Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (6 page)

“How
long have you been here?” I ask, burying my face back in the pillow.

“About
an hour.”

I pick up
my head and look at her.  “I planned to be dressed when you got here so you
wouldn’t think I was totally crazy.”

“I
don’t think you’re totally crazy,” she smiles.  “I think you’re just a little
crazy.”

I sit
up and roll my eyes.  “Thanks.”  Looking around the room, I ask, “Where is
everybody?”

“Your
parents went to Home Depot.  I guess they have some big yard work plans today.”

“Yeah,
they’ve been itching to get the garden in.  Where’s your stuff?”

“Your
mom got me settled in Mike’s old room pretty quickly,” she chuckles.  “Your
parents seem pretty excited that I’m here.”

“They
are,” I agree.

“Are
you okay with my being here?”

I pause
for a second and give her a small smile.  “Of course I am, but it is a little
embarrassing.  I wish they’d waited until the summer to bother you, when you
had planned to be home.  I don’t want this to screw with your classes…”

“It’s
not a bother.  My school won’t be screwed up.  You do remember who you’re
talking to right?  Captain OCD?”

I laugh
and nod.  “Yeah, you are a little overly organized.”  I stretch.  “I guess I
should get dressed.”  I pull off the blanket that someone put over me and
stand.  The note I found the night before falls to the floor.  I bend down
quickly and pick it up.

“What’s
that?” Shel asks.

I want
to say it’s nothing because that would be easiest.  Instead I look down at the
note in my hands and hold it out to her.  If she’s here to help me get through
this, why not start now?

Shel
gives me a confused look as she stands and takes the paper.  As she reads it,
her eyes get wide and then she looks at me.

“It was
in my book,” I explain as I gesture to
Dragon Tattoo
on the coffee
table.  “He must have put it there sometime…anyway, I just found it last
night.”

Shel
looks hurt for me.  Her face crumples and she takes a few steps, wrapping me in
a hug.  I’m surprised by her action; she’s not usually one for anything touchy-feely. 
It takes me a minute to pat her on the back reassuringly.

“It’s
okay.  I don’t typically sleep with things from my dead boyfriend.  I just
happened to find it last night,” I try to explain so she doesn’t think I’ve
completely lost it.

She
abruptly lets me go and steps back.  She hands me the note and says, “You keep
this in a safe place.  So you can look at it whenever you feel the need.  Sleep
with it if you have to.  Do you want me to laminate it?”

“What?”

“Laminate
it.  So it stays nice and doesn’t tear.”

“No,” I
shake my head.  “You think I should continue to sleep with this?”  I was going
to slide it under the flap of the still-sealed box of pictures and memory-type
stuff from my dorm.

“If it
makes you feel better.  If it makes you feel closer to James.”

I
hadn’t thought about that.

“What
does make you feel better?  Anything?” she asks.

There
is one thing.  “Not talking about it,” I say matter-of-factly.

She
makes a face.  “You mean not dealing with it.”  She crosses her arms.

“Shel,
I can’t sit here all day and just bring up random –”

She shakes
her head adamantly, cutting me off.  “That’s not what I meant.  You don’t have
to talk about him all day, every day.  But think about what he would want. 
Would he want to see you sink into a depression?  Seclude yourself?  Starve?”

Of
course he wouldn’t want that.  “I don’t think that’s what is happening.  I don’t
think I’m depressed.  I’m just…really sad.”

“Hmmm.” 
She pauses for a moment, squints her eyes and tilts her head as if evaluating
me.  “I think you’ll be all right.”

“Gee,
thanks doctor.”

She
smiles.  “Sorry.  I was thinking about what your mom told me when she called.”

“What
did she say to make you drop everything and come to my rescue?  I’m starting to
worry.”

Shel
reaches for my elbow.  “I’ll tell you while you get dressed.  I don’t want your
parents to come home and find you in your pink pj’s and fuzzy socks.  It’s
noon.  They’ll fire me.”

My best
friend leads me upstairs where she sits on the bed as I go to my dresser and place
James’ note in my top drawer, tucking it under my socks.  “Be right back,” I
tell her and head to the bathroom.  I quickly brush my teeth and almost expect
to hear James’ voice.  But I don’t.

“So,” I
ask Shel when I return to my room.  “What’d my mom tell you?”

She
sighs.  “Don’t be mad.  I think your parents are just really worried.”

“Dude,
you’re scaring me.”  I take a cue from Shel’s attire and pull some jeans and a black
tank top from my dresser. 

“She
said you were sleeping all the time.  That it was next to impossible to wake
you up.  She told me that when you are awake, you’re robotic, like not really
there.”

I concede
that evaluation and nod as I dress.

“You’re
still not eating…”

Again
with the food?  I pull my top over my head.  “I eat!  I mean, not like normal,
but more than the last time I saw you.”

“Okay.” 
Shel lets that one slide.  “She said you have bad dreams.  Nightmares.  She
said you attacked her.”

My face
flushes red in embarrassment.

“What
was the nightmare?” she asks, concerned.  “I don’t remember you ever having
those, even as a kid.”

I take
a deep breath and sit next to her on the bed.  “I dreamt of the accident.  I
was there, but couldn’t find...him.  I saw the Jeep and tons of blood; it felt
so real.  I could sense everything, even smell it.  I was screaming for him,
and I was so weak and tired.  Then his mother was there, strangling me, choking
me, and yelling that it was my fault.  I was fighting her off when in reality it
was my mom trying to wake me from the dream.”

Shel’s
eyes are wide.  “What do you think brought that on?”

“The
Davis’ paid my parents a visit.  I overheard their conversation.”

“And?”

“They
are upset with me and the way I acted at the funeral.  Their family was
offended.”

Shel’s
face twists in disbelief.  “Are you serious?”

I look
down, ashamed.

“What
did they want you to do?  Sing and dance like everything is fine?”

My eyes
burn with tears as I remember my breakdown.  I try to blink them away.

“Em,
you shouldn’t feel bad about what happened.  That’s what funerals are for; for
people to grieve and say goodbye and get upset…”

“Shel.” 
I stop her and close my eyes.  “You were there,” my voice shakes.  “You heard me
screaming…saw me crying...”

My
chest tightens.  I remember the feel of plastic against my back as I slid from
the chair.  I remember how rough the carpet felt as I crawled across the floor
on my hands and knees.  I remember trying to stand and my legs failing me; my
hands reaching to grasp the casket, but sliding off the varnished wood.  I
remember trying again and again only to have my father and my brother grab
ahold of me to pull me back.  I struggled with them; pushed them away as my
fingers finally found purchase on the shiny wood.  I remember gripping it as
tight as humanly possible and feeling my brother try to pry my fingers off as
my father held me around my waist and pulled me back.  All the while I was screaming,
“No!  Let me be with him!”

Tears
run freely down my face as I open my eyes and look at Shel and choke out, “I
wanted to be…I tried to crawl in…I wanted to be inside with him!”  I cover my
face and sob into my hands.  “How sick is that?”

After a
moment Shel gently pulls my hands from my face.  Tears make silent tracks down
her cheeks too.  She smiles weakly.  “I don’t think that’s sick at all.  Now,
eating strawberries dipped in ketchup, that’s sick.”

I stare
at her stupidly for a moment and then a laugh escapes.  I quickly slap my hand
over my mouth, and she starts to laugh too.  The laughter is contagious and,
before we know it, we can’t stop.  We lay on the bed convulsing in a fit of
hysterical giggles and grief.

“I’d
forgotten about that!” I tell her when my laughter subsides enough so I can
breathe.

“It was
so gross!  But it won me $10 didn’t it?” Shel says, wiping the tears from her
face.  “I still have to repay Matt for that dare.”

“How
many years has it been?  Like five?”

“Probably. 
But some things you never forget!”

We lie
on the bed and stare at the ceiling while our breathing returns to normal.  As
I wipe away my tears, I turn my head to face her.  As much as I don’t want to
admit it, it feels good to laugh.  “I’m glad you’re here,” I smile.

“Me
too,” she smiles back at me.

James
makes an appearance in my dreams again.  I’m starting to get used to this.  In
fact it’s becoming a comfort.  I can count on my subconscious to replay
memories I haven’t thought of in years, almost as if there is a movie library
in my head and my mind selects which film to play each time I sleep.

“I love
you,” James says to me.

“I love
you too.”

“No,
like really love you.”

“I
know.”

“No.  Like
seriously forever love you.”

I look
up from my book and stare at him.  We’re supposed to be studying for our world
history final.  Two more weeks of high school and then we’re done.  Officially
graduated.  I smile and lean forward to kiss him.

“I
know.”

He
kisses me back, but something feels off.

“Okay,”
I close my book and scoot closer to him on the floor.  “What’s up?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Something’s
bothering you.”

“Nothing’s
bothering…”

I give
him my “Don’t lie to me” look.

He rolls
from his side to his back and covers his face with his hands.  “I can’t tell
you.”

“Of
course you can.”

“I
can’t.”

“You
can.”

He
shakes his head.

What
could it be?  I start to get nervous.  “So you’re just going to lie there?”

He
sighs, moves his hands to rest on his stomach, and turns his head toward me. 
“I got the letter from Ferris.”

“And?”

“They
offered me a full ride to play on the team.”

I zone
out for a minute and then shake my head to clear it.  “That’s amazing!”

“No,
it’s not.”

“It
is!”

James
props himself up on his elbow.  “This wasn’t the plan.”

“Well,
no,” I say.  “But you can’t turn it down.  It’s an opportunity of a lifetime!”

He
reaches out and pulls me against him, so I’m lying beside him with my head resting
on his chest.  He wraps his arms around me.  “We won’t be together.”

Ferris State
University had expressed interest in James this past hockey season and we’ve
been anxiously awaiting this news.  In the meantime, we applied to other
schools and Western Michigan has accepted us both.  I received a partial
scholarship as well, which made WMU a permanent part of my future.  Since it
appeared Ferris was dragging their feet, James was making plans to become a
Bronco in the fall with me.

“But
we’ll be close,” I say.  “It’s just under a two hour’s drive from Kalamazoo to
Big Rapids.”

“Been
doing some research, have we?”

I shrug. 
“Maybe.  Just in case.”  I lift my head to look at him.  “Your parents must be
ecstatic.”

“That’s
an understatement,” he crookedly smiles.

“I’m
proud of you.”

He
lifts his head and kisses me.  “I’m going to miss you.”

I
sigh.  “I guess we’ll have to make the most of our summer.”

His
smile fades, and my eyes search his face.  “What is it?”

“They
want me to help with the kid’s summer hockey camp.  I have to leave in three
weeks.”

I can’t
hide my disappointment and my expression wilts.  “Really?”

He nods.

I place
my head on his chest again so he can’t see my face if my emotions decide to
betray me.

“I’m
sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t
be,” I tell him, but my voice wavers.  “It is what it is.”

“You
know I hate that saying.”

I
chuckle.  “I know.”

“Listen,”
he sits upright and takes me with him so we’re sitting facing each other.  “I
don’t have to do this.  We have everything worked out for Western.”

Inside
I want that.  Bad.  I want to be selfish and tell him ‘Okay!  Tell Ferris they
can kiss it!’  But my rational side wins out.  “Don’t be ridiculous!  Your
parents would murder you if you turned this down.  No way.  You’re going to
Ferris.”

He
takes my hand and stares at it, then runs his thumb lightly across my
knuckles.  “I feel bad.”

I shake
my head.  “Don’t.  We’ll work it out.  I have a car, you have a car, there’s
this modern technology called a phone.  We’ll be fine.”

He
gives me a worried look and reaches out to push my hair behind my ear.  “What
if you find someone else?”

His
question takes me by surprise.  That’s what he’s worried about?  “That won’t
happen,” I squeeze his hand in reassurance.  “What about you?  What if you find
someone else?”

“Not
possible,” he says without hesitation.

“How
can you be so sure?” I ask him playfully.  “There must be plenty of sexy blonde
coeds throwing themselves at the star athletes.”

He
grins.  “Well, if you put it
that
way…”

“Ugh!” 
I drop his hand in mock disgust.

He
laughs, reaching for me. “You know I prefer brunettes!  Come here.”

I cross
my arms defiantly.  “Why?”

“Just
come here!”

I eye
him warily and take his hands.  He pulls me into his lap and presses me to him,
my head resting on his shoulder.

“You
know I love only you,” he says.  His voice is low; like it’s caught in his
throat.

I think
about that for a second.  “Why?” I ask.  “Why do you love me?”

I can
feel his breath catch.  “Because you’re mine,” he replies softly.

A warm
feeling spreads through my chest.  I love being his.  “That’s all?” I tease.

He lets
out a nervous laugh. “No.  It’s just hard to put into words.”

“Try,”
I say, curious.  I’ve never asked for a detailed list of why he loves Emma
Donohue before.

He
squeezes me tighter to him.  “I feel…I don’t know…
better
when I’m with
you.  If we’re apart, I can barely wait to be with you again.  When we’re
together it feels right.  It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, it feels natural…like
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.  There’s nothing false about us or
between us.  Does that make any sense?”

I nod into
his chest.  It makes complete sense.  “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Are
you upset?”  He sounds worried.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“No; your
words were perfect.”  In fact, I’m trying not to cry.  His feelings mirror my
own.

“Are
you sure?”  He lifts my chin, so he can look me in the eye.

A tear
escapes, and I quickly wipe it away.  “Yes.  I think you may have melted my
heart.”

He
gives me a soft smile.  “I’d like to tell you one more thing, if your heart can
take it.”

“What’s
that?”

He
stares at me intently, as if his eyes can see right through me.  “You are
absolutely beautiful.”

The
intensity in his stare makes me forget how to breathe.  His hand, still lifting
my chin, pulls my face toward his, and his mouth literally crushes mine.  I let
out a squeak of surprise.  This is not his typical kiss.

My
reaction makes him smile against my lips, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing
me.  Instead, his hand leaves my chin and finds its way to the nape of my neck,
sliding up into my hair to hold me in place.  As his mouth molds to mine, I set
my hands flat against his chest; I can feel his heart pounding through his
shirt.  His lips move and trail along my jaw as his free hand glides around my
waist and finds the exposed skin at the small of my back.  He flexes his
fingers, pressing them into me, and a wave of electricity slides up my spine. 
His other hand moves from my hair and gathers it, pulling it to the side.  A
moment later I feel his breath under my ear, and I flinch.  He laughs as he
kisses me, knowing that sensitive spot.  He always teases me there, on purpose,
to make me jump.

Despite
the fact that I’m sitting sideways in his lap, I want to be closer.  I grip his
shoulders and pull myself forward, freeing a leg to adjust my position.  His
lips disappear from my skin.

“What
are you doing?” he whispers.

“Moving,”
I smile and face him head on, wrapping one leg around his waist, and then the
other.  He curls his hands under my knees and pulls me forward so our bodies
meet.  I wind my fingers into his hair and pull his mouth to mine again.  His
grip tightens around my knees then skims up my legs to slide beneath my
backside.  He pulls his mouth away from mine and finds my ear.

“We
have to stop hanging out when your parents are home.”

His kisses
sear down my neck, and I lean into him.  “That’s kind of impossible.  We’d
never see each other.”

We hear
the door knob rattle at the same time.  It’s like we’ve been stung, and we
spring apart.  I scramble to pick up my history book and open it to bury my
face in any page.

“Um…hey
guys,” my mother says cautiously from the doorway.

I
barely look up over the top of my book.  My face feels like it’s on fire; I
know its flaming red.

“Hey
Mrs. Donohue,” James says nonchalantly.  I steal a sideways glance; he’s laying
on the floor, propped up on his elbow, a notebook in front of him.  He flashes her
an innocent smile.

“Just
putting laundry away,” she says as she enters my room with the basket.  She
heads to the bed and sets down a stack of folded clothes.  I keep my face
buried in my book.

As she
leaves, she stops just outside the door and turns.  “It’s stuffy in here, don’t
you think?  This door should probably stay open,” she says as she swings it
wide.

I
glance up at her again.  She gives me a knowing look with her eyebrows raised. 
My ears feel hot, and I quickly look back down.

“Whatever
you say Mrs. D,” James says.  It sounds like he’s smiling.

After
she walks away, I slam the book shut and look at him.  “You know there’s a parental
talk in my future, right?”

He
bursts out laughing.

“It’s
not funny!”

He
grins.  “Your face is fifty shades of red.”  He sits up and starts to move over
to sit next to me.  I give him a dirty look.

“What?”
he asks innocently.

“You
can’t sit next to me if you won’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He
cocks an eyebrow.  “As I recall, you’re the one who wrapped yourself around
me.”

I roll
my eyes.  “You started it.”

He
smiles and settles next to my side.  I open my book again and attempt to find
where I left off.  After a minute or two James says, “Well, there’s one good thing
about my leaving for college so soon.”

I look
up at him.  “What’s that?”

He
winks at me.  “My dorm room.”

“We
need summer jobs,” Shel says as she leans over the paper, perusing the want
ads.  “You need a routine and the money wouldn’t hurt.”

“Anything
look good?” I ask while trying to show interest in my scrambled eggs.  I’m exhausted. 
The memory from last night woke me, and I couldn’t go back to sleep for hours. 
I try to hide my smirk behind a fork full of eggs as I recall the dream and the
“talk” that took place after James left that day.  My mother insisted I get on
birth control pills.  I didn’t refuse.

“Not
really.  We should look online after breakfast,” she suggests.

“Mornin’
ladies,” my dad greets us as he enters the kitchen.  “Got any plans for
today?”  He pours himself some coffee.

Shel
says, “Job hunting,” as I say, “Not really.”

He
smiles.  “I see.”  He takes a sip from the mug.  “Whip her into shape, would ya
Shel?”

“I’m on
it,” she says and gives him a conspiratorial look.

He
starts to leave the kitchen, then stops and turns back.  “You know, when your
mom and I were in town yesterday I saw a flyer at the grocery.  Bay Woods is
looking for summer help.”

“What’s
Bay Woods?” Shel asks.

“Golf
course,” I respond.

“Hmmm. 
We’ll have to check that out,” Shel says.  “Thanks Mr. Donohue.”

He tips
an invisible hat to us and leaves through the back door.

“All
right,” Shel finishes her orange juice.  “We should head out by 10.”

I look
at the clock.  It’s 9:30.  “Geez.  Why are you in such a rush?”

“Speed
of business.  Finish up,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs.  “I’m going upstairs
to get ready.”  She walks to the sink, rinses her dishes, and puts them in the
dishwasher.  She glances back at me.  I haven’t budged.

“Make a
move!” she chastises me.  As she heads upstairs she yells back, “Today is a new
day!”

Ugh.  I
have never been a morning person.  When she came in and woke me up this morning
around nine I about slugged her.