by Dani Hart
“I feel like we could have been friends if things were different.” I meant it, too. He was honest and compassionate. He didn’t hide behind walls and haunting memories.
“If things were different, the odds are we would have never met.”
Shadows moved across his face as headlights from oncoming traffic passed by, highlighting dark circles under his eyes that seemed to have appeared overnight. Working for The Order didn’t seem easy by any stretch of the imagination, especially this assignment in particular. Me.
“Can I ask you something?” His eyes veered from the road ahead for a moment to take in my response.
“Sure,” I replied. My anger had subsided, and exhaustion was fast setting in. My body relaxed against the leather seat, and my eyes closed.
“What was it like with your father?”
I rolled my head in his direction remorsefully. “I’m sorry about your father, Elijah. Being alone at the age of thirteen must have been hard.”
His shoulders tensed and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, a sign of how uncomfortable this was for him. “It was, but James did a lot for me. Had he not stepped in, I would just be a nameless face working for The Order.”
An image of my brother popped in my head. A nameless follower. That was what he was. My bloodshot eyes focused on the road ahead again, the glow of the headlights breaking through the blackness of the night as if it were nothing. My grandpa used to tell me that no matter how dark it was, all you had to do was shine a light and it would overpower the darkness. Of course, I was nine and he was talking about putting a nightlight in my bedroom, but the more I thought about it, it applied to many things. Like now, for instance.
“It was quiet,” I said, suddenly fidgeting with my fingers, remembering how empty the house felt when my dad was gone. “Growing up with my dad. He was gone a lot. I used to resent him for it, but I understand now.”
Elijah’s shoulders rose as he inhaled deeply. “Abby, he was a good man. He is a good man. He talked about you all the time…” His voice trailed off.
“What?” I pressed him. He almost seemed embarrassed.
“Nothing.” He blew it off.
Elijah was tough. Almost unbreakable. Almost. It was funny how amongst all the millions of questions I had regarding The Order, missions, and my dad, the ones I wanted to ask the most were about Elijah himself.
We passed a highway sign. “Are we going to Seattle?”
“Yes.”
My dad had spent a lot of time in Seattle recently. He knew this was coming. We were going to my grandpa’s house. All of the good memories were going to be tarnished. It was disheartening. Nothing was safe anymore. It made me wonder how many happy memories I would have left. Looking over at Elijah again, I knew it wouldn’t be long. He was haunted by his violent past, and that overshadowed every good memory he had made with his mom and dad. Maybe darkness could be stronger than light if enough time passed without redemption.
Once we exited the freeway and took a few turns, I wasn’t surprised when we pulled up to my grandpa’s house. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark.
“I should have known.” I shook my head, feeling utterly stupid for believing that they were selling it. My mom probably had no idea either.
Elijah opened the garage and pulled in, closing it behind us.
“My parents told me we were selling it. Is my dad here?”
“Not yet. He has to take care of things with your mom. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
It was after midnight, and all I really wanted to do was sleep, but my adrenaline was still running on full. Stepping out of the car was like stepping into my past, becoming my grandpa’s little girl again, carefree and invincible.
My pink ballet flats hit the garage floor and I raced into the house, my long pigtails flying behind me, excited to see my papa.
“Where’s my little Abigail?” My papa’s voice bellowed from the kitchen.
When I got around the corner, he was on bended knee with his arms outstretched. I jumped into them, knocking him to the floor, laughter surrounding us.
“You’re getting so big, Abby.” He chuckled. “How old are you now?”
He knew, but he asked every time I visited. “Nine, Papa.” I rolled my eyes playfully.
“If you don’t slow down, soon you’ll be bigger than me.”
“Abby, are you okay?” Elijah was waiting at the garage entrance to the house.
I still had one foot in the car and one foot on the floor, my pink flats replaced by worn-out red Chucks. “Yeah.” I brushed off the memory.
“Your dad brought you some clothes and I believe a new pair of shoes.” He pointed to my exposed toe.
“Great. He thought of everything.” I stepped out of the car, passing Elijah as he held the door open. The house managed to trap my grandpa’s signature scent. It was both comforting and overwhelming all at the same time. I slid my hand across the counter, closing my eyes and taking a moment to remember the kindness in every crease of his face. His eyes always lit up for me.
“You were close to him,” Elijah said as he came up behind me.
“In some ways I was closer to him than my dad.” I spun around and took in the kitchen and the family room that were separated by a half wall. Everything looked exactly the same. My dad didn’t change or move anything.
“How so?” He stood uncomfortably in the threshold from the hallway.
“My grandpa was always present when I was here. Nothing else mattered. The phone would ring, and he would ignore it. And he always had things planned for us.” I smiled. “He even indulged in a pedicure with me once.” I stifled the memory. “I can’t speak to his character as a father or a member of The Order, but I can, without a doubt, tell you he was the perfect grandpa.” Elijah’s hand fell on my shoulder, but instead of accepting it, I stepped away. “Make yourself comfortable. He would have wanted that.” I retreated quickly out of the kitchen to the back of the house where my room was. Lights illuminated my childhood sanctuary. Looking around, the memories flooded me, so sweet yet so bitter now. I missed my grandpa so much, and this room, the way it was designed was so important to him. He wanted to make sure I felt comfortable here and that my space was my own.
Whatever you want, Abigail. If you want butterflies on the wall and pink ruffles, I’ll buy it. This is your room.
He brought me to several cute boutiques in town, but I had bypassed all of them for an antique store. Everything in this room had a mysterious history. Even the comforter was a vintage French provincial pattern from the fifties. A light green metal pedal table served as a nightstand, and atop sat a vintage pink phone with a tall stand and circular dial. I asked for the windows to stay bare because I wanted to see into the backyard, so we picked sheer curtains instead of blinds. Looking at the walls always made me giggle even to this day. My grandpa thought it would be fun to grab a palette of colors and just paint whatever. In the end, we wore more paint than the walls, but it became a perfectly imperfect abstract painting by us.
I walked over to where we signed our names in the corner.
Every artist must sign their work.
I brushed my fingers over his name. Papa Rose.
“Your things are on the chair.”
Startled, I spun around to face Elijah. He was lurking in the doorway. “I meant it when I said to make yourself comfortable. The guest room—”
“Is across the hall. I know.”
He hadn’t stopped studying me since we got here. As if I might break. Fragile. Maybe I would break, but not now. Not like this. “Goodnight, Elijah,” I said evenly and without indignation.
“Goodnight, Abigail.”
I followed him to the doorway and closed the door. Inside the bag of belongings my dad had left were a pair of black army-style boots. A far cry from my red Chucks. I admit it was time to retire them, but it felt like accepting defeat. Like I had to give up my past in order to survive my future. These shoes had beautifu
l and tragic stories hidden deep within their soles. I could never truly let them go, just like I could never truly forget Wes Hunter.
I pulled them off and tucked them underneath my bed, out of sight but never out of mind. There were several changes of clothes in the duffel. It was obvious I wouldn’t be going home again any time soon, so all I had from there were the red Chucks and the infinity charm and my grandpa’s key that were still tucked safe and secure in my pocket. I pulled them out and studied them carefully.
Life is infinite. My grandpa’s voice filled my head. I remembered the day he set me on his lap to watch a meteor show. He pointed to all the stars and told me how life was as infinite as the universe. It never ended because energy couldn’t be destroyed and we were all composed of energy. It was a nice thought, and it especially comforted me after he died, believing he was still somewhere in the universe. Now, though, I wasn’t sure what he really meant by that. Was he just talking about immortals? I wished I could ask him. Things would be so much easier.
I pulled out one of the red Chucks and tucked the charm and key into the toe and scooted it back underneath the bed. Tomorrow I would have to find what that key opened. Not tonight, though. I was too tired.
It was still dark when I awoke. The antique clock hanging on my wall read just past five in the morning. At least I slept for a few hours. The guest room door was closed, so I tiptoed into the kitchen to make tea. The cabinets had been freshly stocked with all of my favorites, including an assortment of chai. I had to search the cabinets to find the teapot. In the process, I located the pots, mixing bowls, silverware, and mugs. The only thing I ever cared to find when I was younger was hidden in the refrigerator dairy drawer. When I swung the fridge door open, I was pleasantly surprised to see the drawer stocked with dark chocolate bars. It was my favorite treat, and my grandpa always made sure to have them when I visited. I took one out, coveting it.
“Chocolate for breakfast. I like it.”
The bar flew out of my hand and crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces. “Elijah. Seriously. I’m getting you a cowbell.”
He bent down and picked up the bar, studying it. “Aw, the great debate. Dark or milk chocolate.”
Snatching it out of his hands, I scoffed. “There’s no debate. Dark.” I flung it into the trash. “Why are you up so early?”
“I never went to sleep.”
“How noble. Afraid I’d sneak off?” Making myself busy, I set up my cup of tea.
“I hope we’re passed that.” He stood in the doorway.
“Okay, look, Elijah. You have to relax. You’re making me even more nervous than I already am. Sit or something. Just don’t hover in any more doorways.” I took out another mug. “Tea?”
“Sure.” He chuckled as he sat down at the table. “Better?”
“I am going to ignore that you are completely patronizing me and just say yes. Better.”
I joined Elijah at the table with the tea a few minutes later.
“So, when do you get to sleep? Because you look like hell.”
“When your father gets here.” He rubbed his eyes.
The silence was nice as we sat through the sunrise, drinking our tea. I wasn’t sure how much else we had to share. I could be bitter that he stole half of my dad’s time, but then that would be selfish. If anything, I felt the exact opposite. I was glad he had somebody. “What’s it like working for The Order?”
“Exhausting,” he bellowed.
“I can see that.” I snickered. “What else?”
“Lonely.”
He never held back. “Don’t you have a partner?”
He shook his head. “No. I wanted to work alone. That was my only stipulation. I don’t know what I would do if I were responsible for someone else and they died. I don’t know how your dad did it.”
He had a valid point. A partner was not only a physical liability, but also an emotional one. “But you said you were going to watch over me?” I was bordering on vulnerable territory.
“Yes, I did. And I meant it,” he said proudly.
“Because you owe my dad?” By pressing him, I was hoping to reveal more than he was leading on.
“Yes.” He hesitated.
It was just a spilt second, but that was long enough.
He pushed back from the table. “I think I will go lie down. Don’t run away. Your dad might kill me if you do.”
He disappeared into the hall. “I wouldn’t think of it,” I said under my breath.
Elijah had started a fire in the fireplace, so I sauntered over to the couch, pulling my grandpa’s old throw blanket over me, and watched the embers pop and crackle. The heat it emitted warmed my cheeks as I rested my eyes once again.
“Where is she?”
Was I dreaming? My mom’s voice filled my head. It was so much harder to open my eyes this time.
“On the couch,” Elijah answered.
My head was pounding. “Mom?” My voice croaked.
“Abigail.” A soft, cool hand wrapped in mine while another brushed hair from my cheeks sticky from the heat. “Sweetie, are you feeling okay?” Her voice was alert and concerned.
I was really having a hard time snapping out of my daze. I felt drunk. With heavy arms, I pulled myself up and rubbed my face hard. It wasn’t helping much. What I needed was a shower. “I’m fine. Confused, but good.”
My dad stood to the side of the couch, and I imagined Elijah was behind me somewhere.
“James, she looks sick. Is she sick?”
“Lucinda, calm down. She said she’s fine.”
For my mom’s sake, I squeezed her hand and smiled. “Mom, I just need a shower. Then we can talk.”
I stood up, but it took every last bit of strength to not fall over. “See, I’m up. Just give me a few minutes.” As gracefully as I could, I made my way to the bathroom, locking it behind me. The shower helped me emerge from the thick haze.
All eyes were on me when I came back. Fresh-faced and awake, I sat on the couch next to my mother. I wasn’t sure what she was told, so I kept quiet. My dad was sitting in a chair reading the morning paper as if everything was normal. Elijah stood next to the front window, staring out. I had entered the Twilight Zone once again.
“Your father told me about Wes,” my mom started.
I glanced at my dad who lowered the newspaper and winked. A wink. What did that mean? What did he tell her? I was panicking.
“Oh, he did?”
She rubbed my knee. “First love is hard to get over, honey. Trust me. We have all been there, but running away isn’t the answer.”
“Run—right. Yeah, I know. I just needed to get away from Sandpoint for a few days.” My dad was spinning an interesting tale. One that put Wes on the chopping block, of course. “He’s a good guy, Mom, really. We just need some space.”
“I’m just glad you’re staying so levelheaded. When your father told me you ran away to Grandpa’s house, I was a bit surprised. We haven’t been here in years. And look at it. It’s just the same.”
Secrets. Lies. Betrayal. But it was for the better good. Or was it?
“Yeah, I was surprised, too.”
“Well, if you’re feeling better, we should get you home.” She patted my leg and stood up.
My dad put down the newspaper. “Actually, I thought it would be fun for us to stay here for a few days. I’ve lost so much time with my little girl over the years, and the timing couldn’t be better.”
“What about school?” She seemed skeptical. “And I have that knitter’s retreat this week.”
I watched the exchange between them.
“Oh, that’s right. I guess it’ll be just the two of us then.” He smiled over to me.
“Not to be rude, but what is the boy who sold us the Jeep doing here?” my mother asked.
My dad and I exchanged blank looks.
“Oh, uh, Elijah and I started hanging out, and I asked him to come with me. I was scared driving here by myself.” I kept my body still.
Please believe me. Please.
“I’m not sure if I should be grateful you weren’t alone or upset you were alone with an older boy in Grandpa’s house.” She looked to my dad.
“I will talk to her about it.” He tilted his head at me sternly.
I needed out of this suffocating web. “I’m going to get some fresh air.” I couldn’t get out back fast enough. Elijah followed behind. “You don’t have to watch me like a circling hawk.”
“I needed an excuse to vacate that train wreck in there. I can’t imagine how hard it is on him to have to lie to her.”
“Try being on the receiving end.”
The backyard was still thriving. The lot was small, being just outside of the main drag, but my grandpa had done so much with it. In the back corner, he had built a playhouse just for me, equipped with a swing and slide. He painted it bright aqua with pink doors. It looked more like a dollhouse than a typical wooden structure. I spent so many hours playing make-believe in there. And then there were the fairy village and pond in the other corner. The rest of the yard was grass and trees and colorful flowers.
And he made it all for me.
“This place. It hurts my heart.” I hugged my arms around my body.
Elijah put his arm around me and pulled me into his side. “Life isn’t easy, Abby. Whether you’re mortal or immortal, death follows you everywhere.”
We sat on the white porch swing, rocking quietly, waiting for the calm to end and the storm to begin.
“BYE, MOM. HAVE fun.” I hugged her tightly. There was no telling when I would see her again.
“I will. I love getting together with the girls.”
I laughed. “Oh, Mom. You’re an elderly woman trapped in a thirty-five-year-old body.”
She laughed, too. “I love you, sweetie. I’ll see you next weekend. Have fun with your father.”
She kissed my cheek, and then Dad walked her to the car. I watched from the doorway as he helped her in the passenger seat, still in love. I waved from the porch as my mom drove away, a piece of me going with her. My dad walked back over and put his arm around my shoulders.