by A. E. Rought
“Everything?”
“Every single permit you need.” Paul gives me a hesitant smile. When I return it with genuine enthusiasm, the grin lights up his face. “Although I think it would do your grandparents a world of good if you stayed on with them until you graduate.”
“They’ve been through hell since I moved in.”
“And Renfield,” Paul adds. “You said he’s quite a character.”
“I’m going to miss that cat when the Gentrys move into their house.” I run my finger along the paper’s edge. “And the second thing?”
“I think I’ve figured out the problem with your weekly doses. It’ll take another few months or so to tweak the doses, but there’s real hope.”
Hope – something I haven’t entertained in a while. Even now, with him genuinely happy about it, the idea of hope after all we’ve been through seems unreal. “I can hardly believe it. I… don’t even know what to think.”
“So don’t. It will be a while yet. How about we go join the girls downstairs?”
“I think they’d like that.”
I hold Paul’s cane as he stands and wait from him to reach the aisle. Then I slide my crutches out and lever my ass up from the pew. Paul walks out, giving me time for a last farewell. The silence is so loud I hate to disturb it by saying something here. My crutches make a clack-clack noise as I walk to the head of the church.
Jason’s casket is closed. I don’t need to see his body. Heck, I know he’s not really there, anyway. His spirit is free, his joints don’t ache and never will again.
I place my palm over the gleaming dome.
“You were the brightest star,” I say. “See you on the other side, Weller.”
Apparently, Emma and Bree didn’t want to sit with all the I’m-so-sorry people anymore. Emma was never good with that anyway. The two blonds stand in the church foyer near Paul. Their hands clasped, both of them wait for me, neither of them looking at Jason’s casket.
I stop at the sanctuary doors, and take one last look at the cradle of Jason’s body. I’m going to miss him. So bad.
“So,” Emma says, putting on a brave smile. “What do we want to do?”
“Girls’ choice,” I say.
“There’s a great new pizza joint in my neighborhood,” Paul suggests. “How about pizza and movies at my house?” Food we like, movies we don’t have to think about or interact with, a person who understands our grief, and accepts us for all the broken pieces we are.
“Perfect,” the girls say in unison.
And it is.
EPILOGUE
20 May
Warm breezes blow through the wrought iron gate, bringing the scent of lake water, fresh tilled earth and grains. Summer in West Michigan is beautiful, and it looks good on my father’s old estate. I’ve made so many changes here – or, the crew I hired with Paul’s help have. They’ve completely transformed the property. The house, windmill and out-buildings are gone. Only the gatehouse at the far end still stands, the rest is fields, trees, a newly constructed shelter and barn. And the required fencing.
Gravel crunches beneath Bree’s sandals when she joins me by the passenger’s door. The ghost of her loss still haunts her, but her poodle-ish demeanor and mad fashion sense have made a healthy comeback. She’s been in on today’s secret for a while, and even tied the blindfold around Emma’s eyes. She bounces beside me, and takes one of Emma’s hands when we lead her from the car.
Emma’s in jeans and a white tank top, a familiar outfit to me and the guy whose memories are now mine. She leaves her new sweater in the seat.
“Where are we?” Emma asks.
“Guess,” Bree tells her.
“I don’t know.” She tugs back on our hands. “Stop moving me so I can get my bearings.”
Bree rolls her eyes, then rubs at the shooting star tattoo she got to commemorate Jason on the back of her neck. “Do you want us to let go?” she asks Em.
In response, Emma tightens her fingers around ours. Other than classes, the three of us have been close to inseparable since winter break when Hailey devastated so many lives. After a long discussion – lots of tears and cussing, too – the Gentrys accepted what happened to their daughter, and thanked me for saving her. I’m even allowed to sleep on their sofa when the girls have overnights. Which is a couple of times a week, even now.
Em tips her head back and goes still. Her blond hair catches the breeze, dancing around her bare arms, inviting my fingers. “Hm,” she says. “I can hear the breeze whispering in pine trees.” She inhales through her nose. “And I can smell Lake Michigan. Smells familiar… Alex, did you take us to see Paul’s brother’s deer?”
Bree’s eyes go wide and she jerks her head at Emma, silently accusing me of telling Em the secret.
“No,” I say, dragging out the game. “Were we in the car that long?”
“Well…” Freckles ride the wrinkles when Emma scrunches her nose in thought. “Not really. I guess not.” She moves her hands toward the blindfold. “Can I take this off then?”
“Not yet,” Bree tells her, and takes both her hands while I unlock the gate. “This way,” Bree coaches her, and walks backward on the gravel drive leading Em into the reworked estate.
“We’re definitely outside,” Em says. “Grass tickling my toes. And we’re near the lake.”
“Keep guessing,” Bree tells her.
I open the gate to the paddock, and make room for the girls to pass through.
“That sounded like a gate squeaking,” Em says.
“Yep,” I agree. “There’s one more.”
My two blonds walk toward the second gate. Emma’s my girlfriend, Bree was Jason’s, but she’s mine to worry over and protect now. The winter was hard on us all, spring a little better. With the early summer sun shining down, the girls look happy. Bree’s heart will heal. Jason would be proud of how we’ve helped each other through.
I rush into the barn, scoop a few handfuls of feed into a bucket and meet the girls at the last gate.
“What’s that smell?” Em asks. “I know I’ve smelled it before.”
“OK, Bree,” I say, and Bree releases Em’s wrists. “Cup your hands together,” I tell Em.
The smile on her face was worth every hoop I had to jump through and every cost this project incurred. Emma complies, and I pour the feed into her hands.
“Now we wait,” I say.
A shadow appears beneath the trees, and then two more. One glides closer. They’re skittish and this enclosure is new to them. The deer keep to the trees, mostly, until they reach the ground I’ve been scattering food on for days. Now the only feed is in the bucket I hold, and Emma’s hands. A white-speckled fawn, barely a week old, hovers in the safety of the woods. The mother steps out, her nose twitching, ears flicking. Bree moves to stand by Emma, her hands on Em’s blindfold.
The doe stops, head up, alert and listening, watching us.
When no one moves again, she takes a few more cautious steps. Emma’s smile beams when the doe reaches her muzzle over her fingers. The black scarf comes away from her eyes with a slow motion.
“Hi, baby,” Em whispers. The doe rolls her eyes up to look at Emma, then takes another mouthful.
“There’s a fawn in the woods,” I tell Em. “We have a buck and a couple more does.”
“How did you do this?” Em asks, unable to curb her grin.
“With Paul’s help. And his brother’s.” I give Bree a big scoop of food too. Another nose peeks out of the woods. “After I saw how happy the deer made you this winter, I had to give this to you.”
“Thank you, Alex.” Emma moves slowly, dumps the crumbs of her food into Bree’s hands, and the doe switches to Emma’s best friend. We walk a few paces back, then Emma takes the bucket and attack hugs me. “Thank you so much.”
The deer scamper back to the safety of the trees. Bree sprinkles the food on the ground and comes to stand close.
“I’m not done yet…” I tell Emma.
&nbs
p; Bree whips her head around to look back at me. This secret is one only Paul and I know about. They both watch as I pull a refinished antique silver pillbox from the pocket of my shorts.
“I found it at the antique store and had restored,” I tell Em when she takes it with a questioning expression. “Be careful when you open it. The real surprise is inside.”
Em presses the little latch and the pillbox opens to reveal red, pressed powder tablets. Her eyebrows are raised, lips slightly pursed when she looks at me.
“I never told you, because I didn’t want to give you hope that I couldn’t fill.” I run my finger over the collection of simple miracles in Emma’s hand. “These will replace our weekly Lazarus treatments.”
“No more shocks? No more flashbacks?”
“No. Just a daily dose.”
“Oh, Alex!” She closes the case and tucks it in her pocket. “This is amazing.”
“Make sure to tell Paul. The deer were my idea. The daily dose pills were all him.”
“Thank you,” Em says, “Thank you both.”
“Anything for you,” I tell her. I lean in close, our lips brushing, me breathing her breath when I say, “You are the reason my heart beats, Em, and I will do anything to make you happy.”
“Then shut up,” Em says, “and kiss me.”
I told her I would do anything to make her happy, and kissing her is one of the easiest.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For all those hours I spent hunched over the keys, and they didn’t complain, I have to thank my hubby and kids. The people and worlds in my head often take me away from them, and they still love me and bring me chocolate.
This book wouldn’t be what it is without my dedicated frontline readers. Thanks go to: Lexie Hughes, with me from the start, my plotting partner, my Crazy, and all-around pompom waver. Judy Spelbring, typo-wrangler and writing world bestie. And Chris Schultz—sister, you are an awesome friend and reader! I love you girls fiercely. I have to thank my new readers who toughed it out through all the darkness and pain I inflicted in this book, too. Andrew Hall, The Pewter Wolf—dude, you are The Bomb as a beta reader! I never felt a chapter was done until I had your feedback incorporated. And Emma Davies from Book Angel Booktopia. Thank you so much for holding my hand in numerous IM chats, and for being such a source of support and encouragement. To my other readers, Dana, Skyler, Kaylie, thank you, too!
Deep, heartfelt appreciation goes to my agent Gina Panettieri, she’s my champion, and to Amanda and the amazing crew at Strange Chemistry/Angry Robot.
Finally, thank you readers! I’m lucky enough to do what I love because of readers like you.
STRANGE CHEMISTRY
An Angry Robot imprint
and a member of the Osprey Group
Lace Market HouseAngry Robot/Osprey Publishing
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www.strangechemistrybooks.com
Strange Chemistry #19
A Strange Chemistry paperback original 2013
1
Copyright © A E Rought 2013
A E Rought asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work.
Cover art by Steven Wood
Distributed in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York.
All rights reserved.
Angry Robot is a registered trademark and the Angry Robot icon a
trademark of Angry Robot Ltd.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
Sales of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is
coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsoldand destroyed”
and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
US ISBN 978 1 90884 434 7
UK ISBN 978 1 90884 433 0
Ebook ISBN 978 1 90884 435 4
Printed in the United States of America
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