by Pam Tribble
Chapter XX.
Lyra blew the hair out of her eyes and ducked under the rack of coats for one last check. Yep, that was it. She’d gotten everything. Now she began the process of replacing orderly everything that was staying and making a pile of shoes, scarves, hats, and other detritus to be taken to the Salvation Army. The coats to be donated were already folded and placed in the box.
This was Lyra’s third closet. She’d gone through hers, the one upstairs that held the linens, and the kitchen pantry. Well, she thought. Technically, the pantry wasn’t a closet, it was a pantry. Still, it was a small, enclosed space used to store various items…a closet…for food. Okay. She was really losing it.
It was ten o’clock New Year’s Eve and Lyra was home alone. Her parents had gone to a party at a friend’s house. She’d told them she had plans with Aimee, but she didn’t. She knew if they thought she was staying home alone on New Year’s Eve, they would have cancelled their plans—or worse, forced her to go with them. And Lyra really needed the solitude right now.
It had been a very trying holiday—ten days since she’d said goodbye to Jonah. Pre-Christmas wasn’t so bad. She’d been with her mom shopping, cleaning, and cooking. There had been presents to wrap, baked goods to deliver, friends dropping by. She’d been busy.
Christmas itself was nice, though quiet. No extended family had come so it was just the three of them. Her mom and dad had been very generous again this year. She’d gotten some new clothes, a pretty red dress coat, a new iPod, and a gift card to the iPod online store.
They went to church on Christmas Eve and it was a beautiful service. She always enjoyed singing the traditional carols and they listened to a couple of solos from members of the worship team. There was a short drama in which the shepherds were visited by the angel declaring the birth of the Christ child. And finally, Mrs. Donovan, who had an amazing voice and taught choir at school, sang “Mary, Did You Know?” It was one of Lyra’s favorites. During the song, another young woman dressed all in white with long, dark hair danced. It wasn’t one particular style, but she’d incorporated some sign language, and her gestures and movements were so expressive, the dance told a story all its own. It was the most beautiful thing Lyra had ever seen. And for a little while, she forgot all of her own concerns.
After the service, as they were making their way to the door, Lyra heard someone calling her name. She turned and saw her youth pastor, Greg, struggling to make his way to her. Her parents went on out to warm up the car and Lyra waited until the crowd thinned a bit and Greg was able to reach her.
“Lyra!” Greg beamed and wrapped her into a hug. He was an energetic man in his mid-twenties. He’d come to their church a year or so before and had breathed new life into their youth group.
“I haven’t seen you in ages. I’ve missed you!”
Lyra ducked her head, ashamed. She hadn’t been to Youth in months…since school started…since Jonah. “Greg, I’m sorry…I…”
“Don’t apologize. I know how it is. Four out of five of kids leave Youth when they get their driver’s license. It’s just an occupational hazard for me.” He grinned again. There was no censure in his expression, he truly was just glad to see her.
“It’s not that. I just…um, well…” How could she explain? She couldn’t. She looked up into Greg’s understanding face and shrugged.
“Invite him to come with you, you know how laid back we are.”
Lyra blushed at his dead-on guess and Greg continued. “We’ve put together a youth band and they are fantastic! Kevin Michaels is playing drums, Josh Grubbs is on lead guitar and vocals, little Rachel Thomas is playing bass guitar—if you can believe it, and I’m on keyboard…just until we get someone else. You gotta come check it out! You’re going to love it! It adds a whole new dimension to our worship on Wednesday nights. We still meet in the rec room next door at six.”
His excitement was contagious. “Okay. I will be back,” Lyra promised.
Just being in Greg’s presence for a few minutes lifted her spirits. He was genuine, not a fake. His faith was strong, but he knew how to have fun and keep teenagers engaged. It was a great idea to start a youth band to play contemporary Christian music on Wednesday nights. She was sorry she’d stayed away so long and truly looked forward to getting back again.
Lyra smiled as she thought back to that conversation. It had been one of the highlights of her holiday.
On the 26th, however, her parents had gone back to work and the house had become as still and quiet as a tomb. For six long days she’d been alone with her anxiety and fear. New Year’s Eve or not, she was just lousy company for anyone.
Jonah was due back tomorrow, so if she could just get through tonight… If he’s coming back, a little voice whispered.
“Stop it!” she said out loud. “He’s coming back.” She wiped the perspiration off her forehead and placed her rubber boots to the right of her mother’s. Dad’s, mom’s, then mine—all in a neat row, as they should be. More than once over the last few days she had wondered if she had a touch of OCD. Or possibly a raging case that needed medication.
Next she began matching gloves together and placing them in the closet cubbies. Busy work was the only thing that kept her from going crazy. She couldn’t concentrate long enough to read. She’d played her cello until her back ached. She’d dusted and vacuumed and cleaned windows until she fell into bed exhausted each night.
The house was spotless. There wasn’t anyone to cook for, not a dirty sock remained to be washed, and Harry had already had two baths this week. He wouldn’t come near her for fear of getting dragged out to the tub in the garage again.
She’d had the idea of the closets this afternoon. She figured once she was through with this one, she’d tackle the junk drawer in the kitchen. Hopefully, by the time she was through with it, the noisy fireworks would be over and then she’d get a bath and go to bed.
On her hands and knees, she leaned way into the back of the closet to stick a pair of snow shoes in the far corner. She heard a pounding on the door and Harry went crazy barking, scrabbling his way to the front door. Startled, she jerked up, hitting her head on a corner of the built-in cubicles.
“OW!” Tears came to Lyra’s eyes and she rubbed her head vigorously. Who in the heck was stopping by at this hour on New Year’s Eve?
Still rubbing the tender spot, Lyra went to see who was at the door. Through the glass she could see someone standing with their back to the door. She knew that back, that jacket, that head. Jonah!
She fumbled in her hurry to unlock to door. She finally managed and jerked it open. Icy air washed over her, but she didn’t notice. There he stood. He looked awful. He looked wonderful.
“Jonah. Oh my gosh! You’re here! I can’t believe it.”
He literally swept her off her feet, twirled her around and kissed her soundly on the lips.
Lyra. Lyra. Lyra.
She started crying. She just couldn’t help it.
He put her down and cupped her face with his hands. His eyes devoured every inch of it.
“I love you. I missed you so much!”
“I love you too,” Lyra managed through her tears. “You came back.”
“Yes, yes. I came back. I couldn’t stay away from you another minute.”
Lyra tried to dry her tears so she could get a good look at him. What she saw shocked her. His expression was happy—exultant even, but his face looked haggard. His bottom lip was cut and scabbed with dried blood, and splotches of red stained the white of his eyes. What had happened to him?
“Are you okay?” She asked. “What happened? Were you in an accident?”
Jonah looked confused, then laughed, and hugged her to him again.
“No, no” he reassured her.
Another blast of cold air swept in from the open door. Jonah walked her backward farther inside the house, and shut the door behind him
with his foot.
He kissed her again, this time slowly and thoroughly. Lyra felt the blood heat in her veins. He was real, solid, and as usual making her head swim with desire.
Finally, he pulled back. “I have so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Well, come in and take your coat off. Hang on.”
Lyra rushed back to the hallway, shoved everything into the closet, including the donation box, shut the door on it all, and flipped off the hall light.
Lyra led him into the living room. Coals glowed in the fireplace, but otherwise it was dark. Jonah asked Lyra if she wanted him to rekindle the fire. Taking that to mean he planned on staying a while, she said yes, and said she’d go make them hot chocolate.
With the fire blazing and their mugs on the table in front of them, Lyra and Jonah faced each other on the couch. She clasped his hands and inched closer. She knew he would tell her what happened in his own time, so she waited patiently. She could afford to be patient now with him here with her.
He started at the beginning and told her about the tests he underwent at Edenvale. He talked for a long time, Lyra occasionally interrupting him with a question. He told her about how each day his mental and psychic abilities had been stretched and pushed to the limit. He told her about the relaxation techniques he learned. Lyra listened, fascinated, as he related how, little by little, his guard had been lowered. He saw it now: all along they’d been preparing him for the final test. When he told her about walking into Building 6, seeing the firemen with all their gear, and the propane tank and flame, she gasped and clenched his hands tighter.
“Dr. Lowe took me through every moment of that evening from the time my mother and I heard my father’s car in the drive. It was so intense. I was 11 years old again and hiding under the bush in the yard. I saw my parents arguing through the window, heard again every word they said. The window was big and from my position I could see the entire length of the kitchen.
“All of the hurt, the anger, and the helplessness were so real, so tangible. It all welled up inside of me, just as it had that night. For me, it was that night. Everything in me screamed for them to stop.”
He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “And as I sat there in the dirt, shaking with the fear and fury raging inside of me, I watched as my mother took her oven mitts off the counter, her back to my ranting father, and open the oven door to check the roast.” Jonah stopped, his eyes unfocused, his thoughts far away.
Lyra waited.
He shook himself slightly and his eyes returned to hers. “That was it. The second the oven door cracked open, the kitchen exploded. I felt the force of it, the heat scorching my skin—just like before.” He paused again.
“Dr. Lowe brought me up from the trance then. All was fine in Building 6; the propane tank was still intact, the flame still flickering. The firemen were still looking on, hoping for something to catch fire so they could put it out. Jet was laughing and crying at the same time. The doctors were shaking hands and congratulating each other.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile.
“It was the weirdest feeling, though,” Jonah continued more somberly. “I was still in the middle of the shock I’d felt all those years ago. It was so disorienting to go from 11 to 17, from the destruction of my home and family in Arkansas to a quiet building in rural Canada. It took a while for my brain to catch up with reality, you know? And then I was just so relieved to know once and for all: It wasn’t me!
“Once I’d processed that, my next thought was, ‘I gotta get out of here! I gotta get home.’ I couldn’t wait the whole rest of today, tonight, and half the day tomorrow. I begged Jet to leave then. He didn’t want to because a Northern front was blowing down on us pretty heavily. Dr. Quinton wanted me to have a physical exam, but I said no way. I’d been through enough tests and exams to last a lifetime. Finally I persuaded Jet to leave right away.” He finished with a sigh and leaned back into the corner of the sofa.
“And here you are.”
“And here I am,” Jonah smiled and when he did the cut on his lip began to bleed.
He winced and touched a finger to the cut.
“What happened to your lip and your eyes...”
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about my eyes. No, this wasn’t due to a car accident. This happened while I was under hypnosis. Reliving that night…Like I said, it was very intense. At some point I bit down hard on my lip and some blood vessels in my eyes broke. I’m sorry. I must look awful!”
“You look wonderful. You just look like you’ve been in a fight or something. And me! Ugh. I’ve been cleaning closets all day.” She gestured to her old sweatshirt and pants. She had on no make-up and for the first time that day she wondered if she’d remembered to put on deodorant.
“Actually, you don’t look that great. Have you been sick?”
Lyra grimaced.
Jonah hurried on, “I mean, you’ve lost some weight and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”
“Oh well, you know, the frenzy of the holidays and all…” Lyra wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Jonah looked at her dubiously, but didn’t push her.
“This was one rough Christmas, huh?” he said instead.
“You’re not kidding,” Lyra sighed. “But it’s over now and you’re back.”
Just then they heard fireworks going off in the distance, soon followed by the grandfather clock chiming the hour.
Jonah looked surprised. “It’s New Year’s Eve, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Lyra grinned. “Happy New Year, Jonah.”
“Well, Christmas may have been a lesson in slow torture, but at least the New Year is starting out perfect.” He opened his arms and she scooted up into them, her cheek resting on his chest. They listened to the fireworks, the crackle of the now dying fire, and each others’ hearts beat.
They heard Lyra’s parents arrive around twelve-thirty.
Lyra reluctantly disentangled herself and sat up.
“You’d better smooth your hair down or they’ll think we’ve been making out. It’s sticking all up in the back.” Jonah chuckled, as he straightened up too.
“Oh!” Lyra’s hand flew to her hair, trying to comb through the tangled strands. She remembered rubbing the back of her head vigorously when she’d hit it earlier. It must have been sticking up the whole time. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she accused.
“Because you’re so cute when you’re rumpled.”
Lyra was scowling at him as her parents walked in. They were a little startled to find Lyra home and Jonah visiting. Lyra explained that she’d changed her mind at the last minute about going over to Aimee’s and Jonah had unexpectedly made it home earlier than planned. Lyra could see the questions in her parents’ eyes as they took in Jonah’s rough appearance. As far as they knew, Jonah and his uncle had been visiting relatives in the south. Thankfully though, they kept their inquiries to themselves.
Jonah, making his way to the door, apologized for staying so late, and especially while they weren’t home. They knew him well enough now, and his manners were always so polite, they waved off his apology good-naturedly and headed upstairs.
At the door, Jonah kissed Lyra goodnight. It was a feathery kiss, full of hope and promise. He told her she and Harry were invited over, but only after she’d gotten at least eight hours of sleep.
“I think I’ll be able to now,” she told him. “You need it too, though.”
Jonah smiled. “I guess we look like a couple of refugees fleeing a war-torn country.”
Lyra nodded and laid her head on his chest. “But we’ve crossed the border into safety now.”