The Bridge Over Snake Creek

by Nikki Bolvair

  "So that's why there are so many plural marriages."

  "Exactly."

  "So... is Serena Blackwell a Lydent?"

  Win’s expression pinched. "Yeah."

  "And Beth?"

  "Yes."

  "Any more girls our age?"

  "No. The rest of the group are just friends. But since Serena and Beth have been raised ‘special’ they've become annoying."

  I agreed. "Totally see that. So, can they shim?"

  "Typically, you can start shimming after your mark appears, but some talents develop earlier than others."

  My forehead crinkled with confusion. “What do you mean by ‘talents?’”

  "Well, besides having basic magic: conjuring, shimming, and a longer life span by a few years, we also have talents. Some of us have as much as three or as few as one. Yours seems to be speed."

  "And fearlessness, if that could be one."

  "You also might gain more once given the Elixer. I don't know. You did mention you became sick on your thirteenth birthday, right?"

  My spine stiffened. "Originally, I thought it was from drinking too much. The day after was horrible. After a good yelling from my dad the next morning, he still sent me to school. He never forgave himself for that. I passed out and an ambulance came and took me. That's when we found out what was going on. At first it was just the diabetes. Then the PV part. Never did they think that the diabetes was actually feeding the PV, causing the illness to speed up. They had to adjust my medications to calm down the sugars in my blood and lessen the antibodies that were fighting against me. All in all, my one night of drinking turned into a life-long illness. Now, I know it was all about me being Lydent."

  Win's stare was full of sorrow and sympathy that had my heart stuttering. "I'm sorry, Flirt."

  "Why? It's not your fault."

  "Because you had to suffer without the one person who could understand, your mom."

  My heart cracked. “Stop.”

  His gaze brimmed with pain, my pain. He smoothed back my hair and tucked it behind my ear. "She wasn't here when you needed her the most."

  I gritted my teeth as tears stung at my eyelids. “Stop. Please.”

  Win tucked me into his side, stroking my back. "It's okay to be mad at her, Flirt, even though she died. It doesn't make those feelings go away. The moments you cursed her for not being there, for not fighting. Even though she couldn't help it, and you understand, those emotions still linger. It's okay to have them. It’s okay to be mad."

  My nose burned and my throat locked up. Damn him. "She died. Just... gone," I whispered the last part.

  I clung to his shirt, not clear on how the conversation had turned to this, but Win Churchill held me while I cried bitter tears for the loss of my mother. Tears I had kept inside by using moments of thrills and daring jumps to get past the pain. This - crying it all out while he held me - it hurt. It was like the floodgates during the time of Noah had come knocking, and there was no way to stop until it was all out. And Win, he still hung on.

  When I finally calmed. No food in my stomach had it churning angrily.

  I moved away from him, wiping the pitiful tears that stained my cheeks, and sat up on the bed, my back away from him. His hand met my back, warming it. “You better?”

  I laughed harshly. “So sorry I just exploded like that. Must be getting my rag.”

  The hand rubbing my back stilled. A sad smile edged up on one side of my mouth. I wasn’t good with all this touchy feely stuff. I needed something to break this emotional funk.

  “Uh, do you need chocolate or anything?” His tone seemed strained. My shoulders trembled with a small laugh as I tried to keep it in. “Aw, don’t cry.”

  This was too much. Standing up, I shook my head and moved out of my bedroom door. “I can’t have chocolate. Going to eat. You might want to leave before my dad gets here,” I called as I went on down the hall.

  I listened to his shoes hit the floor and follow me. “What do you eat?”

  In the kitchen, Win made himself at home on a stool at the counter while I grabbed stuff from the fridge to make myself a sandwich.

  "The same stuff you do; I just have to watch my carbs and sugars."

  My body started to hurt again and I was annoyed to find myself wishing Drex was here to ease the ache.

  "So basically you’re a health nut."

  I agreed as I fixed my bread, meat, and cheese along with avocado spread and sprouts.

  Win stared at me with a disgusted expression as I cut it in half and pulled out a few carrots to eat on the side. "You really gonna eat that?"

  Amused, I brought the half sandwich to my mouth and bit down.

  He shuddered. "I guess that answers my question."

  A closed mouth grin met my lips as I chewed. I shrugged. It wasn’t that bad.

  Chapter Twenty

  Win disappeared when my dad showed up and a million thoughts now raced through my head as we drove to the he-mock center, listening to the news station on the radio. My dad seemed lost in his thoughts as much as I was.

  I had seen it with my own eyes. Magic. And all of them had spoken plainly about it in such detail that I knew it to be true, but a part of me, the part that wanted to rationalize this whole thing, made my thoughts turn a different way. One that was logical. That part wondered if maybe my desire to believe them was for the sheer desperate hope that they could cure me. I mean, who wouldn’t want to believe there was a cure for their deadly disease?

  I thought about this the whole way to the clinic where I would see Dr. Churchill once again. The only difference this time was I knew about them. Would he change my treatment knowing who I was, what I was allegedly supposed to be? A Lydent? It all seemed surreal, not normal.

  I spared a glance at my dad. I couldn’t even tell him. They told me not to. They might be wrong, anyways. What if I couldn’t really be cured? I didn’t want to give my dad false hope.

  Glancing back to the window, my mouth tightened. I swear, if they couldn't cure me, I was coming back to haunt them.

  My dad turned down the radio. “Doing okay there, honey?”

  I changed positions so I could see him. “Dad, how did you meet Mom?”

  His brows drew downward. “You are familiar with the story. Mom told you, right?”

  Hearing the word ‘mom’ come from his lips sounded foreign, particularly when we hadn’t talked about her much since she died.

  “I'm sure I have, but I honestly can't recall quite how it happened. Something about pizza?”

  Dad chuckled. “Yeah, there was pizza involved. My buddies and I, back in college, we went into the pizza parlor to grab some lunch and your mom was working there. She was beautiful. The most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen.” Dad reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “And she had that look of determination on her face. One that said no one was getting past her walls." Dad laughed. “That made her all that more appealing. I asked her for her number and wasn't lucky that first time.”

  I nodded, a slow smile meeting my lips. “I think I remember this part.”

  Dad took his eyes off the road to grin at me for a moment before focusing back. “I kept going back in there, whenever she was working, persistent, until one time she said yes. We went on a few dates after that until I had her sold on me. We got married shortly after, had you. Your mom never talked about her family. Never. I figured it had to be something terrible for her to do that, but when she died, she begged me to bring you back here.” Dad took a deep breath and let it out. “So, I did.”

  I slipped my hand away from his. “So, have you met them? Mom’s parents?”

  He placed his hand back on the steering wheel along with his other and gripped it tight. “Not officially.”

  My brow scrunched in confusion. “What does that even mean? You met them and they didn’t have a clue who you are?”

  “I don’t think now is the right time to bring this up.”

  I twisted in my seat and pinned my dad w
ith a stare. “Dad, you’ve been so busy lately. This is the perfect time to bring this up. We’re in the car together. We have time. What’s going on?”

  He exhaled sharply. “I didn’t meet them all, but I met two of them.”

  My brows puckered in confusion. “What do you mean by all of them?” My eyes grew larger. “Oh, Mom had more than one dad?”

  “It seems your mother had two fathers and three brothers.”

  I bit my lip, processing this information before asking what I truly wanted to know. “So who exactly did you meet? Where did you meet them? Were they nice? Did they wonder who you are?”

  Hey, I was curious. If my mom, Dr. Churchill, and the others didn’t want them to know about me, then perhaps there was a reason.

  Dad briefly glanced my way, amused, before gazing back at the road. “I met them through a business conference. Apparently they work for our sister company.”

  Okay, they kinda worked with dad. “Did they find out who you are?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don't believe so.”

  I sat back in my seat, disgruntled. “Well, I guess you’ll get your inside scoop working with them.”

  “Yeah,” Dad agreed softly as he drew into the clinic parking lot. “I guess so.”

  Once we made it inside and signed in, I shot my Dad a glance as we sat down in some chairs, waiting to be called back.

  He looked tired. Maybe I had something to worry about with him. What had he been up to while I’d been out on the weekends? “What will you be doing this weekend?”

  He stiffened and turned my way; his expression said it all.

  Uh-oh.

  “Um, Hannah, I’ve met someone.”

  My lips pressed when I realized he wasn’t joking. Shit.

  “I really like her, and the good thing is you already know her.”

  My eyes grew larger. “Who?”

  “Hannah Cain?” My gaze swiveled to the petite blonde nurse who had been checking me in ever since we’d been coming here. Her expression brightened when her eyes met my dad’s.

  Hands on the handles of my chair, I thrust myself out of it. I put my hands on my hips and stared my dad down. “My nurse? Daaaad, come on.” He seemed sheepish.

  He gave a warning glance before we marched together through the door.

  I smirked at my nurse. “Hi, nurse June,” I greeted in a sugary sweet voice while I hung my bag on the hook on the wall.

  Taken aback, her eyes darted to my dear old dad then came back to me and she smiled. “Hello, Hannah. Shoes,” she pointed out when I moved forward on the scale with them on. I stepped off and slid my shoes off my feet before getting back on the scale.

  “Have you been sick lately?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not true, Hannah,” Dad argued. “She passed out without her lifepack on.”

  June’s concerned gaze shifted to mine. Her lips pursed. “When?”

  I winced. “Last night.”

  She nodded like she was aware of something then scribbled something down on my chart.

  I hopped off the scale, curious about her reaction. What did she know? June gestured to the chair next to the vitals machine. She hooked me up to the pressure cuff.

  She took my temperature, and I sat still as the cuff tightened. “Fatigue, lightheaded, dizziness?”

  “Except for yesterday, nope.”

  She hummed and wrote another note before undoing my cuff. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

  My gaze darted to my dad’s. His narrowed. “Yeah, when did you start dating my father?”

  Without missing a beat she answered simply, “Three weeks ago.” She peered up from my medical chart. “Anything else?”

  “Have you guys-”

  Dad dragged me up from the chair and pushed me down the hallway as he freed my bag from the hook. “No. Go.”

  I chuckled. “I was just going to ask-”

  “No, Hannah.”

  I huffed. “Fine.”

  Since the two of us weren't sure which room to go in, Dad paused our retreat until June passed us. Her lips were tilted upward, and she had a light dusting of pink to her cheeks when I glanced at her. Dad shook his head. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. Mom had been gone for years; it was bound to happen. But here? With my nurse? I did not approve.

  When she had us settled in a room, I removed my life pack so she could check it. It was then that I noticed the subtle glances between the two adults and gave an audible sigh.

  June spared me a look. "Dr. Churchill will arrive in a moment to go over some things with you, and I'll be back to draw blood."

  "Goodie."

  Dad shook his head. "Thanks, June."

  She offered him a dazzling smile. "Be back in a moment."

  When the door shut, I whirled to my dad. "My nurse, Dad? You couldn't have possibly picked someone I didn't know?"

  He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "It just happened. You can't choose who you fall in love with."

  My head jerked back. "In love? Dad it's been three weeks! You can't go tossing that word around! It's like, wayyy too early for that."

  He tossed up his hands. "Fine. Okay. But Hannah" - he rested a hand on my shoulder - "she's going to be around for a long time. You need to accept that."

  I tensed. "What about our promise? That in a year we could go back home. To where Mom is. Will she come or will you leave her behind?"

  Dad got ready to say something, but the door opened and in walked Dr. Churchill. He hesitated, noticing our tense forms. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, his eyes darting from me to my dad.

  "No," Dad said, withdrawing his hand from my shoulder. Dr. Churchill gave me a cautious glance.

  I shook my head. Their secrets were still safe.

  He opened my file then turned to my dad. “There's been a breakthrough on the condition Hannah has and possibly some hope for her."

  My eyebrows rose realizing that he was talking about the Elixer shot. I hadn't thought he was going to tell my dad. My dad smiled, glancing from me to the doctor. "That's fantastic news. Isn’t that wonderful news, honey?"

  Staring warily at the doctor, I answered, "If it works."

  "What is it? Are there any side effects?" Dad wanted to know. "Anything we should be cautious of?"

  The doctor spoke as he came over to me, checking my pump site and all the other things he usually did.

  “Currently this treatment is in the experimental stage, so there are no promises.” He gave me a pointed stare. “But we would prefer to try it on her and see how she does. The side effects that have been reported are that it can cause weakness and fatigue. It might make you sleep for the first few hours, occasionally even days. The present dilemma we have is that it's not an FDA-approved treatment. It’s produced in Canada and is expensive, but we have a few people working on the cost. If you make a decision to proceed with it, we would require you to sign a waiver stating you're willing to let your daughter receive treatment despite it not being FDA approved.” He halted when he saw my dad’s uncertain expression. “If it means anything at all to you, Mr. Cain, I believe this could be life-altering for Hannah. I believe it has a good chance of saving her.”

  My dad turned to me with hope in his eyes. “It's up to Hannah,” he declared, “not me. I won't do this to you.” He picked up my hand. “Unless it's something you want to try.”

  I squeezed his hand and went back to the doctor, knowing full well what he was doing, and answered, “I'll do it.” I knew precisely what the “treatment” was and what he was getting at and who was getting it. Dr. Churchill was being very clever by involving my father in this whole ordeal but keeping out certain details. Like the fact that he wasn't human. How my mother wasn't either and neither was I. And they all had magical powers.

  Despite throwing me for a loop, Dr. Churchill went on to ask another question. “Now, Hannah, I know we requested you fill out a chart about you and your health when you first arrived, but I noted the lack of an
answer on the form where it asks if you have any identifying markings on your body. Do you have a tattoo or perhaps a birthmark?”

  I glowered at him. He was being sneaky.

  Dad spoke up. “Hannah doesn't have any birthmarks” - he gave me a swift glance before selling me out to the doctor - “but she does have this mark on her hip. I believe it's a tattoo.” Dad frowned at me. “One that she got when she wasn't supposed to. Why do you ask?”

  I twisted my lips and kept my mouth shut.

  The doctor waved his hand carelessly. “Sometimes, the medicine can react to certain dyes in the body. If you have a tattoo or a birthmark, we have to make sure the treatment wouldn't cause the birthmark to grow, or react to the ink in a tattoo. We just want to make sure that everything is kosher before we proceed.”

  “Hannah,” the doctor resumed. “Your father and I are going to step out and let June in. I want you to show her your tattoo so we can record it in our records and establish that it's not a dye that would interfere with this medication.”

  I folded my arms and scowled at him. He was just like Win and Snowden. Right now, I really didn't like my doctor.

  Doctor Churchill and my dad slipped out while June slipped in. “Alright honey, let's see it.”

  I rose, making sure that I didn't move too far from the countertop that my lifepack was on since I was still hooked up to it. “Why do you guys need to see this, anyway? Is it a big deal or something?” I wasn't sure if she was in on the whole magic thing or not so I wasn't clear on how to ask.

  She waved at me. “Aw, honey, you don't have to hide from me. I'm Dr. Churchill's step-sister.”

  I squinted. “So you know everything. Are you one? A... Lydent?”

  She laughed. “No, I'm not. Just plain old human. I couldn't date your father if I was.”

  I eyed her, not sure if I believed what she was saying. “My mom married him.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.” A split second later she snapped her fingers. “Well, come on, chop-chop.”

  I rolled my eyes and dragged my shirt up on the opposite side where my pump port was and shoved down my shorts to my upper thigh where the silvery mark tattoo was hidden. June sucked in an audible breath and dug out her phone to snap a photo.