“What are you thinking about?” Rob asked, as he pulled into the parking lot at Grandma’s.
“Huh?” she asked, resurfacing to the present.
“You looked deep in thought, that’s all.” He cut the engine and undid his seatbelt, waiting for her to answer.
“It’s nothing.” She got out, reaching the front door in a few strides. Rob caught up as she pushed the second glass door open, the restaurant buzzing with families. The hostess sat them at a booth in the corner and Rob glared at her.
“Don’t do this to me again.”
Maeva raised an eyebrow. “Do what?” She really had no frame of reference for “again” and stared at him with a blank expression.
He looked at his hands. “I mean … my best friend in … Toronto had a habit of shutting me out and I don’t want you to do that to me. I’m here, you can talk to me.”
The server appeared, automatically pouring them water and taking down their order even though neither of them looked at a menu and walked away. Maeva bit her lip, contemplating whether or not to tell Rob about Michael. She wanted to but it was so complicated and confusing she didn’t know where to start. She opened her mouth, closed it, avoided Rob’s stare by glancing at the cheesy bamboo blinds. She grabbed her straw and took it out of the wrapper, dunked it in her water and took a long sip.
“Okay,” she said, making eye contact with Rob. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
He nodded. “I don’t know who I’d tell.…”
Maeva cleared her throat. “Your cousin?”
Rob laughed. “Ahh yeah … we’re not that close but … okay.”
“You have to promise.”
Rob smiled. “I promise.”
“I don’t know what to do about a guy at school.”
Rob seemed to blanch at the words. He blinked and averted his gaze. “Do you … like him?”
“No! No, it’s not like that. It’s really weird.” She gulped, unsure how to act around her new gay friend. She thought he might have some advice on what to do when a guy finds a waterfall you’ve been dreaming about for three years and throws a knife at your head but the whole thing was so absurd she couldn’t get it past her lips.
“How weird?” Rob asked, pulling her back to the table, and the plates of pancakes and French toast. She got to the syrup before Rob did and drizzled it over the bread, handing it to him. She didn’t want to talk about Michael. She couldn’t talk about him without sounding like a lunatic, so she cut her bread into squares and folded pieces of the sugary, egg soaked goodness into her mouth, letting it melt on her tongue. Rob began devouring a stack of pancakes, but paused after a couple of mouthfuls and pointed a fork at her.
“You’re not getting out of it you know.” He flashed a grin at her.
She smirked. “And how are you going to get it out of me?”
Rob put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Vee have whays of making you talk.” His Russian accent made Maeva burst out laughing so loud the sound filled the restaurant. Rob beamed and she clapped her hands over her mouth, glancing at the dirty stares from the old couple across the aisle.
“You have to stop doing that,” she hissed.
“Doing what?” He looked at her innocently, stuffing another mouthful of pancake into his mouth and smiling with his mouth closed, making his cheeks puff up like a squirrel.
“Being … you.” She let out a breath. “Gah … where have you been all this time?”
Rob swallowed hard. “I told you. I was in Toronto.” He had that matter of fact look on his face, telling her not to question the Toronto thing anymore.
“I know. But … everything is better with you here. I feel like I’ve known you forever.” She picked up her fork and avoided his expression, eating silently. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so at home with anyone. The past twelve years were tough. She hung onto the good memories of her dad and Steph, but everyone had a way of avoiding her, treating her like she was somehow different. She dared a glance at Rob and caught him staring at her, a painful longing in his eyes.
“Yeah … I feel the same,” Rob said, a wan smile crossing his face.
O O O
Rob dropped her off at Earl’s Garage. He offered to walk her all the way home but she didn’t want to give him more opportunities to make her feel uncomfortable. As much as she liked him she had to teach herself to detach, driving it through her skull he was only friend material. Rob didn’t let the Michael thing go and she ended up chickening out, telling him about the walls he put up and the way he refused to talk to anyone. Rob didn’t have any advice which made her feel stupid for saying anything in the first place.
She passed the dock, keeping her head down as she stepped on the frozen ice. Out on the open water the wind played tricks with itself, blowing in every direction, causing snow dunes to form in different patterns along the surface of the lake. She pulled her scarf up to her lower eyelashes, and pulled her hood down as far as it would go, covering her forehead. The wind stung her cheeks, the thin material of her scarf not enough to keep the cold out of her cheekbones. She loathed frostbite, the idea of ice caking on the tips of her ears, fingers, and cheeks, sent shockwaves through her. She could be a tiny frozen icicle in the snow. She shook away the fear and trudged onwards, glancing up to see how far the dock was.
She stopped in her tracks.
A woman in red stood on the dock. Bright auburn hair flapped in the wind, a long form fitting red trench coat covered her shoulders, while showing off spandex cherry red leggings, knee length red stiletto boots and matching tube top, a strip of bare skin showing off a ruby jewel nestled in her belly button. Her face was a porcelain mask, dark red lipstick covering her thin lips. Maeva blinked and rubbed her eyes, her heart reverberating. The woman resembled a comic book character, which was also one of the craziest things she had ever seen. She took a step back hesitantly, Michael’s words ricocheting through her.
It isn’t me you need to be worried about.
The woman smirked, and her eyes went from unrecognizable to flaming ruby red. She put her hand behind her back and pulled out a large flaming red sword.
Maeva trembled and cold seeped into her. It filled her lungs, slithered up her arms and pressed itself into her heart. The scarf fell off her mouth as it formed an O, her eyes wide. The woman in red slammed the sword into the ice, igniting a loud crack that echoed across the lake. The ice split, a jagged line skirting towards her. Water erupted from between the crack and one platelet of ice slipped under the other. Tufts appeared along the surface as water rushed forward, engulfing the ice.
Maeva ran.
She slipped on the tilting, exploding ice and fell on her knees, sliding towards the docks. She forced herself to her feet, her lungs crying out from a shock of biting winter air, her heart hammering. She sprinted and doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees. The sound of sloshing water interrupted her train of thought and she kept running.
She hit dry land and kept going, winding down the road and taking the narrow path through the forest. She slowed, walking briskly through the snow, her backpack bouncing, her eyes wet with tears she didn’t mean to cry. The wind was a harsh mistress, stinging her face and leaving her eyes watery. Glancing at the path behind her she broke into a jog. The forest was beautiful but stark during winter. Evergreens with snowy leaves closed in on either side, interspersed by bare birch trees and prickly decaying shrubs. The tops of her boots sunk in the snow, making the bottom half of her jeans wet. She didn’t care. She hopped through thick blankets of snow until she hit the ravine and lost her balance, sliding down the incline on her back. She flailed until she came to an abrupt stop, her boots hitting an icy stream. She crossed the river, staying to steep muddy walls on the opposite side. There was no way she could climb out, she was trapped.
She huddled by the waterfall, arms around her knees, head tucked into the circle of her arms, breathing in heavy slow breaths. She felt her pulse in the palms of her hands and
in the side of her neck and in her stomach. She hiccupped and held her breath, but another one erupted from her and it was impossible to stop after that. The sound rippled through the quiet forest, echoing off trees above her.
She almost drowned. Her insides shook as the revelation hit her. The woman in red was ten times scarier than Michael ever was and the flaming red sword nagged at her memory. She felt so exhausted she wanted to close her eyes and let the dream world take over. Flashes of snow lived behind her eyelids. She watched the scene over and over again. Tiny white flakes drifted to a snow covered field of boulders. Her head felt heavy and she swayed back and forth, unable to fight the pending nightmare.
Footsteps crunched the snow and her eyes snapped open. She had a close up view of her jeans and mittens, but she was too afraid to look at the other person in the ravine, afraid it was the woman in red. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth trying to convince herself this wasn’t happening. She wasn’t being stalked by some psychotic woman in red and Michael didn’t move to Kenora to kill her. Her teeth chattered violently as cold slipped further under her jacket, pouring through spaces in her wool sweater. She felt a sharp pain across her heart as footsteps neared her, slow, methodical, pounding ice. She squeezed her knees tighter to her chest, not wanting to look when the thick flaming blade came down on her.
Arms circled her, forcing her out of her makeshift shell and to her feet. A hand on the back of her neck guided her head to a shoulder and a strong lean frame steadied her. She inhaled leather and skin, alight with the faint smell of hospital hallways. She blinked unable to discern what was happening as a hand slid down her back. Her stomach flip-flopped as his other hand secured her arm around his waist. He didn’t say anything for a long time, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, his fingers feeling along her temple.
She let go of the fear and melted into him, unable to fight it. Her body was ready to give out, and he was pouring strength into her, making all the cold on the inside evaporate as heat flushed through her. She didn’t want to admit it but he felt safe, and after all these months it was the last thing she thought she’d feel. She pressed her forehead to his leather jacket and let out a protesting whimper, but he gripped her harder.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, the smooth accented syllables making a trill of tingles explode from her torso outwards. She took a deep breath, the fear of the woman in red replaced by the fear of feeling something for Michael. She shook her head and made the sound again, not quite saying no, but making the sound vibrate in the back of her throat. She grabbed fistfuls of his leather jacket and forced him back, staring at him with shock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. His sapphire eyes were soft, full of concern, something she’d only seen at the hospital that one time. She stumbled back.
“I like coming here,” he said, shrugging, and all the emotion of the moment drained away.
Maeva blinked, coming to her senses, blotting out the image of the woman in red. “But it’s minus thirty.” She eyed his leather jacket and gray scarf. It was buttoned up but there was no way it was warm enough in this weather. And he wasn’t wearing gloves or a hat either, his black hair sticking up haphazardly in every direction.
He shrugged. “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway.” His usual wall of indifference came up as he turned and walked away. She let out a breath, knowing she felt safer walking with him than by herself.
O O O
He shouldn’t have touched her.
The faint smell of violets, mingled with the lavender in her hair reminded him of soft white curls, honey lips trailing kisses down his neck, fingers tracing circles on his chest. He hunched his shoulders up and tried to stifle the vivid memories but her liquid amethyst eyes rushed to the forefront of his mind, suffocating him in everything she used to be.
All the things she wasn’t anymore.
The girl behind him was clumsy but careful, shuffling through snow at a steady pace. He kept his head down, hands stuffed into his pockets, snow falling into his messy spiked hair. The land sloped downwards and he slid a little, but caught his balance. He glanced at her, the natural compassion he used to feel worrying its way into his heart. She had her head down, hood up, stray curls trailing down her shoulders. Her gloved hands were in her pockets, the zipper of her coat pinching her black and white plaid scarf. She slowed, treading down the hill with caution. Her hazel eyes met his for a brief second. He turned, not wanting her to see his weakness.
He stayed to the side of the road until he saw a big gray metal building, Earl’s Garage. The Sundance was parked in the lot, an orange cord plugged into one of the outlets. The lake was a smooth sheet of ice, howling winds whiplashing against each other in the wide-open space. He stopped by a scraggly tree at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for Kaliel to catch up.
The look on her face could have cut glass. She narrowed her eyes at the lake, and blinked in rapid succession. Her mouth opened, closed, and tears formed in her eyes.
“What the hell,” she muttered, putting a gloved hand over her mouth and passing him, walking slowly through the lot. She seemed oblivious he was there, or she was trying to ignore all the electricity between them, something he wished he could do. He looked up the road and thought about leaving but a hiccup escaped her throat and he groaned, following her to the docks.
“Come on,” he said, breaking into a brisk stride as she gave him the same terrified look she had given him at the waterfall. She was hiding from something, or someone. For the first time since he’d found her she didn’t have her defenses up. In that moment she was completely defeated, unwilling to fight back. He stepped off the banks and onto the frozen lake. His footsteps crunched snow but hers stopped. She stood on the ledge staring at the frozen water like she was trying to figure something out. She hugged her arms to her chest, her lips a slight shade of blue.
Against everything he promised himself about not letting her see the desperate boy in him he stalked back to her and forced himself to look into her eyes. Under the thick gray sky her eyes were a mix of amber and milk chocolate. Olive green clouds expanded between flecks of hazel and he gulped. “You’re cold,” he said, seeing proof of it on her cheeks.
Her distraught look shifted to confusion. “You’re being nice to me.”
Krishani shook himself out of his reverie and stormed off across the lake, wanting her to be safely in her house before he went back to the flat. Not surprising, his chest felt heavy and the cold made his throat scratchy. He didn’t relish the thought of powdery pills and tap water forcing him into a dreamless sleep. He looked at her over his shoulder. “It’s a limited time offer.”
She squared her shoulders, the usual cadence returning. She took a couple careful steps and jogged to catch up, stepping in sync with his long strides. She didn’t talk, but glanced at the lake a lot and shoved her scarf over her nose when the wind picked up; batting her cheeks a bright red.
“You didn’t tell me you lived on an island,” Krishani said, trying to break the awkward silence.
She shrugged. “You don’t talk to me, so I don’t talk to you.” They passed a small island on the right, and continued across the stark landscape. He followed close; not jogging because of the pain it caused his lungs. He spotted a faint back porch light through the branches of an evergreen. She stepped on a snow-covered platform and disappeared through trees for a moment until he caught up, nervously hanging by the edge of the porch. He made out shapes of things concealed by snow; an outdoor dining set on the left, two upside down canoes on the right, pressed against a thick ridge of trees and bushes. Kaliel pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. She fumbled with the doorknob, her fingers stiff. She glanced at him.
“You don’t have to stay.…” She pushed the door open, stepping inside the house. Krishani crossed the yard and caught the door with his open palm, stinging cold melting into his nerves. He felt a muscle spasm in the crook of his neck and pushed his shoulders up, smoothing out kinks. She met h
is eyes, her hand falling off the door as she pulled down her hood and unwound the scarf from around her neck. She took off the coat, unzipped her boots, wincing. Krishani discarded his boots, setting them on the rack beside hers.
She shuffled into the living room, her pants scratching against each other, the only noise in the quiet house. He realized nobody else was home. She sat on the couch and he crossed the threshold, taking a seat on the other couch opposite her.
“Why were you at the waterfall?” he asked, not really knowing where to begin.
She let out the breath she was holding in and dropped her hands on the couch, making throw pillows bounce. “I was on my way home and I thought I saw something … someone and I …”
Krishani frowned; feeling like an ice cube had been dropped down the back of his shirt. “You weren’t here?”
Kaliel shook her head. “I was at the youth group dance last night.”
“All night?”
Kaliel nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Yeah and when I got home … oh god it sounds so stupid now.” She buried her face in her hands and Krishani watched her cave in on herself, stifling another hiccup.
He didn’t want to see this. After everything that happened he couldn’t see her vulnerable. It undid him, the urge to pull her into his arms and protect her from all the bad things threatening to hurt her, suffocated him. He gripped the couch, squeezing until his broken wrist screamed in pain. He hated wearing the brace the hospital gave him, but Elwen insisted on doing everything to heal the sprain from the car accident. He wasn’t going to tell her. There was no way she’d believe him if he told her the truth. He went into the kitchen, feeling like a stranger in her house. A series of glass containers were lined up on the granite counter, one of them full of tea bags. He pushed on the tap.
“What are you doing?” Kaliel asked from the living room, fear in her voice.
“Do you have a kettle?” he asked trying to divert his attention for a little while from how amazing she smelled and how fragile she looked. It was hard not to see Aulises in her, and hard not to think about the last thing she said to him, thousands of years ago. He tested the water with his right hand and cursed, pulling his fingers out of the scalding water.
Mercy Page 20