by A. M. Hooper
"I've just been so lost for two years," he whispered. I strained my ears to hear the conversation. "I finally had things figured out, and then Emmaline met Cephas. You're back, and that's more than I ever imagined, but I'm really worried about her. She takes everything in stride . . . but I think this is too much."
Pulling my face quickly behind the wall, I went over the facts in my head. My dad was right. It was too much to take! What could I do? I could find Dominic and kill him myself. Yes, that's what I would do. Create a plan, go after Dominic . . . it worked so well last time. I scoffed at myself: I sure was stupid. If Cephas couldn't kill Dominic, what made me think I could pull of such a feat? Not to mention the problem of my parents: no way would they let me gallivant off on an adventure to save the world. Only Cephas encouraged me to do that sort of thing. I sighed audibly, then stood and whisked around toward my bedroom. I couldn't let my parents know I was listening to their conversation, and my mind was too frazzled to make sure I kept hidden from their view. But tomorrow was graduation. After that, I could do whatever I wanted to do. My parents would have no say over me anymore. That's what I would do. Pushing the door quietly open, I cleared my room in a few steps and collapsed on my bed. The down pillow felt soft and feathery . . . much different than the hard floor from the other day.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would begin my planning. Right now I wanted to close my eyes. I did—and everything went black.
****
My eyes flicked open. Heart pounding, I lifted my head and looked haphazardly about the room. Was somebody here? No, I was alone. Somehow that seemed worse. A light breeze blew through the darkened window, the chiffon curtains bristling in the wind. My door was tightly closed, my drawers fully shut—my mother had been in here. She was always so tidy—folding, tucking, pushing. I glanced at the clock: two am. I must have slept through the entire day! Or I didn't remember it. Either scenario seemed plausible. I rolled my eyes and lay back on my pillow, shielding out the moonlight. I drifted off to sleep.
****
My eyes flicked open again, met by the coming dawn. A blue-orange glow flooded my bedroom. I knew it was morning because I felt nauseous—I always felt nauseous early in the morning, right when the sun was rising. People always said sunrises were romantic. Nothing is romantic at six in the morning. I glanced at the clock: 6:07. Groaning, I rolled over and punched my pillow. A pain seared through my forehead. I pushed at it with the palm of my hand, then closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
****
A gentle hand shook my shoulder.
"Sweetheart . . . sweetheart," came my mother's caramel voice. How did she always manage to sound so heartfelt? I mumbled an incoherent response.
"You need to get up, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but your graduation is in an hour." My eyes flicked open. Graduation? Had it already been three days since . . . I pushed the thought out of my head as my body lifted into an upright position. A soft hand cupped my face.
"I'm sorry, dear. There's some aspirin on your bedside table, and I've turned on the shower for you. It should be nice and warm," she said, standing from the side of my bed. I nodded and shoved the covers to the side. My mom took a few steps toward the door and turned.
"A letter came for you today. I mean, a few did," she said timidly. "Lots of people sent you graduation cards, but one didn't have a return address. I'm not sure who it's from . . ." her voice trailed off until it disappeared. Wrinkles creased my forehead.
"It's um—they're all on your bedside table, by the aspirin." She gestured nervously to the table and turned, closing the door quietly behind her. The door clicked and I leaped out of bed. I rifled quickly through the letters: Aunt Mary, Uncle John, Grandma Florian . . . There it was. A uniquely small, crisp, white envelope. My name was scribbled nearly illegibly across the center of the paper. Amazed it even got to the right address, I carefully lifted the seal with my thumb. I pulled out a miniature card. A light blue cover held only the words 'congrats'—the color matched Cephas’ eyes. I glanced at the table beside my bed—a glass of water. I shuddered: I didn't feel much like taking a pill with a glass of water. My eyes caught a shine and I blinked, opening the card in my hands. Taped to the inside was a single penny. I felt my heart leap in my chest. I think it stopped beating. I read the inscription.
'Asleep, though she'll regain her roles, when light shines on mortal souls.'
'—It wasn't all a lie'
This had to be from Cephas—it had to be! I scrambled to my window and threw back the curtain. Was he here? Could he still be alive? He had to be! My mind was racing with scrambled thoughts. No, he wouldn't be here. That would be too dangerous. I read the inscription again. It was the inscription on my mother's grave. How had he known what it said? 'She'll regain her roles.' I looked down at the floor—everything was picked up and put away. My mom had done that. That was what she always did when she was alive. I shook my head to erase the thought. She is alive. 'When light shines'—The night with the machine ran through my mind. I had shined a light in Cephas’ eye. Cephas had to be alive! Ripping the penny from the card's hold, I turned it in my hand and made my way to the bathroom.
****
"It's almost to the last person!" Marian squealed in my ear. I barely heard her above the roar of people that echoed through the gymnasium. I glanced around one last time—no Cephas. I was so stupid. Why would Cephas show up in such a populated area? That would be ridiculous. I should just be content with the card he sent. The round, cold piece of metal shifted in my closed palm.
"Grab your cap, grab your cap!" Marian shouted. I obeyed, ready to throw my cap with the rest of my class. The noise level was intense, considering this was such a small graduation. Woods Bay didn't produce very many graduates—not for lack of dedication, but rather lack of people. All forty-nine of my classmates grasped their caps in anticipation of the closing remarks. Principal Willis blabbed on about our potential for ambitious futures, even though nobody was listening. My eyes scanned the stands as our principal ended his speech. The audience stood in unison, clapping wildly. I gripped my cap and threw it—I threw it as high into the air as I could. I was finally getting out of this town! As a flurry of identical graduation caps fell to the ground, I looked through the midst of the tassels and saw my mom. She was jumping up and down in excitement while my dad whistled through his fingers. A smile crept across my discouraged face: at least they were always rooting for me, even if Cephas wasn't here. I shook my head in self—disgust. Why did I keep thinking he would show up? I turned, startled by Marian's elated hug.
"We did it!" she squealed. I nodded, feigning an agreeable smile. Why did everybody think it was so hard to graduate from high school? Tears glistened at the edge of Marian's eyes. Oh, boy. They didn't last long, though, because Brandon was at her side. I took the opportunity to walk away, afraid they might start making out. I knew that shouldn't gross me out, since I just graduated high school, but hey, I just call it like it is.
"See ya!" I shouted above the rambunctious crowd. Marian turned her face away from Brandon and waved wildly in my direction.
"See ya later tonight, girl!" she shouted. I nodded and walked quickly away, intent on finding my family. Shoving through the masses of crying parents and shouting students, I made my way up the first two steps of the stands. My mother's larger-than-life grin met my eyes as she embraced me ecstatically.
"Sweetie, you did it!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, it was really difficult," I mumbled into her shoulder. I glanced up in time to see my father roll his eyes. Whatever. Somehow this accomplishment dimmed in comparison to surviving Dominic's wrath. My dad tugged at one of my curls.
"So what'll it be, pumpkin?" my dad asked sarcastically. He knew I hated it when he used childish endearments in public. "Enrique's?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Sure," I replied tentatively. "But do you mind if I meet you at home? I just wanted to walk—get some fresh air."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
came my mother's worried voice. She pulled me away from her chest, concern furrowing her brow.
"We could walk together," my dad offered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"No, I just—I want to be alone for a while . . . just to think. I'll be home in no time, though—don't worry," I said, reassuring my parents.
"Sure, honey, whatever you need," my dad responded. I smiled a thanks to my dad, picturing the glare he was receiving from my mom. I gave her a hug.
"I'll see you in a half hour or so," I added before turning to leave. I pushed my way through the crowd, waving congratulations to fellow classmates. People were shoving past one another. I dodged a stream of silly string and a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. Be they stupid and immature, my classmates could be a lot of fun. Perhaps I would enjoy the after-graduation party tonight.
I pushed open the glass door and met the cool, night breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, and I couldn't wait to get out of sight so I could twirl in the whimsical atmosphere. Winding in between parked cars and groups of people, I quickly cleared the parking lot to the road. I rounded the corner onto Blithe Street and followed it to the top of the hill. Once out of sight, I spun in a circle, arms extended. I hugged my body tightly, glad to be away from the hoard of people. I wasn't antisocial, but I didn't understand graduation. Everyone was freaking out: some were elated to be done, some couldn't wait to go to college, others were miserable knowing their real lives were about to begin, and most parents were crying because they knew that, too. It was all so ridiculous. I detested emotions.
The breeze caught my hair and I tucked it instinctively behind my ear. I looked around—nobody was on the pier . . . they were all at the high school. I stepped onto the wood slats that surrounded the bay. The head of the river fed into the small body of water, and business owners had built quaint shops around the dock. A small paddle boat buoyed in the still water, tied up to a post near the small 'boat rides' shack. I had never gone on the paddle boat—all the locals knew the guy who owned it was crazy.
Chuckling silently, I meandered my way across the pier, intent on no destination in particular. The wooden slats clattered beneath my three inch stilettos. The noise reminded me of that night on the beach when I had run across the dock toward the getaway boat. I stopped walking and lifted my leg to the side, pulling off the loud shoe. Removing the other, I held the pair by the long, slender heels and continued walking. Now the clanking wasn't quite so loud.
I sighed audibly, exhausted at my own thoughts. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? He had lied to me, kidnapped me, and stolen my heart. He had nearly gotten me killed, and I had to save myself . . . although that was only because I didn't want to destroy his plan. Stop! You hate him, Emmaline. He ruined your life! Don't make excuses for him! I grunted in self-disapproval. I wanted to forget about him, but I couldn't hate him, no matter how hard I tried.
Cephas Bourdon had stolen my heart . . . and no amount of degrading slander or hateful justification could drive me to take it back. I had chosen Cephas Bourdon of my own volition. No outside force could influence me, no matter the villainy or purity such a force embodied. My lot was decided—not by Cephas Bourdon, nor by his nemesis, Dominic. Rather, my heart had chosen for me. Be it destiny or happenstance, I would love Cephas Bourdon for the rest of my life. I looked up from my thoughts into a sea of color. With the sun nearly behind the mountains, dancing clouds grasped bits of light, bouncing pink and orange onto their underbellies. A chatter of voices carried on the breeze that tugged on a strand of my curled hair. I pushed it firmly in place and sighed. People were leaving the high school, and this place would soon be overrun by graduates and their families. My parents would be worried if I waited too much longer. I turned back in the direction from whence I came.
Without announcement, a large hand clasped over my mouth and I gasped. A muscular body held me tightly against his chest as he pulled me into a small crevice between two shops. The chatter on the breeze stopped in the dead space. My heart beat faster and faster. A scent met my nose—a familiar scent. My captor's mouth whispered into my ear.
"If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?" he whispered. I nodded instantly. His hand moved away from my face and I spun in his arms to look at his face—Cephas!
I couldn't speak. I couldn't even whisper. He was alive! I dared not touch him, for fear he was only a figment of my imagination. Looking over his face, my eyes followed the curvature of his cheekbones up to his swirling eyes—those cerulean eyes that had captivated my heart from the beginning. He held me by the arms, keeping a short space between us.
"How did you? My parents said you were de—"
"That's what they thought," he said seriously.
"Why did they think that?" I asked curiously.
"I'm good at falsifying information," he said, a smirk pulling at the left corner of his mouth.
"But not at killing Dominic," I refuted. He rolled his eyes.
“I don't just go around killing people,” he replied in frustration. “It takes a lot to kill someone. It's not like the movies where they kill someone and bury the body. There are identities to erase, press to deal with . . . Dominic isn't an easy guy to get rid of.” He stood still, maintaining a relatively calm manner.
“So! He could be looking for us right now! And you thought it was best to leave me in the dark? You lied to me again!” I was shouting; he held me still, but didn't quiet my exclamations.
"Your dad told me you were too young to deal with all of this—"
"What!" I shouted in my rage.
"In the beginning—that night your dad forbid you from seeing me—he said you were too young to deal with the severity of the situation."
“I am not too young!” I shouted back, flailing my arms wildly around.
“Apparently,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. I let out a rather large sigh.
“Right. I'll quit shouting,” I acquiesced. We stood in silence for a few minutes. I thought about that night: the feel of Dominic's arm around my throat, the fear of being killed by a merciless tyrant. I closed my eyes, trying to erase the memories. What if he came back to kill me?
"What do we do?" I asked calmly, regaining my self-control.
“Nothing. You're safe. You go on with your life, and I'll go on with mine.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, noticing the fear in my own voice.
“I'll go find a job, probably with the government . . . after I lay low for a while. You'll go to college, meet some guy, get a job, have a normal life—”
“And I don't have any say in the matter?” I interrupted rudely. Cephas smirked.
“Yes, you do,” he answered back in the same smart tone. “You get to choose which college you go to, who you date—” He stopped talking and swallowed, looking out over the lake.
“So I'm never going to see you again?” I whispered. He wouldn't look at me. I could feel anger rising in my chest.
“Why did you do it?” he asked quietly, releasing me leaning back against the opposing wall. His body was tense. It wasn’t often Cephas Bourdon was unsure of himself.
“Do what?”
“Risk your life to try to kill Dominic.”
I looked into his face, searching for his real thoughts. Of all the questions, this was the one he chose to ask?
"I have to know," he whispered.
“I wasn't about to let you die, or ruin your plan, just to save me,” I replied in a nonchalant tone.
“But you could have died,” he said emphatically, apparently confused.
“Yeah, well, he was going to tell you I didn't care about you because I offered to trade you for my dad.”
“You what? I'm slightly offended,” he refuted. I saw the left corner of his mouth inching upward into a smirk.
“Yeah, well, I figured you could hold your own, but if you're saying you couldn't, then I apologize,” I replied sarcastically. Attempting to resist the smile pulling at the edge of my mouth, I looked awa
y from him.
“You're kind of sassy, you know,” he began, taking a step toward me.
“So I've heard,” I replied, turning my head to look at him. His eyes were a deep blue: there was mischief lurking behind the color. He stepped in closer and I took a step backward. He was getting very close to me. Dominic flashed through my mind. I could picture his arms fondling my abdomen just above my jeans. Cephas placed his hands on my waist and I released the breath I was holding. He stopped moving. As his hands tensed up, I relaxed a little. He had noticed my change in attitude. Moving his hands quickly off of me, he took a step backward.
“I'm sorry,” he said hurriedly, flexing his fingers outward to relieve the tension. “I don't know what I was expecting. I'll just—I'll let you get back to your night.”
“No, don't leave,” I responded a little too quickly. “It's not you, I just—”
“Your dad was right. I need to leave. You need time to get over what I did to you.”
“It wasn't what you did, it was—”
“Please don't try to make me feel better,” he whispered, staring at the ground. He squinted, blinking away the water in his eyes.
“You're a sweet girl, and I'm . . . I'm a murderer.” His voice was cold and his eyes turned gray. He shifted to walk away and I instinctively reached out to take hold of his hand. He stopped and looked down at our clasped fingers. I looked up into his eyes: I saw pain and disbelief. He shifted his gaze down the alleyway, looking at nothing in particular. He looked back in my direction and held my eyes captive, staring searchingly into my face. His iris became a swirl of blue and green, softening with each second.
“I love you, Em,” he whispered, letting a tear slip down his defined cheek and over his rounded chin. “But I can't ruin your life anymore.” He paused, still watching me intently. “I can't ask you to love me.”