by Debra Doxer
But the healing isn’t done and I keep going, watching as her gaze gradually focuses on me. I know I’m not hurting her, but I hope I’m helping. Her expression gives nothing away, though. She watches me calmly, her face relaxed, her nervousness a memory. Soon the energy fades, slowly drawing down before it dissolves completely.
I turn my hand in hers. “Mrs. Diesel?”
A smile curves her lips. “That felt nice.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding and look for Lucas’s reaction, but he’s aiming questioning eyes at me.
“I just changed some brain chemistry,” I explain.
His eyebrows quirk up. “Just changed some brain chemistry.”
When I shrug, unsure, I can see he wants to know more, but he’s too concerned about his mother, who’s still sitting quietly. He bends down in front of her. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Her eyes are wide and unfocused. “I feel good, I think. I’m not sure.”
“It might take some time,” I offer, because I have an optimistic but strange feeling about what just happened. I don’t think what I did is permanent. Over time, I’m afraid her brain may change back to how it was before, although I’m not sure how I know this.
“I feel good, Lucas. I do,” she says, her voice stronger now. “I feel different, but more like myself. Does that make sense?”
He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Actually, it does. Everyone always feels good after Ray does her thing. That’s part of it. Give it some time, like she says. You might not see a change right away.”
She nods her agreement, but I can see an undercurrent of hope in her eyes.
I want this to have worked so badly that I can’t help myself. I reach out and hug her because she looks like she needs it. Without hesitation, her arms come around me, and she holds on tight. From the corner of my eye, I notice Lucas watching us with a strange emotion on his face.
“Thank you,” she whispers, pulling back and wiping at her damp eyes. Then she laughs, seeming embarrassed as she stands and self-consciously smoothes the wrinkles in her skirt. “I have a doctor’s appointment this morning. I should change, I think.” She glances down at herself before turning for the stairs. “I’ll be right back,” she calls to us, looking more like she wants to conceal her tears than change her outfit.
“What do you think?” Lucas asks once she’s out of earshot.
We can hear her moving around above us, and all I know is that the pull I felt from her before is gone now. So are the shakes she always seems to have. “If it worked, it’s temporary,” I say softly. “Like a megadose of antidepressants or something. If the depression is really gone, I think it will eventually come back, but I also think I can fix it again when it does.”
When I walk over to him, Lucas wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. “I love you,” he says. When I hear the hitch in his voice, I know he’s choked up.
“I love you, too. But I don’t think you have any idea how much,” I whisper beside his ear, and I feel him pull an unsteady breath into his lungs.
THE CAFÉ isn’t too crowded tonight. Since Lucas is almost out of the pricey coffee he likes so much, I decided to stop for more on the way home from Kyle’s house. I pay for the freshly ground beans and turn for the door, smiling as I picture the mess Penelope made with the chocolate cake I brought over. She probably ruined Kyle and Chloe’s dining room rug when she dropped her whole slice on it frosting side down. Oops. Sorry, Chloe.
Glancing up, my smile disappears. I squint, not wanting to believe my eyes when I see who’s standing just inside the doorway. But he doesn’t go away. He’s really there, and he’s looking right at me. I’m glued to the spot as he approaches with a hesitant expression.
“Hi,” Grant says in a far too intimate tone.
My spine stiffens. “What are you doing here?”
He looks down at a manila folder in his hand. “Can we talk?”
My heart starts beating a path all the way up to my throat. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
His fingers grip the folder tighter. “Yes, there is. Please, Raielle. I’ve come a long way to see you. Give me ten minutes.” He nods toward an empty table and eyes me hopefully.
I take a step back from him. “You waited to get me alone.”
His expression turns sheepish. “Lucas has a well-known temper. I wanted to avoid it. Can you blame me?”
I waver, my eyes on the door.
“I have information you’ll want to hear. Ten minutes. That’s all I ask.”
Despite my better judgment, I find myself giving in. Somehow I knew I hadn’t seen the last of him, and we’re in a public place. I may as well find out what he wants. I precede him to the table, sitting down and watching as he settles in across from me, folding his long legs beneath the short table. I angle my chair so that our feet won’t touch. “You came almost three thousand miles to talk to me for ten minutes?”
Grant places the folder on the table in front of him. “What I have to tell you is too important for a phone call, even if I thought you’d pick up when you saw it was me.” Sighing, he leans forward. “I hate the way you’ve cut yourself off from us.”
My jaw tightens. “Is this how you want to use your time?”
He sits back in his chair and eyes me with frustration. “I’m here because I promised Kaylie’s family I would come. They want to thank the person who saved her life.”
He watches me closely for a reaction, and I work hard not to give him one, even though my head and heart are racing. When I don’t respond, he explains further. “She’s the girl from the clinic. The one who—”
“I know who she is,” I snap, wondering what he’s up to with this, and if he would lie about something so important to manipulate me into coming back. I push out of my chair.
“Wait.” His hand shoots across the table to grab my arm. “It’s true. She’s cured.”
My eyes narrow. “I didn’t cure her. My father stopped me. You know that.”
“You’re right. You didn’t cure her then,” he agrees. “But the healing you started continued even after you stopped. You initiated a process that didn’t end until it was complete. And now it is. She’s cancer free. I’m telling you the truth.”
I stare at him, not knowing what to believe. Then I sink back into the chair. “She tried to run from the room that day. She was so scared. When we saw that the clinic was empty, I was afraid she’d died.”
“She’s very much alive, and John took all the credit and the money for it. When I found his notes, I visited her myself. All I had to do was touch her, and I knew what happened. I felt your energy inside her.” He releases my arm. “I’ve never heard of a healer’s power working this way, but yours does. Somehow you did it. Do you know what this means?”
Grant’s eyes are wide with excitement, and I notice a trace of the same awe I saw in them when I drained his energy at Meera’s house. Could he be telling me the truth? A lump starts to form in my throat as I stare down at the table.
“Come back with me,” he pleads. “Don’t turn away from us. We need each other. We all want the same thing. What good does it do to cut yourself off this way? You’re only hurting yourself.”
As badly as I want to believe that Kaylie is well now, his obvious agenda taints his news. I raise my eyes to his again. “I don’t trust you.”
His lips part. “How can you say that after what I was willing to do for you? I risked everything for you.”
His words only show me how misguided he still is. “You expect me to be grateful for that? For nearly getting Lucas involved in a murder?”
He looks around at the surrounding tables before leaning in close to me. “I never meant for that—”
I interrupt him. “I know what you meant. You were excusing your actions because you told yourself that you were helping us. But they don’t excuse you. You’re reckless and self-serving, and I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”
His face falls. He seems truly su
rprised that this is what I think of him.
Pulling in a deep breath, I try to calm my racing pulse. My mind is filled with thoughts of Kaylie. If what he’s telling me is true, the rules of life and death we all live by don’t apply to me any longer. What are the boundaries for me now? Do I even have any? “Is that it?” I ask, anxious to be away from him.
“No,” he says quietly.
Of course it isn’t. I cross my arms and wait for him to continue.
Grant seems confused, like my reactions haven’t been what he was expecting, and he’s not sure what to think now. “John didn’t have a will,” he says, watching me closely. “He probably thought he’d live forever. And it turns out that he and Nyla were never legally married.”
I bite my lip, and hope this isn’t going where I think it is.
“That means his children inherit everything. You get half, Raielle. With Shane still missing, you might get it all.”
My head is already shaking back and forth when he adds, “There’s millions in property alone.”
I know without a doubt that I don’t want any of it, and I can see he correctly anticipated my answer this time. He’s gearing up to persuade me. But I realize something and laugh. Grant eyes me with a mixture of concern and confusion. I take Lucas’s coffee into my hands, ready to walk out. “I bet you all those millions his name isn’t on my birth certificate.”
His eyes widen.
“Do you know how much time I spent in foster care because they couldn’t find my father? They didn’t even know who he was. If it were as simple as looking it up on my birth certificate, they would have done it. Therefore, it’s not there. It probably just says”—I use air quotes—“John.” Then I dissolve into more laughter at the irony of it.
Grant doesn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll tell the lawyers about you. A blood test will prove who you are.”
I pull in a deep breath and wipe at my eyes. “I’m not taking a blood test.”
He leans forward, his eyes intent on mine. “Then it could all go to Shane and he certainly doesn’t deserve it. If they can’t locate him, the state of California gets it. You can’t let that happen. I know you could use the money and so could the organization. I’m telling them who you are, Raielle.”
“Go ahead. I’ll deny it.” I shift in my seat. “Besides, Shane will turn up. He wouldn’t walk away from all that money.”
“Maybe not. But he wasn’t liked any more than your father was. Without your father’s influence, he knows he’s not wanted or welcome anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m not interested.” My eyes go back to the door, wanting to be on the other side of it.
His face tenses. “There’s one last thing. The notes on Kaylie I was telling you about, I found them in a safe where your father kept records. He had hundreds of files in there. It turns out that Kaylie was one of only ten patients he had at the clinic this year. His power had diminished, and he kept it a secret, passing the less complicated cases on to the rest of us. But the sickest patients, those like Kaylie, only he could heal, and he was too weak to do as many as he used to. He still took money from clients, though, and he made promises he couldn’t keep. He gave them excuses to buy himself time. He was in trouble, Raielle.
“When you gave yourself that disease last spring, he canceled all his healings. Then he stored up his power so he could cure you when you arrived. That’s why he wanted Apollo to drive you to California. He was stalling for time but he didn’t want anyone to know. Then he had you at the house on life support while he waited even longer. He wanted to be as strong as possible for you. He thought if he could save you, you would save him.”
I sit there listening as the bile burns inside me. I didn’t think I could despise my father any more than I already did, but I was wrong. He saved my life, but just barely. Life support? I hadn’t known that. And he did it for himself, not for me at all.
“He kept files on all of us, including you,” Grant continues. “This is yours. I thought you might be interested in what’s inside.” He pushes the manila folder toward me.
I stare at it, hesitant to pick it up.
I startle when he grabs my hand, gripping it so tightly I can’t pull it back. “I read your file,” he says, his eyes intent on mine. “I knew about your niece and what happened when you tried to cure her. But I didn’t know your mother’s own husband had her murdered. I didn’t know that John and Apollo helped him to cover it up.”
My eyes widen, and I stare at the file again like it’s a poisonous snake about to strike me.
“Alec Dean hasn’t paid for what he’s done, Raielle. I can fix that for you.”
My gaze flies to his.
Grant leans in close. “He could get sick, like he was supposed to in the first place. If you’d been successful, he’d be gone by now and you’d have justice for your mother.”
My throat grows tight. “No,” I answer, pushing the word up from a raw place deep inside me.
“Why?” His brow knots in confusion. “Let me make this right for you.”
I tug hard on my hand, glaring at him until he finally releases it. Then I push to my feet. “You’re not that different from him. You like to think you are, but you’re more like my father than you know.”
He stands, too, placing himself in front of me. “You’re wrong. I’m more like you. I just lost my innocence a long time ago.” When his hand comes up to touch my cheek, I blink and flinch away.
Disappointment washes over Grant as his hand slowly falls back to his side. He looks like he wants to say more, like he doesn’t want to leave things this way. But then his jaw clenches tight, and without another word he turns and walks out of the café.
LIAM WANTS to stay in Fort Upton. He told us this afternoon. He’s moving in with Mom, and I think it’s a good idea. It’s been a week, and she’s changed. But she’s also the same. She’s the mother I remember from when I was a kid.
I told Dad that she was better, excited to give him the news, even though I couldn’t tell him how or why. He gave me a strange look, like he’s too tired of all the drama to care anymore. A part of me doesn’t blame him after everything she put us through, but another part of me loses the little respect I had left for him. He’s one hundred percent checked out now. I know he’s having an affair. It started before Mom moved out, and it’s probably not the first one.
Glancing at my phone, I realize Raielle should have been back already. She’s at Kyle’s having dinner. I was included in the invitation, but I passed. I wouldn’t be great company if I had to sit there and pretend I didn’t still hate them just a little bit. Raielle doesn’t have to hold grudges. I’m perfectly capable of holding both hers and mine.
I’m debating whether to call her when I hear my truck pull into the driveway. My nerves cool, and I smile. She loves driving the new truck even more than the old one. I’m going to miss it when we leave, but it’s too complicated keeping a vehicle in the city.
“How’d it go?” I call from the kitchen when I hear the front door open.
She walks in and drops my keys, her bag, an envelope, and some coffee on the kitchen table.
My smile widens at the sight of the coffee. “Thanks, babe.”
She’s wearing dark pants with a sweater, and I’m glad to see that she’s gained back some weight. She fucking scared me to death when I first laid eyes on her back in LA, all pale and thin and lost-looking.
“How was dinner?” I ask.
She gives me a strange look and wraps her arms around her middle.
Shit. “What happened? Did Chloe say something to you?”
Without answering, she grabs a kitchen chair and drops down onto it. “Sit,” she says, using her foot to push another chair out for me.
As I lower myself onto it, my muscles tense up.
“I just saw Grant,” she says flatly.
“What?” I wasn’t expecting that. “Where?”
“At the café while I was getting the coffee.” T
hen she looks down, and I see that she’s digging her fingernails into her palms so hard her knuckles are turning white.
“He waited to get you alone. He’s been watching you,” I say, certain of it, and angry at myself for not expecting it.
Her eyes shift up to meet mine, and my breathing catches at the anguish I see there. I reach out and lay my hand on her knee. “What did he want?”
She rolls her eyes. “So many things, I hardly know where to start.” Then she releases a ragged breath and proceeds to tell me about their conversation. She explains about the girl in the clinic, and the fact that she may have actually healed her. She talks about a possible inheritance, and her unwillingness to accept it. My emotions bounce all over the place as I grow angrier with each word, feeling the tension inside her, and despising Grant for coming here to dredge all this up again.
Then her eyes slide over to the envelope on the table. “And he found a file. One my father kept on me. Grant says he had them on everyone. I read it in the truck. Some of it is just factual stuff that he probably lifted from my social services records. But then there are reports that start from when we moved to our last place in San Diego. He began watching me more closely then.” Her eyes well with tears. “It talks about my mother’s murder,” she whispers. “It confirms what you said, that my father knew about Alec’s plan, and he let it happen. It also says that Rob Jarvis told Alec he was going to expose me and my whole family if the police arrested him for my mother’s murder. So my father had Apollo kill him to keep our secret.”
When she finishes, her shoulders are rolled forward and she looks completely defeated. I lean in close and take her hands in mine, wanting to give her comfort, but also knowing I probably can’t make a dent in how she’s feeling right now.
“There’s more,” she whispers. Her throat works as she tries to get the words out. “I know who my father used to save my life. I know who died for me.” Her voice breaks.
Curses spill from my lips, and I can see she’s struggling not to break down. What the fuck was Grant thinking giving this file to her?