by A. C. Dillon
Evan chuckled. "How strange! So do I."
Linking his arm through hers, the pair strolled out the door, leaving their parents to scurry after them. Much to their collective amusement, Michele looped her arm through Justyn's in a mirror image of her progeny, sashaying out the door.
Sarah smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Well, it definitely runs in the family."
Autumn reached for the bed controls, lowering herself into a more comfortable position. "I'm so glad they worked everything out. There are few men in this world who can keep up with Veronica."
"There are very few men who can keep up with you," Neil countered, reaching for her hand. "It was way too touch and go for our liking, kiddo."
"It really wasn't that bad," she protested weakly.
"No, it was. It really was, Autumn. I have a half a mind to never let you out of my sight again."
"Daddy..."
Neil shrugged. "I'm a parent. It's my job to worry, you know. Not like I was the only one freaking out."
Autumn rolled her eyes. "Mom cries at sad commercials. That's a given."
Uncharacteristically silent for some time, Andrew spoke up. "What I think your father is being kind enough to merely allude to is my waiting room meltdown.”
Autumn frowned as her father's grimace confirmed Andrew's statement. "But... You saw me before they tidied me up and gave me this sweet, itchy gown. You were pretty calm, all things considered."
Andrew exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Autumn, I thought you were going to die. You couldn't move. I figured if you knew how bad you looked, you might stop fighting... I-I couldn't have that."
"Oh. I didn't realize I looked... dead."
The shared expression of worry on the faces of her loved ones revealed a conspiratorial silence, now broken. While she'd felt like death, sleeping through the pain to avoid it, she'd never considered that maybe her sense of being close to the precipice was more than her inherited gift with a side of creative exaggeration.
Was it really that close to being an ending?
"I'm so sorry you all had to go through this. Again." She buried her face in her hands, her stomach swirling with guilt.
Andrew's hand pulled hers away from her cheek, drawing it close to his heart. "You came home. That's what counts."
"And home is where you're staying," her father added firmly. "No more travel. Not until you're thirty."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Neil, don't be unreasonable." After a beat, she added, "Not until you're twenty-five."
Defeated, Autumn's head lolled towards her troubled fiancé. "Well, I guess we know the answer to our 'living in sin' proposal. Plan B: Andrew moves in. I bet he'll even pay you rent."
Not even a half-smile. Crap. Clearly, whatever emotional turmoil Andrew had been holding back for her benefit had now overtaken him. She looked frantically to her mother, seeking advice. Her furrowed brow was met by a hapless shrug.
"I could use a coffee. Neil?"
It was a command disguised as a question, and her father obliged. On the way out, he paused to squeeze Andrew's shoulder reassuringly.
As the door shut behind them, Autumn knew that as inept as she was at navigating her own emotions, she'd have to find her way through Andrew's. Alone.
"Talk to me," she pleaded.
A frown. His shoulders slumped as he gazed off into a distant place she couldn't trace a path towards. She knew this from her own years of coping in silence: he was pulling away into himself, building the walls around his heart. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, her reward a flash of fire through her side and a stuttered gasp for air. Ignoring it, she managed to yank herself upright, pulling Andrew against her and jarring him out of his mental misery.
"Autumn, lie down! The doctors said—"
"Screw the doctors!" She threw her arms around his neck, as much to steady herself as to soothe him. "Andy, please... Don't shut me out. Don't baby me. Tell me?"
He buried his face into her better shoulder, his embrace careful and calculated. How did he always know just how to hold her? And why couldn't she sense his needs in the same way?
"Don't run away," she continued softly. "You taught me that."
He relented at last, her heart stopping as he spoke: "Lying there, you... You looked like my mom."
Oh, God. As in his dead mother, killed in a car accident. Images of twisted metal and blood-soaked pavement in the rain consumed her as he wept. He'd torn himself apart as he'd tried to pull his parents free of the wreck, a jagged scar testifying to the hellish night he became an orphan. How many times had he told her that above all else, he feared losing her? How many times had he said that she was the only family he had?
Too many times.
"They took you away," he continued between sobs. "And I... I was waiting for the apology that doctors give that feels like a knife and I knew I couldn't... I couldn't do it again..."
"If I could go back, prevent it, you know I would." Kissing his cheek, she pulled him closer, ribs be damned. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you. I promised you."
Andrew nuzzled against her shoulder, warm droplets seeping through her gown. "Your dad... He picked me up off the floor. I told him our deal. I told him. He said you don't make promises—"
"Only ones I will keep," she continued knowingly. "Daddy speaks the truth."
"I'm sorry." He pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes. "You're healing and I should be taking care of you."
"Bullshit," she rebuked him lightly. "We take care of each other. Or so a wise, loving guy once told me."
"Sounds like a keeper," Andrew joked weakly, gesturing for her to lie down.
"He is." Gingerly, she lowered herself back against the mattress. "He's also very pretty and handy in a zombie apocalypse. Good taste in music, too. Not as perfect as mine, of course, but it'll do."
Smoothing back her hair, Andrew managed a small smile. "These are all important traits to look for in a life partner."
"Yes, life. As in years and years. With you."
"I like the sound of that," he mused, resting his head beside hers on the overly starched pillow.
"Me, too."
We have time, she affirmed privately. It’s all about balance. We have time.
* * *
Time was a fickle creature, moody and changeable.
Three more days spent in a hospital felt like a week. Two more days, spent driving back to Toronto out of concerns over cabin pressure impacting her rib injuries, felt like a month. Every bump and pothole was an assault on her bones and no painkiller was enough to stave off the discomfort. Andrew apologized on behalf of the Department of Transportation for each and every county and town they passed through, building forts of pillows and blankets around them as her parents took turns driving the rented van.
Helping her upstairs, he supervised as she showered off the sweat and stickiness of a road trip before settling into her bed. Pandora was quick to help in her own way: she curled over Autumn's hip, placing her head just so, avoiding all tender spots by eerie feline intuition. A little music courtesy of her laptop and she sighed happily. Home at last.
Andrew settled her bags on the floor near her desk, chuckling at the cat. "Looks like I'm actually using that guest room bed for a change."
"She can move. Later." Autumn's fingers lightly scratched at her companion's ears and chin, earning a roaring purr that rivaled her neighbour's motorcycle. "Think she missed me?"
"Just a little." Digging into her backpack, Andrew held out a trio of treasures. "And where shall I put your new friends?"
Autumn grinned. My ponies. Give Andrew credit: her delirious demand for a pony on the cold concrete of the hotel storage room was not forgotten. Just in time for her hospital discharge, a package arrived from Amazon. To her surprise, she found a My Little Pony playset featuring three of its beloved characters.
"Keenan is a closet Brony," Andrew had explained. "I asked him which ones would be most appropriate."
Her trio of gifts: an adventurer al
ter-ego of the show's take on J.K. Rowling; an enthusiast of reading and magic; and a rainbow-adorned fan of the book series. Andrew had joked that each was an aspect of Autumn's personality: the loyal friend in times of need; the book lover; and the woman who couldn't stay out of danger. He then joked that if she stayed out of mortal danger for the rest of summer, she could have a pony that was a DJ as well.
"Hmm... Put them on the windowsill. Daring Do can plan her next adventure as they watch the sunset."
"You got it."
Autumn turned her focus back to the cat beside her, acutely aware of the awkward tension between them. Last night's troubled sleep had led to her spilling the truth about Morgan's final minutes and her role in them. Andrew had been unhappy, to say the least, but also uncharacteristically quiet. He'd never shied away from challenging her more reckless decisions before. He'd covered well during the final stretch of the journey home for the sake of her parents. Now that they were out returning the rental car and grabbing groceries... Well, it wasn't going to be idle chit-chat.
"Veronica told me what she saw."
Ah, the opening salvo. "She did? And what was her version of events?"
"That your eyes kept changing colours. That you were there and gone and back again. That Morgan had a gun pointed at your head." Andrew winced, shaking his head as if banishing the visual. "That Morgan's former lover took over."
Much of this, she'd confessed the night before, although the gun aimed at her head was overlooked. "We were going to die. It was worth the gamble."
"It's not that I don't believe you. The problem is I do believe it. And I believe what Audrina told us. This is dangerous." Settling on the edge of the bed, he fidgeted with the blankets, mulling his words carefully. "I told you it wouldn't be a one-time thing. I knew it."
"You know me," she replied quietly.
"What do you want this to be?" At her confused look he added, "The gift. Being a door."
She'd spent a great deal of time mulling this over the last few days. While shutting the door entirely seemed futile, she knew that she needed to find balance. Her time in room 308, regularly haunted by Nikki, had nearly broken her entirely. But the possibility of helping people with her newly-developed senses... It wasn't in her nature to ignore someone in need.
Like she’d told Louise in her dream, playing it safe just wasn’t her.
"I want Audrina to help me find someone to work with. Someone who can help me control it. I want to be able to close off when I need to take care of myself." She risked a glance at Andrew's features, relieved that he seemed at peace with her decision. "It's a skill, like any other. One more tool to find the truth. A way to help people."
"We're on the same page, then. Control and caution." He leaned over Pandora, ignoring her mewed protest as his lips found Autumn's. "I'm holding you to our promise."
"Everyone comes home," Autumn affirmed. "No matter how big of an adventure we run off on."
"The truth is meaningless if no one lives to speak of it.”
She couldn’t argue with him. A great story, one shared and treasured, could outlive its creator a thousand years over. But someone had to share the story first. Someone had to bear witness to the original narrative.
Andrew’s face lit up suddenly. “Oh! I think I know what Audrina wanted me to find."
"The token? What is it?"
"My mom, she had a charm bracelet. One of the old school ones. When I was thirteen, I won this student film competition. She commemorated it, as she did everything, with a charm." He smiled wistfully. "She had this guy make a camcorder charm. I still don't know how she pulled it off. But it would be perfect."
"It would be. When they come... I always find my way back by thinking of you."
Andrew nudged Pandora away from her side. “Sorry, Pan. My turn.”
The cat squawked indignantly as he pulled Autumn gently against his back in a loose, lazy version of spooning. They both giggled as the feline huffed, turned herself in circles and unceremoniously sprawled across Autumn’s feet.
“I’m looking forward to no longer having to sneak out of here in the morning.” His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine. “Or hiding in your closet.”
“What, you think this rock on my hand is going to stop my Dad’s protests?” she teased. “And the closet was one time.”
“One terrifying time. I was clutching my hands over my junk in there.”
Autumn snickered. “He was so close to opening that door. I thought I was having a heart attack.”
“Think he knew and did it to spite us?”
“In light of my parents betting on when we did the deed, I’d say he knew exactly where you were.”
Andrew groaned. “That was the other bet?” Her laughter was his reply. “I don’t know how to take that.”
“And lucky you, you’re marrying into this family!”
His mouth grazed the nape of her neck, her breath hitching as she felt him inhale the scent of her hair. “I am lucky,” he insisted. “I’m spending the rest of my life with you.” A horn honked in the driveway and Andrew reluctantly pulled away. "I'm being paged. Hold that romantic movie moment."
Autumn giggled as he slipped out of the room, the gentle thump of his steps upon the stairs echoing the rhythm of her heart. I can do this. She had faith in it now. She would seek out the help she needed, master this conduit business as she'd mastered her panic attacks. Control what seems uncontrollable because of emotion. One and the same.
And I can help people. Help people who've lost their lives in awful ways. Help people find closure. If there was one thing about her courtroom ordeal she'd felt good about, it was seeing the families of Kearney's victims finding their own closure in his conviction. Nothing would ever ease the grief of losing their daughters, sisters, friends—Autumn wasn't oblivious in her optimism. Knowing that someone had been held accountable, though... it was a way forward with that grief.
Gazing out the window at a now darkened sky, the din of her family on the floor below faded away to white noise. Blossoming in the darkness was a small, greenish orb of light. She blinked hard once, twice—just to be sure. She was on powerful drugs, after all.
The light blinked back, hovering just beyond the pane of glass.
Louise's words came to mind, as vividly as if spoken aloud beside her: "Autumn, it's never just once. They will not go away. Not until the gift passes to the next. Your choices are to run and risk weakness, risk losing control, or to create the terms of your relationship with the other side."
On her laptop, a song by The Jezabels came on, buoying her with hope. It was a song about choosing life over death—in endings, a new beginning. As always, music was her language.
"I need to heal," she told the orb firmly. "I can't help you yet. But if you come back in three weeks, I promise to listen."
A familiar stand-off: an unknown entity, intent on its mission, squared off against her battered but determined body.
Pandora’s ears twitched as she turned towards the window. Chattering and hesitant, she abandoned Autumn’s feet for the wide sill, a single tiny paw swatting at the intruder. The orb expanded and contracted in reply, as if drawing a deep breath and expelling it. Autumn kept her gaze fixed upon it, no longer afraid of the spectres that surrounded her.
This is my door. My rules.
She would balance this equation, these demands of the dead and her need to live. Her constant would see her through it.
Reaching across the bedside table, she palmed the black tourmaline stone, tracing its ridges and imperfections, grounding herself in the earth. Its cool surface comforted her as it seemed to vibrate beneath her fingertips.
It was only then that she turned from her visitor with an exhausted sigh, managing a smile as she noticed Andrew at her door. Her personal sentinel. His gaze drifted towards the cat scratching at the windowpane.
“You okay?”
“Objectively or subjectively?”
“Deflection, Ms. Brody,” he gen
tly rebuked her, dangling a bag of brownies in front of her. “You want your treat or not?”
Slipping the tourmaline inside her pillowcase, she patted the bed. “I’d be better with you beside me.”
Andrew accepted this answer, joining her in bed. He absently toyed with her hair, tucking wild strands behind her ear. His silent acceptance—of her assurances, of the things he could not see but knew she could—was the missing piece. A sleepy declaration of love fell from her lips as she threaded her fingers through his. In that moment, she sensed something within her shrinking, folding upon itself in a delicate origami of secret wisdom, and knew that she would be okay. Safe.
With one last, sentient pulsing of light, the orb obediently drifted away into the night.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
When I wrote Change of Season, it was meant to stand alone. It was a labour of love, a way to tell the story of several women I’ve known. It was a way for me to take my personal experiences with mental illness and violence and transform them into something healing and hopeful. For everyone who’s ever nudged me for a sequel, who’s fallen in love with these characters and their truths, this book is for you. You are the ones who brought it to life, like Tinker Bell, by clapping your hands and believing.
This one’s also for Carrie, because without her igniting her own passion and inspiring me, I wouldn’t have subjected myself to NaNoWriMo again. Your endless cheerleading, ginger-licious distractions and friendship kept me from shelving this. Your insights are why it shines, like a star. Kismet and mettā, always.
For Jocelyn: I love deceiving you as you read. You can be the director’s commentary to my books anytime.
My husband Dan, whom I clearly love the morstest. It’s a word. It’s our word. Maybe we can’t always live by a private plunge pool, but we’ll always have us. I’m still glad you made the terrible decision to propose.
To my furbabies, Gravity, Kali and Mimi, who mostly tolerate being ignored for hours...
For my family and friends, who love me even when I’m buried in revisions and forgetful about calls. The reason the bonds between these characters matter is because your love inspires them.