Gifted (Awakening Book 2)

by Jacqueline Brown

  “Long morning, then,” Dad said. “You sit and finish lunch.” He escorted Avi back to the table.

  “Will you eat with us?” she asked.

  “No.” Dad’s voice suggested frustration, though not with her. “I’m going into my office for a bit. Get your schoolwork done, and then maybe we can play.”

  He left, not waiting for us to say more. A second later we heard his door click shut. It had been an uncommon sound before Thomas’s death; the door had always been open. Now it was almost always closed. None of us spoke; we had no need. A lot was going on in our dad’s life and he wasn’t sharing any of it with us—at least not the three of us. Perhaps he was confiding in Gigi. Though, based on her expression, she was as concerned as the rest of us.

  Avi was the first to finish eating. She took her plate to the sink. “I’m going upstairs to do my reading,” she said gloomily.

  Dad’s mood affected all of us, whether he wanted it to or not.

  “I’ll be up in a minute to help you,” Gigi said, trying to sound cheerful.

  She was doing her best to keep life normal for us, to make up for our dad’s absence. She was failing, but she was trying.

  Avi didn’t respond. She trudged up the stairs.

  Lisieux was the next to finish. “I’ll go check on her,” she said.

  Once she was far enough up the stairs, I asked Gigi, “Is Dad okay?”

  Gigi had taken a bite or two of her grilled cheese. She was staring absently past me.

  “He’ll be okay,” she said. “Luca needs to get back to work. You should walk him back.” Her eyes were transfixed on the empty hallway that led to Dad’s office as she stood from the table and took her half-eaten sandwich to the counter. She left the plate and went toward the office.

  I spun my body, watching her disappear into the dark hallway.

  I was vaguely aware that Luca had taken both of our empty plates and placed them in the dishwasher.

  “Come on,” he said, “walk me back, like your grandma said.”

  He was in front of me, offering me his hand to help me up. I took it and allowed him to lead me toward the door.

  He released my hand. I returned my attention to my dad’s office. If Luca wasn’t there, I would’ve been tempted to stand outside the door to try and overhear something, anything that would help me understand what was going on with him. Yes, he was distraught over Thomas’s death; we all were. But there was more to it. Guilt pressed him down, guilt he believed was deserved—based on what Avi had told me. Perhaps he was right.

  Luca brought me my coat. “Come on,” he said. “Watching a hallway isn’t going to answer your questions. Maybe a walk will.”

  The way he said that made my eyebrows rise. “Do you know something?” I asked in a hushed tone.

  He shrugged on his coat, pulled on his hat, and slipped his long fingers into the glove liners that he wore inside the leather work gloves.

  “Come on,” he said, and opened the door for Jackson and me.

  Eight

  We each shivered as we stepped out into the cold. It was a little after noon, but already the sun was casting long shadows, making it seem later. Jackson didn’t ponder the placement of the sun or even the chill that surrounded him. He ran at full speed and dived into a snowbank after a chickadee that flew away long before the dog got near.

  “It wouldn’t be all that bad to be a dog,” Luca said, as if reading my mind.

  I agreed.

  Luca guided me forward, slowing at the snow print. “Funny. Avi has never noticed the handprint.”

  “What makes you think she hasn’t?” The burned handprint was a few short yards from the snowbank that held my impression. It was on the side wall of my dad’s office, the one without a window.

  “She’s never said anything to me. Has she to you?” Luca was moving away from the house.

  I followed. “No, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t noticed. The fact that you disappear every night could not be lost on her or Gigi or even Lisieux.”

  “You think they know I see souls?” he asked skeptically.

  “You told Sam, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Then they know.”

  “Wouldn’t they say something to me or look at me weird?”

  I listened to the squishing sound my feet made on the muddy snow. “After Thomas, your seeing souls isn’t all that weird.”

  He was silent for a moment. “It’s good that Aunt Sam told them,” he said as we entered the trail. “I don’t like secrets.”

  “Me neither,” I said.

  Jackson had plowed into a snowbank in his attempt to catch a squirrel that was chattering at him loudly from the snow-dusted branches of a sprawling hemlock.

  “What do you know about my dad?” I asked, grateful we were alone and could speak freely.

  “There are rumors going around town.” He hesitated. “About your family.”

  “What about us?” I said, concerned by the intensity of his tone.

  “Stupid stuff,” he said, “but I think it must be getting to your dad. It has to be.”

  “What sort of stupid stuff?”

  He took several steps before beginning. “People don’t understand how someone like Thomas could decide to jump off a cliff.”

  “I already knew that. His mom said the same thing. I told you that,” I said, disappointed by the lack of useful information.

  Luca ignored my frustration. “The interesting part is that although we took the demons out of the story, they’ve been put back in.”

  I squinted up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Some of the people in town believe evil was involved in Thomas’s death. More specifically, demons.”

  Slowly, I asked, “Why would they think that?”

  “I told you before, it doesn’t make sense. None of it does. When you take the demons out of the story, all you’re left with is a perfectly sane kid jumping to his death. Over what? A girl he barely cared about, or to be blunt, didn’t care about?”

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

  “You know it’s the truth, and so does everyone else. Thomas dated a lot, from what I’ve heard—a lot, a lot—and he broke up with all the others just fine. Even ones he dated intensely for months, he was never fazed. He simply moved on to the next girl. There’s no reason he should respond to you breaking things off with him—when he wasn’t even into you—by jumping to his death.”

  He was right. They all were. None of it made sense. But to leap to demons? I never would’ve done that. Even now, after all that had happened, there were moments when I tried and sometimes succeeded for a few hours to convince myself it was all a lie.

  “Why demons?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

  Luca was silent as we turned onto the split that led to his house. The faint smell of fresh sawdust was already in the air.

  He said, “Because it’s the truth, and eventually the truth comes out.”

  “It’s a bizarre truth,” I added.

  “I’m not the only one who can sense things, Siena. Most people don’t get sick, but they can still feel evil. The inn was evil, and all the old people that had been out here when they were younger knew it. When Thomas died, all those old stories started resurfacing.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, and before Thomas’s death, no one except the old people paid attention to any of it. Then Thomas died and suddenly the crazy ramblings of old people don’t seem so crazy.”

  “What do the old people say?” I asked, bracing myself for the answer.

  He exhaled, his warm breath visible in the frigid air. “They said your great-great-grandparents were evil, that demons roamed these woods, and all who came here were the worse for it.”

  “Nothing but old stories,” I said, kicking a clump of snow which disintegrated into powder.

  His fingers touched my coat, causing me to stop. His eyes were kind as he gazed down at me. “Siena, those stories are tr
ue. They aren’t making them up. Demons did roam these woods. I felt them. It’s why I wouldn’t let you walk anywhere alone.”

  “I thought it was the ghosts by my house that you were afraid of.”

  “I told you they didn’t scare me, not after the first few nights. Sitting and watching them every night. … I still look forward to that. Aside from your church, it’s where I feel the best. They aren’t evil, but the other spirits were.” He shivered at the memory.

  I stepped closer; it made me feel safer. “Are those spirits still here? The evil ones, I mean.”

  He shook his head subtly, keeping his eyes on mine. “No, they left when Thomas threw the box into the ocean. There was still some dark energy, for lack of a better way to describe it, around the inn. But that’s mostly gone, now that your dad burned it down.”

  “Mostly?” My eyes locked on his.

  “It’s like a memory. I don’t think it can hurt us. It’s a memory held in the trees, the stones of the fireplace, the earth where the inn stood. Memories of what that place was.”

  I slumped back onto a snow-covered boulder, my coat long enough to keep my pants from getting wet.

  “A memory of evil,” I said, more to myself than to him.

  He came toward me, leaning beside me on the boulder, his hip touching mine. Ordinarily, I liked it when he was close, but in this moment it added to the confusion. Demons, ghosts, haunted inns, and then there was Luca—the opposite of all those things. How had I ever been scared of him? Now I wanted to be with him as much as I could. If evil repulsed me and good attracted me, then he was most definitely good.

  “You’ll get through this. The people in town will forget about it eventually, and your dad is tough. I’m sure he can handle what they’re saying about him.”

  My shoulders pulled back, my spine straightened. “What are they saying?”

  Luca rubbed the tips of his steel-toed work boots through the snow until he reached the mud beneath it.

  “They say he made a pact with evil. They claim that’s the reason for all of his financial success.”

  “My grandparents were rich before my father took things over,” I said numbly.

  “They believe the same about your grandmother. They say the evil has gone from generation to generation.”

  “What about my mom? Was she working for evil too?” I stared blankly into the barren trees.

  He scratched at the earth some more. “That’s the reason she died. She wouldn’t join in on the pact, so evil killed her.”

  I arose, my shoulders slumped. “Sounds like they agree with you,” I said.

  “I never said or believed any of that,” he said, his hand on my arm.

  “You said evil was hunting my family … that my mom had been killed by it. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “I never said your dad and grandmother were the cause, and I don’t believe they are.”

  My shoulders fell in defeat. … Avi’s words rang in my mind, mixing with Thomas’s demon voice. “I’m not so sure,” I said, with the same gloomy tone Avi so often used these days.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked with concern.

  I crossed my arms around my waist, and his hands gently rested on them. The sound of shouted instructions echoed through the woods.

  “It’s a lot, and you need to get back to work. We can talk later,” I said weakly.

  More shouts came from his homesite.

  “Yeah, I’ll find you when I get off work, okay?”

  I stepped away. “Come on, Jackson.”

  Luca allowed his arms to fall at his side, watching me go. I turned after I’d gone a little ways. I glimpsed Luca running toward the construction site.

  Nine

  Jackson and I entered the quiet kitchen. I hung up my coat and pulled off my snow boots. Jackson went to his bed in the corner and began licking the ice off his paws. I started to go upstairs, but changed my mind. I went to my dad’s office. I stared at the closed door. Before I could run away, I raised my hand and knocked.

  There was the sound of hurriedly closing drawers.

  “Come in,” Dad said.

  I didn’t hesitate. I opened the door and went toward the far end of the room where he sat at his desk.

  “What do you need?” he asked, trying not to sound irritated—though he failed.

  From the window beyond my dad, I could view the gazebo.

  “I came to check on you,” I said, though I was not entirely sure why I was there. Part of me wanted nothing to do with him. Part of me wanted to hate him as much as those in town did, though that wasn’t fair. The demons could be lying, or Avi might not be as aware as she thought she was. In short, I didn’t really know if my father made a deal with the devil that resulted in a curse on our family.

  “That was thoughtful of you. I’m doing well. How are you?”

  That was a lie. I focused on him. How long had it been since I’d done that? His eyes were bloodshot, his expression blank, as if he was trying to hide everything he was feeling. What was he actually feeling?

  “You don’t look well. You seem exhausted and overwhelmed, like the weight of the world rests on you.” I continued to study him.

  He averted his eyes. “The funeral yesterday took a lot out of my week and, of course, it was emotionally draining,” he said. “I’ll have my work caught up in a few days. Things will be better after that.” He returned his focus to the computer monitor in front of him. It was set to the home screen, with a picture of my mom in the background. This was his signal that he was done talking with me.

  I started to leave … then stopped. Instead I moved closer and sat in the leather chair facing his desk.

  I wasn’t going to be dismissed. Not that easily.

  “Nothing more is bothering you?” I asked.

  He forced a puzzled expression. “Hmm, no. Should there be?”

  “In a few months, I’ll be an adult. Maybe now would be a good time to start telling me the truth, the way Mom would if she were here.” That is, if she knew the truth, I thought, as I settled into the chair.

  He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips pushing against one another. “In a few months, you’ll be a legal adult. That is far from an actual adult.”

  “Why won’t you be honest with me?”

  “What have I ever lied to you about?” he asked, raising his left eyebrow.

  “It’s not what you’ve said. It’s what you haven’t. Sins of omission are still sins,” I said, surprised by the conviction in my voice.

  He turned his chair sideways and tilted his head to look out the window. “Siena, now is not the time.”

  “When is the time?”

  “When I’m stronger,” he said gruffly, in a voice I was unfamiliar with.

  Still, I didn’t back down. “When is that going to be? When the town stops hating you and me and our whole family? Because that might be a while.”

  “None of that concerns you.”

  “Seriously? In what world does a person’s whole family being hated by practically everyone not affect them?”

  He stood, towering over me. I didn’t flinch. The blue of his eyes looked gray in the dim light of the room, like the color of steel, which made them appear strong. But I could sense doubt and fear behind the steel.

  “I’m handling things. I’m protecting you. It’s my job to protect you!”

  The same words I myself had thought. They sounded different when he said them. Less convincing. He wanted to protect us; that part I didn’t doubt. But was it his job? Perhaps once, but not anymore.

  “Lies don’t protect people, they only lead to more lies.” My voice was unnaturally calm.

  “Aargh,” he uttered, and pushed away from the desk. He spun around to face the window, his tailored button-down dress shirt rapidly rising and falling with his breaths.

  He said, “Is that what you and Luca were discussing? My lies? My past and present sins?”

  I realized he might not have been working on an
ything. He may have been staring out his window like he was doing now.

  “Were you watching us?” I asked, with an edge of distrust.

  “I was watching the birds. Jackson scared them away,” Dad answered. “Why did you walk with him? It’s freezing out, and you and Avila already went for a walk.”

  “Gigi suggested it.”

  “Ah, of course. I should’ve guessed.”

  “Why?”

  “You haven’t noticed how often she puts you two together?” His tone revealed his disbelief of my lack of awareness.

  “No,” I said honestly.

  His posture relaxed. “For what it’s worth, I don’t disagree with her. He’s a good kid.”

  “He’s my friend,” I said, to clarify the relationship.

  “He’s a good friend, a good boy. I’m happy he’s in your life.”

  “I thought fathers were supposed to hate all the boys their daughters spent time with.”

  He smiled, the first honest smile I’d seen from him in quite a while.

  Dad said, “Luca’s different.”

  Thinking of the various quips in movies when dads and daughters discussed boys, I asked, “Do you like him because he reminds you of yourself at that age?”

  He laughed—not a happy laugh. “No, because he doesn’t remind me of myself at all.”

  I stared at my father.

  “Luca has a goodness about him that I’ve never had. A goodness I don’t think I could possess even if I spent my life alone on a desert island—maybe especially if I was alone.” He shook his head in frustration. “No, my daughter, if I were to compare myself to anyone in the story of your life, it would be Thomas, not Luca.”

  “Thomas!” I said with disgust.

  “You said you wanted the truth”—he opened his arms, his chest unprotected—“here it is. The similarities between him and me are unsettling. Both spoiled, only children, believed to be the best around by those on the outside, loathsome creatures on the inside. Willing to do whatever we wanted, no matter who it hurt, because no one was as important as ourselves. Rules existed, but not for me. They were for the rest of the world. I was different—Thomas was different. We even shared the inn ….” His voice trailed off.