Amber Frost (30 page)

Since there was nothing I could do about Sebastian until he reached home and called me (which probably wouldn’t be for at least another half hour) I decided to deal with my second greatest concern, my parents. I was obviously going to have to call them both back, only who should I call first? The answer was glaringly obvious – my father.

I dialed his number anxiously, my mind swirling from the numerous possibilities of what was going on. Obviously there had been some kind of argument between my parents that would seem to involve me somehow, but what exactly could it have been about? It sounded like my mother felt I should choose a side… could my father have done something awful enough that I might possibly not choose his? I doubted it. I was beginning to wonder though…

“Hello, Grace,” my father answered the phone – he’d obviously checked the call display. His stern voice sounded different than I remembered; was that relief I detected in his tones?

“Um, hi, Dad,” I answered uncertainly. “I’m sorry I missed your call – I forgot my cell in my room today. Is everything okay? It sounded urgent…”

“Everything’s fine, for the most part. I take it you haven’t spoken with your mother?”

“No. She called too but I thought I’d call you back first,” I explained. He grunted, sounding grudgingly pleased.

“Good, I’m glad you did. Grace… I told your mother this afternoon that I’ve been having an affair with Dahlia, my legal assistant.” I felt my eyes bulge in surprise. He paused as if waiting for my reaction but since I said nothing he continued. “As I’m sure you can guess, your mother was furious and rightfully so. Dahlia was there for me when I needed her friendship though and... our relationship has turned into something more. I never meant for it to happen but we’re in love, Grace; I’m marrying her and moving to Toronto.”

“Toronto?” I echoed faintly, still shocked near-speechlessness.

“Yes, I have been making plans to start my own firm there. I’m interested in taking on some different cases than my current position allows, perhaps even human rights advocacy,” he mused. He sounded so strange and yet familiar at the same time. My heart rejoiced as I realized the happier, more light-hearted father of my childhood had been returned to me though cruelly at the same moment when he would be moving so very far away.

“That… that sounds great, Dad. I think you’ll be happy in Toronto. And with Dahlia,” I added uncomfortably. My father was silent for a few moments, probably shocked himself by my easy acceptance. Perhaps he didn’t realize just how well I understood his situation.

“I… I’m glad you feel that way, Grace. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better father to you, you deserve better than what I’ve given you. And I’m sorry I lied to you and your mother; I cheated on you both,” he admitted gruffly. I felt tears prickling my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time my father had spoken this honestly, though perhaps Dahlia heard him speak this way all the time. “You’ll be welcome to move with us, of course,” my father added. “Though I have a feeling you won’t want to leave Victoria anytime soon.”

“Not without Sebastian,” I stated hesitantly.

My father sighed. “The heart wants, what the heart wants, doesn’t it Grace?” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke and though he sounded resigned
he also sounded surprisingly accepting. The words were familiar to me; Sebastian had spoken them many times. The truth of them was undeniable. “In lieu of your decision to remain, I will pay the remainder of your tuition and boarding fees for the school year. I also plan to set up a generous bond in your name that you will have access to once you turn nineteen. It will be in your name only; the funds are protected from your mother as I know she will try to sequester them during the divorce. Your mother is very angry with me Grace… she wants you to return home. She’ll try to keep you dependent on her but I will leave you with the means so that you may choose your own path. It’s all I can do now to try to make up for the past few years.”

The tears that had been filling my eyes freely overflowed and trickled down my cheeks. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice catching slightly as I spoke. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he answered, his voice gruff once more. “Now you had better phone your mother back, though perhaps you shouldn’t mention that you’ve spoken to me. We’ll speak again soon though,” he promised. “Dahlia and I aren’t leaving for another week.”

Only a week? I thought, surprised though I could hardly blame him. “Okay. Bye, Dad.”

“Goodbye, Grace.”

I sat there on my bed, phone still in hand, completely stunned. For years I had felt my father slipping away and sadly watched as he chose his work over his family again and again. I never resented his choice, even now that I fully understood the situation, I still didn’t blame him. In a way, I wished he’d told me the truth years ago for it took away some of the sting of his rejection. I now understood he had never been choosing work over me; he had been escaping my mother, he had been seeking solitude and comfort and he had found happiness. He deserved it; we both did. It was nice too that at least now he might partially understand my situation. It was the closest I’d felt to my father in years and yet still, the moment was bittersweet. His happiness lay down a different path than mine; he would move to Toronto, start a new firm and a new life with Dahlia, and unfortunately, I couldn’t and wouldn’t follow.

My eyes strayed to my bedside table, reading the time on my digital alarm clock. It was five minutes to eight. I’d run out of time, no more avoiding the inevitable; it was time to call my mother. At least I could speak with her more confidently now, knowing that I had options, that my father had provided me with choices. It made me feel slightly bolder. My hands barely shook as I dialed her number, the butterflies in my stomach shrinking to moth-sized quivers.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” my mother demanded, skipping any greetings or pleasantries altogether. I swallowed, trying to convince myself I wasn’t intimidated by her anymore.

“I forgot it in my room.” I refused to apologize. “You called?”

“Yes, I called – numerous times. Have you spoken to your father?”

“Not recently,” I lied.

“Good. You are not to accept any phone calls from him or any attempts to contact you. Do you understand?” Luckily she didn’t wait for my response. “That bastard has betrayed us both! He’s been cheating on me with some slutty secretary of his and is actually entertaining the ridiculous idea of marrying that tramp. He’s trying to destroy me, Grace! He’s humiliated me; I’ll be a source of endless pity – ugh, I can hardly bear it! Of course this will speed the divorce proceedings along which is the only foreseeable benefit of your father’s lies and infidelity. I’ll take full custody of you, of course, and you’ll be moving back home immediately. It’s ridiculous that your father ever arranged for you to board at Craigflower –”

“I’m staying here,” I interrupted, my voice quieter than I would have liked but still firm.

“What?” my mother hissed, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“I’m staying here, at Craigflower.” I squeezed my amber pendant tightly as I spoke, drawing strength and comfort from its magical warmth. “I’m eighteen, a legal adult. You no longer have custody over me,” I continued, my voice gaining strength as I spoke. My mother was silent. I nervously counted the seconds before she answered and when she did, her voice was sharp and angry. I could imagine her expression.

“I absolutely
do not
give you my permission to remain in the dormitories –”

“I don’t need it. I already have one guardian’s permission. And if you contest it and I have to move out, I’ll simply move in with the Jensons,” I told her confidently. I knew they would take me in; Sebastian would ensure it.

“Is that what this is really about? That
boy
? Think long and hard about whether he’s worth it, Grace. Are you truly willing to throw away your whole life, all the opportunities available to you, your relationship with your own mother for some
nobody
? This Sebastian character has absolutely no social standing, he’s going absolutely nowhere in life. Clarke tells me that he’s quite the rebellious anti-socialite, and Walter is able to find out absolutely nothing about him –
nothing
. It’s as if he’s so unimportant that he doesn’t even exist!” I knew the comment was meant to be hurtful, but I almost smiled. Sebastian would have laughed.

“Give it a rest, mother,” I warned, a new found confidence and power behind my words. “I’m sorry everyone is leaving you; I’m sorry Father and I have made choices in life that have hurt you, but it really is for the best. I hold no ill will against you, only pity. I wish you could see yourself as clearly as I do, perhaps then you would understand, maybe you would even try to change. Either way, don’t you
dare
detract from my happiness to feed your own selfish needs. You have no power over me anymore, I’m free.”

My mother didn’t answer. It took me a moment to realize she had hung up the phone. I wondered how much she had actually heard of my little speech though deep down I knew that even if she had heard every word, she still wouldn’t have listened. It was too late for my mother, I shouldn’t waste any tears over her. Even knowing this, my eyes still began to fill with tears.

That night I cried for the end of my parents’ marriage. Though there were fresher, new beginnings sprouting from its ashes, it was still the end of an era, of my family. I cried for Sebastian; for all his struggles, for all the answers he sought, for all the strife he faced, for all the sacrifices he had made for me. I cried for myself; for the choices I still had to make, for the uncertainty of my own future, for the frustrations and complications that seemed to be piled upon me. And it was with the taste of salty tears on my lips and dampness on my pillow that I eventually fell asleep.

I slept solidly, exhausted from all the events of the previous day. It wasn’t until early the following morning that I remembered that Sebastian had never phoned. As soon as I opened my eyes the realization hit me, it was my first conscious thought. It was at the same moment that I realized my amber necklace lay icy cold against my skin. I was overwhelmed by the sudden sense of alarming, heart-stopping dread. My breath caught painfully in my chest, my limbs felt numb and motionless as paralyzing fear crept down my spine. I knew with a terrible certainty that something had gone terribly and horribly wrong.

I hopelessly dialed the Jensons’ home number over and over again. The line rung and rung as I knew it would, no one ever answering. I briefly considered calling 911 but what could I possibly say? Who would possibly take my intuition seriously? I knew I had to.

I didn’t bother to brush my hair or even change out of my pajamas – throwing a hooded sweatshirt and jacket on over the sweatpants and t-shirt that I had slept in. I stuffed my feet into a pair of runners, numbly tying the laces and then dashed for the door. I hesitated in the hallway and then quickly turned and rushed back into my room, grabbing my cell phone and wallet and then flew back out the door again and down the hall.

No one stopped me as I raced down the stairs and out the building. Few people were up this early and the ones that were seemed to recognize the sense of urgency within me and didn’t question what I was up to or why I wasn’t dressed in my school uniform yet.

I burst out the front doors, the cold, fresh morning air hitting my face and clearing my head. I stopped to take a moment to think, to decide the best course of action to take.

Sebastian would have walked home last night; I decided to start by following his route since he’d obviously never made it home or he would have phoned me. If that didn’t provide any clues as to his whereabouts then I would… what? Call the police? The hospitals? Ask if an unidentified male was taken into custody or admitted last night? That would instantly arouse suspicion and invite questions that I didn’t have the answers for. No, I was going to have to do this alone.

I didn’t spare a thought for anyone or anything else as I rushed down the path away from the dormitories and toward the nearest parking lot. My entire mind and body was solely focused on Sebastian; nothing else mattered.

I reached the parking lot and was unsurprised to find no clues or signs of Sebastian. The parking lot lay still and silent, only a few cars were parked there and all were still covered by the night’s thick frost. I walked up and down the rows, circling around each car hopelessly, desperately searching for something, anything that might help me find Sebastian. There was nothing to be found.

I tried to remain calm, to smother the building sense of panic and anxiety that was threatening. I decided to start walking away from Craigflower’s campus and towards the Jensons’ house, retracing Sebastian’s route home. The school was starting to awaken and come to life as I quickly crossed its grounds. Heads turned and stared at me curiously as I passed but I was only vaguely aware of them. All of my senses were focused, straining almost painfully to search each blade of grass I stepped over, my eyes scouring over the icy pathways, scanning every inch of the wintry, manicured grounds that blurred past me.

I numbly noted that it was warmer today, a hint of the spring to come. The sun had risen to shine down strongly between the bare branched trees, casting long shadows and melting the crystallized frost to clinging dew. Everything sparkled and glistened, the brightness of it hurting my eyes and casting deep shadows across my heart. No matter how bright the sun, it could not reach down to light the anguish-filled depths of my soul – the raw, bleeding wounds that were being torn open, cutting deeper with each passing moment that Sebastian was gone. My necklace was cold and icy still, a heavy dead weight against my heart.

Several minutes later I was down the school driveway and out the gates, making my way down the road and away from Craigflower. I didn’t know if anyone had tried to stop me; if they had I hadn’t been aware. I felt only mild relief now that I was away from the school. It wouldn’t have mattered if anyone had tried to stop me anyway, it only would have delayed my mission not ended it. I would not pause to rest for any reason until I was in Sebastian’s arms, until I knew he was safe.

As I walked along the path I knew he would have taken last night, I tried to imagine what possibly could have happened to him. Perhaps he had forgotten that he could no longer just want to find his way home and had become lost. It was possible, but doubtful since Sebastian had travelled this route so many times. Or maybe he had gotten side-tracked during his walk home? Perhaps he’d met someone he knew and had gone home with them. But I knew if that were the case, he would have still phoned me. My mind moved on to darker thoughts, unable to fight any longer against the frightening situations my imagination was conjuring up.

What if he’d been even sicker than I realized? What if he’d sat down to rest somewhere and fallen asleep – it was cold enough last night that he’d have hypothermia and be half-frozen to death by this morning… I shuddered at the thought, refusing to accept that possibility. What if there had been an accident? He might have fallen in the dark and hurt himself, or been hit by a car, or attacked by a stranger!

I took the next street on the right, my eyes still anxiously searching for clues, my panic rising to the point where I was barely able to contain myself, to hold it together. All that enabled me to keep moving was the undeniable certainty that Sebastian needed me, that something had gone terribly, sickeningly wrong.

Because I was on the lookout for anything out-of-place, I noticed the yellow tape first. The loose end of it flapped in the cool morning breeze almost as if it were waving to me from the bushes at the end of the street. It felt like the rhythm of my heart suddenly changed to match that of the flapping yellow ribbon; my whole world abruptly spinning out of orbit to focus in on that one small detail. I began running down the street as I realized what I was seeing. The scene expanded before my eyes, more details and information coming into focus as I blindly ran forward.

At the other end of the street, a small area just off the sidewalk had been cornered off by bright yellow police tape. The bushes were thicker there, no street lamps or houses were nearby; the shadows would have been deep and impenetrable last night. Part of me detachedly noted the police officers milling about; there were two squad cars parked on the side of the road still but it looked like they were just cleaning up, about to abandon the scene. Parts of the tape had already been torn down and one officer was walking between the bushes, his hard boots stomping over the dark, stained grass. They looked up as I came running towards them, my hair whipping about wildly, my feet pounding against the sidewalk. I vaguely wondered how I must look to them; their expressions were full of alarm and concern. One of them seemed to be addressing me but I didn’t hear his words. All I could see was that large, dark stain upon the ground, all I could hear was the rapid pounding of my pulse in my own ears and the merciless flapping of the yellow, crime scene tape. The sound of my own piercing, anguish-filled scream tore through my trance, reality returning to slap me full in the face in a swirl of confusing colors and crippling sensations. I felt myself falling to my knees, collapsing heavily onto the hard cement.

“Miss? Miss? Are you alright? Can you hear me?” I heard heavy boots running towards me. Strong hands were suddenly on my shoulders. I felt light pressure against my neck and wrists as my pulse was checked. I forced myself to open my eyes, my lids fluttering wildly.

“She’s coming around,” I heard one of the officers say. I tried to speak but all I could manage was a pitiful moan. As I tried to sit up, heavy hands gently but firmly pushed me back down.

“Take it easy there, miss. You’ve had a bit of a fall. Take your time now,” one of the cops cautioned. His voice was kind; I looked up into his face and then instantly regretted it. He had black hair and dark, gray eyes – it was a painful but necessary reminder.

“Sebastian,” I managed to get out. Saying his name out loud sent a fresh stab of guilt and fear through my heart. “He walked home last night. He didn’t make it and I knew something was wrong… Oh, God,” I gasped, desperately fighting the sobs that were shaking my whole body. The expression on the kind officer’s face was suddenly reluctant, his face full of pity and regret; it was all the confirmation I needed. “No, please. Tell me he’s okay…” The world spun faster. I was left small and afraid, insignificant at its center.

“Can you describe your friend to us, miss?” the other cop asked, all business-like. I swallowed hard, squeezing my trembling hands together, trying desperately to focus.

“He’s tall, black hair, dark eyes, he has about six earrings and lots of tattoos. He has a tattoo that twists down his right arm all the way to his palm, and a Celtic cross that takes up most of his back –” My breath caught in my chest as I saw the knowing look that passed between the officers. “What happened to him?” I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks and blurring my vision.

“You’d better come with us, miss,” the more serious officer said, avoiding my question.

“He has no family, his guardians are out of town – I’m all he’s got.” My voice rose desperately as I clutched at the front of the kind-looking officer’s uniform. “You’ve got to take me to him,” I demanded, violent tremors shaking my body now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He loosened my fingers from his jacket and kindly patted my hand. “Your friend was attacked late last night; he was found in the bushes here early this morning. Now I won’t lie to you, he’s in pretty rough shape. He’s been taken to Victoria General Hospital, I imagine he’ll be in the ICU. We’ll take you there but we’re going to need to ask you some questions along the way,” he told me, his voice slow and calming. I nodded, unable to speak through my terrified sobs. I numbly allowed him to help me to my feet. Another police officer came over and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, gently helping me to a nearby cruiser.

“You’ll have to ride in the back,” he told me apologetically. I didn’t answer, I didn’t care. I was barely aware of the hands that helped me slide onto the bench seat behind the caged bars that would separate me from the front. I tried to get my sobbing under control, to calm myself somewhat so that I might better be able to answer the coming questions. I knew what they’d want to know, I could guess what they were about to ask. There were many questions that there just weren’t any answers or explanations to though, not ones that they would accept or understand anyway. It was hard to focus on anything at all other than the fact that Sebastian was in the hospital, that he’d been hurt, that he was alone…

“What’s your name, dear?” a gentle, female voice asked from the front seat. I roughly wiped the bleary tears from my eyes, forcing my vision to focus. I hadn’t even noticed the two officers climb into the front of the cruiser. The driver was the kindly cop who had helped me when I fell, the other was a short, plain-faced female officer who had probably been selected to make me feel more comfortable – she didn’t.

“Gracelynn Stevenson,” I replied in a rough, quiet voice. I said my two names together, the way Sebastian always did. It felt right. She began scribbling down information in her little note pad, half turned towards me as she wrote.

“And your friend’s name?”

“My boyfriend,” I quietly corrected. Her expression became even more sympathetic but I noticed she didn’t write that down. “Sebastian Mattias Caldwood.” I could see no harm in telling the truth, it couldn’t possibly make matters any worse and it would appear more cooperative.

“We couldn’t find any identification on him…” She looked at me questioningly.

“Maybe his wallet was stolen,” I answered, wishing it didn’t sound so much like a suggestion. She gave me a strange look, more suspicious and harder than I’d expected from her sweet voice. She turned without answering and began typing into the small computer mounted onto the dash. I recognized her keying in the letters of Sebastian’s name. “He doesn’t have a driver’s license,” I blurted out. She didn’t even turn to look at me this time. The other officer raised an eyebrow at me in the rear view mirror. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

“No record of him,” the female officer muttered. “When’s his birth date?”

“Umm… I’m not sure. We celebrated his nineteenth birthday a couple weeks ago,” I added distractedly as I gazed out the window. We were nearing the hospital now, I would see Sebastian again in a few minutes. I tried to mentally prepare myself. I clasped my hands tightly together, my fingers finding the small amber heart set in my ring to be as icy cold as my pendant.

“What are his parents’ names?” The female officer had turned around again and was staring at me with hard, unwavering eyes.

“His parents are dead. He lives with Don and Shauna Jenson – they’re his guardians. They’re in Vancouver until Sunday; they were invited to speak at a conference but I don’t know where exactly – someone should contact them.” Yes, that was a good idea, I thought. The Jensons would know what to do, they would help Sebastian… wouldn’t they?

“Yes, of course,” the kinder cop agreed. His soothing voice was starting to get on my nerves. Why was he driving so slowly? We were in a car with sirens after all. “Almost there,” he added, perhaps noticing my nervous fretting in the back seat.

“We still need to ask you a few more questions,” the female officer reminded me.

“After I see him. Please,” I added, my voice a desperate plea. Her hard eyes softened a fraction and she gave a slight nod, exchanging another quick look with her partner.

“You may not be able to actually go in to see him,” the other officer warned. “He was in pretty rough shape and he may be in surgery still but we’ll see what we can do.” I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry, my stomach dropping to my knees.

“Surgery?” My voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“He was hit in the head pretty hard and appeared to have some broken bones, most likely he’ll have some internal bleeding too – you should be prepared… he may well be unrecognizable to you but the tattoos you described are a dead match.” I shuddered at his phrasing.