Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (12 page)

James
Henderson Davis

Beloved
Son

June 11, 1990 – April 12, 2012

“They
forgot to add “Soul Mate” after “Beloved Son,” I whisper.  I can’t resist the
smoothness of the rock, and I lean forward to place my cheek against the top of
the stone, closing my eyes.  It feels cool against my skin.  Again, I listen to
the wind and the birds as I kneel there.  My heart is no longer racing.

After a
few moments, I open my eyes and present the orchid.

“I
brought you this,” I say aloud, and place it in front of the headstone.  “I
thought you might like it.”  I position it, so it sits straight on the uneven
ground.  I notice the contrast between the black stone and the fuchsia petals. 
“It looks much better here.”

I sit
on the ground and hug my knees to my chest.  Absentmindedly, I look down and
see my hand print is still visible in the dirt, but it’s now partially marred
by someone’s boot print.  They must have stepped on it when they set the stone. 
I set to work recreating it; pressing my palm into the ground and taking my
time creating the dirt swirls.  I decide one print isn’t enough and create
another with my other hand, swirling the soil with my finger.

“I hear
your voice sometimes,” I tell him and smile.  “I like it.  Could you talk to me
more often please?”

Silence.

“I’m
waiting.”

The
James voice does not come.  I frown.  “And you always said I was the stubborn
one.”

I finish
my swirls then wrap my arms around my knees again.  I look up at the towering
trees and the blue sky.  “It’s hard without you here.”  I pause.  “Shel’s
staying with me.  She’s been trying to help, but I’m sure you’ve seen that.”  I
take a deep breath.  “I hope you’ve seen that.”

I sit
in silence a while longer.  My legs start to fall asleep in the position I have
them in, so I adjust and sit cross-legged on the ground.  “We went to Matt’s
house last night, but you probably know that too.  I bet you think what
happened between Shel and Matt is pretty funny.  She feels terrible about it
though.”

I don’t
know exactly how long I sit there dividing my stares between the sky, his
headstone, my handprints, and the ground.  The sun drops low in the sky and I
guess, for now, there’s nothing more to say.  I reach out and run my fingers across
the smooth stone again.

“I love
you so much.”

I stand
and brush dirt from my shorts.  “Take care of my flower.  It was sent by some
unknown admirer.  Was it you?”  I shake my head because that could never be
true.  I kiss my fingers and press them to the top of the stone.  “It’s getting
late.  I’ll be back to visit you soon.”

My legs
are stiff from sitting on the hard ground, making the walk back to my car a
slow one.  I concentrate on my toes as I shuffle along, pondering the idea of
bringing a camping chair with me the next time I visit.  I wonder if anyone has
done that before.  Some gravesites have permanent benches.  Would a lawn chair
be much different?

As I
approach the spot where I parked, I pull my keys from my pocket and look up.  All
of my muscles instantly lock; my heart stops beating.

There,
leaning casually against the side of my car, is James.

I
blink.  Once, twice, three times.  When he doesn’t disappear, I slam my eyes
shut.

He’s
not real.  He’s not real.  He’s not real.  He’s not real.

My
heart must have started again because it’s pounding blood through my ears.

He’s
not really here.

Now I’m
having visions?

Why am
I having visions?

I’m
having a psychotic breakdown.

Yes,
that’s why.  That’s why I’m seeing my dead boyfriend leaning against my car.

What if
I can’t open my eyes?

What if
I can’t get home?

Why
didn’t I tell anyone I was coming here?

“Breathe,
Emma.”

My
frozen body jerks at the sound of his voice.  It’s like he's standing directly
in front of me now.  I smash my eyes together tighter and cringe.

“Emma,
please breathe.”

You’re
not real!

“Em,
you’re scaring me.  Please breathe,” he pleads.

I’m
scaring you?

“If you
pass out I’m not going to be able to help you!” he begs.

I’m pretty
sure I’m beyond help now.

“Emma! 
Damn it!  Open your eyes and breathe!”

Make
me.

And
then my legs do give out.  My body meets the gravel and I am lost.

I open
my eyes to darkness.  I blink a couple of times to make sure my eyes are
actually open.  I can see the faint shadow of my car several feet ahead of me,
but it’s sideways.  My cheek feels rough, and I realize I’m lying on the
ground.  I spring to a sitting position and my head immediately begins to
spin.  I hold my head in my hands until my equilibrium returns.  How long have
I been laying here?

The
realization hits that I have been passed out on a dark cemetery drive and I am
instantly fearful.  I stand as quickly as I dare and stumble my way to the
car.  I wrench the door open and fall inside, locking the doors.  I feel safer
inside the vehicle.  I sit for a few moments, resting my head on the steering
wheel, collecting myself.

That’s
it
,
I tell myself as I turn the ignition. 
I cannot come here alone again.

I
concentrate exceptionally hard on driving as I make my way home.  I feel
completely exhausted, but it isn’t even ten o’clock.  I reflect on what
happened at the cemetery.  What was that?  Obviously all the emotions from
today have taken their toll.

“Where
have you been?” Shel demands as I enter the kitchen.  She’s sitting at the
island, clutching her cell phone.  “I’ve been blowing up your phone for over an
hour!”

I toss
my purse on the counter and take out my phone.  Yep, fourteen missed calls and
five voice mail messages.  “I’m sorry,” I mumble to her sleepily.

She
stands and comes around to stand in front of me.  “Are you all right?” she
asks, concern etched on her face.

What do
I tell her?  I struggle for a minute and then decide on a half-truth.  “I went
to visit James.”

She
looks at me warily.  “And?”

“Believe
it or not, I feel asleep.”

Her
mouth falls open in awe.  “In the cemetery?”

I shake
my head.  “Trust me; I’m just as shocked as you and completely creeped out.”

For
more reasons than one
.

I wrap
my arms around myself and change topics.  “How was your um…visit…with Matt?”

She
looks troubled and bites her lower lip.  “It went okay.”

“Just
okay?”

“I
think he’s a little upset with me.”

“Really? 
What did he say?”

“He
said everything is okay between us, but he still seemed a little peeved about
the whole thing.  He wouldn’t make eye contact with me.  I got the feeling he just
wanted me to go away.”

“I bet
he’s more embarrassed than anything,” I encourage her.  “Give it some time.  He’ll
come around.”

“I
really hope so.  I feel so guilty.  I would hate for this to ruin our
friendship.”

I scowl
at her.  “Why is it all your fault?  As I recall, it takes two to tango.”

She
lets out a small laugh.  “This is true.”

I
yawn.  “Are you heading up?”

“Right
behind you.”

We make
our way upstairs.  Outside Mike’s room, Shel stops.  “I’m impressed that you
went to the cemetery alone.”

I give
her a small smile.  “Thanks.”  Little does she know that won’t be happening
again anytime soon. 

“Good
night,” she says as she disappears through the door.

“’Night.”

When I
get to my room, I close the door and lean against it in the darkness.  I feel
drained; physically and mentally.

“Don’t
be scared.”

All my
muscles tense.  The James voice has returned.  Moving just my eyes, I look
around the room frantically.

“Please
don’t be afraid,” it says softly.

I can’t
tell where the voice is coming from.  Is it only in my head again?  Scared to
move, I fumble for the light switch.

“Don’t
turn on the light,” the voice says.  “Talk to me first.”

Talk to
you?  About what?

“Please
Emma.  This is so hard.  Say something.”

I
swallow.  What do I say?  If I cooperate with my psychosis will it leave me
alone?

My
voice catches in my throat and comes out in a raspy whisper.  “Wh–what do you
want?”

I hear
a sigh of relief.  “To be near you, always.”

I
hesitate.  Now what?

“C’mon
Em.  I know you have to have more questions than that.”

I go
for the obvious.  “Um…are you in my head?”

The
voice pauses to consider.  “Sometimes.”

“What
about now?”

“No,
I’m not in your head now.”

Panicked,
I start to look around the room again.  “If you’re not in my head, where are
you?”

“Across
from you.  By the window.”

My eyes
immediately zero in on that spot but I see nothing but darkness.

“I can
hear your heart pounding,” the voice says.  “I’m not going to hurt you; you
know I would never hurt you.”

Uncertain,
I whisper nervously, “I–I know.”

“This
is…it’s…there are no words to describe this.  But I am here.  I want to stay
with you.”

This
can’t be happening.  “How is that possible?” I ask the darkness.

“I will
do everything I can to make it so,” the voice sounds determined, almost
aggressive.  Then it softens.  “I’ve missed you so much.”

My fear
lessens a little with those five words.  “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m
sorry…for everything,” it whispers, broken.  “I will never forgive myself for
what I’ve put you through.  To see you in pain…it…it devastates me.”

My heart
breaks and my arms ache to hold James.  The voice sounds so real, as if he
really is here in my room with me.  My chest constricts in that
all-too-familiar way.  “Hearing you helps me,” I say.  “I wish I could hear you
more often.”

“I’m
working on that,” the voice sighs tiredly.  “There is so much I have to learn. 
It’s frustrating; I’m not very good at being patient.”

I shake
my head, confused.  “I don’t understand.”

The
James voice chuckles softly.  “No, you wouldn’t understand.”  It pauses and
sighs again.  “I have so much to tell you.”

My
heart has slowed to its regular rhythm.  I am no longer afraid.  Still
searching the darkness, I say, “I want you to tell me.”

“Slowly. 
I need to take things slowly.  I was in such a hurry earlier…” The voice
chastises itself.  “Are you okay?  Are you hurt?”

“From
falling?  No, I’m fine.”

“That
was so stupid of me!  I tried to wake you, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t touch
you.  I kept trying….I felt so helpless with you lying there.  But I stayed
with you,” the voice hastily adds.  “I stayed with you until you woke up; I was
with you the whole way home.”

“Of
course you were,” I placate the voice, not wanting it to be upset.  “You are
always in my head, in my heart.”

“No, no. 
I was literally there.”

“How?”
I ask, my doubt evident.  “How is that possible?”

“I want
to show you but I don’t know if it’s wise.  Maybe later, after you’re used to
speaking with me more…”

Suddenly,
the urge to know overwhelms me.  What if this isn’t psychosis?  Honestly, I’m
not this creative.

“I want
to know,” I blurt out.  “I need to know.”

The
voice hesitates, doubtful.  “I don’t know.  What if you’re not ready?  I can’t
bear to hurt you again.”

Confidence
surges through me unexpectedly.  “I’m ready.”

“If
anything happened…”

I know
it’s wrong, but I say it anyway.  “I think you owe it to me.”

The voice
sighs, resigned.  “I owe you so much more.”

After a
few moments of silence, just when I think I’ve lost the battle, I hear, “Turn
on the light.”

I turn
to the right and feel along the wall for the switch.  I flip it on and turn slowly
to face the room.  What I see makes my chest want to explode with happiness.

James
is here.  Literally
here
.  Standing across the room by the window, dressed
in jeans and a polo shirt.  He looks a little pale, but otherwise he looks like
my James.  My heart threatens to burst and I swallow a sob.

“You’re
here,” I whisper in disbelief.

“Like I
said.”  His blue eyes light up and he gives me a crooked smile.

Oh,
that smile!  I want to run to him and wrap myself around him and never let go. 
I take a tentative step forward.  “Can I…?” I ask permission.

“Absolutely.”

I want
to launch myself at him but I force myself to walk slowly, around the bed,
until I’m standing in front of him.  Looking up into his face, overwhelmed and
in awe, all I can manage is “Hi.”

“Hello,”
he grins down at me.  “Are you feeling faint?”

I shake
my head.  “Not this time.”

“Good,”
he says.

“I…I…” 
I can’t seem to form a sentence anymore.

“What?”

“Can I
touch you?”

His
face falls.

“What’s
wrong?”

“That
is what I have to show you,” he frowns.  “You’re still sure?”

I nod
quickly.

He
closes his eyes and opens them slowly.  “Hold out your hand,” he says.

I raise
my hand and hold it out to him, palm up.

Slowly,
he raises his hand, and moves to set it on top of mine, as if to grasp it. 
When his hand touches my skin, I feel a chill run through me.  His hand closes
around my fingers.

It passes
right through, as if I weren’t even there.