Abithica (15 page)

Oh, Lord! Part of me wanted to bolt from the room, the rest of me wanted to throw my arms around him.

“If you start to scare me,” he continued, “I promise I’ll run away.” He made the Boy Scout honor sign.

“But…”

His finger went against my lips. “How ‘bout this? Until I’m sure you’re safe to be around, I’ll keep Shae at a distance… you know… in case you’re a vampire or something. Will that work?” He kept his finger in place. “At the end of my extensive two week investigation into your psyche, I’ll decide… no, we’ll decide… you and me together… whether a friendship between us is too dangerous to pursue. But
you
have to promise to be the person you’re trying so hard to hide. I want to know the real Sydney, not someone acting like she’s someone else. Can you do that? Can you just be the person who is there inside, the real you?”

Did I dare, knowing that in the end he’d be Sydney’s, not mine? He wanted to know the real Sydney, and
I
was the one acting like someone else. Would God even allow me a tiny slice of joy before He got bored and decided to shake things up again? Ultimately I’d have no choice but to hand my Lane over to the real Sydney, but was she bothering to listen? Did she even care?

Or was Max going to be her final answer, Max and “they?”

* * *

Lane was lying on the same pillow I’d used that very morning to block out his call. Both arms cradled his head while he took the first steps in getting me to know him, staring up at the ceiling as he talked. Me? I was sitting in a chair near the door, telling myself he was real, but not totally believing it. Even so, I was on my guard. Faith had to be somewhere in the house if I decided to run for it. He wouldn’t have just walked in. She and I would have a little talk once he left.

Meanwhile, I was listening. It turned out that he was in construction—a do-it-all kind of guy on the way to becoming a licensed, bonded, general contractor. His great passion was working with wood.

“Want to know what I was thinking earlier? When you asked me what my worst fear was?” He glanced over. “I was worried you’d send me away… that I’d have to live the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like if you had given us a chance.”

Could he hear my heart beating? To me, it sounded like a whole parade pounding away in my chest. That meant Sydney could hear it, too. Frick! Time to change the subject. “Tell me about Shae. How is she,
really
?”

“Better than she’s been seen since our mom died.”

“Your mom… died? How? When?” I was up and out of my chair.

“Two years ago. She was murdered. Shae was there. I wasn’t. Maybe if I
had
been…” The pain in his eyes looked much fresher. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the top of his head over and over as if trying to erase what had happened. “The best the police could do was to piece together a story from what Shae told them, before she stopped talking altogether. She and Mom were in Mom’s Mustang with the top down, but Shae was asleep in the backseat. When loud voices woke her up, there was some guy pointing a gun at Mom’s head and telling her to get out. He shot her… and ran away. The cops never found him. Shae did her best to tell what had happened, with my help, and she was able to describe the guy as ‘big’, but she hasn’t spoken a word since, not until you came along.”

“But she asked me to say hello to her mom for her! I don’t understand. I mean… how was I supposed to do that, if what you say—”

“I know. I was confused too, still am, but her psychiatrist told me to let her talk about anything she chooses. He said it’s very important to listen without giving an opinion. Luckily, her teachers and friends have been very understanding. It was a smart move placing her into a Catholic school. She’s become very close with one priest in particular who is helping her in ways I can’t. You see, for a long time, she blamed God, but now she’s convinced that God brought you into her life as a gift. Because of you, she’s made her peace with Him.”

“How can she think that? How can you
let
her?”

“Why? What’s wrong with her believing in miracles? Why are you looking at me like that? This is a
good
thing, Sydney. My sister is talking again… she’s happy.”

“Well, I’m
not
a miracle, Lane. I’m about as far from one as you can imagine. If you aren’t going to tell her that, I will.”

He gave me long, hard, look. Neither of us spoke, but then his face softened. “Have you already forgotten you agreed to our two week trial period? Besides, if you’re as dangerous as you’re trying to make out, I’m not letting you anywhere near my sister, but you haven’t convinced me, and you won’t. Now listen to me… please. Shae knows I came here and she’s been dying to talk to you. She won’t understand this two week trial thing, and I know you won’t pick up the phone and call her, so can you at least write her a letter and explain what we’re trying in your own words? Fair?”

Yes, it was fair—for now. I resolved to measure the two weeks right down to the minute, and then have my say. Faith had a secretary desk in the bedroom. Sure enough, there was paper and several pens in it, but even as I sat down, my mind was racing at top speed. Now I could understand why Lane and Shae were so close. “Where’s your dad?” I wondered aloud.

“Died. Nine years ago.” He fell back against the pillow, dangling his dusty boots over the edge of the bed. “You might as well know that Shae’s father… she—”

“I see. Shae’s a love child?”

He nodded. “The guy skipped out on Mom when he learned he’d have some responsibilities in his future.”

“Shae’s lucky to have you, then.”

“Are you kidding? I’m lucky to have
her.
”

I stared at the blank sheet of paper. It stared back.
God brought me into her life as a gift? Where did she ever come up with that idea? What can I say?

“What’s the problem?” Lane asked. “Is it our two week trial? Shall we just forget that and declare our friendship right now? I vote for that.”

I faced him. “She’s six, Lane. I don’t want to dump my problems on a six-year-old, but I am definitely
not
God’s gift. Far from it.”

“Then let her decide about you on her own. Don’t mention our agreement and don’t challenge her thoughts about you. She may be only six, but she’s already tasted danger and violence in losing our mother. She won’t understand your version of ‘dangerous’ if you use that word. I don’t even understand it.”

That makes three of us.
But he’d just given me an idea. I grabbed the pen.

“So, what
are
you going to say?” he asked.

“Dear Shae. It warms my heart to know you are doing well.” As I wrote, I read the words out loud.

“
Warms
your heart? From ice cold to warm? I like that!” He grinned.

I ignored him. “I miss you and think of you often. It will be awhile before I can see you again. I have a terribly contagious disease that should clear up in about two weeks.”

“Terribly contagious?” He chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine… just a little funny looking, that’s all. When the doctors give their okay, I look forward to talking again with you, in person. In the meantime, let’s continue to write, shall we? Your Friend Always, Sydney.”

I signed my name, folded the paper and put it in an envelope. “There! Satisfied?”

“What contagious disease were you thinking of?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something good.” I pulled the white tab, exposing the sticky tape, and sealed the envelope before handing it to him.

“Measles, then. I’ll tell her I had them when I was four and explain why I’m going to be here every day. It’s not often that an adult gets measles, but if they do it can be serious.”

“You’re coming here every day?”

“Call it research. I have to be around to witness your change to the dark side.” He squinted, eyeing me with a silly leer. “Let’s see… for openers, you’ll need heavier eyebrows and longer teeth. A bonier nose, maybe a little hook to it.”

“What if you can’t
see
the change I’m talking about, Lane? What if it just happens and you don’t realize it?” I felt the color draining from my face. Nothing I’d said had gotten through to him.

“Believe me, I notice
everything
about you.” His tone didn’t change one whit.

Oh, God! Can Sydney hear all this? Is this what she wants, the reason she’s been so quiet? Is it what I want? I’m nothing more than her agent. This is not going to work.

It was true. Sydney was in there, no doubt gloating, but none of this was going to bring about any change in
her
. Still the same vicious, deadly tramp who’d been about to rob Faith and….

“Sydney, that’s the very same expression you shot me at the mall, just before you no-showed and quit answering my phone calls.” Lane was suddenly on his feet. “Now, we have an agreement, and I’m going to hold you to it. I get two weeks to prove to you that I can be your friend and you can be mine.”

“Lane, I—”

“Stop. Not another word.” Looking angry, he headed for Faith’s front door. I followed, trying to think of something I could say. He stopped on the threshold. “Two weeks, Sydney. You are not allowed to do anything silly for that long… no running away, no backing out, no mind games, no more talk about danger and being scared. I want to know the real Sydney, the one hiding underneath all that baggage she claims she’s carrying around on her shoulders.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

I watched him pile into his pickup and drive away, then stood there staring at the empty space where his car had been. There was another car there now, a shimmering ghost mustang with its top down and a terrified little girl hiding in the back seat. A “big” man was standing next to it, pointing a gun. He was bald, with a red bull’s eye tattooed on the side of his face. I knew him! He looked straight at me and laughed before the mirage disappeared. I could almost hear him.

Faith reappeared not ten minutes after Lane drove away, starting in on me again with her annoying questions before leaving for work. Strangely she knew all about the details I purposely left out of my answers. Listening through the wall? How else could she have known things he’d said? She’d had nothing at all to do with his appearance, she claimed, nothing at all. Of course not! She couldn’t possibly have been the one who told him how to find her house, no, no, no. Or let him know my morning habits so he’d know just when to show up and not catch me in bed.

She’d succeeded in complicating my complications, even though she knew I was having trouble dealing with my own emotions, and I was having even worse trouble coping with my own ridiculous handling of the best opportunity I might ever get. Lane was right there on the bed, telling me how crazy he was about me. Why hadn’t I kissed him right then? Would he still be here if I… would he have dashed away the way he did? Could I have…

I stopped. No sense thinking about do-overs or second chances, even though the pesky thoughts kept nipping at my heels like a Jack Russell terrier as I paced back and forth in the living room. Unless I did something to change them, my memories of Lane could be filled with bunches of “would haves” and “could haves” following me from body to body. Would I spend however long my life span was remembering the one thing I didn’t
want
to remember? Well, that was most definitely in Mr. Mackerel Man’s bag of tricks. What if fate intervened and I was forced out of Sydney’s body this second, before I could do anything to correct the…

The ghastly thought brought me to a screeching halt in the midst of my pacing. A quick check on the kitchen clock told me he’d been gone four hours and twelve minutes. Assuming he returned at the same time tomorrow, I had a minimum of nineteen hours and forty-three minutes left before I could rectify my mistake, and rectify it I would! After all,
I
had nothing to do with Lane being in that bedroom, or on that bed. He’d been delivered to me on a silver platter, and I’d simply been too stupid to act. This whole guilt thing was getting out of hand. Maybe Sydney was behind it, maybe not, but she’d missed the target, and I wouldn’t give her a second shot. I definitely needed to make a deal with Sydney, but first I had to correct my approach to Lane.

I watched the second hand make two full trips around before resuming my pacing. Over to the wall, back to the couch, to the wall, to the couch.

Don’t think about Sydney. Or Kojak. Or the way you felt sitting next to Lane on the bed. You still don’t know how long you can stay… there’s no way of knowing… no warnings. Just
wham!
and you’re suddenly someone else, somewhere else.

There, that must have been at least half an hour. I went back and checked. Damn! Only six minutes? How in the world was I going to get through the rest of the day and night and into the next morning? Okay, then I’d forget the clock until the following day, and stop the pacing.

“No more curve balls!” I said the words out loud, but I’d forgotten the master curve ball thrower. His next zinger came at me in the form of a Yellow-Eyed Junco, sitting on the window sill and staring in with its head cocked. Birds often did that, wearing an accusing look to let me know the birdfeeder was empty again. This accuser was actually chirping at me, so I went outside in just my indoor clothing, retrieved the seed can, and popped the lid. Instead of flying away, Sir Junco landed on the can’s rim and just sat there, mere inches from my hand. Neither of us moved.
Okay, calm down. Breathe. There’s a reasonable explanation. You just have to find it.