Waiting for April

by Jaime Loren

  “I’m imagining you in them right now.”

  “You could come home and see me in them.”

  I banged the back of my head against the wall. “I don’t think I’d allow you to wear them all night if I came home.”

  She sighed—the type of sigh that came with a touch of a moan. The type that drove me crazy.

  “Show me now,” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “Your pajamas. Put me on Face Time.”

  “Ooh, okay,” she said, sounding mischievous.

  Light danced across the screen as the image of her room came into focus. “Where are you?”

  “Pulling the curtain across,” she replied.

  “Why did you have it open?”

  “I like to look at the moon. It makes me feel better thinking that you might be looking at it at the same time.”

  The thought made me smile. I’d always done the same. The sight of her on my phone widened my smile. Her hair was adorably messy, and her lips … God, I wished I was there.

  Her big brown eyes filled with longing. “You look so good.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to her phone. “Have you cut your hair?”

  “Ha ha. Always with the funny.”

  “You know me,” she said, grinning.

  “That I do. Now where are these super-sexy pajamas I’ve heard so much about?”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  “Bring it.”

  “Here goes,” she said, holding her phone out at arm’s-length. “Do you like what you see, Mr. Parker?”

  I licked my lower lip at the stained, gray, oversized sweatshirt. “Very much.”

  She laughed, then used her other hand to lift her top, showing me some skin. “How about now?”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled.

  She lifted it up further, exposing her waist. “Now?”

  All I could manage was a murmur, my eyes glued to the curve of her hips. Hips that I’d recently held in my hands whilst our flesh had smacked together.

  April pulled her top up even more, licking her upper lip as she exposed one breast. I wanted to squeeze my eyes closed and moan, but I didn’t want to lose sight of her. All I could do was swallow hard as she pulled her top clean off.

  “Now?” she asked, her grin so cheeky I wanted to wipe it off with my tongue.

  Breathing heavily, I nodded. “Your pajamas are—damn! You do realize I can’t just take a cold shower to correct what you’re doing to me, right?”

  She shrugged. “So come home and I’ll correct it.”

  I groaned and tipped my head back. “So. Tempting.”

  “Mr. Spencer?” Tom’s voice came from down the hall.

  April must have heard him, because she quickly covered up.

  “I just got a call from Tapash Guthri. He’s flying out of India tomorrow morning, but if we can get there tonight, he’ll see us,” he said.

  Crap!

  I turned my attention back to April, who was now watching me intently. My face must have said it all, because before I could speak, she did. “You should go.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  “I can wait,” she said, nodding.

  We both knew that wasn’t entirely true, but we pretended she had all the time in the world. “I’ll be home for your party,” I told her.

  “I know.”

  The sadness in her eyes—no matter how hard she tried not to show it—was like a blow to the stomach. “I love you, April.”

  She nodded again, smiling sadly. “Be safe, okay?”

  It was my turn to smile. Why she thought I was the one who needed to be careful was beyond me. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thank you for surprising me, Mr. Spencer.”

  “My pleasure, and thank you—for everything,” I said, my eyes darting downward.

  “Any time.” A crooked yet genuine grin lit her face.

  After she was gone, I had a hard time wiping the smile from my face—and an even harder time walking.

  Chapter 42

  (April)

  Two. Pink. Lines.

  I checked the box again.

  Two pink lines.

  I lined the six tests up on the bathroom bench.

  Six sets of two pink lines.

  “No.”

  It was a trick of light. It had to be. After picking up each one and tilting it back and forth, my heart plummeted. It was no trick of light.

  I was pregnant.

  I sank down to the bathroom floor and wrapped my arms around my chest, only to wince at the pain in my breasts. “No, no, no!”

  How did this happen? Well, of course I knew how, but … how? He was immortal! His body doesn’t change!

  Oh God. Except for when we were doing what comes naturally …

  He’d said it himself—I was the only one who could affect him physically. And here I was, loving the look he got on his face every time I affected him, not knowing just how physically he was about to affect me!

  I choked back a terrified sob. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Even if he did figure out how to save me, how was I supposed to go to Harvard? How was I supposed to tell my parents? Oh God, they’d be so disappointed in me!

  A small voice from deep within told me maybe I didn’t have to. After all, it was highly likely I wasn’t going to live to see another month. But then the thought of Mom and Dad finding out I was pregnant thanks to an autopsy would break their hearts. Knowing that their only child hadn’t had the courage … or didn’t trust them enough … or was too ashamed to tell them before she died …

  I lowered my head to my hands. No, not ashamed. It was an accident, yes, but I could never be ashamed. To be ashamed would be to regret what had happened with Scott, and that was impossible.

  He was going to be so upset! I melted onto the tiles in a mess of sobs and hiccups, racked with fear and broken-hearted for the future I would never have now, even if he did save me.

  And that was when Stella chose to push my door open with a knock.

  *****

  I sat on the end of my bed, sobbing, while Stella paced the room, trying to digest what I’d just told her. I was stuck in a permanent state of shock.

  “How?” she asked. “No wait, never mind that. Why? After everything I warned you about!”

  “He loves me, Stell.”

  “And how many other girls has he knocked up?”

  “Would you keep your voice down? Mom’s home.”

  She pressed her hands to her head. “I just don’t understand how you could ditch Rowan and get knocked up by Scott, like, right away.”

  “I don’t need judgment from you, Stell. In fact, I don’t need anything from you.”

  “You need a friend. You need someone to talk some sense into you.” She stopped pacing and came and sat next to me, putting her arm around me. Her skin was so nice and cool, it made me wonder whether I was running a temperature. Or perhaps that was just what being pregnant was like—being an actual human oven.

  I started bawling again.

  Stella sighed and squeezed me. “I’m sorry. I’m just shocked.”

  “Yeah? Well, me too,” I choked out. “I don’t know how he’s going to react.”

  “Well, if he has any balls—” She looked down at me. “Which, it’s pretty obvious he does—he’ll man up and take responsibility.”

  She didn’t know him at all. He’d move mountains to make sure the baby and I were okay. But, this was terrible, terrible timing. The amount of pressure he’d feel to make sure he saved us … and if he didn’t? This would be the last straw for him.

  I remembered what he’d looked like in the shower that night, after digging up my grave. I’d never seen him lose it like that. Losing his soul mate and our baby would tip him over the edge. I doubt he’d ever look for me again. I doubt he’d ever resurface from that nightmare.

  “You have options, Red.”

  My stomach tightened. I wasn’t sure if I was going to puke agai
n, or if I was hungry. Or if I’d puke after eating.

  “You have a Harvard education ahead of you. And so does he. If you care about him at all, you’ll make this go away.”

  “Go away?” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. There was no way I could harm any piece of Scott Parker.

  “There’s a clinic in Burlington. They’re completely confidential. They’re legit. It won’t show up on your insurance, and I’m more than happy to come with you.”

  I gasped. “How do you know these things?”

  Stella shrugged. “Look, think about it, okay? But I really think that’s your best and only option right now if you want to actually have a future.”

  I carefully stood from the bed. Why was she being so harsh? That wasn’t the only option available to me, and I wasn’t the only one who had a right to make this decision.

  “Where is Mr. Fertility, anyway?”

  My cheeks burned with the lie. “Paris.”

  Stella narrowed her eyes. “He went to Paris without you?”

  “I don’t own him.”

  She raised her eyebrows as if to tell me she didn’t want to argue about it.

  “Is he coming back?”

  “He has to come back for school in the fall, doesn’t he?”

  He’d come back immediately if I told him about the baby. So maybe I shouldn’t tell him. Not yet, anyway. We were on such a roll. He didn’t need this distraction. This weight on his shoulders.

  “Let’s change the subject. I need a distraction.”

  Stell jumped to her feet, both of us taking a deep breath to collect ourselves.

  “How about we go into Burlington and catch a movie. Sound good?” she asked.

  “Sounds great.” One afternoon off research to try to come to terms with this dilemma sounded reasonable to me. “But I’ll drive.”

  “In Daddy’s car?” she asked, nudging me.

  I smiled and nodded. It’s what I’d told everyone. Dad had gone along with it to protect Scott’s secret about his inheritance. I think Dad respected him even more for not flashing his money around.

  Aside from obeying the road rules, I didn’t pay one bit of attention to what was happening around us for the rest of the afternoon. My mind was still on the baby, as well as the girls who seemed to be dying, just like me, but then living long and healthy lives. I felt completely ripped off. Happy for them, but pissed for Scott and me.

  To make matters worse, I wasn’t having any nightmares. I never thought I’d be sad to say that, but I’d been relying on them to motivate my memory, and now I was coming up blank. I needed to go back further, to unearth memories I couldn’t find on a computer.

  It was time to go back home.

  Chapter 43

  (Scott)

  Nigeria, Africa – August

  We’d spent a week in India seeking information about April’s circumstances. The priests had all said the same thing: fate was on her side. But that meant nothing to me, and gave me no help as to how to stop what was happening to her so that she could live a normal life. So while I’d become obsessed with figuring out how to prove April’s deaths weren’t accidents, Tom had spent a good deal of that time trying to figure out our next move. Two of his contacts had pointed us to Nigeria, the birthplace of the religion of Yorùbá Divination.

  The knowledge of things past, present, and future.

  The circle of elders consisted of five priests from respected tribes, and three priestesses. I stood before them wearing absolutely nothing; my toes digging at the hot red sand beneath me. The fire had consumed my clothes immediately, and had then taken more than a week to burn out completely under me. There had been other tests, too—I’d been chained under water for two days, and starved the entire two weeks. I was able to cross circles of unbroken salt, could drink holy water, and none of their blessings or rites had changed my status. I had satisfied their curiosity, and earned my answer.

  The Iyanifa—a priestess of the highest order—stood and approached me. She was known throughout this region as the most gifted of seers, able to divine the destiny of deserving humans by communicating with the spirit world. My eyes met hers; one blue, one brown. She was old, but her hair was as black as a newborn’s, and despite her demeanor—cold and seemingly indifferent—there was a spark of sympathy deep in her eyes.

  She laid a tray at my feet and knelt down, then placed sixteen palm nuts upon it and tapped it three times. In her right hand she collected the pine nuts, and spoke in a voice too low to hear. She transferred the nuts to her right hand, and opened her left hand to reveal the two nuts which remained.

  “Ohun ìdínà,” she said. Her voice was hoarse. I didn’t need to know the language to figure out she was a person who got straight to the point. The male interpreter, the Akapo, was softer. Kinder.

  “Obstacle,” he translated.

  I held my breath. She repeated the process three more times before standing to face me.

  “There is another like you,” the Akapo translated.

  Confusion gripped me. I tilted my head. “Like April, you mean.”

  She spoke again. The Akapo listened intently, and took a moment before translating. “Like you. He is your obstacle, and her death is his key.”

  I shook my head to refute it, but then the words sank in. My gaze flickered between the Iyanifa and the Akapo in disbelief. “Wait—his key?”

  The Akapo looked at the Iyanifa, but spoke to me. “His, uh, áìkúàìdìbàjê …” He fumbled for the English translation. “Immortality. His. Yours.”

  “Wait, just—hold on.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “Someone else becomes immortal when April dies?”

  The Akapo looked me dead in the eyes. “Her death is his key,” he repeated.

  His words were like a sword to my stomach. I stumbled back. The fire, the illnesses, her near-drowning … I dropped to my knees. “Her deaths really weren’t accidents,” I whispered, never imagining validation would be this painful.

  The Iyanifa spoke again. “You are supposed to be here. She is supposed to be here,” she said, her English short and heavily accented. “He is not supposed to be here.”

  I looked up, my rage building. “Who is he? How do I kill him?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  She spoke again in a language I didn’t understand.

  “Killing him will not help you,” the Akapo said.

  I slammed my fist into the ground. “There has to be a way!”

  “Fate will return her to you after death. That is all that can be done.”

  I shook my head and rose to my feet. “You’re wrong.”

  The Iyanifa stepped back as I pushed past her. “I will pray for you, White Immortal,” was the last thing I heard her say as I ran toward Tom’s station wagon.

  *****

  Every call we tried to make was met with a message: “The number you have called does not exist. Please check the number and try again.”

  April’s phone. Stella’s. Henry’s. Celia’s. Alan’s. Even Rowan’s, Mike’s, and Craig’s phones were disconnected.

  Or barred from receiving calls from either of our phones.

  “How would he know?” I asked. “How would he know I’d try to reach these people now? He must know where I am,” I said to Tom as we sped toward the nearest town, Baguda. I kept checking my rear-view mirror. “He must know I’m onto him and that I’d try to warn her.”

  “But why go to that trouble if—” Tom stopped and pressed his lips tightly together.

  “If he could just kill her and spare himself the trouble?”

  Tom nodded.

  “Maybe something has changed this time. She knows about our past. She knows who I am and where she came from. I don’t know how that would be a game-changer for him, but—”

  “Has there been any clue at all that someone has been following her?”

  At first I shook my head, but then my stomach coiled with regret. “She said she felt like someone was watching her out at the cabin.” I exhal
ed, feeling like a complete failure. “And Duke was nervous. The horses were worked up. Damn it!” My fist came down hard on the wheel. “I should’ve been paying more attention. The only thing I was worried about while we were out there was her leaving me—and after the near-drowning I pushed everything else to the back of my mind.” I ran my hand through my hair and clutched it in my fist. “How did he drown her? How did he pull that off without her remembering anything besides an empty juice glass?”

  “The question is: why doesn’t she see his face in her nightmares? Do you have any idea who this person could be?” Tom asked.

  “No. Although, she was nervous about her ex, Rowan. He scared her a couple of months back.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “And he knew we were at the cabin. He wasn’t actually with us when I was hit by the SUV.”

  “No alibi?”

  “He was with Stella.”

  “How do you know she’s not involved?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve seen pictures of her when she was little. She’s as mortal as they come. Besides, she wouldn’t be capable. And she’s seeing someone—someone who is extremely vulnerable. He has the X-rays and walking stick to prove it.”

  “Has Rowan ever been injured? Does he sleep?”

  I shook my head, cursing myself for living all these years and having no clue of what was happening around me. “I don’t know. Whoever it is, he knows how to get around without being noticed. I’ve spent nearly three hundred years pretending to be normal.”

  Tom was silent for a moment. It hadn’t escaped me that he was the only person besides April and Henry who knew what I was doing. Then again, he was the only person who’d been able to help me in three centuries. He’d led me to answers. I just hoped against hope some of those answers were wrong, and that I’d find a way to kill this person.

  Horror rose in my chest with the memory of the Iyanifa’s words. “I’ll find a way to kill him.”

  “We’ll find a way,” he agreed. “They don’t have all the answers. They can only see what information falls before them from the spirit world. But at least we know what we’re dealing with now. Her deaths weren’t accidents. She’s not fated to die repeatedly. That’s a good thing, Mr. Spencer.”