You have to stop—” He takes a deep breath and shifts uncomfortably, obviously having to force the words from his lips. “You have to stop hiding out at the store and deal with your life head-on.”
I sit there, speechless, stunned, and a little confused as to how I’m supposed to take that—much less respond to it.
Hiding?
Is that what he thinks I’ve been doing all week?
And, even worse, is there any chance that it’s true? That he’s onto something I’m totally unconscious of and worked extra hard to ignore?
I shake my head and drop my feet from the table to the floor. Slipping them back into my w
edge-heeled sandals when I say, “I guess I didn’t realize…I—”
But before I can go any further, Jude abruptly sits up, shaking his head when he says, “Please, I meant nothing by it, I just want you to think about it, okay? Because, Ever—” He pushes his dreadlocks off his face so he can really see me. “I just don’t know how much longer I can sit on standby like this.”
He drops his hands to his lap, where they remain open, relaxed, like some kind of offering. Holding my gaze for so long my heart begins to race, my gut to dance, and I feel so light-headed it’s like all of the air has been sucked right out of the room.
The energy between us building and growing until it’s so palpable, so tactile, it’s like I can actually see it streaming from his body to mine. A thick, pulsating band of desire that expands and contracts, urging us to move closer, to merge as one.
And I’m not sure who’s responsible for it—him, or me, or maybe some sort of universal force. All I know is that the pull is so overwhelming, so broad and sweeping, I leap right out of my chair, slap my bag onto my shoulder, and say, “I should go.”
Already at the door, fingers twisting the handle when he calls, “Ever—we’re okay here, right?”
But I just keep going, wondering if he saw what I saw, felt what I felt, or if it was just some stupid thing I made up in my head.
Stepping outside and taking a long, deep breath—filling my lungs with warm salty air as I gaze up at a night sky filled with stars, one in particular that burns especially bright.
One single star that manages to outshine all the rest—as though it’s begging me to make a wish upon it.
So I do.
Gazing up at my very own night star, asking for guidance, direction, for some kind of help—and, failing that, to at least provide some kind of nudge that’ll push me toward the right one.
eighteen
I drive around Laguna for what seems like forever, unsure what to do with myself, unsure where to go. Part of me—a big part of me—longing to go straight to Damen’s, barrel right into his arms, tell him that all is forgiven, and try to pick up right where we left off—but I dismiss it just as quickly.
