After what seemed like several years, she released him. An odd way to calm someone down, but it worked. Xavier didn’t speak or move. Patrick supposed that would shut any guy up. Distract him, at least.
“That was weird,” Emmy said into the silence.
Then a few seconds of calm passed over them. Like the eye of the storm.
Then all hell broke loose.
The whole house shook in a deafening crash of shattering glass and splintering wood. Patrick grabbed Emmy and tried to shield her, but he couldn’t tell where the danger came from. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back as bits of glass grazed his arms.
When the terrible crunching and shattering sounds had ended, Patrick raised his head. He had somehow guessed correctly about where to pull Emmy. In the spot where she had stood, he now saw the front bumper of Jude’s truck.
Patrick scanned the room for everyone else. Where had they stood? He even wanted to glimpse the dark-haired heads of Xavier and Evangeline. Patrick saw them first. They had backed into the hallway and huddled together, looking as shocked as he felt. Mom? Samantha? Where?
And what about Jude?
He heard his mother’s voice. “Emmy!”
Patrick released Emmy from his grip and saw blood on his hands. Emmy stayed standing when he released her, a good sign, but her stomach and chest were red with blood. She clutched at her heart, breathing heavily.
“What happened?” Mom ran over and pulled up Emmy’s shirt. “What got you?”
“Glass, I think,” Emmy said.
She had a deep cut right under her bra. Patrick saw blood pulsing out of the gash with each heartbeat.
Xavier came from nowhere and firmly pressed a folded throw blanket against the wound.
“Thank you,” Mom said.
Samantha made her way to Emmy’s side. Bits of glass sparkled in her hair, but she looked okay. What about Jude? Patrick climbed over the pile of wood that used to be the coffee table and scrambled over to the driver’s side of the truck. The door was cracked open but wedged shut against the side of what used to be the couch. Patrick heaved his weight against the couch and moved it out of the way. The door came open, and Jude fell out on top of him. He reeked of alcohol and needed to cling to Patrick to keep from falling over. But still conscious. Lucid. And, by the look on his face, he sobered up fast.
“Emmy,” he said.
As soon as he said her name, his blue eyes stilled, as if they had turned to glass. Then they seemed to melt. Patrick held his brother up while he cried.
David had made it back to the Expressway when his phone rang. Amanda.
“I’m almost home,” he said.
He heard silence on the other line.
“Amanda? Did you pocket dial me?”
“No. I’m here.”
“I’ll be at the house in ten.”
“David.”
“Yes?”
“Something happened.”
His stomach got heavy. Dear God, what now? His stress headache already made him nauseous. Not today. Nothing else today.
“What?”
“First, everyone is okay. Or will be okay.”
“What?”
“Jude crashed the truck into the living room. Emmy was hurt, but she’ll be okay. She needs stitches and a blood transfusion. We just arrived in the ER at Memorial Hermann. Please come here.”
Patrick sat with Xavier, Evangeline, and Samantha in the hospital lobby. They all had blood on them, but Patrick had the most. They could have walked out of the horror film they never got to watch. They sat in four uncomfortable blue chairs facing each other in a tight little square, with Samantha and Patrick on one side and the Colters on the other. They didn’t say anything to each other for a long time.
Tears streaked Samantha’s cheeks. If Patrick’s sister’s blood and his brother’s alcohol-saturated tears weren’t soaked through his shirt, he probably wouldn’t have done it, but he felt reckless. He took Samantha’s hand and held it. She squeezed it back, and the squeeze sent a rush of blood through his body like an extra heartbeat.
Uncharacteristically, Xavier finally broke the silence.
“She’ll be okay,” he said.
He turned to Patrick when he said it. For some reason, the statement made Patrick angry. He wanted to punch Xavier in the face, although he couldn’t remember why. Then he remembered what happened right before Jude drove his truck into the house. Xavier and Mom arguing about magic. Glass breaking for no obvious reason. Samantha subduing Xavier with an aggressive hug. He dropped Samantha’s hand.
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked.
“What do you mean?” Xavier asked.
“The glass breaking,” Patrick said.
“I think we’ve been pretty open about it,” Xavier said. “I’m a wizard.”
“You’re saying you broke the glass with your mind?”
“I was mad.”
Patrick laughed. “You guys really are bat shit crazy.”
“How do you explain what you saw, then?” Evangeline asked.
She had him stumped there.
“How do you explain your mom telling him to stop? Not to do magic?” Evangeline asked. “She knows. She’s a witch too.”
Patrick wanted to cry. He didn’t want to act like a kid, but he just wanted everyone to stop acting crazy. He wanted everything to be normal. He didn’t even care so much that Xavier and Evangeline lived with them now; he just wanted them to start doing things that made sense.
He got up and went to the water fountain for something to do. He sat back down and everyone looked at him, waiting for him to say something, as if he hadn’t left.
Patrick turned to Samantha. “What about you?”
She bit her upper lip. He didn’t feel like waiting and pushed harder.
“What was that hug thing?” he asked.
“It was… maybe you should ask your mother,” Samantha said.
“Are you kidding me?” Patrick asked. “Tell me.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble,” Samantha said. “I like it here. I don’t want to be kicked out.”
Xavier rolled his eyes.
“She won’t kick you out,” Evangeline said. “I mean… if she didn’t kick David out, I can’t imagine she would really kick anyone out.”
“I think she knows she couldn’t kick him out. Not really,” Samantha said.
“I don’t think she knows,” Evangeline said. “Part of her knows. But she doesn’t know know. Her parents weren’t practicing. She doesn’t know much. She let him stay for reasons of her own.”
“And if she does know, she wouldn’t kick you out either,” Xavier said.
Samantha blushed. “No. I’m no one’s. I don’t think so, anyway.”
“Stop it.” Patrick shouted it loud enough that a man in a wheelchair who he had previously worried might be dead, looked up. “Just stop it,” he said more quietly. “Stop it.” Once more for emphasis. “If someone doesn’t say something that makes sense right now, I’m going to freak out.”
They all stared down at their laps, as if Patrick had asked for the impossible.
“Samantha,” Patrick said. His voice sounded tired and pathetic. “I know these two are playing a few cards short of a full deck. I mean, no offense, guys. I’m not trying to judge you. You have every right to be a little… different. But, you, Samantha. Why are you in on this? That’s what’s freaking me out.”
“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she said. “You say you don’t want to be freaked out and you also want me to explain. I can’t do both. And, right now, you’re upset and tired. I can’t think of anything to say that won’t freak you out.”
“The truth.”
She cocked her head and considered him. “I’m a witch too. And you’re a wizard.”
Patrick laughed. It felt good to laugh. But he didn’t laugh because he found her statement funny. He laughed because he felt… happy to hear it? Her ridiculous claims made him want to smile all the way back t
o their busted house. But he couldn’t quite let himself believe it yet.
“I don’t think so,” Patrick said. “I never got my owl from Hogwarts.”
They all smiled, even Xavier, the first time Patrick had seen him smile. It made him look like Dad. Patrick didn’t like it.
“No owls. No Hogwarts,” Samantha said.
“It sounds a little disappointing.”
“Sometimes.”
The ER resembled an extremely ill-fated Halloween party. A fairy crying in a wheelchair. A zombie covered in real blood. A giant mustard bottle holding up a limping giant ketchup bottle. Halloween. Amanda’s most hated holiday. David guessed that made sense now.
He found Amanda and Emmy tucked into a quiet corner with the curtains partly drawn around Emmy’s bed. The hospital gown made Emmy look younger, as if every other day she wore an adult disguise, and now the real her lay before him. A little girl. She hardly moved, like she feared if she did, she might split in two.
Amanda and Emmy spoke in whispers.
“I thought you were a Christian,” Emmy said to Amanda. “Have you been pretending all these years? Why even take us to church?”
“What you are is different from what you believe. We can believe whatever we choose to.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe in the Devil?”
“Yes.”
“Can wizards get into Heaven?”
“They have the same chance as everyone else.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“Emmy, no one knows for sure. Not about any of this.”
“We know what’s in the Bible. And there are no wizards in it.”
“Are you sure?”
Emmy knitted her brows together. “No,” she said firmly.
“Hi, Emmy,” David said.
Amanda jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
She let out a deep sigh and ran into his arms and squeezed him tightly enough that Crystal’s box dug into his ribs. He had forgotten how great it felt to have her soft, warm body pressed up against his. He never wanted her to let go. When she released him, he approached his daughter.
“Are you in pain?” he asked.
She moved a shoulder, as if she wanted to shrug but couldn’t quite manage it. He took her small hand in both his own.
“I’m so sorry, Emmy,” he said.
She pulled her hand free.
“I already have Mom here,” she said. “You should go be with Jude.”
“Where is he?”
“The police station,” Amanda said quietly, as if saying it softly made it less true.
“You had him arrested?” David asked.
“I didn’t intend to. We just called 9-1-1. For Emmy.” She turned back to her daughter. “Honey, if Dad wants to be with you in the hospital, you have to let him. He loves you very much.”
“Does he love Jude?”
“Of course I do,” David said.
“Is Jude going to be okay?” Emmy asked.
“He’s just a little banged up,” Amanda said.
“I didn’t mean physically.”
Amanda paused to consider the question. “Yes, he is going to be fine.”
“Please don’t kick him out,” Emmy said.
“He’s not going anywhere. Literally. He’s grounded until he leaves for college. What do you think, David?” Amanda asked.
Jude nearly killed everyone David loved, including himself. It didn’t seem like enough. But what else could he do?
avid couldn’t think for about three days. My business is finished. I am a wizard. My father abused me. My memories are gone. My son drove his truck into the family room and almost killed my whole family. Had all that really happened in only one day?
He’d never felt so tired. He pretended to work from home but really played hours and hours of FreeCell. He emailed Liza and told her about what had happened with Jude and that he needed a few days to sort things out. She didn’t complain, but it didn’t mean she and the others didn’t secretly resent him for abandoning them. As nice as he tried to be, they feared him. This meant he could do what he wanted but would have to do it knowing that 347 people hated him behind his back and went home and complained about him to their significant others. The tough times defined a good leader and a good man. He played FreeCell and ignored calls. But he didn’t know how to take things apart. He built things. He built his business, created jobs, and he excelled at it. Disaster recovery. Bankruptcy. Layoffs. Severance. He couldn’t do that.
Besides, what did it matter? His business would fail with him or without him. Gracefully or painfully. Either way, it would fall.
Amanda kept grabbing his shoulders and examining his eyes as if she had taken up amateur optometry. She did it again before she went to bed that night. Instead of a goodnight kiss, she leaned in close to see his eyes, and then pulled back.
“Stop that,” he said.
“I’m worried about you.”
“What are you looking for, exactly?”
“I’m not sure. I just hope I’d know it if I saw it.”
“It hasn’t been the greatest few days of my life. And I know it hasn’t been for you either. If I seem upset, it’s because I am. Not because my mind is addled by magic.”
“I know.” She paused and picked up his glass paperweight again, then rolled it from hand to hand. “Did you call that private school like I asked you to?”
“No. I must have forgotten.”
“Okay, so we’re still on that.”
“Yeah. We’re still on that. Three days later, I’m still upset to know my wife has been treating my life story like a rough draft she can change however she likes.”
“I don’t just change things as we go. I did this one time. I finished in 1995. Since then, I haven’t touched anything.”
“What else did I forget?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t mean to take out memories of magic. What other mistakes did you make?”
“There may be a few small things.”
Another rush of anger settled itself in the middle of David’s chest. Honestly, he hadn’t expected any more.
“Like what?” he asked with his teeth bared.
“Small things. Little things I’ve noticed. Like, you forgot you were allergic to strawberries.”
“I had to go to the hospital for that. Yeah, in 1995. You could have killed me.”
“I didn’t know you would forget.”
“What else?”
“Well, when the kids asked for pets, you told them you didn’t get to have a dog when you were a kid. But you did. You told me about him before the spell. A border collie mix named Max.”
“I had a dog? Max? What happened to him?”
“I’m sure he died a long time ago. Before you met me. I just remembered you mentioning him… before.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it. Really.”
“There could be more. Things I forgot that I had never told you about. Things you wouldn’t notice. Do you have any idea how upsetting that is? Who knows what I could be missing?”
“If there was anything big, I would have noticed. I knew you well both before and after the spell. I watched you very carefully. There is nothing else.”
A week later, the construction team started to fix the hole in the house. It took great willpower for David to keep from overseeing every detail of the project. His time ticked away. They planned to close Vandergraff Home Builders right before Christmas. He had to tell Amanda… he promised himself he’d tell her before Thanksgiving… or more specifically, before she drained their bank account on Black Friday.
Jude didn’t total his truck, but he lost his license. So when the vehicle came back from the shop, they put it in the garage and promised to give it to Patrick when he turned sixteen. Jude accepted his punishment of permanent grounding without complaint. David’s instinct told him that even if they un-
grounded Jude, he still wouldn’t go anywhere—not that he planned to test the theory. Jude didn’t seem to want to. He became even quieter than Xavier. And, according to Emmy, he broke up with his girlfriend, the beautiful and popular Avery Mathison, who he had wanted to go out with for years. When David and Amanda sat him down to tell him he was a wizard, he said, “Yeah, I know” and refused to discuss it further. Apparently, one of the others—most certainly Emmy—had told him, even though David had asked Patrick and Emmy to let him do it.
Emmy’s happiness seemed directly related to Jude’s and went down in equal measure. Amanda seemed to have given birth to conjoined twins four years apart. Emmy stayed his most talkative child, but she had turned it down considerably and ran at only about fifty percent Emmy. David might have preferred this, since he’d asked her to dial down her volume on so many occasions, but he missed the other half of her.
Then, David got a call at his office from Coach Ward.
“I assume you know why I’m calling,” the coach said.
“No.”
“You don’t know that Jude quit the team?”
“I don’t think he did.”
“He told me this morning. He didn’t show up for practice. Came to my office right before first period and said he was quitting. He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Do you know why he might have quit?” the coach asked. “I don’t want to pry. I just want to make sure he’s okay. He has seemed off for a while. I didn’t know if anything was going on at home.”
“Well… yeah, he’s been having some problems. But I think he should keep playing football. He loves it. And he’s good at it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. Perhaps you can talk to him. I hope this is just a lapse. I don’t need to tell you I want him back. If he needs some time to deal with personal stuff, I’m fine with that, but I need him in the play-offs. When he wants to be, he’s an excellent running back. I’ve hardly ever seen anyone so determined to get the ball across the field. And he’s fierce. I swear I once saw a defensive linesman with a hundred pounds on him just step out of his way and let him pass. It seems like half the defenders fall down when he gets within a foot of them, like he’s got a tailwind. I don’t know how he does it, but I don’t care.”
Destruction: The December People, Book One Page 9