A Keeper's Truth (23 page)

I tear my
eyes away and his gaze relentlessly searches for another connection.

“Are you
going to deny it?” he asks.

Deny it? I
couldn’t even if I wanted to. Besides, he’s the one with the accurate memory.
My dry mouth refuses to form words as I rotate in neurotic spurts in search of
the door handle.

Bryce
sighs. “I think you’ve had enough for one night. Head home and get some sleep.”

Like
that’s going to happen now. I open the door in a daze.

“Regarding
Thomas,” says Bryce as I sit. “You really should give him a chance.”

We were
lovers. I’m shocked but rather impressed. In any lifetime I imagine Bryce would
be a pretty good . . .

Bryce
clears his throat.

“I’m
leaving town for a while. My family has connections and my dad is trying to
help me find out more about this lost soul. Thomas will be keeping an eye on
things here,” he says, still attempting to draw my attention. I drop the keys,
hardly able to see through the explicit visions. “That might be easier to do if
you were amicable.” Bryce shuts the door.

Somehow I
start the ignition. I rub my eyes and try to focus.

Bryce
steps back, frowning.

I’m
overwhelmingly flushed.

We were
lovers.

M
y nights
are spent tossing and turning within two extremes. One end of the spectrum has
me hot and bothered by Bryce’s touch, and the other has me suffering deathly
encounters with lost souls. Both have me waking with a sudden jerk, an
accelerated heartbeat, and a shortness of breath.

Seldom do
I reach a state that forces me to succumb to being medicated, but between
life-altering truths and very little sleep, today I’d settle for a swift whack
to the head. After delivering Abby to school, I loiter in a steamy shower then
spend twenty minutes searching for a pain reliever that hasn’t expired. It’s
futile. If I had Tylenol, it was ditched in the wake of the break in. So I
surrender, climbing back into bed with a damp cloth over my eyes, concentrating
on the soothing vocals of Sarah McLachlan seeping from the stereo.

I’m
hovering on the brink of deliverance when my cell rings, shattering my respite.
I grunt as I grope for the phone.

“Tess,
Sofia misses Abby a lot.”

It takes a
minute to register the voice minus small talk.

“She sees
her at school, Thomas.”

“It’s not
the same. Sofia craves one-on-one time with her best friend. Is that too much
to ask?”

I poke
around throbbing neurons, trying to come up with a good reason to say,
yes,
yes, that is too much to ask
, but when my probe uncovers only issues
between us adults, I wave the white flag.

“I guess
not,” I mumble, pushing my pride aside for the kids.

“Look,
tomorrow’s forecast is calling for sunshine. There is a ton of snow and we’ve
got a wicked toboggan hill out back. Bring Abby over and let the kids play a
while.”

“Fine,” I
say, curtly. “I’ll drop her off at ten.”

Thomas
groans, obviously frustrated. “Please stay and talk to me. I know we see each
other, but it’s not the same, and we don’t talk anymore. Really talk. I care
about you, and it’s only fair you hear my side. Please, I also miss my best
friend.”

I’m not a
heartless savage, so his forlorn words wallop me. My head recoils from the
impact. I’m mad at the way Thomas has handled all of this, the way he’s lied to
me repeatedly. But he’s also stuck his neck out to help me, to find this lost
soul so Abby and I can feel safe again. And aside from our daughters’ close
ties, I want Bryce and Thomas to resume a healthy relationship as brothers. I
guess I should try to salvage our friendship, to return things to the way they
were. Sort of.

“I’ll stay
for tea.” If Bryce can forgive and forget, so can I.

“We’ll
start over,” he says.

“We’ll
start over.”

Abby and
Sofia
run to the playroom before I even get my shoes and
coat shaken off at the door.

Thomas was
right. Abby and Sofia have been feeling the strain in our relationship. I’m
ashamed to say that in my self-absorption I hadn’t noticed, not until I
mentioned the arranged play date to Abby during our afternoon walk from school.
Her entire demeanor changed. Immensely pleased, she giggled and skipped the
whole way home then danced to her room to pick out specific toys to bring, ones
she and Sofia enjoy together. She chattered about her best friend all through
dinner then again through breakfast this morning, leaving no doubt that a talk
with Thomas is an absolute necessity. Thomas and I need to work out our issues
so our daughters can be together.

Of course,
like most things in life, this is easier said than done.

“Come on
in, I have the kettle on,” says Thomas, leading the way down the hall.

Bowls and
baking utensils clog the sink, but the counters are spotless and the stainless
steel fridge almost glows. I pull out a seat at the table, tucking my foot
under my butt as I watch Thomas nervously putter around the kitchen. Squinting,
I try to distinguish extraordinary movements from the mundane, but nothing
stands out. He looks like a normal guy. Other than the shorts.

“Help
yourself,” says Thomas, placing a silver tray of fresh baked apple fritters in
front of me.

“Well,
well, you’re pulling out the big guns.” The wafting aroma attacks my defenses
by way of cravings. “I thought food was the way into a man’s heart?”

Thomas
leans on the island, watching me. “Whatever it takes.”

I take
two. “You were right, by the way,” I mumble between bites. “Abby’s been missing
Sofia. I can’t recall the last time they played together out of school.”

“The last
pageant rehearsal—they had a sleepover at your place, and you and I made
out in my truck.”

It was
actually the night of the break in, at Bryce’s place, but I keep my mouth shut.

Thomas
pulls a chair and sits next to me, picking apple chunks out of his fritter. “I
guess we shouldn’t talk about the pageant or . . .” He changes
his mind. “We’re starting over, remember?”

“Sure,” I
say, even though I feel something altogether different. I’m itching to discuss
the part of the pageant where he beat his brother. Or the scenes in which he
claimed me like an inanimate object. Maybe we should debate the abundance of
lies and artificial pretenses. And what about the fact that he put his mouth on
me without revealing a single grain of authenticity?

“How’s the
painting coming along?” He’s straining to sound casual.

I swallow
the last of my fritter. “It’s not. Between hunting down replacements for house
stuff that got damaged in the break in, raising a daughter without a husband,
and learning about the mythical world of souls,
Lemurians
,
and Keepers, I don’t have enough hours in a day to paint.”

Thomas
drops his fritter onto a napkin. He rolls it and throws it like a basketball
into the garbage can. “If it’s all so time-consuming and stressful then stop,”
he says, his stare lingering on the can across the room.

“Stop.”
What does he mean by stop?

“Let it
all go and live a normal life. Forget about lost souls and house
raids—that won’t happen again. Stop letting my brother fill your head
with a world you’re better off not knowing. And don’t raise your daughter
alone. Be with me.”

“Thomas . . .”

“I was
born a Keeper, just like Bryce. Yet even with all this knowledge and power, I
choose to pretend it doesn’t exist and live an ordinary existence. Why do you
think that is?”

I stare at
him, thinking. “I figured you needed time away, to focus on Sofia after the
divorce, just like you said. Was that another lie?”

Thomas
looks away. “I’m not so sure the knowledge is a good thing. I don’t even know
why we bother teaching people. I want better for you, more for you, a different
life for you and Abby.” He leans forward, hands
steepled
.
“Believe me, you don’t want to be part of that world. You want to stay far, far
away from it.”

“I need to
know, Thomas. I want to know.”

“Did Bryce
give you the ‘knowledge is power’ speech?” He whips his hands down and leans
back in his chair. “It’s bullshit. Knowledge would have gotten you killed that
day in the coffee shop. That lost soul would’ve taken your life without so much
as an afterthought. The fact that you didn’t have a clue what you were seeing
is undoubtedly the only thing that saved your ass.” The chair legs scrape along
the floor. “Did Bryce tell you that?”

“No,
but—”

“You’re
better off oblivious, ignorant, blissful.”

I give my
head a shake, endeavoring to keep Thomas from getting to me.

“I need to
understand who I am, Thomas, to learn how to live with what I see. And Bryce
doesn’t lecture me. He answers my questions, my many questions.”

Thomas
laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “You should be learning how to ignore what you
see. You should be taught to look right through lost souls, as if they don’t
exist. If you’d known how to do that, maybe the one in the cafe wouldn’t have
noticed you at all. He surely wouldn’t have ransacked your house. Your dog
would be alive, and Sonia wouldn’t be at the fucking morgue.”

I stand
abruptly, toppling the chair. It lands with a sharp crash and I flinch like a
deer within gunfire. “You can’t think that I had any control over—”

“This kind
of knowledge will get you killed.” Thomas rises. “Then who’ll raise Abby? Huh?
You want a kid with two dead parents?”

I gasp,
shocked he’d say something so cruel. Abby cannot be parentless. She just can’t.
My chest is tightening. For the first time in weeks I actually feel the cold
hand of fear. Could Thomas be speaking the truth? Had I reacted differently,
would the lost soul have stayed away? Could I have saved Maxi? And what about
Sonia, could I have done something to save her? Bryce says there was nothing I
could’ve done, but is he wrong? And what if I was killed? Grams and Gramps are
in their eighties and won’t be with us for long. Abby only has me. She can’t
lose the only family she has left.

“I’ve
lived in this town for over a year,” says Thomas. “Not once have I seen a lost
soul anywhere near these parts. In fact, I hadn’t seen much beyond the realm of
normal until Bryce moved in. He brought danger here, with his fancy parties and
social web of outcasts. Had he stayed out of—”

“Bryce would
never knowingly—”

“You’re
defending him? You don’t even know him. My brother has already tossed one woman
to those damn souls of purgatory. You
wanna
be next?”

The heat
jumps several degrees. “What are you talking about?” I’m tearing my napkin to
shreds. My hands shake. I’m not so sure I want to know the answer.

“Come on,
you don’t think you’re the first, do you?” Thomas sneers. “Bryce’s last
girlfriend was butchered by a lost soul and he couldn’t do shit to save her.
Even if he could’ve, he wouldn’t. All that crap about choices and consequences
did nothing but lead her to slaughter. Bryce didn’t help her. A Keeper’s
knowledge and power didn’t save her.” His facial muscles tic under the stress
of his locked jaw. “And it sure as fuck didn’t save my wife.”

Holy shit.
I stop breathing for a moment.

Thomas
launches into a predatory pace between the table and butcher-block island. He’s
pulled up his sleeves, mindlessly rubbing the scar along his arm.

“You
wanna
know the truth about this life? We are here to struggle.
We’re challenged with nothing but heartache and disappointment, pushing us to
our limits. We spend our time suffering and wallowing in a life we can’t
control. My wife was an old soul. She could see what you see. Her husband hired
me because she suffered from nightmares, screaming for mercy in languages she
didn’t know, and their church had written them off. I tried to help her.
Instead of teaching her avoidance, I tried to be the Keeper I was born to be. I
told her about our world, our history, our truth. She wouldn’t believe me, so I
tried harder. I pushed and pushed until I finally had her convinced.” He
chuckles darkly. “She thought I was an abomination. She made sure she couldn’t
have more children. All I wanted was a son. I should’ve had a son. She called
Sofia a freak of nature and took off. She went back to him, back to that
asshole without a clue. She abandoned her own child!” His hands fist in his
hair, the blood drained from his knuckles. “She ran like hell from the world
you’re fucking volunteering for.”

I open my
mouth but no words come out.

“Why was I
powerless, Tess? Why couldn’t I stop her? You
wanna
know what she did with this reputed knowledge?” He slams the counter with a
fist and I jump. “She put a fucking bullet in her head!”

I gasp.
His wife shot herself?

My mother
downed two bottles of pills while I was at the hospital stitching a run-in with
an ex. It was the last sunrise she ever saw, and her death nearly destroyed me.
This is the past Thomas struggles with. This is his demon.

“This
isn’t the life I want for you. This isn’t the choice I want you to make. You
shouldn’t be with Bryce. Be with me. You can paint while I tend the farm. Abby
and Sofia will be sisters, and we’ll have son. We’ll live a simple existence,
uncomplicated and safe. I’ve shunned my work a long time with no intention of
returning. It’s not all glory and power, as Bryce would have you believe. A
Keeper’s life is hard work with little reward. We spend our entire lives
helping others, but when we need help, who is there for us?”

“Maybe
that’s why there are twelve of you,” I mumble.

“Ah, he
told you that, huh? Did he tell you I’m the mistake, the one that shouldn’t
have been born? The fucking family mishap?”

“He told
me how much he loves you.”

Thomas’s
shoulders slump and he rubs his eyes. “He doesn’t love me enough to stay away
from you.”

“Shake the
jealousy, Thomas. Work on a relationship with your family, your brother. He
cares for you, for Sofia, and wants to be close. As for us,” my hand flutters
between us, “we won’t ever be anything more than friends.”