by Jaycee Clark
“It’s not like that, Jesslyn. There really isn’t ‘good-bye.’ Think of it as ‘I’ll see you one day.’ I’ve always been here for you, a part of you. It’s just taken you a while to realize that. But now that you have, you don’t need me, at least not in the venue I’ve been visiting you in.”
Jesslyn hated good-byes.
“I’ll still drop in from time to time.” He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Have to make certain Aiden treats you right,” he said into her ear.
His words fell over her like a warm blanket.
She grinned up at him. “So Aiden and I will be together for a while?”
His smile answered her. “If you’re not afraid to hold on tight to what is given to you.”
Jesslyn sighed. Looking back towards the window, she saw herself lying in a hospital room. Aiden stood to the side.
“Why am I in the hospital?” she asked. Jerrod didn’t answer her. Fear started to creep into this safe sanctuary.
“The monster,” she whispered. Running from the monster . . . Fog clouded her memory. But the tingle of fear remained. “Who is the monster, Jerrod?”
His solemn look deepened the lines around his mouth. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t see.”
He knew everything.
“No, I don’t,” Jerrod answered her thought. “He knows everything and only Him. We see bits and glimpses of what He permits us or gifts us with. Only He can see both. We cannot get close to darkness.”
“I don’t understand.” Jesslyn shook her head, tried to comprehend all he said.
“We here are light, and love, and goodness. The opposite of darkness, hatred and evil. Rarely can we get close. I was allowed to come to you now, but I do not know the answer to your question.” For the first time his voice held that hint of impatience that it always had.
“Be careful, Jesslyn. The night isn’t over for you yet. You must be strong and brave.” All she could see were his eyes. “The darkness is very close to you. I tried to get to you earlier, but I couldn’t get through.”
“That’s why Hannah and Holden aren’t here, isn’t it?” She waved a hand towards the window of the world. “This is too . . . dark for them?”
His smile brightened her spirit. “The little ones are treasured above all others. Though Hannah still has a mind of her own.”
Jesslyn thought for a moment. “God is all-knowing. So why did He let Hannah warn me?”
“I don’t question Him. Though perhaps for that very reason—to warn you. Now,” he said as he gave her a hug, kissed her cheek. “It’s time for you to head back. You can’t stay here forever. Unless, of course, that is your wish.”
She felt the gentle brush of his hand as it pushed her hair back. Jesslyn shook her head at him. It was peaceful here. So very peaceful. Yet, the thought of Aiden worried, of her father finding out what happened to her, swirled within her.
“I love you, Jesslyn. I always will,” he whispered.
“I know. I love you too, Jerrod.” She cupped her hand to his jaw, felt warmth flood through her like a soft golden light.
He smiled softly and nodded. “I know. Now go. Be careful.”
Jerrod started to fade, the white darkened. Fear slithered through her nerves. His voice came through the graying light. “Look up.”
The butterfly, a small dot of sunshine, flitted about. Up and down, around and around. Jesslyn focused on the little yellow wings. Happiness and hope.
Her vision narrowed and saw only the butterfly. Blackness swirled around her faster and faster. A vortex of darkness and fear pulled at her, sucked her down. Down. Down . . .
• • •
Jesslyn fought against the void pulling at her. The darkness became tighter and fiercer the more she tried to fight it.
Then, through it, came his voice, soft and echoed as if he spoke in a tunnel. Pleading with her.
“Come back to me, Jessie girl. Come back. Please, open your eyes.”
Aiden.
With supreme effort her eyelids barely rose, the darkness of her lashes obscured her view. Jesslyn tried again, forced her eyes to open all the way.
The world was blurry. She could make out shapes, colors, images, but everything melded together.
Her head hurt and she closed her eyes against the pain, hoped it would go away.
It didn’t. She’d kill for some aspirin. What the hell? Did she get roaring drunk and pass out? Hadn’t she heard Aiden? Where was he? A hundred trolls beat at the inside of her brain with picks and sledgehammers. Aspirin. Water.
A familiar scent tingled her nose. What was it? Where was she? A clatter rolled by somewhere. The beep of a machine intruded. Realization slammed into her. A hospital!
Jesslyn’s eyes flew open. What the hell was she doing in a damn hospital? Had there been another accident?
Try as she might, she couldn’t focus on a single thing. She was so tired. But she wouldn’t give in to the beckoning exhaustion. When you went to sleep in hospitals you only awoke to horrible nightmares. Children dying. Funerals to plan.
She licked her lips, fought to control her breathing.
As panic started to grab her by the throat, she heard his whisper again. “Please wake up, baby. Please.”
Something lolled on her hand. She tried to move it.
“Aiden?” Her whisper was lost behind her mask. Jesslyn took a deep breath and tried again, tried to focus on the black blob that could be his head.
“Aiden?” The blackness moved, swift and sharp. Glasses. She needed her glasses.
Then he was above her, leaning over her. She tried to lift her hand to remove the offensive mask. But her hand wouldn’t move. She felt trapped.
“Oh, thank God. You’re awake. Shh . . . Don’t try to talk. Let me get the doctor.” His voice sounded strained and excited. He pressed something, she heard it click.
Then a voice from behind and above her. “Yes?”
“She’s awake.”
Jesslyn was too tired to care. If Aiden were here, things were fine. Everything was fine. But what had happened? She muttered her question to him.
He leaned close to her. “Shh. Jessie. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”
Safe? Safe from what, she drowsily wondered.
“Well, I see you’re right, Mr. Kinncaid,” came the same voice she’d heard behind her, now across the room.
Intercom, the fuzzy thought floated to her.
“You’ve had us all worried, Ms. Black, though none more so than Mr. Kinncaid here.”
Jesslyn listened to the woman’s voice, chattery and chirpy, and it grated against the pounding in her head. Something vised on her arm, making the tips of her fingers tingle. The hiss of air and slow loosened grip told her—blood pressure. Why wouldn’t her mind work?
“BP’s good. Though your heart rate jumped a little bit ago. Now we know why. Normal. Perfectly normal.” Someone quickly patted her right hand. The nurse, the pat wasn’t Aiden’s style.
“Glasses,” she managed out.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry ’bout that. Tim and T.J. went by and picked up some of your things. I know I saw a little blue case.” Aiden’s voice changed as he moved about the room. Ruffled noises came from her left. She tried to turn her head, but stopped as pain shot through her skull. A gasping moan escaped before she could stop.
Something clattered on the floor, followed by Aiden’s muffled, “Hell.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. K. She just tried to move her head. I know it hurts, honey. I’d give you something for it, but the doctors want to see you first. So hang in there, all right? Dr. Williams and Van Berger should be here pretty quick. I’ll just go page them now.” The woman pulled the covers even tighter and Jesslyn felt smothered.
“Please, don’t. Could you loosen them a little? I don’t like feeling trapped,” she whispered.
Another quick pat. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll be back in a moment.” Jesslyn heard her leave the room.
Then Aiden was at he
r side. Gently her glasses were put on, the bows easily slid along the tops of her ears. The world came into focus.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Though things were still a little fuzzy. Not necessarily out of focus, just . . . different. Again she tried to move, but couldn’t. Tears threatened. She hated, hated to feel helpless and trapped.
“Hold still,” Aiden told her, leaning down close enough that she could have counted the dark whiskers stubbling his cheek had she been so inclined, which she was not. She just wanted the damn covers off.
“Please,” she said.
“What? What do you need?” His face was so earnest, so concerned, a surprised smile pulled at her lips.
“To move,” she mumbled.
“Oh,” and still he didn’t smile. Thankfully, he loosened the covers enough that she could move her hands up and out from under the stifling confines.
“Thank you.” Her hand was immediately clasped in both of his. Aiden sat partially on her bed.
His face looked weary, exhausted, and hopeful all at once. His eyes—how she loved his eyes—burned into her, and comforted her like nothing else could. The faint smell of his aftershave tickled her nose as his hand tightened on hers.
The dark head shook back and forth. He opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again. She didn’t miss the tick of muscle in his jaw. Jesslyn wanted to run her fingers down his proud straight nose. When she looked back up into his eyes she was surprised at the sheen she saw in them.
What had happened? The more she tried to think on, to try and figure it out, the more obscure and muggy things became.
Remember . . .
She remembered planning Maddy’s funeral, getting in a fight with Kirk, crying and arguing with Aiden. Telling him that she loved him.
Driving . . .
Rain. It had been raining, hadn’t it? Heartache . . . pain . . . crying . . .
Jesslyn closed her eyes, tried to think, to concentrate, but pain iced her brain.
Water. And hope . . . Hope . . .
Her eyes opened, looked into intense shimmering cobalt depths. With her free hand, she reached up, and shakily pulled the mask down to her chin.
“I figured out something,” she whispered and saw him stiffen, the harsh features becoming grim as his lips thinned. The tears didn’t fall even when his eyes narrowed.
Before he could say anything, and she could tell he was getting himself ready to, she plowed on. “I do really love you.”
He shook his head, opened his mouth, but once again she beat him to it. “Just thought you ought to know.”
Like she hoped, that earned her a smile, though ever so small it was.
Jesslyn closed her eyes. She was so tired. God her head hurt.
“You remember what happened?” he asked, wariness evident in his voice.
She thought some more, but nothing cleared, nothing congealed. Aiden—love. Rain—peace. Water—fear.
She sighed, tried to shake her head, and was quickly reminded why she should stay still. “Not really. I went to the lake. I remember that . . .” Walking along the shore, then . . . Nothing.
“That’s okay, just rest. Rest,” he urged her, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand, down her wrist.
Jesslyn opened her eyes and looked at him perched on the edge of her bed. He was so big, sometimes his size surprised her. She’d never asked him exactly how tall he was, but she would guess a couple of inches over six feet. The hypnotic motion on the back of her hand and wrist was soothing.
Finally, she answered him, “I will, believe me. I sort of remember the discussion-crying-jag with you. I think—I think I drove in the rain. I don’t know. Things are fuzzy. But I do remember knowing I loved you.”
So tired . . . Jesslyn licked her lips, they were chapped. Exhaustion pulled at her.
She felt Aiden shift, and tightened her hold, though it was weak, on his hand.
Her eyes halfway opened. “Please. Please, don’t leave me.” Jesslyn hated the weakness in her voice, the fear that slithered through her. She needed him. “Stay with me. Promise me you’ll stay.”
He nodded, sat in the chair she heard scrape the floor as he pulled it closer to the head of the bed. “I promise.”
She felt his warm lips on the back of her hand.
Jesslyn closed her eyes, tried to fight the exhaustion pulling at her, but couldn’t. “You’ll keep the monster away.” He tensed. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.” His voice was deep, strained. “God, I love you.”
She heard him cough, mumbled something about defend, and then sleep stole over her.
Chapter 19
July 4th
“Aiden, please?” she whined. Jesslyn hated to whine, but she’d do what she had to. She’d just gotten out of the tub and sat on the bed, dressed in leggings and a tunic, brushing her wet hair. Very, very carefully. Her head still hurt.
“No.”
“Come on.”
He propped his hands on his hips and stood by the edge of the bed staring down at her. “What part of no didn’t you understand?”
Jesslyn rolled her eyes, and sat her brush on the nightstand. “I am fine.”
“You just got home yesterday on the agreement you’d stay in bed.” He leaned down until his face was right in hers. “And in bed you’ll stay.”
She changed tactics. “Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad if you stay with me.” She reached up to grab his shirt and pull him to her, but he fisted his hand over hers and simply stared.
Apparently that tactic didn’t work either. Damn. “But today’s the parade. Please.”
He only held her stare, didn’t budge an inch. “No.”
Jesslyn almost grinned. “Fine. Can I at least sit on the damn couch in the living room?”
His eyes slid closed, and his sigh wafted against her lips.
“Please?” she whispered. “I won’t even walk if that worries you.” She was edgy and tense and needed out of this damn bed.
The fact she was missing hours of her life was what wore on her. Not the fact she’d been attacked by a killer, though faceless images stalked her dreams. No, it was the fact she couldn’t remember.
The doctors told her not to push it, to take it easy. It was not any less than they expected with the amount of shock to her system and her head injury. Jesslyn was to rest and not to worry about her memory loss. More than likely everything would come back when it was supposed to and not a moment sooner. Those were fine empty words. Not a single one of the doctors had to worry about missing time, or the possibility of remembering who a killer was before he struck again.
What she needed was to do what she felt she must. How was she supposed to remember a damn thing if no one would tell her anything? She’d finally worn Aiden down enough that she managed to get a scattered story out of him. No one wanted to talk about it, always hurriedly changed the subject. Their collective silence was not helping.
“Come on, it’s a couch. I’ll be reclining here, reclining there. The added benefit is I won’t complain there,” she tried again, cupping his cheek against her palm and leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
His eyes opened and one brow arched.
“I’ll let you carry me,” she said.
He shook his head. “You need to rest,” he calmly reasoned.
She had a feeling he wasn’t as calm as he seemed. Aiden still thought she should be in the hospital. The neurologist wanted to run more tests. Not. Jesslyn was sick of being poked, probed, scanned, whatever else the medical personnel could conjure up. The only thing that kept her from tearing out of there had been Aiden’s constant company and the visits from friends. So many people had come by to see her and wish her well. T.J. and Tim, David and Sally Hewett, all the Kinncaids, and even old Mr. Reeves. Daddy had come and stayed until late yesterday.
Aiden had hovered over her for the last two days, rarely leaving her side, and watched her constantly. She liked him being there,
knowing he was there, but his hawk gaze missed little.
“Come on, you said, you liked carrying me. It makes you feel manly. Besides, I’ll rest later. I’m hungry and I hate to eat in bed,” she lied.
His loud sigh told her how frustrated he was.
“You’re still not going to the parade,” he said, gently lifting her against him.
Jesslyn wrapped her arms around his neck and settled her head on his shoulder. His aftershave, strong this morning, filled her senses. She could practically taste the spicy scent, leaning up a bit, she licked his neck. “Hmmm.”
“Cut it out.”
“No fun.”
A muscle in his jaw started to tick.
At the doorway, she asked him, “Can you get me my laptop?”
He kept walking.
Oh well, she’d try for that later.
Once downstairs, the sounds of breakfast drifted from the kitchen, voices floating on the air. Aiden’s entire family was here, having flown in Sunday. She hadn’t really had a chance to say more than hi to any of them other than his parents.
Aiden set her down on the couch as though she were made of the finest china.
Jesslyn inwardly sighed. “Honestly, Aiden, you act as if I’ll break if you move too quickly.”
He didn’t comment, but she saw the edge of his mouth tighten as he grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and tucked it around her. When it was to his perfection, he knelt down on his haunches beside her.
“You are a very bad patient,” he told her.
“I hate to be sick. Hate to sit around in bed if I can move about. I was growing mold, for God’s sake. And you’re not a very agreeable nurse either.”
He smoothed a finger down her cheek. “Hmm . . . You said you were hungry. What do you want?”
“What, no gruel?”
“Mom made pancakes,” he said, ignoring her remark.
Her stomach growled and she smiled. “That sounds great.”
He stood, walked to the doorway and stopped. “I still think you should be in bed.”
“Pancakes?” She would have jumped off the couch and gotten them herself, but figured he’d fall over.