Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) (2 page)

“Cocoa,”
she instructed. Sliding into her usual place on the left side of the couch, she
drew her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms around them. “With
marshmallows.”

“Anything
you say.” Nick feigned a bow, and then turned to the small kitchenette flanking
his apartment to follow her request. His movements were efficient, steady, and
it calmed her to watch him. Once he had placed a mug of water in the microwave
to heat, he leaned back against the counter, and waited.

She
fidgeted with the belt of her robe for a while before she spoke. “The
microwave’s slow tonight.”

The
corner of Nick’s mouth twitched up. “Give it time. It’s old.”

“Much
like the rest of the place,” she said, glancing from the microwave to the
outdated wallpaper. Stripes had faded from a once vibrant yellow to sallow
gold. “It’s overdue for a renovation.”

“Perhaps,”
he said, turning back to the microwave when it dinged. Removing the mug, he set
it on the counter. “But it works for me. I’m grateful Vivian and James were
between tenants when I needed it. They’ve been good to me.”

“They
have,” Meaghan agreed. “I’m glad you decided to attend the university here.”

Nick
cast a glance over his shoulder at her. Shadows returned to his eyes for a
moment and Meaghan clenched her teeth, feeling foolish for the slip. Nick diverted
his attention back to the mug. “While we’re on the subject of school, which
final is tomorrow?”

“Psychology,”
she said. “I wish I had more time. I’ll do okay, but I’m not sure I’ll get the
grade I need to qualify for the advanced program.”

“It
would be a shame if you didn’t,” Nick responded. Crossing the room, he handed
her the mug before sitting next to her. “You were born to help people.”

“Hence
the all-nighter. Or rather, the attempt at one.” Sighing, she stared into her
cup. A few clumps of powder clung to the surface of her hot cocoa and she poked
at one with the tip of her finger. Since she was a child, she had understood
people’s emotions in a way that made helping them feel natural. She did not
want to think about how she would react if she failed. She needed the advanced
program to funnel her into her Masters and then private practice, as she had
always dreamed.

That
was, until the nightmares had begun haunting her. For longer than she cared to
remember, they had haunted her sleep and clung shadows even to her waking
moments. She tightened her hands around the mug as flames overtook her mind
again, the heat of it seeming to sear her skin. She stared at one forearm,
expecting it to redden, but saw only Nick’s hand as it covered her wrist.

“Tell
me about the dream,” he said. “Was it like the others?”

“Sort
of.” Meaghan drew in a shuddering breath. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took
a small sip, though she could not taste it. “It was like the others and it was
different,” she said after a moment and set the mug down on the coffee table.
“The woman was in it again.”

“You
mean the dead one?”

“She
wasn’t dead this time. Not at first, anyway.”

“What
do you mean?” When Meaghan did not respond, Nick drew his hand to her knee.
“What do you remember?”

Meaghan
closed her eyes and tried to draw the image of the woman once more. At first,
she appeared as no more than a distant ghost, hazed in black and white, but soon
she solidified. She smiled, welcoming, and Meaghan caught her breath, preventing
a sob from escaping her throat. The woman seemed as real as she had less than
an hour before. She stood in a room of stone, but nothing more of the dream
surfaced.

Meaghan
opened her eyes. “There isn’t much.”

“Tell
me what you can.”

She
nodded, letting the image take hold of her vision and her memory. “She was elegant,”
Meaghan whispered. “She wore a gown. A satin ball gown, I think. It was purple.
I remember because it matched the amulet around her neck. Her eyes were gold,
and her hair was dark like the other times, but braided. At least it started
out that way. She let it down to brush it.” And it had felt like silk, Meaghan
remembered, though her hands had seemed small as she touched it. The thought
stalled her breath and Nick’s fingers sought hers. She opened her eyes to view
compassion in his stare. And worry. When salt water rolled over her lip, she
understood why. She had not even realized she had been crying.

“Is
this too much for you?” he asked.

Meaghan
shook her head. “It just felt real, that’s all.”

He
nodded. “Did she say anything?”

“No.
She loved me though. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. I could feel it. She
held her arms out to me. Then something went wrong.”

Nick’s
grip tightened. “What happened?”

“I
don’t know. The necklace flashed as if it had light inside it. There was an
explosion, fire, then…then…I can’t remember.” Fear overwhelmed her, reviving
her need to flee. She bit her lip to control the reaction, but could not
control her tears. She wept, and Nick brought his arms around her.

“It’s
over now, Meg,” he whispered. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She
found comfort in his words and in the warmth of his shoulder, and soon her fear
faded. He traced his fingers across her cheek, wiping away her tears. “Have you
told your parents about the dreams?”

She
shook her head, then looked away. Drawing one long breath and then another, she
calmed her heart. Her shaking stopped, and she became acutely aware of how
close Nick sat. Shifting away from him, she cast him a sheepish smile. “They
wouldn’t understand. Honestly, I don’t know why you do.”

“Because
I care. But so do they, Meg.” He drew his fingers to her chin, guiding her eyes
to his. “I realize I gave the wrong impression when you showed up tonight, but I
am here for you. Don’t doubt that.”

“I
don’t.” She reached up to take his hand. Her gaze fell from his eyes to his
lips. She recalled the kiss they had shared days before, the excitement she had
felt with the contact. She also remembered the pain she had felt when he pushed
her away. She started to withdraw from him, but she did not get the chance
before he leaned toward her. His lips touched hers, and a fraction of a second
later, his fingers closed around her arm and he pushed her back once more. His
eyes widened in fear before he stood.

“You
have to go.”

“But
I didn’t—” Meaghan started to protest, then lost her words as anger
stiffened her lips. She glared at him. “You’re the one who made the move this
time.”

His
fear turned to guilt, his complexion to white. He averted his gaze. “It doesn’t
matter. This can’t happen.”

“Why
not?” she asked, standing to face him. “It’s obvious we both feel the same way,
so why is this a bad thing?”

When
he returned his eyes to hers, but refused to answer, she threw her hands into the
air. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But know this. If I leave now, you won’t get
another chance with me.”

He
nodded. Her anger gave way to hurt, but she covered it with a thin smile and
exited the apartment, embracing the cold once more.

N
ICK AWOKE
to the bright stream of the mid-morning sun piercing his bedroom window. When
Meaghan had left last night, he had been confused, angry for the way he had
handled their encounter.  This morning, he knew what he had to do to make
things right between them, but rather than bring him peace, his clarity planted
dread in his stomach as heavy as a ball of lead. It had slowed his morning
routine, stalled his feet as he moved, but eventually he forced his muscles to cooperate.

He
left his apartment and crossed the yard, then opened the screen door to the
two-story home Vivian and James shared and hesitated, his hand resting on the
handle of the back door. Vivian would not be happy with his decision. She would
see it as a betrayal, or perhaps even an abandonment of his duties.

He
could not blame her. When Meaghan had kissed him, his reaction had been
forgivable. Although he had let it go on longer than he should have, he had
made his boundary clear. Last night, he had let that boundary crumble. He and
Meaghan had been too close. The warmth of her body had charged him. Her crying
had born in him the instinct to protect her. It had been the same need to
protect her that had caused him to break their contact before any damage had
been done.

But
he feared his actions would soon cause damage to his relationship with Vivian.
After all, he would not need to make this decision if he had done his job. But
if
meant changing the past and no one had the power to do that.

“I
have to do this,” he said to reaffirm his courage, and turned the handle,
entering without knocking.

Vivian
stood at the kitchen island, her focus steady on a cookbook resting on the
counter.  Waving the wooden spoon in her right hand, she indicated a stool
opposite her. “Sit,” she commanded without looking at him.

Nick
obeyed. Vivian returned the spoon to a bowl resting in the crook of her arm and
mixed a light pink batter. She hated interruptions when she cooked and Nick respected
that, remaining silent as she worked.

Her
movements were fluid, stemming from a natural grace inherent to her lean and
limber body. She and her daughter shared the same physique, but otherwise, they
looked nothing like each other. Meaghan’s hair graced the tops of her
shoulders. Vivian’s hung to her waist most days, though today she had corralled
it into a bun, and the color resembled fire rather than the dark night that
belonged to her daughter. Vivian’s eyes were green, instead of Meaghan’s
copper, and they peered at him from a face more angular than Meaghan’s, but
still quite beautiful.

Vivian
let go of the spoon to pull a loose strand of hair behind her ear and the
familiar gesture eased his anxiety. So did the smile that tugged at the corners
of her lips after she dipped her finger into the bowl and sampled the batter.
He knew he should not feel better, not when he still had his news to share, but
having a face similar to his mother’s to gaze upon eased some of his worry.

“Stop
that,” Vivian said, setting her bowl aside.

“Stop
what? Are those rhubarb muffins?”

“They
are. And stop staring at me with that look of terror on your face.”

“I’m
not. Finish what you’re doing.”

“Not
a chance. I’ve known you too long for you to fool me so don’t bother trying.”
She leaned over the counter to press his chin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Your eyes are sad today, Nickaulai.”

Despite
the truth in her words, her use of his full name brought a grin to his lips. He
took her hand in his and kissed it. “Nickaulai,” he echoed. “The last time you
called me that, I was in trouble for pulling a prank on our neighbor. Am I in
trouble now?”

She
laughed. “Hardly. It’s nice Meaghan finds comfort in your friendship. She was
at your place last night, wasn’t she?”

Nick’s
shoulders stiffened and he let go of Vivian’s hand. “She had another dream.”

“I
suspected as much,” Vivian responded with no hint of anger and he relaxed
again. “It won’t be long before it’s time to tell her the truth.”

“I’m
not sure she’s ready.”

Vivian
raised an eyebrow. “It sounds to me like it’s you who doesn’t feel ready.”

“Maybe,”
he admitted. “She’s a handful. She’s headstrong and she’s too impulsive for her
own good.”

The
corners of Vivian’s mouth quirked up again. “I thought that’s what you liked
about her.”

“Except
when she doesn’t listen to me,” Nick muttered. He looked out the window, his attention
drawn to the stairs for his apartment, and the memory from last night. He
quickly chased it away. “She’ll get into trouble.”

“That
isn’t new,” Vivian pointed out. “And as usual, you’ll get her out of it.”

“If
she doesn’t outwit me. She’s smarter than I am.”

“Is
she?” Vivian asked. Her eyebrow shot up again and Nick realized too late that a
drop in his tone had given away his true fear. Vivian laid a palm on one of his
hands. He flipped it around to curl his fingers into hers and looked down at
them.

“That’s
far from the truth, Nick,” she told him. Her voice turned serious, motherly.
“You’re as smart as Meaghan. She may like to challenge you, but I have no doubt
you’ll match her when it matters.”

In
the back of his mind, he wished she was right, but reality overwhelmed what
little hope he held. The facts had presented themselves, and he found them
overwhelming.

“She’s
supposed to be in high school,” he said, “yet she’s half-way through her second
year of college. I’m having trouble getting through my first year. On top of
that, when we debate, she always wins. I can’t even begin to comprehend her
logic.”

“You’re
not from here,” Vivian responded. “If you were, you’d have skipped grades the
same as she did.”  She lifted her free hand to pat his cheek and then
leaned back, severing their connection. “Your debates are a different matter.
You can’t follow her logic because you’re distracted.”