Drift

by Amy Murray

  Colin shook his head again. “You’ll be alright.”

  I lifted a hand and placed it over his. “No more lies.”

  “I just wanted you to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know.” I shivered and my teeth chattered.

  Colin moved and curled behind me. With gentle care, he slipped his arm under my head and worked his body to curve behind mine. We lay in silence while I absorbed his warmth.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Tell me a story,” I said, closing my eyes.

  “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

  “A love story.”

  Colin sighed. “I only know one love story, and I’m afraid it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

  “Of course it does. Tell me.” The pain was radiating. I could feel it everywhere, as if every inch of my body had been pierced by the bullet. “Please, just talk.” I could feel his hesitation and heard it in the soft groan he emitted before he spoke.

  “This story is about a boy who loved a girl that was never meant to be his.” His arms tightened around me.

  “Sounds like a good story.”

  “I told you it doesn’t end well.” Colin’s fingers wrapped around mine.

  “All love stories have a happy ending.”

  Colin shifted next to me. “I beg to disagree, but I’ll tell you anyway. This boy was in trouble. He did bad things for bad people. One day, he was sent to do a job not unlike every other job he was sent to do. The only difference was that the person he was sent to kill was a prominent society member. The boy knew he’d have to be careful. He’d have to research, and wait for the perfect opportunity. After all, this man would be missed—quite unlike most of the men the boy had to deal with.”

  “Thomas,” I breathed in an effort to keep myself engaged and the unconsciousness at bay.

  Colin swallowed but didn’t agree or disagree. “This man worked at a beautiful hotel. He was wealthy and had everything, but he made a mistake. He fell in love with a woman he had no business being with.”

  “Valentina,” I said.

  “The boy watched him day and night, but it was the day he loved most, because during the daytime, he got to see her.”

  “Who? Valentina?” I asked.

  “No. This was someone different. She worked at the hotel. She sat behind a big desk and had this hair that was so blonde it was nearly white. She had the most beautiful smile. That’s why he noticed her in the first place, and it wasn’t long before the boy fell in love with her.”

  “But he didn’t know her.”

  “He didn’t have to. He saw her when no one was looking. He saw her when she thought she was alone. He saw who she really was, and he loved her more than he loved anything. Because in the world where he lived, such beauty, such a pure heart, well, those things didn’t exist.

  “He dreamed of a life where he was a different kind of man. The kind of man that would deserve her love. But he knew it would never be a possibility. It wasn’t long before his colleagues took notice. They teased him about her. They reminded him that she was out of his reach, and he knew they were right.

  “One evening, the boy’s boss told him the man he was to kill had stolen something valuable from him, and the boy needed to get it back. He explained it wasn’t a good night, the hotel was having a party, but the boss wouldn’t relent.

  “They found the man on a street corner, and when they questioned him about the stolen jewelry, the man denied having it. The boss didn’t believe him and ordered the boy to shoot the man. It was then that the boy saw the witnesses. He chased them into an alleyway, but somehow, one of them—a girl—had disappeared.”

  Colin fell silent, and my eyes drifted closed. I could no longer grip his hand, and my fingers fell limp. A part of me burned to hear the rest of his story so I could die knowing the truth, but I didn’t have the strength to encourage him to continue.

  I was fading when his voice broke through my consciousness. “After questioning the witness, and impatient with his refusal to cooperate, the boy’s boss shot him dead.”

  Colin fell quiet, and I forced my eyes to open. “It wasn’t you? You didn’t kill James?” His eyes welled with tears, and he swallowed.

  “The boy searched the man’s body in case he was hiding the stolen jewelry in a pocket. He didn’t find the stolen necklace, but he did find something else. A diamond ring. The center stone was large, and even in the darkened alleyway, the boy could tell it was excellent quality. He left the ring in the man’s pocket and stood, knowing there was still a second witness to find.

  “The boy searched the alley and peered down into a hole covered with a grate. He was just about to pass over it when he caught a glimpse of something. It was shining in the crack of moonlight, something silver or white. The boy stared and it moved farther into the shadows, but it was the way it moved that caught the boy’s attention. He knew the tilt of the head. He knew the color of the hair. He knew the girl hiding in the hole.”

  “It was you that covered the grate,” I said in with a whisper of breath.

  “He left the girl he loved hiding in that hole, but he couldn’t leave her alone. Not when his boss would be searching for her. He took the diamond ring from the man’s pocket, and later that night, the boy came back for her. He wanted to be kind—to be everything for her, because she deserved so much more. So much better.

  “His plan had always been to tell her the truth, but the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months. He knew it wasn’t an excuse, but after getting to know her, he loved her even more, and he couldn’t bear the thought that she’d look at him with hate and anger.

  “After years of earning her trust, even though he knew he’d never really have her love, he asked her to marry him. He gave her the ring she was supposed to have gotten from another man. It was his way of giving her what she’d always wanted.”

  His voice distant, and the pain that had been so brilliant had faded like the setting sun.

  “Abigail?” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I opened my eyes to see Colin leaning over me. He was slipping the diamond ring I’d cruelly thrown at him back on my finger. His face was etched with pain.

  “I ruined you,” he said. “And as much as I wish I could take it back, I can’t.”

  Tears dripped down my temples and into my hair. “You didn’t ruin me.” I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek. “You saved me. That night and every night after.”

  “I love you, Abby.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. “Forgive me.”

  My heart broke. Not because of his words. I knew he loved me. But I finally saw our relationship, our marriage, as he did, and I saw his sacrifice.

  “I love you,” I said, and my eyes drifted closed. I was light as air, and with my last, long exhale, my heart stopped beating.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I floated on top of the water, and my body rode the waves gracefully, as if I were no longer human, but rather a part of the ocean itself. The sun beamed against my skin enough, to feel the burn, but not enough to sting. I was happy—at peace.

  Ocean sounds, my favorite sounds, filled my ears. The dull roar of waves breaking on the sand, the light chirp of gulls chattering on the wind. If I listened closely, I could hear ruffling sails from a boat far away.

  Nothing hurt. I had no worries. My mind was a perfect, peaceful blank. I moved effortlessly with the pull of the tide—without purpose, without direction—and when I stretched my limbs against the crest of a wave, I reveled in the way the current spun my hair and splashed my face.

  A clear, cloudless blue sky stretched infinitely above and around me. I swirled my hands and inhaled a breath that filled not just my lungs, but my body—my soul. It tingled and fizzed. It made my bones pulse and my skin prickle with gooseflesh. It was magnificent.

  A strong breeze pushed across the water, and I closed my eyes, not wanting anything to interf
ere with this moment of bliss. The air was humid and thick, and smelled of sun and salt. Without a doubt, this was where I belonged.

  “No, Abby. You promised!”

  I heard the voice, and something about it rang familiar, but it didn’t matter. I was home, in the only place I ever wanted to be.

  “She’s dying, dammit,” the voice said again.

  I continued to float, loving the way the water cradled me, the way it tethered my body to something, yet at the same time, to nothing. With the next crest, the tide carried me to shore. I landed softly, as if giant hands had scooped me from the water and laid me to rest. I curled my fingers into the wet sand and rubbed it between them. It was warm, and even though I knew I was on solid ground, my body was weightless, like gravity didn’t exist.

  Knowing that didn’t scare me. It was comforting. But when the wind blew across my face, I heard a sob. It was broken. Breathless. Still on my back, I glanced at the horizon, and when the voices shouted again, a cloud began to form. It wasn’t the fluffy white I expected, but gray—almost black. I concentrated on the voices, and every minute that passed, the clearer they became.

  Around me, the birds fell quiet. They stood on the beach with their heads cocked to the side, and the ocean stilled. And then I heard it. No, I felt it. A push against my sternum and the slosh of blood in my ears. I clapped my hands against my chest and waited.

  “I’m sorry,” a voice said. “This is all my fault.” I looked to the sky, searching for the source, but all I saw were thick clouds rolling toward me. The wind kicked, blowing sand across my face as I stood to brace myself for the oncoming storm. Moments later, the sunlight dimmed and turned the ocean a steely gray.

  “Abby?” I didn’t understand that word, but something about it—or the way it was said—rang familiar. “I know you can hear me.”

  “I can hear you,” I said to the voice. I turned again, knowing that if I searched, I would find the person to whom it belonged. I walked up the beach, and when I came to a sand dune taller than my own head, I climbed. My feet slipped, and when my hands were unable to find purchase, I tumbled back to the base. A drop of rain fell from the sky and puddled on my shoulder.

  “You have to come back,” he said again. “It’s not your time to go.” His voice came from somewhere beyond the dune, and it echoed, not in just the wind, but inside my soul. A pair of dark eyes appeared in my mind.

  “Move,” another voice said, and I panicked. I didn’t want him to go. I needed to hear him. To see him.

  “James,” I called out to no one. His face appeared, all harsh planes and rugged angles. I had to find him. “James,” I called again, but my voice was lost to the shrieking wind. Dry sand swirled around me, and I coughed with every breath.

  “You can’t die. You have to come back.”

  The sky opened, and rain fell in a deluge.

  “I’m not dead,” I screamed to the nothing. “I’m here.” Lightning lit the sky and thunder, so loud I had to cover my ears, rumbled around me.

  The temperature was dropping, and while my breath formed little clouds with every exhale, my hand was warm, like someone was holding it. I could feel the pressure and the rough, calloused skin.

  “Come back,” James pleaded again.

  “I’m coming,” I said. The rain had wet the surface of the dune, and when I stuck my hands into the sand, I was able to find my grip. I clawed my way to the top where the rain came down like freezing sickles of ice and the wind was violent.

  I stood at the summit and peered over the edge. I expected to find him on the other side, but there was nothing. It was a black hole. An empty cavern, bottomless and infinite.

  “Abby, please.” His words drifted up from that blackened space, and I knew what I had to do to see him again.

  Lightning struck, and pain ripped down my middle. Clutching my hands to my stomach, I watched as blood soaked my dress and dripped from my fingers. Above me, the storm raged, but when I glanced behind me, I saw that the sky above the ocean had cleared, and the water had calmed. I realized I had a choice. I could climb down and go back to the water. I could have peace there. But at what cost? With a deep breath I turned toward the cavern and jumped, hoping that wherever I was going was where I would find James.

  It was loud, and the free fall was sickening. I screamed, I twisted, I turned—I clawed at the air and kicked out with my legs, and just when the fall felt endless, everything stopped.

  “Abby,” James said, and I turned toward his voice.

  He was there, sitting two feet from where I stood. His leg was soaked in blood, and he was hunched over, holding someone’s hand. I walked around his side and saw it wasn’t just any hand. It was my hand. I stared at my body, limp and pale white, lying on the ground. Bright red streaks of blood had trailed from my nose and down my face, leaving garish marks.

  “It’s not working,” Mack said to James. “She’s not responding.” He was kneeling on my other side with his hands poised over my chest.

  “Make it work,” James said through gritted teeth. His skin was sickly, like he was fighting for consciousness himself.

  Mack placed his hands against my heart and pushed down, pumping blood when my body no longer would. I watched as he tried to save my life, but I felt nothing. I was already gone, a ghost without a home.

  I turned my back, not wanting to watch, only to see the room shift. I was still there, standing in the living room, but the furnishings were different, more old-fashioned. Against the wall, there was shattered glass, and a photo lying in the midst. I glanced to my right and saw myself again. Only this time, James wasn’t there. My olive-green dress was soaked in blood, and Colin was kneeling at my side, his face tortured.

  He wrapped his arms under my shoulders and lifted my limp body. My head fell back, lifeless, and my arms dropped to my sides as if they were boneless. Colin laid his cheek against my chest and hugged me to him while tears streamed from his eyes and he begged forgiveness.

  The horror of my death was all around me. I stood between two moments in time, separated by a century, yet with endings shockingly similar.

  “I know you can hear me,” James said. “You have to bring yourself back. You have to choose to live.”

  I knelt at his side. There were tears in his eyes that he had yet to shed, he was shaking, and sweat had broken out over his forehead.

  “I’m here,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how to come back.” James didn’t flinch. He couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t see me.

  I looked down at my body. My skin was now a waxy gray, and my eyes were staring at nothing. Mack pumped furiously on my heart, but I was the kind of broken that couldn’t be put back together. Tears spilled as I threw my head back and screamed. “What did I do to deserve this?” I fell forward, my head in James’s lap, but I couldn’t feel him. It was like I was numb to everything but the cold that was consuming my body by the second.

  “She’s gone, McCormack.” My head shot up to see Roselli standing behind Mack. “How does it feel? I hope it hurts.” His words were slow and measured.

  Mack didn’t respond. He continued to pump my chest like there was absolutely nothing else going on.

  “I hope your heart is breaking. I hope it feels like your soul is being ripped from your body,” he said. “Because that’s what you did to me when you killed my Elaina.”

  “Good,” Mack said, looking up at Roselli. “I hope you continue to suffer for the remainder of your life.”

  Mack pulled his hands from my chest, and James breathed for me. When he finished, Mack didn’t move. He stared down at my face, and ran a hand across my cheek. “I failed you again,” he said in a broken voice. “I thought I’d get it right this time. I tried so hard to get it right. I’m sorry,” he said before he ran his fingertips over my eyes and shut my lids.

  James roared above me. He grabbed my face between his hands and spoke. “You said you’d come back. Come back. Come back!” He kissed my forehead, and I watched with a breaking
heart as tears fell from his eyes and mixed with the blood that stained my cheeks.

  He took several gulping breaths and pushed himself to his feet. Rage radiated from his body, and murder flashed in his eyes. With his injured leg dragging behind him, he lunged for Mack’s discarded gun.

  “No!” I screamed as I watched Roselli raise his weapon. I was helpless, and unable to prevent the one thing I felt sure was the reason I’d drifted at all. James was going to die. Again.

  And again, I could do nothing to stop it.

  James wrapped his hand around the gun.

  “Don’t do this,” Roselli said, but James was past hearing.

  Running forward, I put myself between the gun and James. I stared at the hollow cores of Roselli’s eyes and begged him to stop. But he couldn’t hear or see me. His lips tightened and the gun fired. Time stopped for the briefest of moments, and when it started again, it moved in slow motion. I saw with incredible clarity the way the bullet fired from the gun. I watched it move toward me, and then through me. I heard a groan, low and pained.

  How had this happened again?

  I screamed so loud my vocal cords burned, twisting toward him as I fell to my knees.

  James was lying on the ground, but he wasn’t screaming. He was gasping under the weight of Mack’s body. The impact of the fall had caused James to drop the gun, and it lay just out of his reach.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed as I surveyed Mack’s body. A bullet had pierced his chest and blood was pooling from the wound.

  “We should go,” the man with the bandage on his nose said, and Roselli nodded.

  “Get the car ready. I’ll be out in a few moments.” The man exited the house through the back door, and seconds later I heard a car engine start.

  All the while, Nino stood over our three bodies and watched Mack pull watery breaths. “I have to say, this wasn’t the way I wanted to kill you. I wanted to do it piece by piece, but watching you die the slow death you deserve. Well, I guess I don’t mind the means as long as the end is the same.”

  I wanted to run at him, to scratch and claw at him. I wanted to inflict as much pain as possible. But from where I stood, in this place neither here nor there, I could do nothing.