The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 2): Galilee Rising

by Harlow, Jennifer

  "No, I'm fine," he says still yawning. "Sorry. I didn't get home until three last night." He turns away toward the horizon. "One of my patients on the drug protocol was admitted last night. He's fine, though."

  "That's good," I say with my own yawn. "Look, you've got me doing it now too."

  He looks back at me with a grin. "What about you? Tired?"

  "Yeah. I had a work emergency come up too that took some time. I had to go into the office and…" I meet his eyes, and the rest of the lie vanishes from my head. The sincerity in those pools of dark blue sort of infects me. "No, I'm not doing this."

  "What?"

  "I was going to lie to you," I say with an awkward smile. "I don't want to do that. I don't want any major secrets between us, they just poison the relationship. Justin never told me about Justice, and it almost destroyed us. That's not gonna happen here. So…for the past month and a half, I've been working with the Royal Triumvirate. I just do research, I'm not in the line of fire or anything."

  "Oh," he says, glimpsing away again.

  "Like I said, it's a part of my life, and I felt that you should know."

  "Well, thank you for trusting me with your secret," he says sadly.

  "You're welcome." I pause to find the right words. "And you can trust me with yours, whatever they may be."

  He simply stares in the direction of the setting sun. "I know."

  We sit in silence for a few seconds as the boat gently rocks. "I have another confession to make," I finally say.

  "Another one?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

  "Last one, I promise," I say with a half smile. "When you were in the shower I snooped around. I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry."

  "I know. Well, I assumed. Discover anything of interest?"

  "Few dead bodies, your porn collection, women's underwear in your size, the usual," I say, which garners another dimpled smile. "No, just books and photos."

  "The ones in the shoe-box?"

  "Yeah." I pause. "You were a cute kid. I really liked the one of you and your brother with the nanny by the pond. You seemed so happy."

  "That was Nanny Lynn. She was our favorite governess, mostly because she'd sneak us candy and let us watch television with her. I still record that soap opera. Uma used to laugh when Rebecca and I discussed the characters and ridiculous storylines."

  "You weren't allowed candy or TV?"

  "Only educational shows. Father was convinced the brain could only hold so much information, therefore he didn't want us filling our heads with trivialities. And sugar made us hyperactive and unable to concentrate. Lynn was with us three years before Jordan let our extra-curriculars be known. She was fired on the spot."

  "Holy shit, I'm sorry." I scoff. "And I thought my childhood was fucked up."

  "It wasn't all bad."

  "At least you had your brother, right?"

  He turns away again. "Yeah."

  "You don't talk about him very much," I observe. "Did you have a falling out or something?"

  "Or something." He pauses. "He didn't approve of my marrying Uma."

  "Why? Because she was Indian?"

  "No, because he was jealous. All we had was one another, then he turned his back and I had someone else. After her death, the few times we've seen each other, we're…combative at best." He glances back at me. "If you don't mind, I don't wish to talk about this anymore."

  "Of course. Sorry."

  "Nothing to be sorry about. It's perfectly natural to be curious. He's just not worthy of our time."

  I have a trillion other questions but refrain. "Okay."

  We sit across from one another and pick at our food in uncomfortable silence. After about fifteen seconds, he tosses his fork down with a sigh. "You have to understand, the conditions of our childhood were intolerable. We were isolated, constantly made to believe we had to be perfect, pushed to our limits, it was tantamount to torture and lasted the whole of our childhood. Our only refuges were our imaginations and one another. Us against the world, but it wasn't the real world. When we finally ventured out, left our microcosms, he floundered and attempted to take me under with him. I didn't much enjoy college, but I loved what I was studying and knew all would be worthwhile in the end. That was my first betrayal, not dropping out with him. Afterwords, I didn't see him for years. There was the odd phone call or postcard, but nothing substantial until our parents funeral. We reconnected but he was traveling the world, doing God knows what, and I was in college. We spent summers and holidays together, phoned at least once a week, but I sensed he desired more. It was working until I met Uma. Then the snide comments became outright rudeness and open hostility. He vanished again after a huge fight. A few months later, he reappeared after hearing of our engagement, acting as if nothing had happened, all smiles and apologies. He was brilliant after she died and seemed genuinely sorry for my loss. I soon learned it was all an act."

  I pause before asking, "He killed her, didn't he?"

  "Yes. Not that I can prove it. Nor can I prove he set the fire that killed our parent's. My brother is far too clever for that. I had investigators try to track him down even to this day, but if he doesn't wish to be found, he won't be." For the first time he gazes at me, mouth set straight. "Now you know."

  "I'd tell you the guilt you feel is wrong, that she didn't die because of you, but then I'd be a huge fucking hypocrite. Not to mention a liar. If you hadn't come into her life, she might still be alive. That is just a hard fact. But it still wasn't your fault. I don't blame Justin for what James Ryder did to me anymore than Uma would blame you. And given the choice even now, of never meeting him or having to go through all I did, I'd chose him every fucking time without hesitation. Some people are just worth it." He stares at me and I half smile before looking away. His gaze doesn't leave my face, but I can't bear to see him for fear of breaking my shaky resolve. The silence is unbearable too. "The sun's gone. I guess we should be heading back soon."

  "I suppose," he says.

  I sigh. "God, I love this boat. Justin and I used to make sure we took her out once a month. Just the two of us. No distractions, no worries."

  "I can see why you like it."

  "Yeah. The tradition kind of ebbed away when Rebecca came onto the scene, though. You know the moment I knew he was officially gone was the second time he cancelled on me in as many months. The knife twisted when he let it slip he took her out here to propose. Probably in this very spot. I mean, it was bad enough he proposed, but to do it on our boat just cut to my heart. Betrayal on top of betrayal." I scoff. "How little did I know, huh?"

  Jem's silent for a second, then, "I'm sure he had his reasons to keep that from you. It wasn't done to hurt you."

  "I know the reasons. I do. Hell, I even sort of forgave him. Well, as much as you can forgive twenty years of lies. It still…" I bite my lip to stop the oncoming rant. "Sorry. Just being here, the anniversary in a few days, working with superheroes, and being with you just dredges it all up."

  "Why being with me?" he asks, finally looking my way.

  I half smile. "I don't know. You remind me of him. You're both dependable, kind, strong, smart, easy to be around. Practically perfect in every way."

  "I'm not perfect, Joanna. And neither was he," he says with an undercurrent of anger.

  "I know that. Now. Until Ryder, hell, I thought he was God. He could do no wrong. Everyone said I had a blind-spot when it came to him, and it wasn't until that blind-spot almost got me killed that I finally woke the fuck up," I say, almost chuckling. "I mean, he was vain. So vain. He'd spend an hour in front of the mirror getting his hair just so. Everything had to be perfect. If I left my jacket on the couch or God forbid forgot to use a coaster, I got a lecture. He was such a know-it-all too. Always telling me how to dress, to talk, hell even to eat. He meant well but it could be so grating. He was such a control freak. And he could be so fucking inconsiderate! I mean, I get all the cancelled appointments now, but sometimes he'd expect me to just drop what I was doing
to meet him at some party or work event so he wouldn't have to be alone after some model cancelled on him. And the fucked up thing is, I always went! I skipped drinks with other cops or dinner with my own family to be his wingman. Then the few times I couldn't, because I was working, he'd be cold the next time I saw him. And there was very little give and take. We always did what he wanted, and I just learned to like it.

  "Then, to top it all off, when he met Rebecca, he dropped me. The only times I got to see him, she was there. And then, once again, he expected me to stop my life to go to Daisy's ballet recital or Rebecca's tea and scones party. And once again I went because I thought maybe one day he'd open his eyes and see that I was the one who was always there for him. That I was the only one worthy of his love. I was such a fucking idiot. But…even in spite of all that he was my best friend. And I loved him with my all. But he's gone. I just need to finally and completely lay him to rest. To move on." I look into Jem's solemn eyes. "Is that even possible?"

  Those sapphire eyes bore into mine as he says, "God, I hope so."

  Despite the increasing cold it's as if my entire body is alight with heat. Only twice before have I felt like this, once with Harry and the other with Justin, but those were flickers compared to this volcano. Every one of my cells is begging me to move toward him, to press my lips to his and just give into whatever this sensation is, but I fight them. It isn't time yet. I just don't know how much longer I can hold out.

  Jem's eyes fill with sadness, and his face falls. I can't stand to see him in pain, especially when I'm the cause. I pull my legs up to my chest, hugging my knees and gaze up at the moon. "I'll take us back in a minute."

  "Fine," he almost whispers. We both stare up at the night sky in silence, misery filling the space between us. "I'm not Justin, Joanna."

  "I know," I say after a pause. I stretch my legs out and set my hands on the deck for support. After only a moment's hesitation, I move my hand on top of Jem's, entwining my fingers in his. He lets me. "I know."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Death Echo

  I can make it through this day. I can. It is a day like any other. The sun rises, people go to work, they go home and the sun sets. Nothing extraordinary about it. Yeah, well, that's what I thought exactly a year ago today, and by the end of that day I'd been held hostage, shot at, killed a man, and watched as my best friend plummeted to his death to save me from the same fate. One never knows what is just around the corner.

  Mayor Miracle arranged the memorial event in Stan Lee Park at three, where he'll unveil the new Fountain of Justice. I approved the design--the scales of justice pouring water with the names of the three heroes who donned the symbol. Justin would have liked it. An estimated thousand people, and who knows how many members of the press will be in attendance despite the rain. I got roped into making a speech, which my speech writer handed to me as I hurried out of the office.

  So far the day has been fine. Got enough sleep, went to work early, harangued the Senator about the healthcare bill, had lunch with Lane and a few other executives, and am now sitting in a police escorted town car on my way to the park. Please let the dry fish at lunch be the worst of the day. I'm dropped off at the Southside and led through the barricades toward the stage while a few tourists and paparazzi snap pictures. I ignore them. The nerves I always get before public speaking began in the car but get worse as I wait in the tent with interns and assistant event planners from city hall running around and screaming into their walkie talkies. My only goal is not to have a panic attack on stage. If I can do that, the day is a success.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find my cousin Veronica standing beside me. We look a lot alike, same height and build, but her curly hair is tawny and her eyes are brown. She sits next to me with a sigh. "You know, my editor was ecstatic when he found out I was the only reporter in town with backstage access to this thing."

  "You're welcome," I say.

  "But so far the only newsworthy thing is that all the interns Mayor Miracle hired are far too gorgeous to just be fetching him coffee. Does the man get them from a modeling agency?"

  "There's your Pulitzer right there: discrimination in city hall, only the pretty may apply. Might actually be worth looking into," I offer.

  "I just may." She pulls out her recorder and shoves it in my face. "Quote me, cuz."

  "I'm honored to be here celebrating the life and good deeds of my friend, Justin Pendergast IV. He, his father, and grandfather deserve this memorial for all they did for this city. I only hope that when people walk past it, they not only remember the men, but also what they stood for."

  "And how are you personally feeling today?"

  "Of course this is a difficult day, but it is a day of remembrance. I choose to remember the good, which far outweighs the bad."

  She stops the recorder. "You've gotten more eloquent since you hired people to tell you what to say." She stuffs the recorder in her coat. "Off the record, how are you?"

  "So far, so good. No crying jags, no flashbacks, no impulses to reach for a bottle. I'm good."

  "And where's your boyfriend?" she asks in sing-song.

  "Shut up, he's not my boyfriend. He is a boy who is my friend."

  "Right. So where is your platonic male friend who you spend hours on the phone with between romantic sunset cruises?"

  I just had to tell her about that. "He has a job. And important meetings today."

  "Too bad. I really wanted to meet Dr. Love."

  "Don't call him that. Jesus, what are you? Twelve?"

  She chuckles. "What? I never got to tease you about boys, except Justin but that got old after the first ten years," she says, rolling her eyes. "And I missed my chance when you were with O'Hara because you didn't tell me, which I have not forgiven you for by the way."

  "Gee, wonder why I didn't tell you."

  She playfully punches my arm. "Oh, come on. I want to meet him. See if he's good enough for my baby cuz. Dad--"

  All the chatter stops, and there are a few audible gasps when three familiar masked vigilantes waltz into the tent. We all knew they were coming, but as most people have never been this close to superheroes, I understand their reaction. V practically begins panting at the prospect of getting face time with them. "Good afternoon," Tempest says to everyone.

  Nobody moves or says a word. I roll my eyes, tug on V's jacket, and we stand. "Hi," I say, walking over to them. "I'm Joanna Fallon. Thanks for being here today."

  Tempest shakes my hand. "Our pleasure. It's nice to meet you."

  I glance at Liberty. "I don't know if you remember me, but--"

  "Believe me, you are hard to forget Ms. Fallon," Liberty says. "Glad to see you're doing well."

  "Thank you." V lightly hits me with her foot. "Um, this is Veronica Lilley with the Galilee Gazette."

  "We've read some of your articles. They're very good," Tempest says.

  "Good enough to grant me an interview?"

  "We'll consider it," Tempest says.

  I meet Nightingale's eyes, then signal over to the catering area. "Will you excuse me? I need coffee." I walk away toward the food to let V sell them on an interview. At the table, I pick up a glazed donut and start picking it apart. Sadly I'm never too nervous to eat.

  On my second donut, when the last of my fellow munchers leave and the coast is clear, Nightingale steps beside me and picks up a coffee cup. "How are you?" he asks quietly.

  "Holding it together," I say, stuffing my face. "Thanks for being here today. It means a lot."

  "Of course. I know how hard this is for you. I--we're here for you. Always."

  I flash him a smile. "Thank you."

  For once Mayor Miracle is a welcome sight. He rushes into the tent with his security team close behind. Immediately, he zeroes in on the heroes. They are the ones who are going to get him national attention, not a fountain. "Oh my goodness, it is an honor to meet you," he says, shaking Tempest's hand. "Truly an honor. Thank you for agreeing to be here."
>
  "Justice was a friend," Tempest says. "So, who speaks first?"

  "The mayor, then you, then Miss Fallon who will unveil the fountain," the event planner says. "We should take our place. It's time."

  "Okay," Miracle says. "Let's get out there before it starts pouring again."

  I have enough time to touch-up my makeup and brush my hair before the planner makes us line up. I'm right behind Nightingale, who stares straight ahead. A few seconds before our cue his hand moves toward me, palm up. After making sure no one is watching, I entwine my fingers with his and squeeze. We pull apart before walking to the stage. Damned if I don't feel better.

  The crowd goes batshit as the heroes step onstage, waving to their fans. It's stopped raining so there are easily a thousand people filling the grassy field and paths. Some hold up signs with "We miss U Justice" or "Make me your Queen, King Tempest." The mayor moves to the podium, and the rest of us sit in the chairs behind him.

  On the jumbotrons scattered around the park pictures of Justin, his father, grandfather, and their alter-ego Justice fill the screen. J.R., Justin's grandfather and the first Justice, cutting a ribbon on the new wing of the museum, followed by Justice's first ever fight with Freak, the brawl that made him a superstar. Then J.T., Justin's dad, with Tessa, his mother, at some charity gala followed by Justice running out of a burning building with a woman in his arms. Justin pops up next standing on a familiar stage in a tux speaking to a crowd. It's the last photo of him ever taken at the recovery wing fundraiser exactly a year ago today. I remember that exact moment as clear as if it were happening right now. That proud smile, now a story tall, was all for me. The first pang of the day hits strong enough I sharply intake air. No more looking at pictures for me.