I keep my keys in hand, half expecting the door to be locked for some stupid reason, but it isn’t, so I twist the knob. I might as well be blind as I spot Jimmie and Theresa involved in a bit of passionate saliva swapping. I figure at any moment they’re going to stop doing that and look up. Surely they heard the door squeak open.
No such luck.
“Jimmie,” I force myself to say, staring at them. It seems to take a few seconds before either of them hears me, but they slowly turn my way. Jimmie’s wearing a dazed frown, and Theresa’s got a Cheshire cat smile, which tells me she has too many teeth for anybody’s good. Her low-cut sweater emphasizes her cleavage, and God only knows what I’ve been missing for the last couple of days. A shudder runs through me. This is so not Jimmie.
“I told you she’d come back when she was ready,” Theresa says, slowly detangling her body from Jimmie’s and standing. “I’m gonna go and let you two talk this out.” She offers me a smile, but the warmth of it doesn’t reach her eyes. She grabs her raincoat from the rack in the entryway and sweeps out the door.
Jimmie takes a deep breath and rakes his fingers through his hair before grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. The air around him fills with smoke. “So what brings you back, Lizzie?” His tone is harsh, and I can tell by his posture he’s none too glad I’ve returned. Big surprise. Somehow I think he’d much rather have Theresa hanging around than me.
“There’s some stuff going on, Jimmie. We need to talk about it.”
“Damn right there’s stuff going on,” he snaps, rising from his chair and taking a long drag. “Let’s start with you running off to God knows where without so much as a call to let me know what was happening with you.” He walks up to me and glares.
“My phone was dead.” It’s a stupid excuse, I realize, but I don’t know what else to say.
“Ever heard of a pay phone, Lizzie? They tend to work when a cell is dead.” He walks a small circle around me, and I feel like I’m on public display. This is so not Jimmie.
“Jimmie, look, I came back because you could be in danger. You need to listen to me.”
His steps falter, and he shakes his head. “Theresa said you’d come home with some cockeyed story that made no damned sense. It’s probably about angels, right, Lizzie? Well, I’m sick of hearing about angels. I’m tired of fighting with you about trying to make things better. You don’t want things to be better.”
I fold my arms across my chest, trying to figure out where all this is coming from. “Of course I do, Jimmie. But therapy isn’t going to do that. It’s going to take time.” The water in my hair soaks my shirt, and I shiver, chilled.
“Okay, fine. You want better. I’ve got the solution. I proposed to Theresa, and we’re getting married. That way you’ll have someone in place of your mom to talk to since I seem to be so bad at it.” He shakes his head.
“You proposed ?” My voice is low, and the world feels groundless. “Jimmie, you hardly know her!”
He shakes his head and goes into the kitchen. “Yeah, she figured you’d think that, but I know I want her in my life. I guess the question is, do you want me in yours? I’ve done a lot for you, Lizzie. This time, it’s my turn.”
I stagger backwards, totally unprepared for any of this. My head is starting to throb, and I close my eyes, trying to deny any of this is actually happening. Shaking my head, I follow him into the kitchen where he gets a can of soda from the fridge.
“Jimmie, I know you like Theresa a lot, but maybe you shouldn’t move so fast. You both need time to adjust.”
He takes a sip and glares at me. “This coming from the girl whose first true love was an ‘angel?’ I think I’ve got a little better grasp on things than you do, Lizzie.”
Cringing, I grab the counter for support from that unexpected attack. “I just meant that maybe you could give it a little bit of time and make sure you want to do this.”
“I know what you meant.” Jimmie smacks the can against the counter. “I also know how you feel about her, Lizzie. So does she. Of course, she’s not the one running and hiding, now is she?”
I open my mouth to say more, but then, from the front of the house, I hear what sounds like shouting. My stomach tenses, and I quickly head back to the living room so I can peer out the window. The rain has finally stopped.
“Running again, Lizzie?” Jimmie snaps.
I ignore him and focus on the noise. Of course, I’m not exactly prepared to see Lev, appearing as Scott, punching Kane as he lies on the ground, trying to strike back. His nose is bleeding, and it stains the white polo shirt he wears.
“Oh, God!” I take a deep breath and run out the door. Lev cocks his arm back again and slams his fist hard into Kane’s face. Over and over. Unable to take any more, I rush forward and grab his arm.
“Stop it!” I yell, trying to pull him off Kane. Lev rams his elbow back, catching my nose. I slam against the corner of the house and fall to the sidewalk, the breath knocked out of me. I groan and touch my face. Blood slicks my fingers, and for a moment I fight the urge to vomit as blood seeps into my mouth, coating my tongue. Then I try to stand, but I feel light-headed. Right now, it’s taking everything I have just to keep breathing.
“Elizabeth?” Lev finally sees me in his peripheral vision and rises from Kane. His mouth is twisted into a horrified grimace, and he strides toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” He stretches a hand out to help me up, but I push it away.
“Stay away from me—and everyone else I know.” I struggle to fight the light-headedness and clear my vision. I can’t get to my feet. I feel too weak, and I start to cry. I hate that. How I hate that.
“Elizabeth?” Lev’s fingers curl around my arm, trying to guide me to my feet.
“Get away!” I yell, pulling from his hand. When he suddenly releases me, I almost fall.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers, trying to touch my face, to see beyond the blood.
“Well, you did.” I stagger towards Kane, ignoring him.
“We need to talk.”
I whirl and draw my hand across my face, still wiping blood. “Get away from me. I hate you.” Then I turn back to where Kane lies bleeding. He struggles to sit, and I help him. Lev watches me. I don’t care.
“Are you all right?” I ask softly, my voice wavering. I’m slowly rocking back and forth, just something to focus on except the growing panic.
He slowly nods and sits up all the way. “Where is Lev?” We both scan the area around us, but Lev is nowhere to be seen. The front screen is slowly closing, alerting me Lev has gone inside.
“Jimmie!” I whisper, rising. I look at Kane, but he motions for me to go inside. I start running, knowing I’ll probably never make it in time. The world seems to slow around me as I grab the screen and jerk it open. I’m inside, looking for Lev. He’s not in the living room. I rush to the kitchen.
From the doorway, I see Lev standing there, his arms outstretched, palms resting on Jimmie’s shoulders. Jimmie slowly sinks to his knees as the white glow spreads, consuming the room.
“No!” I yell, running toward them. My body jams itself in between the two, and a sharp, blinding pain grabs me. Then there is nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Pain pulses in my temples, forcing me from the darkness. I open my eyes and find myself on the kitchen floor next to Jimmie, who, frighteningly, isn’t waking up. As I slowly sit up, I look around, trying to find Lev or Kane. Neither appear to be here. What’s happening, I wonder. My head has that stuffed feeling again like I’ve got a head cold and can’t shake it.
“Jimmie,” I say, crawling to his side. His eyes are closed, and he looks so still. What did Lev do to him? I set my hand on Jimmie’s shoulder and shake him. His body jostles from my touch, but nothing more. He looks pale. Is he dead?
I lean over him and put my cheek next to his face to see if he’s breathing. I feel his soft breath stroking my cheek, and I release the breath I’ve been holdi
ng, relieved. He’s still alive, thank God. I shake him again.
“Jimmie! You’ve got to wake up.” I stare hard at his eyes, expecting them to flutter open.
No response.
“Jimmie!” A cold streak runs through me.
“What have you done?” Theresa stands there, her mouth in a horrified ‘o’. She rushes to Jimmie’s side.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. Call 911 now, Lizzie. He’s barely breathing.” For a moment, I just sit there in stunned silence. “Now, Lizzie. Jimmie is hurt.”
She reaches down and strokes his face, and I hate her. She glares at me, and I go to the house phone and call 911. I relay the information and start a new waiting game, but it’s clear by Theresa’s possessive manner I am totally unnecessary here. Of course, that’s nothing compared to what she says.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage, Lizzie? You shouldn’t even be here.” Her palm flattens against his face. “If you hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t be lying like this on the floor. Then again, you already know that, don’t you?” She glares at me and shakes her head. “I told him you were trouble, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
The distant cry of an ambulance fills the rough silence between us, and I shake my head. “Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be here. Jimmie and I were doing fine before you came.”
Her head snaps up. “You were, really? Because if you haven’t noticed, Jimmie gave up a hell of a lot for you, and at the first sign of him trying to find happiness of his own, you act like a spoiled brat and run off. Then, when I come back, it looks like he’s had a heart attack. He’s given up everything for you, and this is how you thank him?”
Without realizing it, I step backwards, hedging away from her. I want to scream out that she’s lying, but the thing is, maybe she isn’t. Maybe I’ve been exactly as what she’s saying, and if I hadn’t been so selfish, Jimmie wouldn’t be lying on that floor.
The wailing siren is louder, so I run to the door. It’s not like Theresa is going to let me get anywhere close to him right now, even if I’ve been with Jimmie longer than she has. As I suspect, the ambulance has pulled up into the driveway, and the EMTs are heading my way, so I hold the door open and lead them to Jimmie. Of course, the moment they arrive in the kitchen, Theresa takes over, not even bothering to look my way. For a moment, I consider inserting myself into things, fighting my way beside Jimmie, but that small voice inside me whispers that maybe it’s too late, maybe it’s my fault, and maybe I should just go away and never come back.
Jimmie is so still I can’t take it. Is he even breathing? What did Lev do to him and why? I try to stay calm, but my heart is racing. Then, just like that, I stumble backwards and flee to the Jeep. I don’t have my purse or keys, so I’m really not going too far. Maybe once Jimmie has been loaded up, Theresa will leave and I can go back inside and get what I need. Until then, the only place I can think of within walking distance is a park down the street. It’s not that I’m a big fan of parks, but they do have the advantage of reminding me of a time long before it seemed like my life was going to come unraveled and the best thing was just flying through the air in a swing with Jimmie pushing me. Closing my eyes, I think of a Dallas park of a decade ago. I wore shorts and a tank top. I was tall and lanky, and my hair constantly flew around me as I sailed up and back again. From behind, I could feel Jimmie’s strong hands gently pushing me. I was seven and thought he knew everything, and him knowing everything made the world so much smaller and easier to bear.
Jimmie.
I shiver, not understanding any of this. I just want things to be okay. I want him to be okay. At this point, I’ll help him plan the wedding. Just let him come out of this, I think. Please let me come out of this. At the park, I see a few kids and parents who have come out after the rain. A small girl with stubby pig tails toddles toward a small slide, and mom, a brunette with a no-fuss hairdo and harried expression hovers nearby, her hands wavering in the air as though she’s expecting the child to fall at any moment.
I sit at the only unoccupied bench and watch the kids playing tag and running around the monkey bars. Again, I see myself there, trying to keep the metal beams between me and Jimmie as he chased me, growling. In my memory, he is so much younger, and I am so skinny. I have this funny laugh I hide soon after that because I don’t want anyone to hear it.
Sitting here beneath the warm sun that trickles down between the branches of an old elm, I stare out at the beautiful world and yet feel empty, numb, and lost. The warm breeze tugs at my braid, and fine wisps pull loose to dance around my face. I wrap my arms over my chest, as if that’s going to hold everything together.
Time seems to melt with me here. Jimmie is all I can think about. I want to go to the hospital, but part of me is too frightened. What if Jimmie also blames me? I don’t think I could take it. It’s one thing to think it’s all my fault and another to have someone I love confirm it. Besides, I doubt Theresa would let me get anywhere near him.
Two hours pass before I finally get up and shake the numbness from my body. Most of the kids and their parents have gone, and since this morning’s storms, it’s kind of hot—dry heat. Still, it’s warm enough so sweat beads at my temples, forcing me to brush my hand across my forehead before it seeps into my eyes and blinds me. As I head back to the house, the journey going back seems longer. Or maybe it’s my desire to leave all of this madness behind permanently.
As I see the house, relief floods through me. Theresa’s sports car has gone. Only Jimmie’s beat-up old truck remains. I hasten my steps to the front door, only to find it locked. For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. Of course, Theresa would just assume I’ve gone and won’t return, even though my Jeep is sitting just outside, waiting for me. Jimmie can say what he wants. If he thinks Theresa likes me, he’s lost his mind. Our dislike for each other is mutual.
I turn to walk away but remember my agreement with Jimmie. He leaves the back door unlocked just in case I forget or lose my keys. So I slip through the gate and shut it behind me. Taking a deep breath, I grab the back doorknob, hoping it will open, and it twists easily in my hand. I nudge the door open and slip inside the dark garage. Only the light from outside breaks the inky blackness, and I quickly flip the switch so I can see where I’m going. The low-wattage bulb barely sheds any light around me, but it’s enough to see the shadows of all the boxes and things we still haven’t unpacked. You’d think we’d have gotten to that, but I’m wondering if moving is just a curse for us—or maybe I’m the curse. Could that be why my parents died a few years after I was born? It seems like everyone who loves me ends up dying. A shudder runs through me, and I half stumble over boxes I can’t see. From then on, I shuffle to the door leading to the house, my shin still smarting from hitting the last stack of boxes packed with heavy books.
Grateful for my hand fumbling across the knob, I open the door leading to the kitchen and step inside. Sunlight seeps in around the curtains into an otherwise unlit room. Jimmie’s soda can still sits on the counter where he struck it down in anger, and even though I don’t want to, I glance at the floor where his body had lain as we waited for the EMTs to help. My hand clutches the door frame, and I shut the door from the garage, telling myself it will get better. I have to believe that somehow. I have to. It’s the only thing getting me through this.
I hedge through the kitchen, obviously avoiding the floor where Jimmie had been, and I slip into the living room where my purse and keys should still be. My hair slips into my face, and I yank the pony off my braid, from which numerous strands have slipped free. It is then I realize just how much my hands are trembling. It’s hard to focus enough to unweave the braid, and the hair spills free around my face.
I think about when I was small and Jimmie would braid my hair. That’s when the pain sucker-punches me. I cringe. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. I start toward my purse and see a movement in the corner of my eye. Gasping, I turn toward it, only to find Evan standing the
re.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer. Immediately, my heart starts racing. Without realizing it, I’m shuffling backward.
“Trying to reason with you.” He steps toward me, but I scurry back, trying to preserve the distance between us.
“I want you to leave.” My whole body shakes, and the trembling weaves into my voice as well. Another step toward me. I take two back. My shoulders hit the wall, and I gasp in surprise.
His blond hair glitters, and he seems so ethereal in the dusky light filtering in through the cream-colored batiste curtains. As I stand there, trembling, he lowers his hands, and I watch every curve of his fingers, knowing well enough what he could do if he chose. I sense that coming the way most people smell rain, and I wonder why no one else seems to know what he truly is. How can they be so blind?
“Don’t you think if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it long ago, Elizabeth? We both know I have the power. But I’m not using it.”
I plaster my palms against the wall, desperately trapped. “Not against me, anyway.” I take a deep breath. “Why is that, anyway? You want to kill everyone else and leave me standing here, wondering what happened?”
Evan clenches his jaw. “I’m not trying to kill anyone. You don’t have a clue what is going on around you and whom you’ve gotten mixed up with. Part of that is because your mind is far too clouded.”
He steps toward me, and I inhale sharply. “Don’t do that.” I keep looking at him, trying to think of some way to protect myself, but this isn’t just another human being.
“Elizabeth, Kane is poisoning your thoughts, and whether you realize it or not, there is a war going on right now that you’re right in the middle of. It’s about to get far worse—unless I do something.”
Second Sight (Sojourner Series Book 3) Page 17