by Edie Claire
"Tara," I said desperately, "I don't even know if he's… I mean, I don't know his condition. I have to get there soon… it's important."
The keyboard clicking continued. Her voice softened. "I know that, Kal. I'll text you as soon as I have something."
My eyes grew moist again. I didn't think I had any moisture left. "Thank you."
We hung up.
Matt and I spoke very little on the rest of the journey. Whether he was trying to be sensitive to the fact that I was falling apart, or whether he just had no idea what to say to me, I wasn't sure.
I only knew that, when at last we pulled up at the airport and he lifted my suitcase wordlessly out of his trunk, I wanted to hug him.
So I did.
And more accursed tears started falling out of nowhere.
"You've been so great, Matt," I said genuinely, as soon as I could talk. "Tour guide, dance date… now chauffeur. I have no idea how to thank you."
He stood with his arms still around my waist, not quite willing to let me go.
"So don't," he said casually, his blue eyes twinkling again. "I've had fun, too, you know."
I swallowed. "I'm glad."
I was enjoying his strong arms around me—I couldn't deny it. But if I stood there, basking in his affectionate comfort for one more second, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that he would kiss me.
I couldn't do that.
Instead I stood on tiptoe, wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him tightly for one last second. Then I kissed him on the cheek and pulled away.
"I'll see you in June," I said unevenly, picking up the handle of my bag and starting to step away. "And I expect to hear that Frederick's water polo team totally destroyed Saint Anthony's in the semifinals."
I looked over my shoulder and grinned at him. "Or I'm not enrolling."
He grinned back broadly. He offered a crisp salute.
"Count on it."
***
My phone buzzed with another text just as I sat down at the gate. The flight was right on time.
Is his real name Zachary?
I bit my lip, even as my heartbeat quickened. How could I forget to tell her that? My brain was mush. I would have to try to sleep on the plane. I would never be able to get where I needed to go if I didn't.
Yes. Sorry. Zachary Bayne Svenson. Did you find anything?
I waited restlessly. The airport was crawling with shadows, but the vast majority of them were in the wrong places—too high, too low, moving through walls. That always happened with remodeling.
The ringing of the phone startled me so much I nearly dropped it.
"Yes? Tara?"
"I'm not there yet, Kali, but it's too much to text," she responded, her tone all business. "It's a good thing his mother was a celebrity, or I couldn't have found half of this." She cleared her throat. "About his mother… do you know how she died?"
I winced. The reports in the media of her last years were sure to be less than flattering. "I know she overdosed, yes."
"Okay," Tara said tentatively. "Unfortunately, that's also where Zane drops out of sight. Before that, I did find some stuff about him, from his first couple years in high school. Not much—either he wasn't into social networking or he kept it private, but I did find one picture of him—from the swim team. Damn, he's hot."
My chuckle was bittersweet. Tell me about it.
"But I can't find an address for him after his mother died. I can't find any hits on him after that."
"He went into foster care," I explained.
Tara was quiet a moment. "That explains it. But we should still be able to find him in the accident reports. The thing is, Kali, I need my mom for that, and I can't ask her for a couple hours yet. Not just anyone has the right kind of access; I think she does, but I'm not sure. Especially if it happened out of state. I was hoping there would be an online news story about the accident that listed his name, but I couldn't find one. Are you sure he was over eighteen when it happened?"
"Positive."
"Then if there was an article, it didn't identify him," she pronounced. "Probably because there was a delay in notifying next of kin."
Which of course there would have been. A long delay.
"I might be able to find it anyway if we had the general location," she continued. "Can't you ask whoever told you about the accident? And you must know the date. Was it yesterday? The day before?"
My shoulders sagged. I had been kidding myself. Even if I hadn't made that promise to Zane, there was no possible way I could get to him now without sacrificing my darkest secret. It was a miracle my mother had let me go with only the agreement of more explanation later; Tara would be even harder to put off. If I expected her to find out what hospital he was in, she would have to know—or would inevitably find out—the date of the crash. And she would know that Zane couldn't possibly have been with me in Oahu.
I faced the same problem with her as with my mother. If I freaked her out to the point where she really thought I was losing it, she would stop legitimately searching for Zane. I couldn't let that happen. For now, I had to avoid the whole truth… however I could.
"Listen, Tara," I said firmly. "I know that this won't make any sense to you, and I'm sorry. I can't explain until I get home. But the accident didn't happen yesterday. I'm thinking it happened about a week ago, but it could have been longer."
"A week—"
"I know Kylee told you I met him here," I insisted. "In a way I did. But the accident happened before I left Cheyenne, and… the person who told me about it is someone I can't contact anymore. They didn't give me a location. But they did describe the accident, a little bit…"
In halting phrases, I told her everything I could remember of Zane's description of the crash. She didn't utter a word, and finally I stopped talking and listened to the stony silence on the other end with a steadily increasing fear.
"Tara? Are you still there?"
"In theory," she said dryly. There was another long pause. "Kali, will you answer two questions for me? No, wait… make that three."
I swallowed. "I'll try."
"This guy is real, right? I mean, I can see online that he exists, so I guess I can assume that—"
"He's real."
"And you have actually met him… at some point? You haven't gone loopy over a poster in some surfing magazine—"
"No, I swear. I…" My voice broke. "I know him really well."
"Are you in love with him?"
The question stopped my breath in its tracks. I started to think about it. Then I decided not to.
"Yes," I answered.
I heard nothing for a moment. Then Tara exhaled loudly. "Apparently, I am as insane as you are, Kali. I'll talk to my mother as soon as I can. Call me back when you get to Denver and I'll tell you what I know."
"It will be in the middle of—"
"Yeah, I know. You can wake me up. What else have I got to do? Sheesh."
I love you, too.
My eyes clouded over again just as the gate agent announced the flight was boarding. I mumbled some unintelligible, sob-choked words of gratitude, grabbed my bag and my ticket, and headed for the jetway.
Chapter 24
I was out on the waves, floating on a surfboard. The sun was warm, and I wasn't scared of the water. I just couldn't remember how I had gotten here. The waves were tall, wide swells, but my board lifted me up and over them as if it were rocking a baby. Out to sea, a humpback emerged, twisting its massive frame in a half spin and splashing back down into the water. The beach was a long way away, but I could see that there were people on it, strolling and playing in the sand. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Sharp green mountain peaks stood tall on the distant horizon.
I heard a noise near me on the ocean, and turned. It was the loud, obnoxious motor of a jet ski. I frowned and would have yelled for it to stay away, but I knew the driver couldn't hear me. He kept coming closer, spraying unnatural plumes of water to either side, oblivious to my p
roximity. He was within ten yards when he suddenly killed the engine and stared at me, his face shining with glee.
It was the old man from the convalescent home. He was still wearing his hospital gown, but the back was only half tied, and the wind whipped it up so that he mooned half the beach. He looked at me and cackled with laughter. "Are you still here?" he mocked. "You'll never get anywhere on that thing. I told you, honey, you're too damn slow. Sun's going down now. It'll be too late for him."
The man tossed his head in the direction of the beach, and my eyes followed with apprehension. The people on the beach had stopped moving. They were gathered in a circle, looking down at something on the ground. The warmth of the sun was gone. Both sky and water were gray. The winds picked up. I shivered.
"Just paddle, idiot!" the old man ordered. "It's the only shot you've got!" I looked back at him, and saw that he was no longer on a jet ski but was balanced precariously on a regular shortboard, which was cutting through the waves and out into open water propelled by no visible force. "Gonna die if you don't!" he shouted, his speed only increasing as he streaked out of sight.
I looked frantically back toward the beach. The crowd of people obligingly parted, leaving me a clear view of someone else in a hospital gown. It was Zane, pale and thin, lying flat on his back on the wet sand.
Motionless.
"No!" I paddled my arms in the water and kicked my legs, trying desperately to move the awkward board in the water. The waves should have helped me—they should have pushed me toward shore—but all they seemed to do was suck me backward. I flailed like a mad woman, but could get no closer. A white van drove toward the crowd on the beach; some medical types jumped out.
I ditched the unhelpful board and plunged headlong into the water. I could see fish swimming beneath me, and I wasn't afraid. I could swim as well as anyone. I freestyled like an Olympian, and the beach drew closer. A shark fin rose out of the water beside me, and I smacked at it and told it to go away. I was getting to the beach, dammit, and nothing was going to stop me.
My feet hit sand. I stood up. I started walking.
The men from the truck had reached Zane. They stretched out a white sheet. They pulled it over his head.
"NO!!!"
"Take it easy!" a man's voice beside me bellowed.
My eyes flew open.
I was on a plane.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, realizing that in jolting awake, I had inadvertently knocked the middle-seat man's laptop into the aisle-seat woman's lap. "I didn't… I'm sorry."
I curled back into a ball within my window-seat sanctuary and tried to calm my pounding heart. The nightmare shouldn't be surprising. It was more surprising that I had slept at all, even given the antihistamine I had popped upon boarding seven hours ago. But I was glad that I did. I would need to be alert—and stay alert—very soon.
The pilot announced our descent into Denver, and my legs itched to move, to run. I knew the dream meant nothing. I might be "gifted" at seeing dead people, but my dreams had never been prophetic.
Regardless, the closing image replayed itself mercilessly before my eyes.
It'll be too late for him.
No, I fought back stubbornly. It will not.
The plane landed in the dead of night with stray snowflakes melting against the windows, and before the flight attendant could finish her announcement about electronic devices I had Tara on the other end of the line.
"Did you find him?" I begged.
I had no plan. I knew that I needed to get back to Cheyenne, to the family's spare car, and to the cash I had accumulated from years of babysitting and two summers working the snack shack at the community pool. If Zane were anywhere within a three-state radius of Wyoming I would drive until I found him. But if he were still out East…
"I have some good news, Kali," Tara said smoothly.
My heart filled near to bursting. "Is he alive?"
"I…" Her pause was maddening. "I can't tell you that for sure. I'm sorry. But I don't know otherwise, either. My mother found an accident report, and it fits your description exactly."
I couldn't breathe.
"It's good news," she repeated mercifully. "He's not that far. The accident happened on Interstate 80, smack dab in the middle of Nebraska. Near a town called Lexington. I don't have confirmation on the hospital, but my mother says he'd almost certainly be taken to the ER in Kearney. That's the nearest level II trauma center."
I let out my breath with a whoosh. My heart pounded against my ribs. "Interstate 80?" I repeated, hardly able to believe what was—for once—an amazing stroke of good luck. "In Nebraska? That shouldn't take—"
"It's about a five hour drive from Cheyenne," Tara interrupted. "You shouldn't have any problem finding the place. Just get off at the Kearney exit and head into town. The hospital's only, like, two blocks off the main drag—I'm sure there'll be signs to follow. But Kali, I have to tell you…"
I couldn't take anymore. I really couldn't.
Tara drew in a breath. "The accident happened over a week ago. And it was really bad. When he swerved to miss the other car he crashed into one the concrete supports for the overpass. His car was totaled. And the report said… well, it said that his condition was critical."
That means nothing, I told myself. You knew that.
"Kali," she continued, "I wish I could go with you, but I can't. Both my parents are working and I'm on demon watch. Sorry."
A reluctant smile turned up the corners of my mouth. Tara was the second oldest of six kids, and the only girl. Her little brothers deserved their nickname.
"You've done more than enough," I answered, gathering my stuff. In another century, the people in front of me would finish getting their infernal baggage from the overhead bins and I could get out of this plane and on my way.
On my way to Zane.
The nightmare image of the rising sheet forced its way into my brain again, but I fought it back with a vengeance.
"I'll make it just fine, Tara," I answered.
***
"Kali? Are you awake?"
For the life of me, I didn't know the answer.
"I think so," I mumbled.
"I think not very," Kylee said with a chuckle. "That's okay. You needed it. You couldn't have gotten much quality sleep on the plane. And were you really up most of the night before, too?"
I thought about it a moment. I vaguely remembered explaining that to Kylee before asking permission to snooze. The truth was, I had hardly slept at all in two days, and wouldn't be sleeping now if I didn't have important driving to do. Hard as it was to still my tortured mind, I had forced myself to give in to the fatigue as soon as I had slipped into Kylee's car and buckled my seat belt. I figured even an hour would refresh me, and it was a two-hour drive back to Cheyenne.
I had been right. I sat up, and the cobwebs scattered instantly. We were nearing home.
Just five more hours, Zane. I thought helplessly. Please hang on.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay to drive?" Kylee asked. "If you can wait till midmorning, I can go with you. Then you could get a little more sleep—"
"I can't wait, Kylee," I said brusquely. "I couldn't sleep any more now if I had to. I'm going home just long enough to have a two-minute shower, grab my money and a sandwich, and start on the first of about a million cups of coffee."
"Since when do you drink coffee?"
"Since now."
Kylee turned off onto the road that led to my house, and I realized I was pressing my feet against the floorboard, willing us on.
"Kali?" she asked seriously.
I turned my head to look at her. Kylee was hardly ever serious about anything. Such was her reputation—cheery, fun, spontaneous. She was slightly on the plump side, with a smile that lit up a room and dark eyes that sparkled with mischievous humor. People who saw her with her parents often assumed she was a Chinese adoptee, but neither was true. Kylee lived with her biological mother and stepfather; her birth father wa
s Vietnamese. He was also—to put it mildly—a total jerk, having abandoned Kylee's mother when she was pregnant. But Kylee had always been very close to her Vietnamese-American grandparents, who—despite having long ago washed their hands of their self-absorbed son—adored both their granddaughter and her mother.
"What?" I asked, alarmed by her tone.
"This guy you're going to see… is he really the surfer you met on the beach?"
The wheels in my brain chugged slowly, painfully. I could no longer keep track of whom I had told what—and what part of the truth made sense with it.
"Yes," I answered tiredly. "But I can't explain now. I will later, though. I promise. To you and Tara." I looked at her beseechingly. "But nobody else, okay? I'm afraid it's going to be… really hard for you to understand."
To my surprise, Kylee smiled at me—an odd, crooked little smile. Her car rounded a bend and I could see my house in the glow of the streetlights ahead.
I was home.
"You might be surprised about that," she returned.
***
I had been driving for two hours already before the sun rose.
The faint orange light that broke over the horizon ahead of me could be beautiful or eerie, depending on one's perspective. I had not seen a whole lot of sunrises in my life, until I went to Oahu and the time change made me think dawn happened in the middle of the morning. Those sunrises had been spectacular. Full of color, warmth, and promise.
This one, stretching out over the rolling plains of western Nebraska, held more promise than I could ever have imagined… but it also held more anxiety. Every minute that ticked away was a minute I had lost forever.
I told you, honey, you're too damn slow.
I gritted my teeth and concentrated on my driving. I was going as fast as I could—I would not be stupid enough to waste forty-five minutes getting stopped for a ticket. Or worse—to cause another accident. Neither would help Zane.
The sky continued to brighten; the largely barren landscape came to life. I was thankful for the relatively sparse population. Ordinarily I would see few shadows in a place like this, but lately I'd been seeing ten times as many shadows as usual, and the barren fields of Nebraska proved no different. Native Americans, pioneers, farmers, bikers, rednecks… all were represented. All were ignored.