Amber Frost

by Suzi Davis

  “I’m intrigued,” I murmured encouragingly. And truly I was; it was fascinating to finally understand some of what he’d alluded to, some of what I’d already noticed, and to have a little of his mystery revealed.

  “Though I can’t specifically remember, I’m certain that no one else has ever made me feel like this before, Gracelynn. In my hundreds of years, I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.” His eyes flickered as he spoke, I was careful to keep my face blank and hide my shock at his casual mention of his age. “And therein lies the problem. I want you to be happy more than I want my own happiness. But by the time I remembered why I shouldn’t get too close to anyone, why I should never, ever allow myself to even come close to falling in love… it was too late. So you see, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else but I also wish with all my heart, that I didn’t want you in this way. The contradiction, the conflicting desires, I think it allows me to control my influence on things… to some extent.” I nodded numbly, barely able to keep up with what he was saying. I was so astonished and overwhelmed by it all.

  “To some extent?” I echoed weakly.

  “I still can’t control others’ thoughts or emotions, and my influence only extends within the parameters of what is possible. I also can’t make anyone do something they don’t want to. I can only make it more likely that something will happen – provide more opportunities for people to do things the way I want,” he explained. I frowned in concentration, trying to understand.

  “When you said you were going to make me forget…?”

  “I’m not sure if it would have worked,” he admitted. “I remembered something recently, I wasn’t certain if it was a real memory or just a dream but I think I may have made others forget me before... I think it might be possible. It was the only solution I could think of anyway. And if I truly believed you would be happier forgetting me, if a small part of you had wanted that too, I think it could have worked. I want so badly for you to be happy.”

  Did part of me wish I could just forget about Sebastian Caldwood? My life would certainly be less complicated, easier, but also a lot less interesting. A chill ran through me as I realized just how close I may have come to completely forgetting this wonderful, handsome, amazing boy beside me. My life would have gone back to how it was before I met him. I would be sad and lonely and empty still; always searching for something I couldn’t even remember ever having. It was a horrifying thought.

  “I’ve overestimated myself a lot lately,” Sebastian continued, immediately drawing my attention back to him. “I was certain that if I was able to say goodbye and to leave you, it would mean I wanted the right thing enough for you to start aging again. But apparently, I’m just too selfish. No matter how badly I want to do the right thing, I still want to keep you for myself, more,” he said somewhat miserably.

  “So… are you telling me that I’m immortal now too?” I asked, feeling silly as I said it. It didn’t help at all when he laughed.

  “I’m not immortal, Gracelynn. It’s not like that,” he said, fighting another smile. “I don’t age or get sick or get hurt because I don’t want to, not because I can’t. And I won’t ever die, because no matter how I may wish for it at times, a small part of my being will always follow the basic survival instinct and reject the idea – I could never want it enough for it to happen. As for you… I’m not certain. I think as long as I love you the way that I do now, you won’t age either, you won’t ever get sick, you can’t get hurt – you won’t die.”

  “It doesn’t sound that bad…” He frowned down at me.

  “Do you really want to be eighteen forever? To watch all your friends and family grow old and die? To never be able to live in one place for too long, least people become suspicious? To never be able to get too close to anyone, other than myself?” he demanded, his voice growing heated as he spoke. “It may not sound that bad now, Gracelynn, but eventually you would resent me for it; you’d grow to hate me. I’d be taking everything away from you and giving you nothing but a curse in return. I’d hate myself – more than I already do.” We stared at each other in silence, reading the emotions in one another’s eyes. I could tell that my silence was hurting him, it was an unspoken confirmation of the truth behind his words. I felt the sudden urge to comfort him, to take away some of his pain.

  “It’ll be alright, Sebastian. Please don’t worry about it; I’m not,” I told him honestly. He looked down at me with doubt in his eyes.

  “How can you honestly say that, Gracelynn? I love you but I’m ruining your life – and it’s killing me. And I have no idea what to do! How can I fix this?” He tipped his head back against the headboard of his bed, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

  “The answer’s so obvious, Sebastian, do you really not see it?” I asked, surprised by my own sudden realization. He slowly opened one eye and looked down at me questioningly. “You don’t have to do anything. As long as you want there to be a solution, as long as you want there to be a way for it to work between us – it will. So just relax; live in the moment,” I reminded him. His expression became incredulous, his eyes widening with wonder.

  “I never thought…” his voice trailed off as he considered my words. I could practically see his brain working, relief flooding his eyes. “How do you do it Gracelynn? How do you make sense out of my distorted, confusing existence with such ease?”

  I laughed. “You think it’s easy?”

  He grinned in response, hugging me tightly against his side. I happily nestled in.

  “I hope you’re right,” he whispered into my hair. “If you’re not…”

  “I’m always right,” I told him confidently. He chuckled softly in response. We lay quietly in each others’ arms for some time, Sebastian gently stroking my hair. I was so happy, it was unbelievable. I trusted him and I knew somehow, everything was going to be okay. Despite everything, all the craziness, all the questions that still swirled in my head, there wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be right then…

  “What time is it?” I suddenly asked, sitting bolt upright and rapidly scanning his room for a clock.

  “It’s nearly five,” Sebastian answered calmly, gesturing to a small, antique-looking pendulum clock on one of his shelves. I wondered if he had bought it new.

  “Shoot,” I cursed. “I’m supposed to be having dinner with my parents at the Simons’.” I sat up on his bed, torn between the desire to stay with him longer and the fear of further displeasing my mother.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “No,” I answered without hesitation.

  “I want you to stay and I don’t want for there to be any trouble between you and your parents,” Sebastian told me, speaking slowly and carefully.

  “Okay – thank you.” It took me a moment to understand what he meant. “Oh… so if I called Clarke, do you think he’d cover for me?”

  “I want you to be able to stay; I want it very much, so one way or another it will work out. I honestly don’t know if Clarke will help you. ” He shrugged. “Why don’t you find out?”

  He sat back against the pillows, watching me curiously as I slipped my cell phone out of the pocket of my school blazer and dialed Clarke’s number. He answered after just one ring.

  “Grace, where the hell are you?” he demanded. He sounded angry and perhaps a little worried.

  “I stopped by the Jensons’ place,” I told him honestly. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at me, seeming to question whether the truth was the right approach. I thought I knew what I was doing. “I had to, I couldn’t let Sebastian leave without saying goodbye,” I explained.

  “Of course not,” Clarke replied sarcastically. “Well you better hurry over here. Your parents will be arriving any minute.”

  “Actually, I’m not coming,” I admitted reluctantly. Why was I feeling guilty?

  “Why not?”

  “Clarke, you’re my friend, right?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too wheedling.

  “Yea
h, we’re friends. But you know I’d like to be more than that,” he reminded me. I winced.

  “I know and I’m sorry but… I need to know I can trust you, Clarke, and I need you to trust me. I can’t come tonight – please don’t ask why. Just tell my parents that I was with you up until recently, and then I had to leave. Make something up, they’ll believe you.” He silently considered.

  “And then you’ll trust me, you’ll give me another chance?”

  “Then I’ll trust you,” I replied, swallowing the guilty lump in my throat. I hated to mislead him but the extra time with Sebastian was worth it.

  “Okay, I’ll do it then – for you. I’d do anything for you, Grace.”

  I winced again. “Thanks, Clarke. I owe you. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, maybe we could go for coffee?” he suggested hopefully.

  “Call me,” I answered, avoiding the question. “Thanks, Clarke. It’s good to know I can count on you. Bye.” I quickly hung up the phone.

  “I take it you’ve become available for the evening,” Sebastian asked as soon as I hung up.

  “Was there any doubt?” I teased. He laughed at my forced nonchalance. “How long can I stay?”

  “As long as you want. No, actually, as long as I want,” he corrected with a grin.

  “I won’t stay the night,” I warned him. I was surprised at myself for actually briefly considering it.

  “I don’t expect you to,” he assured me. “Besides, the Jensons would be sure to disapprove.” I’d completely forgotten about Sebastian’s foster parents. I wriggled around so that I was able to face him. I pulled my knees up, hugging them against my chest as I considered how to ask my next question.

  “How exactly does that work, with the Jensons?” I asked, curiously. “I mean, if you don’t consciously influence their thoughts or actions, how is it that they seem to do exactly what you want? They must know about you.”

  “Yes, they know,” he agreed. “And no, I can’t control their thoughts or actions – or their emotions. Our relationship is simply a mutual understanding. They can’t have any children and they wanted a son, someone to care for, someone who needed them. I wanted a family, I needed a home – fate brought us together. I told them the truth about me, or what little I could remember anyway, right from the start. At first they didn’t believe me but in time they came to witness for themselves that not only do I obviously not age, things also seem to ‘happen’ around me the way I want them to.”

  “But when you first told them about yourself they must have thought you were crazy! Why didn’t they call a psychiatrist or the police? Or even child protective services?”

  “I’m sure they thought about it but of course I didn’t want them to,” he explained. “And so whenever they tried, something distracted them and prevented them from turning me over to the authorities. And then once they had seen for themselves the truth of my words, they wanted to help me. It was Mrs. Jenson’s idea to enroll me at Craigflower. She saw how lonely I was, how depressed I was becoming even with their support. She thought I might make friends there. I never dreamt that she would be right.” We shared a smile.

  “You say you were lonely… do you think there are any others like you?”

  “Perhaps… In my dreams, I often see the same familiar faces over and over again, in different times and different places, and I wonder if perhaps they could be like me too… I don’t remember though,” he told me quietly. “I don’t really know who or what I am. Since I’ve met you, I’ve seen glimpses of my past, I’ve remembered bits and pieces but there are still large holes in my memory. I’ve been alive a long time, Gracelynn, a very, very long time. Part of me wonders if I can’t remember simply because there is so much I’ve seen, so many things I’ve experienced; it’s too much for one person, for one mind. I can only vaguely remember my own parents. I’ve regained just a couple of memories of my childhood but at least I know I was human once; I think I still am.”

  “But you don’t remember how it started? How you became… like this?”

  “No, and I’m not sure if I will. It might just be too long ago…”

  I hesitated, debating whether I should ask or not. I decided I needed to know.

  “How long ago?”

  He met my eyes without wavering. I could tell he was uncertain of how to answer, perhaps afraid of my reaction. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

  “As near as I can tell, I was born in Ireland approximately mid-sixteenth century.”

  I nodded, as if this were to be expected, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The boy who sat before me, this beautiful, fascinating, curious creature, who I loved with my entire being, was around four hundred and fifty years old. Though I remained outwardly calm, I was stunned, completely floored by this pronouncement, though it did make a certain amount of sense. The ancient look that sometimes appeared in his eyes, his wisdom and experience, his vast knowledge, and his very manner, the way he behaved and sometimes spoke.

  “Does that change how you feel about me?” he asked tersely.

  “No,” I answered quickly, and it was true. “But… it is going to take me a while to get my head around,” I admitted. “This is all so overwhelming. It’s nice to finally have some answers. ”

  “It’s actually nice to be able to give them to you. I want the only secrets left between us to be the ones that I also keep from myself,” he said with a laugh.

  “So I can ask you more, and you’ll answer?” I encouraged.

  “If I know the answer, I will share it with you,” he promised. I considered this carefully, contemplating what I should ask next. He watched me in amusement. “You’re really concentrating, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to decide, there are so many things I want to know.”

  “And?”

  “Your nightmares; will you tell me about them?” His reaction didn’t surprise me; he immediately looked reluctant, his smile turning into a grimace.

  “I’d rather not,” he answered, “but if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.” There was a clear warning in his eyes. He didn’t think I was ready to hear this. I decided to ease him into it.

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me when they started?”

  He sighed, hesitating once more. “I can’t remember not having nightmares,” he answered slowly, cautiously. “I tried everything to stave them off; not wanting them was never enough. I think you were right about my nightmares holding memories in them – that would explain why I couldn’t stop them, because I wanted to remember my past.”

  “I want to understand,” I told him quietly. “You don’t have to tell me all the details of your nightmares but I want to know what it is that scares you so much. I need to know, to understand you.” He stared at me for a long time, all his conflicting desires clear in his eyes. Eventually he gave a very slight, reluctant nod. Though I was sure in my decision, I was also a little afraid of what he was about to reveal of himself to me.

  “My nightmares… they are memories from so long ago, near the beginning I think, when I first became… how I am,” he said simply. I reached forward and squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “The images are so dark, so violent. The anger I feel in them – it terrifies me. I’m used to controlling my emotions now, I never let myself become that angry, that furious. I suppose I learnt how dangerous it is to lose my temper, to be angry enough that I could want to kill someone. And not just to want them to die but to want them to suffer, to feel excruciating pain.” He met my gaze then and though he sounded ashamed, his eyes were unapologetic; they were cold, hard, black orbs.

  “I don’t ever lose my temper now, Gracelynn. I wouldn’t let myself be anywhere near you if I thought there were any chance I might cause you even the slightest bit of harm,” he told me earnestly, his eyes softening as he read the fear in mine.

  “I know,” I assured him quickly, and I did. But to hear him speak like that, to see
the darkness in his eyes… I didn’t want to imagine what he may have done in his past. No wonder he had wanted to forget.

  “I know how to control myself now. I understand that what I may want in the moment is far different than what I really and truly want from life. I just want to be happy and it does not, nor will it ever, make me happy to cause someone else pain. I can assure you that.” He turned over my trembling hand and placed a tender kiss in the center of it. I tried to smile at him but my face felt frozen; all the words I wanted to say, all the reassurances in my heart, stuck in my throat.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked anxiously. “Please, tell me the truth. It’s alright if you’re afraid, if this changes things between us. I’ll understand,” he assured me quietly but I could see the pain and fear in his eyes as he spoke.

  “No, never,” I answered, finally finding my tongue. I realized then that no matter what secrets he may still have, no matter what else there was that he may have done in his past, it would never change how I felt about him. The realization was satisfying. I was finally able to smile at him, to honestly reassure him that I loved him no matter what because now I understood just how true that was. He looked at me hesitantly, as if he didn’t quite believe me. He still looked afraid, and ashamed at what I had made him confess. “I have a request,” I told him, hoping to distract him from his sad and somber mood.

  “Your wish is my command,” he answered with a somewhat forced smile. I could tell he appreciated the change of subject but from the tightness around his eyes, I could also tell that he was still thinking about the nightmares, the memories of the horrors he had once caused.

  “Take off your shirt,” I instructed. His eyes opened wide in surprise, his tension instantly replaced by a new kind. “I want to see your tattoos,” I explained, blushing only slightly.

  “I didn’t realize you were so eager to get my clothes off,” he teased, quickly regaining himself. He didn’t move an inch. I blushed, despite myself.