A Matter of Heart (16 page)

She answers after three or
so rings, and I’m surprised by her intro, considering I’m calling on Jonah’s
cell: “How are you feeling, Chloe?”

I make sure my head is
turned completely away from the two people playing at the table behind me. My
nose practically bumps the cool glass separating me from a six-story drop. And
I can’t help it. I really can’t. My voice cracks and wavers when I say, “Hi,
Mom.”

Not Mommy. Not Mama. Not
even Mother. Just plain old-fashioned, stereotypical Mom, which is about as
close as the two of us get when it comes to terms of endearments.

“You had me worried,” she
says, and my insides do a pretty good approximation of hand wringing. “I spoke
to Kate Blackthorn earlier today, though. She told me you’re doing better.”

I repeat dumbly, “You talked
to my Shaman?”

“Well, of course I talked to
Kate Blackthorn! Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve spoken to her daily about your
condition after Jonah called to tell me you were found.”

My forehead presses against
the glass. Maybe it’s weakness, or maybe it’s because I just witnessed a family
acting like it ought to, but I decide to push the matter. “I guess . . . I’m
surprised? Since you haven’t been here to visit?”

There’s a sigh, but across
the phone line, it’s nearly impossible to decipher. “I’m on assignment right
now in Chile, tracking down a plant I can use to cross with another I’m to find
next week in Iceland. It’s been a tough go so far, the little bugger has been
elusive, even for me.” She sighs again. “Your father . . . he’s in Annar, but
the last I heard, he was drowning in meetings. You know how he gets. He’s
probably forgotten to even eat or comb his hair, let alone remember to go see
his daughter in the hospital.”

“You’d come, though?” I
whisper. A tiny seed takes root in a bed within my heart all too often found
lacking or too hopeful. “If you were here?”

“What a ridiculous
question,” is her response. There’s a voice in the background, and she pulls
away to answer it. Afterwards, to me she says, “I’m sorry to have to do this,
but we’ve got a lead on the plant that I need to follow.”

I’m not ready to let her go
yet, not ready to let go of the possibility of what might be. “Mom, can we—”

But she cuts me off. “Take
care of yourself.” More words are said to somebody on her end. Then she’s back
to me. “I’ll see you when I’m back in Annar next month, Chloe.”

And . . . she’s gone, with
nothing but silence across the line to fill my ear. A whoop nearby breaks this;
reflected in the glass, I can see Callie fist pumping in the air. “In your
face, Whitecomb!”

“Two out of three,” he
urges, collecting the cards. But then he turns towards me. “Chloe, do you want
play?”

I take a deep breath and
imagine I’m like him. That I can compose myself and show what I want, that
people will see only what I let them see. I turn and give them a tired smile.
“No, thanks. I’m really dragging all of a sudden. I think I’ll take a nap
instead, if you don’t mind.”

But he knows me apparently
better than I know him, because he’s out of his seat and over by me before I
can protest. His eyes track down to his cell phone, still in my hand, and then
back to my face. Of course he knows what just happened. Of course he knows
exactly how I’m feeling about it all. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks
me quietly, which I appreciate considering I hate the thought of showing
weakness in front of Callie.

I shake my head, yet . . .
the words pour out anyway. Like I have no control after all. “She’s in South
America. On assignment.”

He sits down next to me and
takes my hand. Callie excuses herself, saying she wants to go find Kate for an
update on Kellan. After she leaves, he says, “I know.”

I say what’s nearly crushing
my insides. “She didn’t come back to see me.”

Gently—“I know.”

“My dad . . .” I can’t even
finish. It hurts too much. Stupid hope. How I hate it at times.

Jonah kisses me and then
wraps his arms around my trembling shoulders. He says for the third time, this
time tinted with sadness, “I know.”

He is so lucky, I can’t help
but think.

Envy
is such an ugly emotion to possess, especially when it’s felt toward a person
you truly only want the best for.

Shortly before dinner, a text
comes through on Jonah’s phone. Thunderclouds erupt around him as he stares
down at the message. “I need to step into the other room to make a call,” he
tells me. His eyes briefly flick over toward where Callie is sitting, next to
Kellan, before settling back on me. “Will you be okay?”

“Seriously, Jonah?”
Exasperation flashes in her eyes. “What do you think’s gonna happen when you
leave? That I’ll lead her to my gingerbread house in the forest and bake her
into a pie?” She pretends to hold a plate and fork. “Mmm . . . Creators are
tasty. Much better than temperamental Emotionals, that’s for sure.”

I actually have to choke
back a snort of laughter. Jonah, though, finds no humor in this and tells her
so.

“You’re so uptight
nowadays,” Callie shoots at him. “I swear, the Council has sucked all the fun
out of you.”

Has it? I wonder. But
no—Jonah’s always been serious. Responsible beyond his years.

“Should I be more like
Kellan?” he throws back. “All fun, all the time?”

She rolls her eyes, but they
soften as she glances down at Kellan’s sleeping face. “You know that’s not what
I meant. It’s just . . . you two are such extremes nowadays. Total opposites.
It’s sad to see.” Her eyes meet mine for the briefest of seconds—defiance, a
touch of guilt, and a smidge of pity all reflecting out of them—before her
focus returns to Jonah. “Just go,” she says when he doesn’t say anything. “I’ll
make sure that neither of them gets even a paper cut.”

“I’m trusting you . . .” he
finally says; while the ending is open, it’s patently clear what words he
wanted to say.

Callie’s eyes widen and then
narrow sharply in anger. “I’m sorry that one incredibly stupid mistake on my
behalf seems to have eradicated an entire lifetime’s worth of trust between us,
Jonah.”

Whoa. WHOA. This is a slippery
slope I do not want any of us to maneuver tonight. “We’ll be fine,” I cut in,
jumping off the window seat to come over to where Jonah is standing. I slip my
arm around his waist and squeeze.

What I really want to say to
him is:
It took two to tango, buddy
.
She’s not the only one to blame
for that broken trust, is she?
But that would be utterly hypocritical of
me, considering I have no place to talk, having just locked lips with Kellan
recently myself.

Callie is staring at me in
surprise, like she’s shocked I came to her defense. Jonah’s phone beeps again,
and I urge him to go answer it. He’s reluctant, but he finally goes.

Silence, thick and
uncomfortable, settles around us. She’s the first to wade through by thanking
me for defusing the bomb she nearly set off. There’s a hint of wonder to her
husky voice.

I scratch at my scalp and
look anywhere but right at her. “It wasn’t . . .” I trail off, unsure of what
to really say. I end up shrugging.

She’s still staring at me,
though. “I know,” she says. “About you and Kellan.”

I cough; my head itches
viciously. Caleb, utterly amused, murmurs,
This is better than watching
Faerie daytime TV.

“About your Connection,” she
clarifies, even though it wasn’t necessary. “He told me. How you’ve got
Connections to both of them, but picked Jonah.”

The coughing transitions to
choking. Oh, good lords. Maybe sending Jonah out of the room was a bad idea
after all. Because, obviously, Creators
are
tasty to snack on!

She leaps out of her seat to
pound on my back. Once I stop coughing, she gets me a cup of water. “You better
not choke. You heard the guy. My ass is on the line here.”

“I’m fine,” I wheeze.

“I didn’t mean to shock you
with all that.” She shoves me over to one of the chairs at the table, sitting
across from me. “You’re probably thinking I want to blackmail you or
something.”

My horror must show, because
she quickly stresses, “I don’t!” before sighing. “Chloe, I ought to warn you
that I’m known for having very poor tact. I guess I was just giving you a heads
up that I know. Especially since he hasn’t told anybody else, other than Mom.”

“Oh,” is all I can think of
saying.

She looks over at Kellan.
“Can I be honest with you?”

I take another sip of water.
“Is there a time you haven’t been?”

She chuckles, no doubt
remembering the last time we were together, when she pretty much forced herself
upon me so I could hear the truth about what went down between her and Jonah.
“Touché. Look, I guess what I want to say is . . . they’re my friends, too. My
family. Even Jonah, even now when it’s impossible for the two of us to be in a
room together without it being painfully awkward. And . . . I love them, you
know?”

Yeah, I do. And I’m
surprisingly non-threatened by this confession.

“I’m not going away,” she
continues, her green eyes meeting mine. “Neither are you. And even if Jonah and
I never get past what happened, we’ll always be linked because of Mom and
Kellan. There’ll always be holidays, and birthdays, and dinners, and thousands
of other events big and small over the rest of our lifetimes. So . . .” She
lets loose a puff of air that makes her hair float like a halo around her face.
“This.” A hand is waved in between us. “We can do this, right?”

She’s sincere. I don’t doubt
it in the least.

“Yeah,” I tell her. And I
mean it.

Callie and Jonah are
arguing. Again.

In fact, they seem to argue
a lot. No—not argue. Bicker. They bicker incessantly, over what TV show or
movie to watch, over sports teams (which I find confusing, considering they
grew up together and ought to like the same local teams), over food . . . over,
well, just about everything.

It’s sort of hilarious,
actually.

Right now, they’re bickering
over some friends of theirs from high school back in Maine as we sit around the
table, eating dinner (Jell-o for me; some unfairly tasty looking stuff Astrid
brought in during a quick visit half an hour ago for them). From what I can
piece together, there’s a guy (Kai, I think?) and girl (definitely Maggie) who
have run hot and cold over the past several years and are currently on a break.
Jonah thinks this is inevitable, that the two of them are best served to be
friends in the long run. Callie, outraged over this “insensitivity” to their
friends’ plights, is insistent that they will work through this latest mess.
“Oh, c’mon!” Jonah groans. “Cal. Seriously? They broke up this time because of
sushi.” He shakes his head. “Because, you know, sushi is a real relationship
killer.”

As a matter of fact, the two
of them are eating sushi right now, which makes the conversation even more comical
to listen to.

Callie smacks her hands on
the table, sending drops of soy sauce scattering from an open packet. “Kai is
being an ass and you know it. Why do you always defend him?”

“I am not defending him.”
Jonah’s chopsticks jut toward her. “I’m just saying, that if Maggie’s gonna
bring about World War III due to,”—he holds up a California roll—“uncooked
fish—”

“Oh my GODS,” she hollers,
smacking her hands against the table again. Water sloshes out of my cup. “Do
you
hear
yourself?”

“The better question is, who
can’t
hear you two?” comes a scratchy voice from across the room. We all
go still before our chairs nearly clatter to the floor on cue and in
succession.

Kellan is awake, and he’s
staring at us with that fabulous half-quirked smile of his.

“KELLAN!” Callie shrieks
before promptly bursting into tears. She rushes to his bed and throws her arms
around him.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his
voice muffled through her hair. “You and Maggie, both off your rockers over
Japanese food. Am I right, bro?”

Jonah is grinning like an
idiot, so incredibly happy and relieved at the same time. I am, too, but I
suddenly feel like the fifth wheel, even though there are only four of us in
the room. I hang back some when Jonah goes over to hug his brother once Callie
relinquishes her hold.