Just Believe

by Manning

  The jerk was probably lounging in his apartment, swilling a beer and laughing at how he'd led Gaelen on a merry chase.

  Given the alternative possibility—his little brother was really in trouble—Gaelen seized onto the less grave one. Lucas was fine and the girl had seen nothing. Then he allowed himself to get mad.

  “All right, Lucas, big brother is coming. You'd better have a good story.”

  He'd be back in Chapel Hill in less than ten seconds.

  ~*~

  “You!” Annabelle shouted. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  “Shhh!” Erin hissed. “They'll hear you.”

  Ignoring Erin's admonition and Lucas's offered handshake, Annabelle headed for the door, fully intending to pull the chair away and call a guard.

  “Oh, no, Annabelle,” Lucas said, his large fingers encircling her wrist. “I can't let you do that.” He pulled her away from the door and dragged her back to the bed.

  “Let me go!” Annabelle struggled, but he was stronger than he looked. In fact, she didn't see any strain on his face as he picked her up and dumped her onto Erin's bed. “Hey!” she huffed in indignation.

  Erin giggled. “Isn't he wonderful?”

  Lucas stood by the bed and took Erin's hand. Their fingers laced together instantly, as though by long practice, and Erin gazed at him with naked adoration.

  Annabelle felt her heart begin to melt and hastened to freeze it again.

  “Now, first of all,” Lucas said, his voice tinged by a hint of an accent, exotic and familiar all at the same time, “I'm very pleased to meet you at last. Erin has told me so much about her big sister I feel I know you already.”

  Annabelle glared at him, refusing to be taken in by his charm.

  He went on. “Second, I'm very sorry about leaving Erin alone like I did.” He turned to face Erin. “I am, you know. I would never have left you, but...” A scowl twisted his handsome features. “Well, I can't explain now. Soon, but not yet. It's safer if you don't know anything.”

  “Aw, puh-leeeez!” Annabelle scoffed. “What are you, a secret agent?” She moved to get up and open the door and call—no, scream—for the guards.

  “Annabelle,” Lucas whispered after her. “Please listen. I swear I'm telling the truth.”

  It was his voice, not any force—because he didn't lay a finger on her—that kept Annabelle in place. And the unreasonable urge she felt to believe.

  Lucas took a deep breath. “I would tell you now, but I can't.”

  “Why not, darling?” Erin asked, her voice gentle, totally lacking in anger.

  Annabelle decided to be angry for her little sister.

  “Yes, Lucas, why not? Why can't you explain to my sister how you used her then ran off to ... what? Laugh it up with your buddies at how she put out for you?”

  “No! That's not it at all!”

  “Lucas.” Erin reached for his arm, her voice soothing in contrast to the edge in Lucas's. “She's just worried about me. She doesn't believe what I told her, about the aliens.”

  “Aliens?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

  “I saw them take you. Are you all right?” She ran her hand up and down Lucas's arm, as though searching for wounds. “Did they stick things up your nose? Did they put anything inside your head?”

  Incredibly, as he stared into Erin's face, his own lightened and an angelic smile spread. His eyes crinkled and Annabelle's animosity melted under the sunshine of his expression.

  “It wasn't aliens, Erin. It was me.”

  “What?”

  “Can you trust me for a while?”

  “Of course.”

  “I'll tell you everything very soon.” He laughed out loud. “Though I'll not promise it makes any more sense than aliens.” Turning to Annabelle, he asked, “Will you trust me, Annabelle?”

  In spite of her determination to treat him like the skunk he was, as she looked into his black, sparkling eyes, Annabelle found herself wanting to say the words, “I believe.”

  Still, her silent thoughts denied it. “You haven't told me anything I can believe,” she replied.

  Lucas squinted at her, as though studying a bug under a microscope. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned against the bed.

  “Lucas!” Erin was on her knees in the middle of the bed, her small hands on either side of Lucas's head. “Lucas,” she whispered, her voice small and afraid. “What's wrong?”

  A small laugh puffed from his mouth. “Nothing. I'm just tired, is all.” He opened his eyes and pinned Annabelle. “You do know, don't you, lack of faith is fatal?”

  His words, though they made little sense, sent a shaft of guilt spearing through her heart.

  He gasped a deep breath and sat heavily in the chair by Erin's bed.

  “Oh, Bridget, I'm tired.” Lucas leaned back, his long frame draped on the chair like a piece of clothing. His breathing evened and Annabelle thought he must be asleep. She eased off the bed and toward the door.

  “No! You heard him.” Erin still knelt in the middle of the bed.

  “Honey, please be reasonable,” Annabelle whispered, not anxious to lose this chance to have this rat snagged once and for all. “He's not supposed to be up here.”

  “He's hurt, Annabelle.”

  “I don't see any wounds on him. You're the one in the hospital.”

  Erin glared. “That's only because everyone thinks I'm crazy.”

  Well, aren't you? Annabelle wanted to scream at her. Not only was she ignoring the obvious—Lucas only wanted to keep her quiet about his unreliability—but now she was trying to protect him.

  “I'm going to get the guards.” Annabelle got off the bed, determined to do the right thing, no matter if Erin hated her for the rest of her life.

  But she didn't get to the door.

  Lucas bolted upright in the chair, his eyes wide.

  “Saints in Heaven! Not him!”

  Erin grabbed his hand as he stood up.

  “Don't leave me again, Lucas. If you'll just tell them what happened, they'll let me out.”

  Lucas knelt by the bed and took Erin's hands between his own.

  “I promise you, Erin, my love, I'll be back. But I need to regain my strength. If he tracks me here, he'll find you.” He turned and once more he fixed Annabelle with a stare. “You have to help us, Annabelle.”

  “No way, José.” Annabelle crossed her arms and returned Lucas's stare full measure.

  He rose and came to her, towering over her.

  “Listen to me, now,” he whispered harshly, his exotic accent becoming more pronounced with his heavy breaths. “He's coming for me.”

  Was he as nutty as Erin was? Maybe there was something in the water. Maybe they'd participated in a psych experiment gone awry.

  “Who's coming for you?” Annabelle asked, her anger melting into concern.

  “My brother. And if they sent him, they'll be wantin’ Erin, too.”

  “For what?”

  Lucas closed his eyes tight, as though warding off some horror. Annabelle felt her own skin pucker with goose flesh at the dread marring his face.

  “For lovin’ me.”

  “What in the world?”

  “I don't have time to explain, Annabelle. But my kind aren't supposed to mingle with your kind.” He rested his forearm on the rolling table at the foot of the bed. “It's my fault, I own, but I couldn't help myself. I love her. I don't want anything to happen to her. Please, help us.”

  His eyes, already bright before, burned now. She didn't know why, but she believed he believed. And whatever he believed frightened him enough to spill over onto her, too.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  ~*~

  The trail was clear until Gaelen arrived back in Chapel Hill, then it faded as he neared an older, well-established neighborhood on the east side of town. Gaelen knew the area well. Several of his colleagues lived here in the comfortable seventies-style homes nestled among towering pines.


  He followed the last remnants of the trail into the neighborhood, back to the last street in the development. The trail disappeared as it led him around to the back of sprawling, one-story house sitting on a lawn manicured to the consistency of a putting green.

  Gaelen unsquooshed by an open window at the back of the house.

  “Ach, Lucas,” he whispered, recognizing in his marrow the traces of his brother's blood on the windowsill.

  Raising his leg over the sill, Gaelen climbed in. He stood quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the dark and listening for the sound of another person.

  A gentle snore echoed through the hallway. He followed the sound to a bedroom at the back corner of the house and peeked around the door. A woman lay alone in a king-sized bed, one slender arm resting across her forehead. Her mouth hung slightly open, a soft growl marking each breath.

  Gaelen approached the bed, wondering if this was Lucas's human girl.

  Snort, snuffle.

  Gaelen froze by the bed, his own breath suspended until the woman once again breathed rhythmically. There was enough trouble without letting himself be seen.

  Kneeling by the bed, Gaelen leaned close to the woman's face. This close, he could see she was a mature woman, probably nearly fifty human years. A wry smile twisted his mouth. Lucas's tastes tended toward the more tender, younger women, but this one was very attractive for her age. Some familiarity in her face made him study her more closely. He knew he'd seen her before, but couldn't place her. Her auburn hair spread out on the pillow underneath her head, creating a halo of warm color glowing in the dim light.

  A smile flitted across her mouth, softening her gentle features even more.

  Gaelen reached into the woman's mind with his own and, finding trust there, gently probed for her name.

  “Ah, Susan. What a lovely name. I am Gaelen.”

  “Hello, Gaelen,” the woman said, her voice rough with sleep, her eyes still closed.

  “Susan, do you know Lucas?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Two days ago.” She scratched her nose. Gaelen leaned back into the shadows, in case she woke suddenly. “He picked Erin up, and they went out.” A frown creased her forehead.

  Erin. He remembered Eochy mentioning that was the girl's name. Lucas's human girl. If he could find her, Lucas wouldn't be far away.

  “Where is Erin, Susan?” he asked.

  A sniff signaled her answer. “He hurt her.”

  “No, Susan. Lucas wouldn't hurt Erin.” His certainty surprised him.

  Susan shook her sleeping head. “I didn't think so, either.” Another smile flitted across her mouth. “They are so lovely together.” The smile disappeared, a bitter frown taking its place. “He hurt my little girl.”

  Erin's mother, he realized.

  “Why did he hurt my daughter, Gaelen?”

  “I don't know, Susan. But I do know he never meant to hurt her.” The degree of trust Susan showed gave him the heart to ask her, “Can you help me find Lucas? He's in trouble. If I don't find him soon, he may be hurt before he can tell Erin he's sorry.”

  Susan shook her head. “No. I don't know where he is. Erin has been waiting for him since the aliens took him away.”

  Gaelen stifled a chuckle. Such a tale would go a long way to keeping this whole disaster quiet. Sensible people would laugh off any story smacking of things that couldn't be explained. In the privacy of her own conscious mind, Susan probably didn't think she believed it.

  “Did Erin see where the aliens took Lucas?”

  “No. They disappeared in a flash of light.”

  “Where is Erin?”

  Susan sniffled again. “The hospital.” A single tear slid from the corner of her eye.

  Sensing her starting to waken, Gaelen withdrew from her mind, careful to place the suggestion that she'd had a lovely dream of a conversation with an incredibly handsome man about ... he paused, trying to get just the right thing to leave with her.

  Ah, he thought, perfect.

  “Fireflies, Susan. The little point of light is a firefly flickering around in the dark.”

  She smiled. “I love fireflies.”

  “Yes, my sweet, I know you do.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back tenderly. “Goodbye, Susan.”

  “Goodbye, Gaelen.”

  Gaelen stood by the window and squooshed.

  Next stop, the hospital.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Annabelle sat at Erin's bedside, her sister finally asleep. Lucas's visit had calmed Erin more than all the Prozac in the joint.

  Now that he was gone, though, Annabelle didn't know if she'd made the right decision. Helping Lucas was the same as enabling Erin in her codependence.

  With a long sigh, Annabelle rose from the chair and went to the window. The hospital was on the southern edge of the university campus, but where Columbia Street had once been a wide boulevard lined with important-looking brick buildings, housing the pharmacy and public health schools on one side and the hospital and medical library on the other, it was now overbuilt as the hospital complex had spread. Even so, Erin loved it here, even hoping to work in the UNC hospital itself when she graduated next spring.

  Daddy would be happy, Annabelle thought. Vern was a Tarheel born and bred, and had stayed on at the university as an administrator in the athletics department after his own graduation some thirty years ago. “Uncle Jumbo” they had called him, for his size and his appetite—both prodigious—and his memory, which never forgot a name or a face.

  He was as tender as he was large, though. Never did one of Jumbo Tinker's athletes spend a holiday in their dorm room if they couldn't get home. The Tinker home was open. He played Santa Claus for children in the hospital, often buying the gifts himself. And people weren't the only recipients of Daddy's generosity. Annabelle thought of the dishes of milk he always left out. "For the fairies," he'd said, but she'd known it was for the stray cats in the neighborhood.

  Annabelle turned from the window, arms wrapped around herself. Even a year after his death, she missed him so much, his droopy brown eyes, his ever-present smile, and his childlike wonder with everything.

  “Ummm.”

  Erin's muttered moan and smile as she twisted in her narrow bed caught Annabelle's attention.

  “Lucas,” she said, her eyes popping open. “Where is he?”

  “He left.” Annabelle sat down in the chair beside the bed. “He's waiting in my car, and I'm going to take him to the house when Mom comes back to stay with you.”

  “Oh. That's right.” Erin glanced around. “I'm still in the hospital.” She flicked her eyes to Annabelle. “I dreamed I was at home. Well, in my home ... with Lucas. And two of the most adorable children you've ever seen.”

  “Erin,” Annabelle moaned, “don't—”

  “What's wrong with you? You used to be happy and laugh and have fun and...” Erin stared, making Annabelle uncomfortable. “You used to dream. I remember once,” she smiled, “you saw a tiny man in the tool shed.”

  “That was a just dream.”

  “Oh, I don't think so. You talked about him for years.”

  Annabelle hadn't thought of that dream for what seemed like centuries. She'd been barely twelve and had just read Peter Pan to Erin. Again. Annabelle had just entered that hormone-driven romantic time, and she often imagined herself as Wendy. In her own private version, of course, Peter stayed with Wendy/Annabelle in London, and they grew up and got married and had many children and lived happily ever after. She'd cried when Tinkerbell drank the poison and clapped louder than Erin had to save the fairy's life.

  Then one night she'd been sitting by her window, gazing into the spring night.

  Annabelle smiled at the memory. “He wasn't tiny. As a matter of fact, he was taller than Daddy.”

  “Was he handsome?” Erin asked.

  “Very,” Annabelle said, warming to her topic, “with wheat-blond hair and eyes the co
lor of the sky. And,” she went on, telling Erin what she'd never told another soul, “he had these wonderful big wings that looked like gossamer and twinkled with blue and green light.”

  “Wings?” Erin whispered the word, then her brow furrowed. “You mean...?” Suddenly, her brow smoothed and she sat up toward Annabelle, her face full of mischief. “You mean, your dream man was a ... a...fairy?”

  The word was so unexpected, and meant so many other things now, it caught Annabelle off-guard, though she'd often thought the same thing.

  Tonight, after the stress of hearing of her sister's tragedy and being drawn into God alone knew what, the idea hit her funny bone, pushing aside all worry, fear, and tension, and dragging her spirits out of the tank. She laughed. And laughed. And laughed, until tears fell from her eyes, and she had to hold her sides to keep the stitch in her side from bending her double.

  “Oh, Erin!” She dragged in a breath. “A fairy?” She sputtered another chortle. “Oh, I hope not! That would be such a waste!”

  “Ahhh!” Erin's scream of hilarity was muffled as she dove face first into her pillow.

  A knock at the door signaled a visitor, giving Annabelle and Erin time to stifle their howls to mere snorts. Annabelle hoped they hadn't been heard. She didn't want to end up sharing a room with Erin permanently.

  She covered her mouth with her hand to mute her giggle at that idea.

  “Excuse me, is this Miss Tinker's room?”

  Oh, my, what a sexy voice, Annabelle thought. It was also familiar, honeyed with a hint of an accent. She turned to see if the figure matched the voice.

  “Yes,” Erin said, sniffing in a giggle, “I'm Erin Tinker.”

  “Miss Tinker, I'm so glad to meet you at last.” A man came into the room, dressed as one might expect a university professor to be, right down to the elbow patches of the tweed jacket he wore over his cream turtleneck sweater. Annabelle smiled and half-expected him to whip a pipe out of his pocket. “I'm Gaelen Riley, Lucas's older brother.”

  Erin's face shone with sudden delight. “Gaelen!” She reached out toward him. “Lucas has told me so much about you.”

  Gaelen Riley stood by the bed. As he bent to take Erin's hand in both his own, very large hands, the warm light burnished his wheat-gold hair. Funny, Annabelle had never though blond men appealing before.