Ember (30 page)

“What if he doesn’t, or what if he doesn’t even care anymore?”

Sheila hummed thoughtfully and picked up an empty cup, taking a sip without even noticing.

“Ivy had faith that there was more than just this—” Sheila’s hand waved around her. “That’s what faith is, believing in something bigger than ourselves. She was a good girl, and I have to believe she’s gone to a better place.”

Candra frowned; she didn’t know what to believe anymore. She had a luxury others didn’t have, because she knew for sure that heaven existed, and still it didn’t make it easier that Ivy was gone. Besides, would it eventually be heaven for her, without her father there, or Brie, or Sebastian?

The other woman returned with a tea pot and a fresh cup. She smiled kindly and placed it on the table before starting to clear up the dirty cups. Sheila placed a small metal strainer on a cup and poured some tea in, adding milk and two heaped teaspoons of sugar.

“Hot, sweet tea, it will do you good,” she said, handing it to Candra and then pouring one for herself, pausing after two spoons of sugar and staring at the spoon for a moment, then popping another two in the cup. “She used to call you her angel.”

“Excuse me?”

“She said you looked out for her, kept her from being bullied. She said being your friend made her special. From the very first day of school, you were her guardian angel.”

Candra was struck dumb for a moment. Ivy had never told Candra that. She guessed there were things they didn’t tell each other after all. Maybe she was there for Ivy at times, but Ivy was special without her, and she hadn’t been there when it mattered.

Candra looked down to her hands, wringing them together until a gentle hand lay across them. She looked up into Sheila’s glassy eyes.

“Candra, I know right now we all doubt ourselves. Could we have done something? Made different decisions? We’re all being a little selfish and thinking about what
we’ve
lost. I’m so angry at that boy I could make a stew out of him.”

Candra guessed Sheila didn’t know how disturbing it was when she stopped to smack her lips together as if thinking about something tasty, because she just continued on. “It’s okay. It’s normal…the doctor was telling me just this morning, all part of the process, he says. It’s not what you think about doing that’s important. At time like this, you can’t control your thoughts much. What’s important is the thoughts you act on.”

Candra felt the tears building in her eyes and bit her lip brutally to hold them back. It was so strange; she knew Sheila was talking about Ivy, but she could have been speaking about Candra’s situation too. She wished had a fraction of Sheila’s faith in this great plan she so believed in.

Sheila sat back a little, still holding onto Candra’s hand, and blinked a few times. For an instant Candra wondered if she was about to doze off. The other woman beside her went to take her hand, mouthing “sorry,” but Sheila shrugged her off.

“You’re a good girl, Candra. You take care of yourself; Ivy wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You know, I think she was right. Look at the light just shinning out of you. You’re a proper angel.”

Candra’s eyes widened.

“Right…I have to make Frank’s ham sandwiches,” Sheila finished, suddenly looking a little confused and peering around with squinted eyes like she was searching for someone.

“Okay,” the other woman interrupted. “I think you should probably have a lie down, Sheila. I’ll take care of the sandwiches.” She took Sheila’s hand from Candra’s and helped Sheila to stand. Sheila nodded, choking back a sob. Candra stood quickly and threw her arms around Ivy’s mother. She probably wouldn’t remember any of the conversation, but Candra would.

Chapter Seventeen

“Sebastian is very worried about you,” Brie said.

Candra was slicing red peppers for the chicken noodle soup that they were making together, and the scent of frying chicken filled the kitchen.

“When isn’t he worried?” she mumbled.

Brie shrugged and glanced over her shoulder from where she was stirring stock. “More than usual then.”

“Is that even possible?”

Brie chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” She paused for a moment, and suddenly the silence was deafening. Candra knew she was working up to something. “You know,” her stepmother started without looking back to her, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you and him…but I wish you would.”

Candra sighed, picking up the chopping board to push the peppers into a bowl, and started chopping onions without answering.

“I know I should have stepped in sooner and told him to back off. I know I’ve let you down in so many ways. I don’t know why I didn’t make him leave.” Brie turned then and picked up the bowl from the table, standing over Candra. “I didn’t see this developing so far between you two. Even when Lofi suggested he had ulterior motives for hanging around.” Brie frowned, making the line deepen between her eyebrows. Candra returned to the onions, forcing her attention on them. “You were always bickering. I thought he was simply protecting you, and I felt…weak. I felt weak because I couldn’t do it and he could. So I did nothing.”

“It’s true there’s a fine line between love and hate,” Candra said offhandedly.

“What?” Brie asked quietly, and Candra cringed when she realized her mistake. “You can’t love him.”

Clearly, I could,
Candra thought.

She looked up at Brie, blinking away the tears that were forming in her eyes from the onions. Brie’s face had gone quite pale.

“This is awful,” Brie lamented, bringing her hand up to wipe over her face.

Candra stood, taking the bowl from Brie’s other hand, and carried that and the chopping board to the stove. She dumped the contents of both into the pot, ignoring when the boiling stock splattered her arm.

“No, being in love with Sebastian is not awful. My best friend being gunned down because she probably just wanted a soda is awful. Being forced into a bizarre arranged relationship is awful. Being lied to my entire life is awful,” Candra ranted, feeling her blood pressure escalate and dropping the bowl into the sink with too much force. The impact made the bowl crack loudly. She washed her hands quickly and spun around, placing her still wet hands on the edge of the counter for support. “But you don’t need to worry because I’m not in love with him,” she snapped.

Brie sucked in a sharp breath, shaking her head as if she was disagreeing with Candra. “I’m sorry,” she forced out between her fingers that were pressed to her mouth and then sank down into the seat Candra had vacated moments ago.

The irritation behind Candra’s sudden outburst was fading fast; she didn’t have the will to hold onto it. She felt so tired, drained as if she had been awake for days, and she didn’t want to fight on their last evening together. She didn’t want to sit for hours hugging and crying either. She wanted this to be just like every other evening, like her life wasn’t changing tomorrow.

“I can’t bear the idea of this being any harder for you, Candra,” Brie sobbed, scratching her index fingernail on the wood of the table. “If I could take your place, I would. You know that, right?”

She looked up at Candra beseechingly. Her large brown eyes grew huge against her sunken cheekbones, and Candra felt the irritation ebb further. She turned to the stove and removed the pot from the heat before joining Brie at the table.

“I wish I understood why everyone can’t just be together.”

Brie reached over to hold Candra’s hand and smiled sadly. “I don’t understand it myself most of the time. It seems so futile, all these years later. There was so much hurt and anger. We all needed a direction for it, so we directed it at each other. After a time, it became part of us. It’s how it is.”

“How it is, isn’t how it should be.”

“I know.”

“You know, I’m not giving up. This is not me giving up.” Candra pulled her hand back and rubbed her face out of sheer frustration.

“Maybe you will be the one that changes things.” Brie smiled.

“I don’t know. My life in comparison to a Watcher’s is barely a blip in time. It feels insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I still don’t understand why my father would do this to me and to you. I just wish I knew what it is Draven really wants.”

“I wish I could give you the answers.” Brie paused and scowled down at the table, before looking back to Candra. “You should know one thing: your father loved you. He loved you very, very much. He didn’t abandon you and leave you to deal with all this. He believed he would be here for you. It was the driver who made the choice to get behind the wheel after drinking for six hours straight.” She sighed again and grabbed Candra’s hand. “And you are not insignificant. You could never be. What both your parents did for me was more than I ever imagined possible. They gave me a daughter.”

Candra sniffled and bit her lip before she reached over, hugging Brie warmly, once again allowing her fingers to run over the rough bone where Brie’s wings used to be.

“I have something for you.”

“What?” Candra asked, quickly wiping a stray tear.

Brie pulled back, her eyes a little red-rimmed, to look at Candra. She smiled, then stood up. Candra followed her upstairs to her room where she pulled off the blanket sitting on top of the box at the end of her bed.

“I have some of your mother’s things. You never expressed the least bit of interest in them before, but I think now you should have them.” Brie kneeled down in front of the box and lifted the lid.

Candra sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. She imagined her lack of interest in her mother probably looked strange to some people, but she figured how can you miss what you never had? She felt no connection to her. She supposed it was because Brie had always been her mother.

Brie pulled out the photograph album and handed it to Candra. She immediately started flicking through; it was just like all the others at the Watchers’ house.

“Why didn’t you want me to see this before?” Candra asked curiously.

“I didn’t want you to ask questions about the others. I’m sorry.”

Next, Brie handed her a small pile of photos. They were pictures of Candra’s father and mother together in various embraces. They looked so young and so in love. One picture was her mother with her long, dark blond hair being blown about in the wind, waving her hands in an attempt to block the camera. There was a hand peeking out from the corner of the shot, holding her still; Candra presumed it was her father. She ran her fingers lightly over the picture of the happy young girl.

“I’m nothing like her,” Candra mused aloud.

“You just think that,” Brie said kindly, pulling out a cardboard box. She scooted over to the edge of the bed, placing it beside Candra and opened it to reveal something soft wrapped up in tissue paper. Candra watched Brie carefully pull back the paper before lifting out a dress. “This was your mother’s.”

“Really?” Candra asked, running her fingers over the black, pleated crepe fabric. “It’s lovely.”

Brie stood up and took the dress with her. It swished across the floor, a simple empire line nipped in with a matching draped sash below the strapless bust.

“She loved music, your mother. She was wearing this dress to the opera with your father the very first night I met her. She loved every type of music.”

She stopped and pulled out a picture from the bottom of the pile Candra was holding, and there she was, Candra’s mother, standing outside the opera hall in Acheron wearing the dress, smiling, her long hair swept up in a chignon. It was then Candra noticed the small curve of her belly, barely visible because of the cut of the dress. She was pregnant, not very far along by the size of her bump, and glowing with happiness.

“I thought maybe you would like to wear this dress to the ball,” Brie suggested and laid the dress across Candra’s lap. Candra ran her fingers over the dress again, feeling the soft-textured fabric as Brie returned to the trunk. A delicate flowery fragrance floated up in the air around Candra, and she inhaled, closing her eyes and trying to imagine her mother happy and in love, looking forward to the future with her father and her.

Candra opened her eyes to see Brie was holding a worn, black-covered sketchbook in her hand.

“I only knew your mother in the last few months of her life before she died. I don’t think it ever occurred to Payne that something would happen to your mother. He was more concerned about her being protected and you being shielded. They asked me to be your godmother, and I felt truly honored that they would trust me. When your mother died, the only way to keep you hidden was to fall, so we could all disappear. And it was something I did without reservation. I would do it again in a heartbeat. You are worth it.” Brie smiled up at her and reached forward with one hand to pat the back of Candra’s. “People presumed we were a couple, and it was easier that way, so we let them…and you. I’m sorry.”

Candra tried to smile back at her but couldn’t quite manage it. She just felt so tired. She was tired of fighting and trying to make sense of everything. She wanted to go back to worrying about what course she was going to take and boys—human boys.

“Here.” Brie handed her the sketchbook.

Candra opened it and began turning the pages. It was filled with drawing of wings and images she recognized as her father. The pencil strokes were thick and shaky, amateurish and little out of proportion.

“You have her smile,” Brie explained softly, sitting back on her heels on the floor and clasping her hands in her lap, “and sometimes her smirk.”

Candra looked at her from under her eyelashes, smirking on cue and making Brie chuckle.

“Why didn’t you ever show this to me before? Did she draw these?” Candra asked and turned another page, quickly realizing why. There were several pictures of her father with his immense wings in varies stages of extension.

“I didn’t want you to ask questions that I couldn’t answer. I wanted you to be safe, Candra. That’s all I ever wanted, and yes, they are hers.”

“She never saw his real wings,” Candra thought aloud, remembering that humans couldn’t see an angel’s wings. She questioned how easily she would have taken Sebastian’s word if she hadn’t been able to see his wings for herself. “I imagine he was beautiful.”

“He was,” Brie said. “Your father was a good man and beautiful, right from his very core to the tip of his feathers.

Candra grimaced, looking back down at the drawing again, wondering what his wings really looked like. The drawing wasn’t a very good reference. “They aren’t very good.” She laughed slightly awkwardly, knowing she probably shouldn’t.

“Neither are yours,” Brie joked sarcastically. “Another thing you have in common.”

“Har, har,” Candra responded with another smirk.

Brie looked down to her hands and sighed. “It seems you have one more thing in common now. You love a Watcher just as she did.”

Candra closed the cover and put the sketchbook down beside her on the bed. “When you left everything behind, how did you do it?”

“I didn’t look back, Candra.” Brie answered right away. “It sounds harsh, but I couldn’t. I needed to look to the future and why I was doing it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Well, apparently neither could I, not forever at least. The past eventually catches up with all of us. In my case, it was because of you. I always feared we would be discovered. If you were important enough to hide, you were important enough that someone would come looking for you. I don’t think I ever honestly believed I would have Gabe in my life again. I thought he would have met someone else by now.”

“You didn’t,” Candra pointed out the obvious.

Brie smiled sadly. “That’s the thing about love. We don’t control it, no matter how we hope to or wish we could.”

It didn’t help much. None of it did. Although Candra had to admit she was learning more about herself over the last months than she had in the last eighteen years. Everything she had planned and everything she was always so sure about had changed. She realized now she had been too sure of herself, too convinced of her own invincibility, that nothing could touch her. She had this enormous responsibility hanging over her head, and she always knew it would be hard to see her promise through. She’d just had no idea
how
hard it would be.

“I have some assignments to work on and some more packing. I should get to it,” Candra said, scooting off the bed and picking up the dress and sketchpad. “Thanks for these.”