by Jen Printy
Hemlock, a sweet, feminine voice whispers through the anguish. The thought gives me my only sense of relief. I slip my hand into my pocket to touch the smooth plastic of my pathetic attempt at protection. What was once my weapon has now become my savior.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Slumped in a stark hospital-room chair, teetering on the edge of darkness and lunacy, I listen to the relentless beep of machines. Every time I close my eyes to shut out reality and lose myself in the fantasy of a healthy, safe Leah, her dreamlike features mutate into unnatural shapes. Vita’s face thrusts in, a smile rolled across her lips—the same fiendish grin she wore outside Rare Books and again at Ed’s funeral. I’m coming for her, Vita’s voice repeats in my head. My eyes spring open.
At my side, the actuality of these words is evident. Leah lies comatose and on the brink of death, her precious soul forced back into her battered body—just barely, and no doubt only temporarily—by the modern miracle that is the portable defibrillator. Should I thank the ambulance crew for drawing out my agony further, along with hers? A tube placed down her throat forces air in and out of her lungs. Wires poke out from under her hospital gown, connecting to machines monitoring her vitals. Her heart beats forty-eight times per minute. I know because I’ve counted every one. Nurses flow in and out of her room in a steady stream, but no one has told me anything. “Running tests” is their standard answer to every one of my questions, but in truth, I don’t need to be told. Leah’s future is clear—the tomorrows we hoped and planned for will never come. Leah and I are running out of time.
“God,” I call out in desperation. “I know we haven’t spoken in a long time, but I’ll give you anything if you let her stay. Anything.” I wait, but no response comes. Course not. I reach for her ice-cold hand. Her hand looks small and frail in mine. Under her strong exterior, she’s always been fragile—each day, perishing a little, suffering from the mortal condition. I’ve always been aware of that aspect of Leah’s future, but because of her fire for life, it was easily forgotten—until now. I see she’s as delicate as the flower said to bloom once every hundred years deep in the forests of India and last only a day.
Grady barrels into the room, out of breath and wide-eyed. I turn my face to the window and swipe at my escaping tears with the back of my hand.
“What happened?” he demands.
“She crossed the street, didn’t look where she was going. A car—” My voice weakens.
“Aw, hell.” Moisture brims his eyes. “I was at Charlotte’s and didn’t get the message until… How is she?”
“They haven’t told me much. Running tests.”
“I should call Mom. But I don’t know what to tell her.”
I stare at tiny gray flecks in the white tiled floor. The door opens. I jerk my head up to find a thin doctor with wire-framed glasses perched on top of his balding head.
“Hello, gentlemen. My name is Dr. Jason Foster. I assume you’re Ms. Winters’s family?”
Grady speaks up. “Yes. I’m Grady Winters, Leah’s brother, and this is Jack Hammond, her boyfriend.”
“I wish I could bring you better news. Leah is in critical condition. The next twenty-four hours will tell us a lot. Understand, we’re doing everything we can for her.” The doctor tries to sound at ease, but tension clings to his every word.
“Can you tell me exactly what’s wrong?” Grady asks.
I stop listening to the long list of damages after I hear multiple broken bones, collapsed lung, and possible brain injury. The part of the list I’ve heard is all my composure can handle. Instead, I focus on Leah’s face, but I find no peace in her features. Each cut has been carefully stitched closed. A bruise covers her right side from temple to cheek, and her jaw is red and swollen.
“Can she hear us?” Grady’s question captures my attention.
“Maybe. Try talking to her. It can’t hurt,” the doctor says then leaves.
I glare at the closing door. Heat rushes to my face. No good news? No hope? How can this so-called doctor walk out of here and leave us with nothing? A heaviness builds in the pit of my stomach. The truth is not the doctor’s fault.
Grady gives a sigh and heaves himself out of the neighboring chair. “I’m gonna go call Mom and see if I can find her a flight.”
I nod.
After Grady leaves, I sit on the bed next to Leah, being careful of the wires and tubes. “Leah? Can you hear me?” I kiss her pale gray cheek and wait. When no response comes, I realize I’ve still been holding on to the smallest shard of hope for a happy ending, like one in her fairy tales.
Idiot.
“I don’t know how to keep my promise,” I say. “I can’t protect you from Death. I’m so sorry.” If she can hear me, all I can give her now is peace. “I’ll meet you under the elms, love. I’ll be waiting for you at our spot.”
A lie of mercy.
Finding Leah was a stroke of luck. That she looks like Lydia was luck. That I settled in Portland, Maine, and walked into her coffee shop was luck. That she remembered me at all was luck. In her next life, it will be as if I never existed. How can I wish for anything else? My selfish inability to let go has caused more heartache. I collapse back into the chair and close my eyes. Behind my lids, I’m trapped between the shadows of my yesterdays. Leah’s touch, Leah’s kiss, and Leah’s laughter in my ears—each memory is akin to a blow to my chest. Finally, numbness takes pity on me, enveloping me. I don’t fight against the bleak, dead feeling. Instead, I welcome the lack of sensation.
A week passes, maybe two, and I rarely leave my chair. I’ve lost all track of time. Daylight and darkness rotate past the window without my notice. Mechanical beeps count my moments, every one of them spent with Leah as I watch her grow weaker and weaker. I rarely speak. Food has no appeal. Neglect has given me a ragged beard, and I only change my clothes when Grady or Leah’s mother brings me a clean set and insists upon it. In the dead of night, I crawl into bed beside her and lay my head on her chest to listen to the music of her heart. Its rhythm soothes me.
Late one afternoon after Marlee has left for the day, Grady paces the room then takes the seat next to mine. He clears his throat to get my attention. His forehead is creased with worry, and black circles sit beneath his eyes, which are tapered into slits.
I frown.
“I’m concerned about you. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, and you never leave her room. Look at yourself. What is Leah going to think when she wakes up?”
“She’s not waking up.” My voice is dead even, as cold as ice.
Grady flinches but continues. “The doctors and nurses are getting anxious about your behavior.”
“Tell them not to be. We both know starvation and insomnia can’t hurt me. Focus on your sister. Everyone needs to focus on her.”
“Hopelessness can. I’m watching despair eat away at you from the inside out. I know what you’re planning.”
“You don’t know shit.” I turn to Leah.
Grady grabs my arm, and I yank it away. He releases me, but I can feel his gaze burn into the side of my head.
“I don’t understand you. When Leah does die, I’ll never see her again, but you will.” His voice cracks and strains against the words.
“She’s wrong,” I hiss, my focus barreling down on him. “Don’t you see? She believes it, but she’s wrong. She and I will never find each other again. Her remembering who I am, recalling our past was a fluke, a strange twist of fate. If I believed as she does, of course, I’d be saddened by her sudden departure, but my main concern would be for you and your mum. But Leah didn’t know what she was talking about.”
“I’ve doubted my sister before, but she’s always right. Jack, have some faith.”
“No! Faith won’t do me any good here!”
Grady sounds too similar to his sister to do either of us any good. I leave the room, but I don’t go far. Observers ogle me from the waiting area. Whispers flow from behind the nurses’ station where I’m waiting. I fight the u
rge to growl at the onlookers.
When Grady finally leaves two hours later, I resume my vigil and collapse into the chair. Sometime around midnight, I doze off, coaxed into sleep by emotional fatigue and the electronic whir of the machines. The shriek of an alarm jolts me awake.
“Leah.” I choke. In the staggering moments that follow, my heart feels paralyzed, frozen mid-beat. Is it possible I’m dying with her? A faint smile nudges my lips.
Medical personnel charge into the room, squeezing me out of the way. In an explosion of action, they fight to save her life once again. Pressed against the wall, I struggle for oxygen. Now that the time is here, how can I ever let her go? Movement in my peripheral vision beckons my attention. Artagan stands at the observation window, his eyes affixed on Leah. The sight takes me back to the evening he approached me at the bar, the night he glared at the couple in the very same way. The realization hurls me from the room. I claw at Artagan’s shirt and shove him against the wall of the hallway.
Icy barbs stab down my spine. The freezing burn spreads, racing to the tips of my fingers and toes. I snarl between clenched teeth, “No! What are you doing?”
The unfeeling sapphire eyes snap to me. His words come out gruff and forceful. “My job.”
“You can’t have her!” I yell, driving my forearm hard against his throat.
A nurse scowls and steps from her station. “You two are going to have to keep the noise down.” She wags her long finger in Artagan’s face. “Or I’m going to be forced to have both of you removed.”
I glower at the nurse but step away. Still trembling with anger, I place one hand on the pane of the observation window separating Leah from me. The never-ending alarm blares. Regardless of doctors and nurses all wrestling with Death to save her, whether Leah lives or dies isn’t up to them. Artagan, the son of Death, holds all the cards.
I face him. “Please, first bring her back. Then we’ll talk.”
He looks away, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his pointed, stubbly chin.
“I’m not above begging, if that’s what you want.”
A galloping rhythm of the machine takes off again, following the beating of her heart. I drag in a jagged breath. Artagan pulls his gaze from Leah to stare at me.
“Outside,” he commands.
I nod.
As we leave, Artagan dramatically bows to the scowling nurse and smirks at her disapproval. His cavalier attitude stokes the fire of my temper. Somehow, I contain my hostility. I follow him to the elevator, through zigzagging sterile halls, and out into the dark. Out from under watchful eyes, anger explodes through the veneer of my control. My fist slams into Artagan’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you never go near her again!” I growl and rock onto the balls of my feet, poised for whatever Artagan might throw at me.
Artagan glares up at me, wiping away the blood trickling from his split lip. He pushes himself to his feet with a groan. Surprisingly he doesn’t retaliate, and I relax. “Gathering Leah isn’t my choice, Jack.”
“Then whose choice is it? Wait. The decision lies with that damned council of yours, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Take me to them.”
He looks me up and down and shakes his head. “That meeting will be quite entertaining. However, I’m not taking a man who resembles street scum to the council. Look at yourself. You’ve let yourself fall into wrack and ruin. And you don’t smell much better. Go clean up first.”
“Seriously? I couldn’t care less.”
“What’s most important to you?”
I squint, unable to figure out what he’s getting at, but I answer anyway. “Easy one. Leah.”
“Just Leah?”
“Alive.” I clarify.
Artagan smiles. “Thought so. So the real question is what is Leah’s life worth to you?”
“Anything. Everything. Whatever the cost to give her a long, full life, I’ll pay it.”
He nods. “Your life, then?”
“Yes! Take it.”
His smile grows wider. “Well, that gives you something to bargain with, doesn’t it? You can’t cheat Death, but that doesn’t mean you can’t buy him off. First, you need to clean up. You show up looking like this, and they might take offense. They think of themselves as royalty, at least some of them do, and you’re going to need all the votes you can get.”
“Votes?”
“We’ll discuss the particulars later.”
“What about Leah?”
“She’s safe for now. I’m her gatherer, and no one else will touch her. It took some haggling, and I probably owe a million and one favors, but Thanatos, the head of the council, named me responsible for Leah’s departure. So, I’ll repeat myself. Go clean up.”
“I need to see Leah before we go.”
“All right. I’ll wait here.”
In Leah’s room, only the beeping of the monitor remains. She looks better. A bit of color has returned to her cheeks, and she’s breathing on her own. I sit next to her on the bed and take her hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, remember I love you, and I’ll think about you always.” I lean in and press my lips gently to hers then whisper, “Good-bye, love.” Summoning all the strength I can muster, I release her hand and walk out the door, knowing that one way or another, I’ll never see Leah again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The apartment is quiet. Grady and his mum are fast asleep, exactly what I was hoping for. Paper and pen in hand, I sit at the dining table. When she’s strong, Leah will need to know what I’ve done so that she can understand what she will consider a reckless act. I can’t leave her always wondering. My absence will be hard enough without the uncertainty of where I’ve disappeared to. I stare at the blank paper. Despite all I need to say, after twenty minutes, all I’ve written is Dearest Leah. I lay down the pen. With a bit of time, maybe the right words will find me.
I grab clean clothes out of my duffel and slip into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and flip the knob to hot. Hunched in the spray, my head in my hands, I worry about how I’ll convince a group of monarchical immortals to take me and spare Leah. No ideas come.
When the hot water expires, I halfway dress and open the bathroom door to release the steam, then I shave the weeks of growth from my face.
Artagan appears and leans against the doorframe.
I jump, causing the razor to nick my chin. “How did you get into the apartment?”
“Never you mind.” His voice comes out in barely a whisper. “What is that? The bump there.” In the reflection, I see him point at my back.
“A bullet.”
He snorts. “Nice.”
The creak of a bed followed by heavy footfalls interrupts us. Artagan steps away and blends into the shadows. Without a sound, he’s gone.
The door next to the bathroom opens. Grady steps into view, his eyes tired and wary. He cocks his head to the side, digesting the scene. His eyes then widen, and a flicker of hope darts across his face.
“Did she wake up?”
“No. Sorry I woke you. I was going to leave a note.”
“A note? Why?” Grady gives me a sleepy squint.
“I think I might have a way to save Leah. I have to try.”
“How? I’ll come with you.”
“No. This is something I have to do on my own,” I say, keeping my voice easy. “Besides, I need you to tell Leah some things for me… when she wakes up.”
He hesitates, and his brow creases. “You can tell her yourself when you get back.”
In the mirror, I give Grady a long solemn look.
At first, he seems confused, but I see the full weight of my meaning sinking in as his expression falls. “Jack, no. Not like this. Leah wouldn’t—”
“I refuse to live without her. Truth be told, I’ve always been a bit of a selfish bastard. If I wasn’t, I would have walked away the first time I saw Leah.”
/> Grady huffs. “Yeah, that would have helped, leaving her thinking she’s nuts.”
I continue, disregarding his comment, “We both know you’d give your life to save hers if you could.” His silence acknowledges I’m right.
I set the razor down on the side of the basin and stare at the water dripping from the faucet into the soapy water. “When Leah wakes, tell her I’m sorry for the things I’ve done wrong and for the heartache I’m causing, but most of all, tell her I’m sorry for the life we can’t share.” I pause. Faith brings strength. What will Leah’s life resemble with all hope stripped away? The notion of her future replicating my past makes me shudder. Spinning around, I face him. “No, forget what I said. Instead, tell her she’s right. Tell her I will see her again in the next life. Promise me.”
“First, you don’t believe the two of you will ever find one another again. Secondly, she knows.”
“Convince her.”
Grady presses his knuckles against his pursed lips.
“Please try. I know the grief that lies ahead. Hope and faith will help her. She’ll never know she’s wrong, that we lied. When her next life comes, she’ll have forgotten her past, won’t even remember me.” The ache in my chest flares with my words.
“How can you be so sure you’ll never be together again?”
“It’s happened before to an immortal named Kemisi. She’s alone, and he’s living his life happily with no memory of her. I can’t live on knowing she’s in this world, loving—I told you I was a selfish bastard.”
Grady sighs. His rigid pose vanishes as his shoulders droop. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”
“Thank you. Take care of her for me.”
He nods, and I offer him my hand. Instead of shaking it, he yanks me into an awkward one-armed hug, giving me three hard pats on the back.