I didn’t like the way she said it. “No.”
“Wha—”
“No.”
Two hours later, Beck and I stood at her parent’s front door wearing navy blue jumpsuits and face coverings. Beck insisted on holding a clipboard, and I made her promise that under no circumstances would she speak. She rapped on the front door, and nerves coiled in my stomach. It was the very moment I tried to avoid, and here I was, against my better judgment, knocking on the door. I prepared my opening line about needing to test for termites. I’d use several of the neighbors as referenced clients. But when nobody answered the door, I was relieved. Though, relief was quickly chased away by a more powerful, gut-wrenching anxiety when I turned to Beck to see no sign of disappointment in her expression. The twinkling in her eyes told me I was in for much worse than a knock on the door.
“What are you trying to do to me?” I hissed as she tiptoed through the boxwood bushes toward the backyard.
“Quiet!” Beck hissed as she tried to open the first window she came upon. I knew right then and there I’d be spending the night hiding in the pantry with her.
“Beck, seriously, we can’t get caught!” I followed her to the slider, and her eyes grew with excitement when the door rolled down the tracks, which officially meant breaking and entering. I let out a trapped breath, as I knew I’d do just about anything to make her happy. “OK . . . but get closure and then get out!” It was my only stipulation—that we do it quickly.
“Closure. Got it.” Beck disappeared into the house and the drapes sucked outside, blowing into the mid-morning air. I pushed through them, following her blindly. My eyes searched the house frantically while they adjusted to the dim shadows. It looked similar to what I’d remembered. And at least I knew it was the right house and her parents hadn’t moved. That would have been a different kind of disaster—one that I wasn’t prepared for.
Beck moved quickly, making her way to a large hutch covered in framed photos. She stilled when she found a picture and pulled it close to examine. I wanted nothing more than to comfort her in that moment, but the thought of getting captured on videotape consumed my thoughts. I scanned the room for small red lights and anything that blinked. I couldn’t imagine how her parents would feel watching their daughter’s ghost rummage through their house, and I didn’t want to be haunted by the thought.
It wasn’t until I caught a tear rolling down Beck’s cheek that I stopped looking for security cameras and came to be by her side. “We were married?” she whispered. Her hands gripped the picture frame tightly as if it might slip away at any moment. “Why didn’t you tell me!” Her whisper turned to a hiss.
“I . . . I was going to—”
“You seriously just pretended to be my neighbor . . . when you were really my husband!?” This wasn’t a whisper at all. She was furious. But this hardly seemed like the right time to discuss it, as we stood in the dark home we had broken into.
“It . . . it was a delicate situation!” She had to know that.
“You let me get screwed over by Nolan, knowing damn well that I loved you!? That I’d already found my match? You just stood by the wayside letting me make mistake after mistake?”
“How was I supposed to know you would choose me again? I honestly didn’t think you could love me twice. I had no choice but to let you choose on your own terms!” I said in a hasty yet hushed voice, still aware of our surroundings even though she was not.
She swiped the tear from her cheek and tucked the picture of us on our wedding day under her arm. It was the one where I planted kisses all over her face and she tilted her head back in exquisite loving laughter. I remembered the moment like it was yesterday.
“Wait, what are you doing? You can’t take that!”
“Why?”
“Beck! Seriously? Take a picture with your cellphone or something, but leave that here!” I begged.
Beck sighed, giving me a look that could set fire to rain-soaked logs. She placed the picture down on the hutch and pulled out her cellphone. Hastily, she snapped photos of every picture she could before following me to another room. “Which room was mine?” Beck asked.
“I don’t know. You didn’t live here when I met you.” We opened every bedroom door, peaking in quickly. But before Beck could shut the master bedroom door, there was something that caught her eye, rendering her motionless. “What is it?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, I began to worry. I pushed the bedroom door open, and Beck walked inside. “What did you find?” I whispered, searching for red blinking lights.
Beck didn’t answer, and I was suddenly pulled in a different direction than she. I took one last look at her as she approached the dresser, and I turned my focus to the nightstand. There was something about being a Tethered Soul that allowed you to know without reason. The draw was so deeply embedded in my chest. It was like an anchor digging into the ocean floor. I stepped up to the nightstand, pulled the top drawer open, and lifted the small box from within. I didn’t need to open it to know what was inside, but my eyes couldn’t survive coming so close and not witnessing it one more time. I opened the box, and Beck’s first wedding ring sparkled—even through the bedroom shadows.
A car door slammed. Then another. The sound was so close, it had to be in the driveway. We froze, twisting to see each other and hoping someone had an answer. But neither of us was prepared for this. My feet felt heavy like I was sinking into quicksand. My mind raced. We didn’t spring into action until keys entered the front door, at which point full-blown panic ensued. On pure instinct, Beck grabbed my hand, leading me to the master bathroom. She closed the door behind us and worked to open the small window that led to the side yard. I realized I still had the ring in my hand and as much as I knew I should, I wasn’t able to let it go. I thrust it into my pocket before boosting Beck up so she could climb out the tiny window. When it was my turn to squeeze through, I was thankful for my lean build. Had I been any stronger, I might not have fit at all.
I slid down the wall, the stucco scrapping my palms as I tried to find gripping. Hanging half way out the window, I was about as graceful as a fawn still learning its footing. I fell to the bushes below with a thud, leaving one shoe behind in the restroom. I scrambled to my feet and peered into the window at the lone shoe in the middle of the floor. There was no way I could retrieve it in time.
“Let’s go!” Beck hissed.
“My shoe?” I tripped on my way out of the bush, falling onto my knees.
“Leave it! Let’s go!” Beck took off, running to the car, her back half-hunched. I looked back at the window, knees and palms pressed into the wet lawn. I took off after her, limping with one shoe, and one wet sock. We slammed our doors shut. “Go! Go! Go!” Beck wailed, and I peeled out. My heart was beating against my chest like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar. I flew around the corner onto the main road and blew through a yellow light, speeding down the straightaway.
In reality, it would probably be hours before Beck’s parents went to draw a bath and noticed the shoe, and even then—at their age—they might just place it back into the closet without a second thought.
By the time we were some way down the main road and my speed had slowed, Beck and I began to laugh. My anxiety lifted, and the high of the thrill took hold. “I can’t believe my shoe came off!” I said, and Beck snorted. “And did you see me squeeze through that tiny window? How’s that for being manly? If I had been twenty pounds heavier, I wouldn’t have made it out alive!” I claimed.
Beck grinned. “Yeah, you’re a real modern-day Cinderella . . .”
Chapter 23
We hid the getaway car inside my garage. After hunkering down, Beck and I ordered Chinese food for delivery. Still riding the wave of adrenaline, I was saddened that Beck didn’t feel the same way. I wanted to celebrate a victory, but she was anything but victorious.
“Do you mind if I stay the night?” Beck asked.
“Stay the night? Beck, you can stay the night every night for the r
est of your life! Quite frankly, I’ve been a little surprised that you haven’t moved in with me already.” She forced a smile. “What is it?”
“Move in with you?” Beck’s eyes grew with shock.
“Well, you are my wife,” I said cautiously.
“Was your wife.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I want you to know, I thought about you every day. And after I finally found you, you seemed so happy that I questioned if I was right for you, this time. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid,” I said.
“Afraid of what?”
“That it would be too much, too soon. That having a past life would upset you. That you wouldn’t love me like you promised.”
“So you kept it to yourself?”
“No! I let you choose. I let you ask. It’s different! I’m sure I could have done it better, but I tried my best to not interfere with your decisions and memories. And you chose me! Again! Without even knowing you had before. Don’t you think that’s invaluable for us to know?”
Beck closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they took on a warmth that was previously absent. She nodded. “I’m sorry for being upset. It’s just a lot to take in. I don’t want any more secrets between us, OK?”
“None?” My eyes darted to the corners of the room. I had a lot of secrets and a lot of lies. So much so, sometimes I wondered what was true and what was fiction.
“Easton!” Beck popped a hand on her hip.
“I love you,” I said cowering.
Beck sighed, opening her mouth but ultimately closing it without repeating the words back. She hadn’t said it yet, and I was starting to worry. “Come here,” I said, holding my arms out. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her ear against my chest.
“I can hear your heart beating,” Beck said.
I rested my chin on the top of her head and sighed.
“It’s just, I went looking for closure, but now, I think I’m too afraid to get it.”
“What do you mean? Are you afraid to look at the pictures you took?” I asked.
Beck pulled away from my grip. “No. I’m afraid to read these.” She lifted a stack of journals from her bag. They were tied tight with a large burlap bow. My stomach dipped, realizing I wasn’t the only one who stole something from our last life.
“What are those?” I asked.
Beck’s eyes began to water, and she looked anywhere but directly at me. “I recognized them. They’re mine!” Beck said defensively.
“Beck you can’t! You shouldn’t have! I never should have let you—” I stopped myself there, knowing that I, too, was guilty of meddling in her parents’ lives. I left a shoe on their bathroom floor, for God’s sake. I scrubbed my eyes and exhaled long and deep. The doorbell rang.
“But they’re mine . . .” Beck said.
“I know,” I said, the ring burning a hole into my leg. With a frown, I turned to answer the door. Our Chinese had arrived. I thanked the delivery kid and brought the bag of food into the kitchen.
“I know . . . Maybe you should read them, and then we can put them back?” I nodded, devising my plan. I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking back into the house, but it was the only answer I could come up with. “Do you think it will help you to remember?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. I remembered that they were mine. I just knew without a shadow of a doubt. But, if I’m honest, a part of me doesn’t want to remember. When I saw the picture of us, it made me feel sick inside. How could I marry a man and forget him? When I saw these journals, I knew they were the answers to all my questions. The only thing I don’t know is . . . am I strong enough to read them?” Beck said as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I could read them to you?”
“No! I mean, no, I can do it by myself. I just need a little space and time,” Beck said.
“Well, make yourself comfortable. I can build a fire, and you can settle in with a blanket and read your past memories.”
After dinner, we did just that. I built a fire and Beck began to read. She started with her first journal, the one she wrote when she was a child. Judging from the amusement on her face, I imagined it was going well for her. I busied myself setting the new tile backsplash in the kitchen while Beck made random sounds from the living room. Every now and again, I’d steal glances at her, curious what she’d uncovered. I was eager for her to get to the part where she met me, and I wondered if she would let me read it.
An hour later, I was halfway through the mosaic and Beck was onto her second journal. Her amusement began to lessen, and by the time she was a few pages into the third book, tension had soiled the air. Her face was lit by the glow of the fire, and her tears were highlighted with the dancing flames. Nothing would have made me feel better than to rush to her side and promise that everything would be OK. Wash away the pain of old memories with my kisses. But she didn’t need that. She needed space. And time. Two things that proved to be challenging for me.
I ended up taking a deck of cards to my bedroom and shutting the door to give her privacy. I knew she wouldn’t have that back at her apartment with Brooklyn, so I tried my best to give her what she needed here. I practiced counting cards until the early hours of the morning as I listened to muffled sounds come from Beck in the living room. When some time had passed in silence, I went out to check on her. She lay on the sofa with the journal opened across her chest and pink swollen eye sockets. She must have cried herself to sleep. I pulled the blanket over her and threw another log on the fire before going to bed myself, though I wouldn’t sleep soundly.
When morning came, Beck was gone and so were the journals. The blanket had been tossed to the floor. Worry spread through me as I checked the front yard and saw my car missing. But when I hurried into the kitchen, a note was taped onto the coffee pot dispelling my concerns. Beck was at school. And the fact that she was well enough to go to class told me that everything was going to be alright. Perhaps it would be even better than alright.
I grew excited for the possibility that Beck had finally found herself. Her identity uncloaked. I couldn’t wait to look into her eyes and see my girl. The one I had fallen in love with on the bridge. Sure, she was the same person, and I had been looking into the same green eyes for months now, but I’d been searching those emerald flecks for recognition. And that was something I had missed deeply. I picked up Beck’s ring and slid it into my pocket, unsure if the time would come for me to give it to her. But I’d rather be ready than not, and I was hopeful.
I called a taxi to drive me to Norton University. The sky was bright and cloudless, and I couldn’t help but think it was the perfect day to welcome Beck back home. Being with Beck . . . her memory and all . . . That was my dream come true. And I never would have imagined it was so important until it wasn’t there. A whole life erased. The secrets we shared. The things we said, and the things we didn’t. The living we did while we were alive. The moments we shared before we weren’t. It was a bigger part of who we were than I had realized. Beck knew she loved me, but without her memories, she didn’t know why. And maybe that was why she hadn’t admitted it. Maybe today was the day.
When I arrived at the college, I bought a coffee from a vendor on campus and waited for Beck under the oak tree. My tree.
I waited with all the patience in the world. The wait was almost euphoric with anticipation. I listened to the chatter within earshot about weekend plans and test grades. The birds chirped in the oak tree, and a gentle breeze blew by, rustling the leaves. I ran my hand through the damp grass and my back went rigid when I felt what I knew to be a diamond ring under my fingertips. Slowly, I plucked it from the blades of grass. It was in perfect condition, no gouges from a lawnmower sucking it up and spitting it out. The diamond still sparkled as it did in the jewelry shop months ago. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the original wedding band to compare them side by side. They were different, slightly, a
nd the original was a little misshapen, having been pulled from the wreckage.
As I looked over the two rings, the past and the present, I grew unsure of which ring to give to Beck. “What have you got there?” Brooklyn asked, startling me. I nearly dropped both rings into the sea of grass, never to be found again. I shoved them in my shirt pocket, hopeful they would be safer there. Brooklyn eyed me with her golden eyes and one lifted brow.
“Hey, Brooklyn. Have you seen Beck today?”
“No, she didn’t come to school today. In fact, she didn’t come home last night. Is everything alright?”
I patted my pocket, causing both rings to jingle. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I just thought she was at school today, so I dropped by to have lunch with her. Have you heard from her at all today?” I asked.
Brooklyn took a seat next to me and then checked her phone. “No, I haven’t, but uh . . . Did I see a ring in your hand?”
I looked to Brooklyn, caught red-handed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe.”
“You’re really going to do it?” Brooklyn looked unsure of how she felt about it.
“Yeah, I really am.” I pulled out one ring, it didn’t matter which one my fingers found first, and I handed it to her. It was the new band.
“Wow, Easton, she’s going to love it!”
“Think she’ll say yes?” I joked.
“Well, yeah. How could she not?” Brooklyn handed the ring back. I eyed her suspiciously. Brooklyn shrugged, “What?”
“What do you mean, how can she not? She has a choice . . .” I had made sure of that.
“I know that. It’s just, you guys are kind of fated, though, right? Do you really think you have a choice when it comes to fate?”
I looked into her eyes, trying to read between the lines. “Fated?”
“You know, you said she was your soulmate and your puzzle piece—all of that sappy stuff.” Brooklyn rolled her eyes and began to gather her things.
The Second Life of Everly Beck: The Tethered Soul Series Book 2 Page 17