Second Thoughts (6 page)

“Gawd,” she said after we'd bid good night to our dates and our parents and walked up the stairs of our dorm. “Could Alexis
be
more obvious? I thought she'd have given up by now.”

I was long past worrying about Alex and her designs on Carter so I actually laughed. “She
could,
you know. She has been before.”

Amy snorted. “True. At least all she could do was eye him tonight. She wasn't close enough to drop her napkin and
say hello
from under the table.”

I glanced back at her over my shoulder while I unlocked our door. “She wouldn't do
that,”
I said, but I wasn't sure it was really true.

“No,
you
wouldn't do that. She totally would.” We both slipped off our heels and flopped onto our respective beds. She was making fun of me, but I ignored it.

“You're right. But it doesn't matter, because he wouldn't let her.”

“No, he probably wouldn't.”

“Probably?”

She smiled. “Never underestimate the power of a hot, willing girl, Lane. Even with Carter. He's reformed, yeah, but he'll forever and always be a guy.” She talked right over me as I started to protest. “I know, I know. You're not worried. And I
don't
really think you need to be, you know that. I'm kidding around. Mostly.”

It was the “mostly” that actually
did
worry me. I never questioned how much Carter loved me, and he'd been resisting Alex's advances for
years
now, but doubt still crept into my mind on occasion, quite often in the form of Alexis's voice. Or my own worked just as well. I doubted myself better than anyone though I tried constantly to stop doing it.
Tried
being the operative word. It would have been great if my Marwood genes allowed me to kill old, bad habits instead of just people.

I sighed and rolled onto my stomach. “Don't you worry about Caleb sometimes too?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but it
helped to hear out loud that your usually confident roommate had her moments of doubt too.

“Alex doesn't want
Caleb,”
she replied but then got serious. “Of course. Once in a while. Who doesn't worry sometimes? But then he doesn't…anyway. Yeah, sometimes I worry, but not very much.” I was about to ask her what she hadn't finished saying when she got up and started to change out of her suit. I assumed she was getting ready for bed, but instead of pajamas, she pulled jeans and a sweater out of her dresser. After months last semester of spending at least one night a week in our room by myself, you'd think I'd have expected it, but somehow I never did.

“Speaking of Caleb…I guess you're not staying here?”

She winked. “Not until the sun comes up anyway.” It was well known around campus how easy it was to sneak in and out of someone's room, but that you had to do it all before sunrise.

I blurted out, “But your parents are here!” and then blushed at how foolish it sounded.

Amy, as usual, laughed at my innocence. “Well, yeah, but it's not like they're sleeping in either of our rooms! I don't think they'll catch us from their hotel in Brattleboro.”

The heat slowly dissipated from my face. “You're right. Well, don't wake me up when you come back.”

“I never do.” She hesitated then, glancing at me several times while packing a few things into her bag. I should have known what it was about, because though she loved to tell me about her sex life, she knew I
didn't
like to talk about mine, or the lack thereof. I also suddenly knew what she'd started to say earlier, something about how Caleb didn't have many reasons to be tempted by other girls. It went
without
saying that Carter did have one big reason, one he'd enthusiastically pursued before meeting me, and one that, if not Alexis, any number of girls would be glad to pursue with him again.

“Lane,” she finally started but I interrupted her.

“If he's waited this long, he's not going anywhere.”

She nodded emphatically. “I know that. I wasn't saying he was. But…well, I see you together and I know how in love you are—really, it's nauseating sometimes—so I just can't figure it out. What
are
you still waiting for?”

Good question. I looked at her for a long time before I finally gave the answer I'd wondered about myself.

“A year,” I replied. “I'm waiting for a year.”

C
arter was in an especially good mood throughout the weekend, between the store filled with customers and Senator Astor's presence. He, more than anyone, looked forward to his uncle's visits. Dan had been the one to teach Carter how to control his Thought Mover abilities and Carter looked up to him as almost another father-figure, different from his own father, or from Jeff Revell. Maybe more like another Jesus, if I was honest with myself. Carter didn't just look up to him; he practically worshiped him.

Saturday night found us at a very private table in a historic, upscale restaurant in Vermont that I didn't even know existed. Usually students weren't allowed to go so far off-campus, not without a parent or guardian, but I
was
with Senator Astor, so my permission from Headmaster Stewart had been instantaneous. I think she wished she'd been invited too.

“I'm sorry your aunt couldn't join us, Lainey,” Dan said shortly after we'd been seated.

“Me too,” I told him, though I only half meant it. I did want to spend as much time with her as I could, but I didn't really want her in the vicinity of the senator—my real uncle—any more than necessary
or she was bound to say something. “She wanted to come, but the critics have created such a great buzz about the installation, she felt like she had to go to the event in Boston tonight.”
Future Flight
was already being hailed as creating an “undoubtedly instant trend of ‘collaborative installations.'”

“It's nearly as amazing as the artist herself,” he replied with a smile. Carter squeezed my hand under the table and I smiled back. Yes, this was
exactly
where he'd learned to be so charming. He was seated between me and his Uncle Dan and Melinda was on my right. We were at an intimate round table for just the five of us, but somehow it was clear that Senator Astor was at the head.

Dinner itself was delicious. I nibbled appetizers of pate and escargot, stuffed myself with roasted duck, and managed a few bites of maple crème brûlée. In fact, by the time we were done eating, I had a stomach ache. Except it had nothing to do with my meal. Though everyone was companionable, and Carter was practically exuberant, an undercurrent of tension ran throughout the evening.

Family relations between Dan, Jeff, and Melinda were…a little forced. The brothers—half-brothers, really—saw each other infrequently and spoke even less. And they were actually on pretty
good
terms right now. I was sure they'd never be a loving and laughing family. Add me, and my disastrous confrontation with the senator's daughter, into the mix and you had possibly the most awkward family gathering ever.

Dan and Carter naturally dominated the conversation, with Melinda filling in most of the rest. Jeff was as quiet as usual, and I was nearly as reserved. Unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed.

“You've been quiet this evening,” Senator Astor said casually, stirring his coffee and taking a sip.

“You have,” Carter echoed. A small frown creased his brow as if he'd just realized this, which he probably had. It wasn't that he'd been
ignoring me, but that he'd been happily wrapped up in talking with his Uncle Dan about the most recent events in politics, both United States and Sententia.

“I didn't mean to be,” I lied. “I was enjoying listening, learning a little more about this stuff.” I sipped my own coffee to try to appear relaxed. Which was pointless, because Daniel Astor was nothing if not shrewd.

“I'm glad we could teach you more about our society,” he said. “I'd like to do more of it, in fact. But that's not really what's got you so quiet this evening, is it?”

Time to be honest. Or honest-ish. No chance I was telling him—anyone—all the concerns occupying my mind. “No, I guess it's not,” I admitted.

“I suppose it's my daughter,” he said gently. Everyone but Dan shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, and Carter reached over to grasp my hand. I hated thinking about what happened, so of course I thought about it all the time. I suspected that Carter and the Revells did too.

“I'm sorry,” I said. What else
could
I say? I'd
killed
his daughter, however briefly. It was a difficult fact to overcome.

But the senator actually surprised me with his response. In fact, shocked might have been a better word. “Certainly not more than I, Lainey. I owe
you
an apology. It's my fault what happened.” He sighed and looked around the table making eye contact with every one of us. “I am so very sorry, for what she did and especially for my dishonesty about her.”

Carter and his aunt and uncle glanced at me and then at each other in confusion. “What do you mean?” Carter finally asked.

“I know she attacked Lainey, in part, because of me,” Dan explained, shaking his head. As always seemed to be the case, he directed his comments mostly to Carter. “I should have kept my promise to her
mother not to have any contact with Jillian, but I didn't. I'm so sorry for that, and sorry for not admitting it sooner. I should have told you.”

Probably
I
should have told them too, but I'd never mentioned any of Jill's ravings, letting them believe her attack was entirely about her unrequited love for Carter. I couldn't believe Senator Astor had just admitted his deception; I'd never thought he would. In fact, the longer I spent in his company, the harder it was to maintain the fear and distaste I'd been cultivating for months. Maybe I
was
wrong about him.

Carter turned to me. I could hear the confusion, plus a little bit of anger, in his voice. “Lainey, what's he talking about?” He dropped my hand to run his hastily through his hair, his number one bad habit and clearest indicator of distress.

“I…” started to explain, but didn't have to.

“Don't blame her, Carter,” Dan interjected. “She was just being discreet, I know, and I thank her for it.” There was no higher praise for Sententia than being called discreet, and I'd just gotten it from our leader. He seemed genuine about it too—about
everything.
“As I said, I had, perhaps foolishly and undoubtedly selfishly, been in contact with Jillian. Phone calls and emails only, but I enjoyed them.” He raised his hands as if saying,
what's a father to do?
“I wanted to know my daughter. I should have waited the few more years I promised, but that was my mistake. I made the added mistake of asking about Lainey. If I'd only been more cautious, or known my daughter better, perhaps I'd have seen what would happen…”

He trailed off before looking at me directly, the intensity in his eyes making it impossible to look away or doubt him. “I am so sorry, Lainey. Truly. The words can't convey the depth of my sorrow about what happened and my part in it.
You
have nothing to apologize for. My gratitude for saving my daughter, and for your discretion after the fact, is limitless. There's no way for me to repay you, but if there is
anything
I can do for you, ever, all you need is ask.”

We sat there in stunned silence at the senator's confession, me over the fact that he'd made it, the others over what it contained. Finally, Jeff said nothing more than,
“Dan,”
but it held all the condemnation, as well as understanding, a single word could. Somehow I suspected these awkward moments would do more to repair the brothers' strained relationship than anything else. Among other things, Jeff was angry with his brother for his failures as a father; knowing that Dan had tried to correct them would earn him a lot as far as Jeff and Melinda's esteem went.

Carter said nothing, but finally regrasped my hand. He was looking between me and the senator with a number of emotions, but the dominant one was
relief.
He'd been eaten up over the belief that Jill had harmed me because of
him.
And she had, in part, but not entirely. At the time, I hadn't even questioned my choice not to tell him. Between taking that burden from him or forcing him to question his beloved uncle's integrity, I'd been certain the latter was worse. Except now
I
looked like the one keeping secrets. And I supposed I was, but not for anything but love for Carter. I didn't look forward to talking about it with him later.

“I miss her,” Melinda admitted into the quiet. It was half sad, half apologetic, but all honest.

“As do I, Meri,” Dan replied. I was unused to his nickname for Melinda, but no one but me seemed to find it strange.

Melinda sighed. “Sometimes I feel bad that I do—I'm sorry, Lainey—but I do.”

“I'm sure Lainey doesn't fault you for it, Mel,” Jeff said, and he was right. Maybe it wasn't logical, or the most typical reaction, but whenever I thought of Jill, I felt not anger but crushing sadness.

“I don't,” I agreed. “Honest.” Carter turned his head, but still said nothing.

I knew he
did
fault his aunt, but loved her too much to say anything. He'd found no forgiveness for Jill in the months since she left. Sometimes I thought he could still see my bruises when he looked at me, still touched me tentatively as if they were there, even though they'd long since faded. Naturally then, we did
not
talk about Jill. But I was curious.

“How…how is she?” I said to whoever might answer. “Did she go to Webber?” Webber was Northbrook's sister school, on the West Coast. After learning she wouldn't return here, I assumed that was the best place for her, where she could get the help she needed but also still be with other Sententia.