Geoff did not.
“Do it, Valerie. Do it now or I’ll do it for you,” he warned.
I held it out, suspended over the water. Let go, I thought. With my other hand, I reached inside of my pocket and pulled out the vial Noel had given me. I gripped it tightly. Did I need to use a wish to help me do this? I shook my head as I battled with myself. I would still have this, I thought fervently, this small remembrance of him.
“Now,” Geoff prompted again.
I took a deep breath. “OK,” I whispered. “OK.” I loosened my hold slowly, one finger at a time, until I held the stone loosely between my thumb and forefinger. Tears blurred my vision as I struggled to release it. I closed my eyes and the tears streamed freely down my face.
I held out my hand for an eternity, suspended in the air, hovering over the water as I remained in purgatory with my decision. The stone glowed brightly, the warm light a sharp contrast to its icy cold surface. I tried to let go but my fingers remained glued to it.
I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do this,” I whispered, but even as I said this, I felt my thumb releasing, separating from the stone.
Geoff crashed into me then, the full weight of his body slamming me against the wooden hull of the boat. The boat rocked wildly and the stone flew high, arcing gracefully as it made its descent toward the waiting blue water.
I sat frozen, shocked, smashed against the side of the boat, Geoff’s weight still pressed against me. We both watched as the stone broke the surface, sending the tiniest ripple through the water. Its eerie glow was visible for just a few seconds, flickering like a battery-starved flashlight before it disappeared.
“Valerie!” Geoff’s voice was frantic. “Valerie, are you OK?” He stared at my hand.
It was covered with blood. I unclenched my fist, raising a palm filled with shards of amber glass. The air around me was thick with the smell of winter and Noel, that scent of evergreen and spice, that scent I loved, that I’d plan to keep with me forever. It was my link—my only link—to Noel. And, just like the stone, it was gone.
Chapter 62
“Oh my God,” Geoff moaned as he studied my shredded, bloody skin. “What happened? Here, let me see it.”
He reached for my hand but I wrenched it away. The scent was fading, dissipating quickly under the relentless summer sun.
“No,” I whispered, watching the beads of liquid dry on my skin. “No.” I want one more wish! I thought frantically. One more thing, something I could wish for that would somehow keep Noel alive for me now that the vial was broken, smashed to pieces. But I couldn’t compose my thoughts, I could not find words to form a coherent wish. Within seconds, it vanished. No moisture, apart from the warm stickiness of blood, no scent except the subtle hint of rain. Noel was gone.
I crumpled to the bottom of the boat, covering my face with my hands as I sobbed. Shards of glass stung my cheeks and sliced my nose.
With great physical effort, Geoff pulled my hands away. “What happened? Why are you bleeding? What the hell is going on?”
“My bottle,” I said dully.
His eyes widened in horror. “No! How?”
But we both knew. When he’d tackled me, pushing me into the side of the boat with all of his strength, my hand had hit hard. The bottle, so tiny and fragile, had smashed upon impact.
He sat down next to me on the wet bottom and pulled me to him, hugging me tightly. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I am so very sorry.”
“I will never forgive you for this.” But I clung to him as I spoke, my face pressed against his shirt as I cried.
Geoff held me and said nothing. When I finally pulled away, I looked up at him and his own eyes were wet, moistened with unshed tears. His white t-shirt was stained pink, a mixture of blood and tears.
Tentatively, he reached a hand out and brushed my hair off my face. “We need to go. Get off the lake and get you cleaned up. And get you home.”
I didn’t want to get cleaned up and I didn’t want to go home but I straightened and pulled myself back on to the wooden plank seat. Geoff paddled in silence, his eyes trained on me. My heart was still pumping, my lungs were still receiving oxygen. I saw, I smelled, I heard, and this surprised me because I’d felt the life drain out of me only minutes before, the same way the last remaining drops of oil had trickled out of the broken vial.
Another boat approached, a large pontoon motoring through the water. The driver slowed.
“There’s a storm comin’,” the driver told us. There was another man on board, stowing fishing poles and gear. “You guys want to get yourself off the lake.”
“We’re heading back in,” Geoff said.
The driver lifted his sunglasses and looked at me. “What happened to her?”
“A bottle broke,” Geoff said. “She tried to clean it up…”
The man interrupted. “Is that what happened?” he asked doubtfully.
I nodded.
He turned back to Geoff. “That’s an awful lot of blood. She needs to see a doctor.”
“We’re heading back now,” Geoff repeated. “I’ll take care of her.”
The man seemed reluctant to leave. “You’re sure you’re OK with him?”
I nodded again. He sighed and pulled down the throttle and they left, continuing on their way. He gave us a backward glance before gunning the motor. Our boat rocked in the wake.
The sky darkened as Geoff rowed us back to the cove. I sat in the boat as he tied it up, saying nothing. He grabbed my good hand and pulled me on to the rickety dock. We walked back to the car and my hand dripped blood, a stark, dark trail of red in the dust and dirt of the gravel driveway. Geoff took off his shirt and wrapped it around my hand.
“Here, keep this on it,” he said. “I’ll stop somewhere.”
He drove back down the gravel road. We flew past the houses; I didn’t think Geoff was paying attention to the speed limit. A convenience store came into view and he pulled into the parking lot.
He took the shirt from me and pulled it back over his head, disregarding the large splotches of blood that decorated it. “I’ll be right back.”
It could have been hours that he was gone. I didn’t know. He reappeared, holding a plastic shopping bag and a huge cup of soda. Back in the car, he opened the bag and withdrew a wad of paper napkins and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
“Who knew you could find hydrogen peroxide at a convenience store?” Geoff said. He picked up my injured hand. “This is going to sting like hell,” he warned.
He balled up a napkin and poured from the bottle, saturating it. He dabbed at my hand, wincing as the paper caught and tore on bits of glass still embedded in my palm. I felt nothing.
Geoff sighed and pulled another item from the bag, a pair of tweezers. “I was really hoping I didn’t have to do this,” he said. He ripped apart the package and clumsily attacked the amber slivers in my hand. I sat motionless, unfeeling.
“I think I got it all.” He rubbed my palm with a fresh, sodden napkin.
Geoff lifted my hand to inspect his handiwork. I watched with the strangest sense of detachment, as if this were a movie and I was merely an observer.
“Shoot,” he muttered. “Some of these are pretty bad. You need stitches, Val.”
My hand was no longer bleeding but several of the cuts ran deep, exposing swaths of skin, shades of white and pink.
“Let’s deal with your face.” A new napkin was moistened and Geoff touched this to my cheek. It turned a dusty shade of pink as he continued to wipe.
“It looks worse than it really is,” he said as he finished up. “Your face. No stitches necessary there, but you need them on your hand. And you are going to have some major explaining to do.”
I said nothing.
He elaborated. “Your parents? Have you thought about what you’re going to tell them? How we can explain all these cuts?”
I stared, unseeing. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, hard.
“Snap
out of it,” he snapped. “Hit me, scream at me, cry—do something! Something that tells me you’re still here, dammit!”
I found my voice. “I’m still here.” I’m still here…but Noel is not.
Relief flooded Geoff’s face as tears rushed down mine. I wiped them away quickly, before he had the chance to notice.
“We’ll stop somewhere along the way,” he told me as he started the car. “A clinic or an urgent care, some place where they can stitch up your hand.”
“No.”
“You need stitches, Val.”
“I want to go home,” I whispered. Then, louder, “I need to go home.” And, I realized with surprise, I did.
There would be something waiting for me there, that tiniest bit of something that might make a life without Noel worth living, I thought. Even though he didn’t want me, had made that point crystal clear, I still ached for him. I needed to know there would be something worth living for and the only place I could think to start was at home. With a father who—despite his hectic work schedule and general absence for most of my waking hours—loved me, who tried to make the most of the precious few moments we did spend together. And with a mother who, despite all of her faults and the years of displaced love she wasted, really did want to connect with me, to find something that might strengthen the fragile foundation of the new relationship that had tentatively begun to bud.
And later, much later, the promise of friendship that Geoff and Fanchon had extended so willing, so selflessly. These were the things that just might see me through, that just might bring me back. Healing my shattered heart was more important than doctoring my sliced and tattered hand. Unlike the deep, throbbing wound inside of me, I was certain my hand would heal.
But my heart? I couldn’t be sure.
Chapter 63
It took us almost two hours to get back home to Alexandria. Geoff offered the drink to me but I refused. He sipped slowly, nursing it every few minutes as we drove in complete silence. I concentrated on the sound of the wheels thudding over the cracks in the pavement; it was rhythmic and oddly soothing.
Fanchon was waiting at my house. Her older Volkswagen bug stood out like a sore thumb with its rainbow spray-paint job and peace symbol stickers. She got out as soon as we pulled up. Her spiky hair shimmered in the sun. Like shards of amber glass. I looked away.
She hurried over to the car, her eyes filled with worry.
“What happened?” she asked as she opened the passenger door and knelt beside me. “Are you OK?”
I nodded.
“Did you do it?”
Again, I nodded.
She hugged me. “I’m sorry, Val. I’m so sorry this day came.” I let her hold me but I didn’t hug her back. I couldn’t.
“May I see her?” I recognized the voice.
Fanchon stepped back and out of the way. Noel and Leo stood together, a breathtaking vision of night and day, of dark and light. What were they doing here?
A look of horror crossed Noel’s face as he took in my appearance. “What happened?”
“The bottle broke.” My voice was surprisingly steady. Again, I thought, why was he still here? Surely he knew I’d gotten rid of it.
“It looks bad,” Fanchon commented, inclining her head toward my hand.
“She needs stitches but she won’t go,” Geoff said flatly. The implication was there; it wasn’t his fault.
Leo strode forward. “May I?” he asked, his brown eyes the same shade of amber as the glass that had shattered my hands and heart. “For old time’s sake?”
He knelt before me and took my hand, lifting it gently to his mouth. His warm breath heated my skin as he kissed my palm, his lips lingering on each deep cut. Seemingly satisfied, he lowered it and showed me his handiwork, a smooth expanse of unblemished skin.
“And now for this,” he murmured, tilting my head up. His lips glided across my cheeks and nose, even my mouth as he healed the tiny cuts that criss-crossed my face.
“There,” he said. “All better. Now that’s something my dear brother could never do for you.”
A muscle twitched in Noel’s jaw but he said nothing.
Leo spoke. “Remember that and remember me.” He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I can bring you with me, you know. If that’s what you want. I’ll do it. And you could be with him.”
“Leo.” Noel’s voice was filled with warning and I didn’t doubt he’d heard the exchange.
He made a face. “Fine.”
Leo turned back to me. “Maybe our paths will cross again?” he mused, his eyes twinkling. “I could make that happen if you want it to, Valerie. And maybe I’ll be a little more appealing without you-know-who around.”
“Go.” It was a single word, a strongly issued command.
Leo sighed. “As you wish.” He bowed mockingly. “I must go and ready myself for the battle and my inevitable defeat.” His next sigh was deep and exaggerated. “Really, some years this whole ritual can be so…tedious.”
He looked at me one more time, a warm, inviting smile on his face. “Au revoir.”
He turned and walked away, down the sidewalk and across the street. I watched him go. He moved behind a tall oak tree and suddenly he was no longer there, within view. He had disappeared.
I got out of the car and made my way to the front door. The air was thick like a curtain, pressing against me, slowing me down. Three pairs of eyes followed me as I walked into the house but no one accompanied me. I opened the door and climbed the stairs, anxious to escape the memories lurking in my driveway and in my mind. Why had they shown up here? Why had Leo, of all people, wanted to say goodbye? I knew it had not been Noel’s idea. He had made his feelings known two days ago. He’d been done, ready to sever all ties, effectively slicing my heart in two that afternoon at school. What did he need? To make certain the deed was done, that my heart had indeed broken?
I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and tried to block out all thoughts, all emotions.
A soft voice spoke. His voice. “You did it. You really did.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t speak. He’d wanted this. Not me. I had only done this for him.
Noel stood within arms reach. “Valerie?”
I turned my head away, willing it to be over so I could fall apart. He moved closer still, leaning his head down, his hair grazing my forehead, his breath blowing across my face as he spoke.
“I’m leaving,” he whispered. “Will you…can you look at me? Before I go?”
I shook my head once. I knew what would happen if I did. I would cry, I would beg for him to stay, I would cling to him as if he alone could save me from the sea of sadness that waited for me. Despite how he’d treated me on Monday, I loved him and I wanted him. More than anything.
“So this is it, then.” Noel’s voice was tight, controlled. “Goodbye, Valerie.”
He left. I didn’t see but I felt the air stir as he turned to go and heard his soft footsteps tread lightly down the hall.
I closed my eyes tight and used all of the strength I possessed to keep from running after him, from throwing myself in his path or in his arms. My chest tightened convulsively as my heart shattered again, the pieces stinging and slicing me just as the vial had done only hours before. I choked on an avalanche of tears and my eyes, though shut, drowned. Like a breached dam, the grief burst forth and I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around my knees as heart-wrenching sobs tore through me, over and over, loud, noisy sobs that emerged from the depths of my soul.
A hand touched my shoulder and then the other. I was lifted up and cradled against someone, protectively, as a mother might hold her inconsolable child.
“I can’t do this,” a voice whispered. The sweetest voice on earth.
My eyes opened and Noel was there, holding me effortlessly in his arms, his stormy blue eyes locked with mine. He set me down next to him on the bed, his arms still around me. With his thumb, he gently wiped the tears from both of my cheeks
. His fingertips were cool against my flushed, heated skin.
“I can’t leave things like this,” he said. “I thought it would be easier. Monday…I thought your anger would be a good thing. Maybe you’d think I was an insensitive fool. Maybe that would help you to forget me sooner. I thought that would be better than you wanting me. Or mourning me.” He paused for a moment. “So I left you alone yesterday. And I tried to leave now, to just walk away and let it be. I thought you might be OK. But your tears…your sadness…it filled me, Valerie. Your entire essence—all of you—was engulfed in it and it filled me, too.”
“You came back.” I didn’t let myself hope. I couldn’t afford to.
He nodded. “I knew I couldn’t leave you…leave things the way they were.”
“But you are leaving.”
“I have to,” he said gently. He had no other choice and I knew the sadness would find me again, just as soon as he left.
“But I want to give you something. Something that might help. Another part of me.”
Maybe it was more wishes, I thought, to replace the bottle that had broken. Noel reached into his pocket and withdrew something new, something I hadn’t seen before, a tiny silver object.
He held it out to me. It was a small charm, an intricate design of a holly wreath. I took it and looked at him, my eyes questioning.
“Put it here.” He guided my hand to my chest, through the V-neck opening of my shirt until the charm rested directly over my heart.
“Think of me,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
I closed my eyes, too and pictured him, his black-as-midnight hair and the smile that melted my heart. Memories flooded me, flickering to life as images of all of our days spent together sped past, as real as if I were reliving them in some fast-forward, parallel universe. My eyes flew open.
“They’re all there,” he told me. “Every minute we spent together.”
I closed my eyes again and concentrated on Noel sitting on the waterfront, eating his warm donut and I was instantly transported. I could smell the fried dough, I could taste the sweet combination of cinnamon and sugar in my mouth, I could feel his lips on mine as he kissed me that very first time.
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