Zak looked pained. The muscle in his jaw pumped. He shook his head and she panicked that she had revealed too much.
“Those are painful parting words.” His voice was husky.
Indeed they were. When she would have added more, Zak stepped back. She whimpered with fear that this was it. His hand gestured that she should remain where she was as he reached down to the belt looped around his hips.
What he withdrew was a chain that dangled through his fingers. It was silver in color, but sparkled much more vividly than the conventional alloy. A small rectangular pendant hung from the bottom. It looked very much like a diamond except for its shape.
“It’s not a Tak wand,” he smirked, “but I wanted to give you something of me.”
Zak reached behind her neck and the trace of his fingers against her skin made her tremble. His touch lingered there until he drew his fingers through her hair, and finally away. Once the necklace was fastened she reached for the pendant and tested it out with her fingertips. Holding it up to the light, she watched it sparkle with a host of dancing colors as if the universe had been captured in this simple oblong slice of metal.
“It’s beautiful, Zak.” She looked up. “What is it?”
His dimple flashed. “Would you believe it’s a little chunk of my ship?”
Aimee laughed and rubbed the pendant again.
“I think the term you use is romantic. I guess I’m not too romantic.”
“It’s absolutely perfect.” She watched it blaze.
“I had it cut down from a piece of the wreckage. I thought—” he hesitated, “I thought that the fact that we survived that crash together meant something foretelling. That we were connected and were always meant to be together. I wanted to give you a piece of that memory—that promise to take back with you.”
Distressed, she started feeling light-headed.
“Zak—”
“No.” His glance jerked away, but not before she caught the bleak pain on his face. Staring out at Earth, his fist clenched against the window.
Without warning he pivoted and stepped up to her. His hands swept into her hair and he tipped her head back, kissing her with a need that drew tears to her eyes. She clung to him, returning that kiss and whispering his name when their lips parted.
It was impossible not to notice the red light flashing on the console. It might as well have been mounted atop an ambulance. Zak drew back, but his hands were still on her shoulders. Visibly upset, he mustered up a grin.
“The next time that light goes off I’ll be standing here, waiting for you.”
She grabbed his arms. “Zak—” Her voice failed.
Zak took her hand and walked with her to the pedestal mounted a few inches off the floor. He aided her as she stepped up on that platform with the speed and agility of a reluctant ninety year-old. When she stood facing him, he squeezed her fingers, but could no longer manage a smile.
Their eyes connected for what seemed like an eternity. She saw his love there and knew that she mirrored that avowal. Zak shook his head, a reflexive lurch, and then he retreated so that just the tips of their fingers touched.
With one last look, he released them.
Turning his back to her, he moved in behind the console.
When he finally glanced up, his eyes glittered.
“I love you, Aimee. Come back to me.”
He pressed the button.
“Zak!” Aimee felt numb. Her limbs were useless. She wanted to jump off and run to him, but she couldn’t move. It was happening. She began to see through her hands. She was dissolving…and so was he, behind her veil of tears.
Epilogue
A lofty stockade of pine trees began to form around Aimee. Her hands filled into flesh and the buzzing in her ears receded. For a moment she was locked motionless until some of the numbness wore off.
She listened.
A symphony of birds heralded the warmth of the midday sun while a mosquito buzzed near her ear. Overhead the pine trees swayed in the breeze, their needles sounding like a cascade of crystals showering down upon her. Through their swaying boughs she caught a glimpse of a cornflower blue sky. She squinted against the sun and kept looking—hoping for a sign of the Horus, but there was nothing. Just the empty heavens.
Sensation returned as she dropped to her knees and wept. Grief ripped at her soul, which still hovered in the stars. She cried at the feel of the dirt beneath her hands and knees, and the familiar scent of dried pine needles and honeysuckle. Once upon a time these woods had scared her. Now they represented a portal to a world she longed to return to.
It took Aimee a long time to stop crying. She sat cross-legged on the musty earth, staring up into the canopy of trees. Waiting. Maybe they would come back.
But as the sun moved past the tree line, Aimee drew herself up and wiped away her tears. She patted off her dirty knees and slapped her hands together to clean them off. She would not look up again. Instead, she looked forward.
Everything felt so vibrant. She could smell the algae from the pond—a pungent, humid scent that warped her back in time. With the exception of a few more wild bushes and taller trees, the pond had changed very little. Beyond them, like a little suburban castle, sat the house she had grown up in.
Five years.
Aimee’s stomach started to knot. Would her parents still be here? Would they scream when they saw her? Would they think she was a walking corpse? Would they welcome her? What if Zak was wrong and too much time had elapsed for her to resume her life.
She forced her feet to move.
The two-story colonial house had been painted. Nothing drastic. Just a fresh coat of baby-blue. It was a color her father favored for his University of North Carolina roots. The cars in the driveway were new, but one was the make of her father’s plant. She prayed that was a good sign.
The honeysuckle bushes were plush with yellow flowers and the old swing set was rusted out, but still standing. Aimee felt the warmth of the sun on her face. That nurturing heat was like saltwater…it could cure anything.
She reached for the pendant dangling on her collarbone and rubbed it between her fingers as she stepped into the perimeter of her back yard. The back porch door was open, with only the screen closed. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she call out? Should she climb the stairs and knock? Where was Ziggy to stage a fuss? Even if he was inside, he would be at that screen door by now, pushing his nose against it in an effort to get out.
Again she panicked that it was someone else’s family occupying the house now, and that hers had moved on.
As her steps decelerated and her trepidation grew, a woman swung open the screen door. Her head was cast down while she rummaged in her purse.
Mama.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The rich brown shade was now mottled with gray. She was much thinner. The arm that fished through the purse looked like a stick.
Oh Mama, I need to make you some biscuits.
Aimee was afraid to say anything, and yet the little girl in her wanted nothing more than to run to her mother and hug her so tight.
She took a few tentative steps, drawing to within fifty feet of the woman on the stairs.
Keys jingled in the woman’s hand and she sighed in exasperation. When she glanced up towards her car, she noticed Aimee’s approach. A tremor coursed through her slim frame. She stumbled and Aimee did not hesitate. She ran the rest of the way, dropping down onto her knees just as her mother’s hit the ground.
“Tom.” Jennifer Patterson shrieked, her eyes brimming with tears. “TOM!”
“It’s me, Mom.” Aimee caught her mother’s arms when the woman started to collapse. “It’s me.”
“Aimee,” she croaked. Dry hands reached for and cupped Aimee’s cheeks. Inquisitive fingers continued back into Aimee’s hair as she lifted it and bent to inspect her ear. Her mother shuddered. She must have identified the pear-shaped beauty mark behind Aimee’s left ear.
“What the Hell, Jen?” Aimee’s father
’s voice boomed from inside. “Did you lock the keys in the car again?”
He pushed open the screen and froze. Several years older than her mother, her father had gone completely gray now. It looked dignified on him, but shadows rimmed his eyes.
Aimee saw him mouth her name. He pushed open the door fully and started down the stairs, using his hand against the wall for leverage.
Urging her mother to stand, Aimee assisted her, aware that her mother was devouring every facet of her face.
“Baby,” Tom Patterson took a tentative step towards them. “Is that really you?”
Aimee started to weep. “Daddy—”
He had his arms around her and she caved against him with gulping sobs. She could smell him. The musky aftershave had not changed. The faint mechanical tang of the plant still clung to his clothes. She drank in that scent like it was the finest perfume in the world.
“Aimee,” her mother howled and Tom reached for her, bringing them into a tight family hug.
A short while later Aimee stared across the kitchen table at the dazed expressions on her parents’ faces. Her mother’s trembling hands were wrapped around a coffee mug. Her father kept rubbing his face as if to clear his vision.
“What happened, Aim? We had police—so many police.” He spread his hands. “And when they failed we had private investigators.”
“I—” Images of that day flooded her head. The walk with Ziggy. The eeriness of the woods. The sensation of being paralyzed…and then her hands, disappearing before her eyes.
“I took Ziggy for a walk out into the woods.”
“You were always afraid of those woods,” Jennifer mentioned without speaking to anyone in particular.
“Someone grabbed me.” Aimee improvised. Was it not true? Was she not abducted?
“Dammit.” Tom’s fist pounded the table hard enough to make Jennifer jump. “I knew it. Who Aimee? Who?” His head shook in woe. “I always suspected it was someone from my company. Extortion. I kept waiting for a ransom call.”
She felt so bad for the trauma her parents had been through. But would telling them the truth ease their souls, or just damage them all the more? If she were to share her tale she would earn a one-way ticket to a psychiatric ward.
“I never saw them. They put something over my face, and then they hit my head, and I don’t know, maybe they drugged me as well…but I seriously don’t remember much of what happened, and I didn’t remember where I lived for the longest time. I couldn’t remember my home.”
It was a lame explanation, but the intensity on her father’s face indicated that he believed her.
Having already been fed up by the way the authorities wrote the case off as “just another teenage girl running away” her father was reluctant to even notify the police that she had returned home. After much debate, Jennifer finally convinced them it was the right thing to do. But they would do it tomorrow. Tonight was about celebrating this reunion.
They spent the evening at the kitchen table with her parent's relaying the events of the past five years. Aimee took the news pretty hard that Ziggy had passed away two years after she disappeared. Every night for those two years, Ziggy tried to escape out the back door and charge to the pond.
From behind a Campbell’s coffee mug, Aimee discreetly studied her mother. Full lips that once opened into a smile capable of winning the world over were now flanked by pronounced grooves. Mischievous blue-green eyes had become tepid. Fingernails that had always been painted were now neutral. The fingers trembled as she handed over a plate of donuts. This was not the same woman Aimee had known five years ago. Jennifer no longer talked over her husband and instead, deferred to him. It hurt Aimee to see that. That wasn’t her mom.
But somewhere under this veil of angst a spark had ignited. It started with a furtive smile when Tom recited the saga of the neighbors' chickens getting loose. It was followed by a snorting laugh at the physical description of the first policeman to arrive at their house.
All this time, Jennifer kept finding reasons to connect with Aimee’s hand. With each touch, Jennifer’s spark grew brighter. It finally registered with her that her daughter was at her side.
When the clock struck 2am and yawns replaced conversation, Aimee's parents accompanied her upstairs. It was not surprising to find that her room remained untouched. Her old laptop still sat on the white wicker desk. Framed photographs of the pond and Ziggy hung on the wall. Photographs Aimee herself had taken when she aspired to be a photographer. A band program was taped to the closet door and Carrie's pink knit sweater was still folded over the back of her desk chair. Sheesh, her folks could have at least returned it!
The heavy down bedspread on the twin bed looked so appealing, as well the oscillating fan mounted on the window sill. The room was perfect...but it was also the room of a girl. With remorse, Aimee realized she had outgrown it.
"Are you going to be okay here?" Jennifer stepped up behind her and gently rested her hands on Aimee's shoulders.
Aimee spun around and gave her a tight hug, which Jennifer returned along with a sob. Tom joined the embrace.
"I'll be fine," Aimee assured with a smile. "We'll talk more in the morning. You guys need some sleep."
"You're lucky that's a twin bed," Jennifer declared. "Or I would be laying there beside you tonight."
Aimee smiled. "That wouldn't be so bad, Mom."
* * *
Alone, Aimee sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed with the comforter wrapped around her legs. Staring out the window, she listened to the haunting jingle of wind chimes on the back porch. The backyard was lost under the cloak of night, but the sky...the sky was alive with flickering symbols of distant worlds. Aimee strained to recognize any of the celestial bodies, but they were too far away.
She reached into her tee-shirt and clutched the pendant. Her mother had been eyeing it curiously, but refrained from asking where it came from.
Aimee rubbed the smooth material between her thumb and pointer finger.
Zak.
She stared into that night sky.
Was he okay?
How much time had passed?
For as much as it was a relief to be home and reveling in her parent's warmth, Aimee knew her heart still lingered somewhere beyond the night.
Five years later...
Come back to me, Aimee.
Aimee jerked awake. In that netherworld between sleep and morning, exotic golden eyes watched her from the dark. Usually she resisted stirring so that she could linger with him in her dreams for a little bit longer. But today was different. Today she was up and alert. She squinted at the bedside clock in her apartment to confirm the date was really here. The magnitude of that notion produced a bout of nausea.
In the past five years, she had fulfilled her goals. She obtained her industrial engineering degree and was hired immediately by her father's competitor, a car manufacturer that was impressed with her futuristic design concepts. She moved into this south Charlotte apartment eight months ago and she passed through her daily routine, trying to hone in on her engineering skills.
Five years was a long time. She had to be fair to herself and see if there was someone on this planet that might affect her the way that Zak did, but any dates she attempted fell pathetically flat. It was hard to manage a date when the pendant burned a promise against her flesh. As a result she never had a boyfriend and focused solely on her studies.
Her parents had finally healed, and with her off at college they learned to enjoy life together. Even now they were away on a cruise in the Caribbean. The last time she was over their house, she had sat on the back deck with her mother and revealed that she remembered more from those missing years. She told her mother that she recalled meeting someone—someone that she’d like to one day see again.
Jennifer had probed relentlessly for more information, but Aimee left it at that. Instead, she composed the letter that now sat on the kitchen table for them to discover when they returned. In the letter, sh
e explained that she had to find that missing love. She told them not to cry, and not to search for her. She would be safe, but she would be unable to communicate with them for a while. She assured them not to fear for her, that she would be back again.
They would grieve, but nowhere to the extent of the first time. And nowadays, their bond was stronger than ever. In her letter, she assured them that she loved them, but it was time to fill a gap that the journey of five years ago had created.
* * *
Aimee showered and pulled on her jeans along with a red and white NC State tee-shirt. With her fist, she rubbed a circle in the steamed mirror and stared at her reflection. Her auburn hair was sleek and long now. She grabbed a scrunchy and pulled it back into a ponytail. Long black lashes framed wise cerulean eyes—eyes that never required glasses. She had not grown any taller than the five foot seven she had achieved at seventeen, but her body was much more toned from five years of track and field practice.
Aimee dipped into her tee-shirt and watched in the mirror as the pendant flashed like a sparkler on New Year's Eve.
Turning away from the reflection, she grabbed her purse off of the kitchen counter, stuffing the Tak wand hidden behind the cookie jar into it. Next week Goodwill would be here to collect what was left in the minimally furnished apartment. With one last glance cast around, she conceded that this place was not home. She would not miss it.
Aimee used the Light Rail and a bus to get to her parent's house. She didn't want to just leave her Jetta in their driveway and alarm them all the more. At the foot of the stairs to the back porch she snapped off a twig of honeysuckle and laid it across the letter on the kitchen table. She glanced up at the butcher-block clock. It was almost noon. She had to hurry.
It was insufferably hot and humid outside. Gnats danced around her head as she hiked the muddy banks of the pond. Over the years, ragweed and tree roots had changed the terrain, making it impossible for her father to attack the area with the tractor. He left it to overgrow. Aimee believed it was his subconscious desire to create a barrier. Do not pass this point.
Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637) Page 21