Eternal (14 page)

Waylon sucked in a sharp breath. “She told me something I’m not sure I’m supposed to know.”

My gaze fixed on the sunlight glinting off the alabaster stone towering above all the others. “I won’t be mad,” I said softly. I didn’t have to tap into my intuition to know she’d told him I’d died in that car accident. “Besides, it isn’t as if I could ever keep anything secret with Ella around.”

Waylon gave a little laugh. I eyed him. “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” I quoted Mark Twain, hoping Waylon would get the joke.

This time, his laugh was genuine. With the tension broken, the tone of his voice lightened. “You really died?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out as images of flashing lights and the sound of wailing sirens played their haunting refrain through my head. “Yes.”

“Did it…hurt?”

“I don’t remember feeling anything,” I replied honestly.
But bliss…

“Was anyone in the car with you?”

Grief grabbed hold and squeezed my heart. Hard. “My best friend.”

“Is…was she…hurt?”

I swallowed thickly. “She died.”

“I’m sorry,” Waylon said quickly. “That must have been awful.”

I trailed my fingers along the rough bark of a tree as I passed by it.

“Who was driving?” he asked.

I glanced at him. “She was.”

Waylon heaved a sigh. “Thank God you weren’t driving. Man, imagine if you had and she’d died. You’d have felt like you’d killed your best friend.”

Grief and guilt swamped me and I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. I hadn’t been driving. But it
was
my fault Kira died. For the millionth time, I wished I’d never asked her to read that text message. I wished she’d never asked me to hold the wheel.

I wished I’d paid more attention to the road than the phone.

A solitary tear spilled out of my eye and onto my cheek. Turning my head so Waylon couldn’t see, I swiped the dampness away. Suddenly, I longed for Jeremiah’s presence. I ached to be alone with him in the dark seclusion of the attic far away from Waylon and my life and this guilt that ate me up alive from the inside out.

But why?

What could Jeremiah do for me that Waylon couldn’t? The answer lay far deeper than just the knowledge that Jeremiah couldn’t divulge my guilty secret to anyone and yet I still couldn’t figure it out.

What good was my intuition if I couldn’t turn my insight
inward
?

Waylon’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. He turned me to face him. His blue eyes searched mine. “I think what happened bothers you a lot more than you let on.”

At first, I balked. I wanted to lash out at him, to tell him he had no idea what I’d gone through but I realized anger was only a weak camouflage for the fear and pain gnawing at my insides like cancer. At least that’s what one of the many therapists I’d seen had told me. My throat constricted. I teetered on the verge of losing control. Every fiber of my being fought the tears. I knew if I stood here any longer, I’d start sobbing. I tried to pull away but Waylon’s grip proved too strong. He caught my other shoulder with his free hand and held me in place. “It wasn’t your fault, Wren.”

I sucked my top lip between my teeth to keep it from trembling.

Waylon took a step closer and my angst suddenly turned to terror. He intended to kiss me. Confusion surged. This was happening too fast and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

His gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips and he bent his head down to mine. My breath froze. My heart stopped. His mouth brushed mine, testing, experimenting.

The knowledge that I didn’t want a relationship with Waylon other than friendship inundated me with sickening force. I was in love with Jeremiah, despite everything. I was in love with a dead man.

Oh, God, help me…

Waylon’s lips on mine produced a sensation so foreign and unwelcome in me, I couldn’t force myself to respond or even to pretend. Instead, I did nothing.

Perceptively, he took the hint and drew back just far enough to look into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “It’s just that…it’s too soon. I like you, Waylon but I’m not ready for this.”

He gave me a self-deprecating smile and a little nod. “I should have asked first but, just in case, I didn’t want to spoil the moment.”

After that, he really smiled and all the earlier tension drained out of my body.

I showed him the cemetery, taking care not to linger too long at Jeremiah’s grave lest I rouse Waylon’s curiosity. In fact, I avoided looking at the name etched in the cold, gray marble. I knew in my heart I’d led Waylon on, had let him think I was interested right up until that botched kiss.

Everything inside me screamed that Jeremiah was dead and becoming romantically involved with a ghost was hopeless. Yet, I refused to heed common sense. Right now, though, I knew
hopeless
didn’t matter any longer. No matter what the cost, I wanted to be with Jeremiah.

While Waylon obsessed over names and dates and epitaphs, I scanned the tangle of branches overhead for the striking crimson of cardinal feathers against the cold, gray sky. Nothing. Not even a squirrel flitted in the fallen leaves.

The complete absence of Jeremiah’s energy perturbed me. Was he aware of Waylon? Or was Jeremiah angry? Hurt? Or did he stay away to give me privacy? Worse, was he mad because I’d been afraid to let things go further last night? My mind raced with possibilities, none of which were good.

“You about ready to head back?” Waylon asked, snapping me back to the present. “I wanted to go around that well one more time with the metal detector.”

“Sure.”

Silent, we walked side by side until we reached the clearing of the yard.

Waylon’s gaze climbed the balconies and porticos on the back of the house. “I’d give anything to live in a big, old house like this.”

I studied the back of the house, too. “It’s a lot bigger than our house in Atlanta.”

“I’ve always thought Ransom’s Run was the prettiest antebellum house in Maury County, even prettier than Rattle and Snap.”

I wasn’t so sure about my house being more beautiful than the majestic Rattle and Snap but from my vantage point, Ransom’s Run stood as stately and grand as any of the others along the road between Mt. Pleasant and Columbia. From here, I noticed my suite of rooms took up half the back and side of the upstairs, which was a pretty impressive spread for a senior in high school. A distinct difference in the age and texture of the whitewashed brick formed where the back room and my bathroom had been added on.

Mom waved from the kitchen window and Ella’s curious face suddenly popped into view. Waylon laughed when Ella’s expression twisted into a grimace as Mom dragged her away from the panes. I groaned.

And then Waylon’s forehead furrowed as his gaze lifted higher. “Is that your stepfather?”

I looked up to the second story window where Waylon pointed just in time to see the curtains flutter.
Jeremiah!
My stomach tangled into a knot. “Probably,” I lied.

“Keeping an eye on you?” Waylon elbowed me in the bicep.

Forcing a laugh, I followed him to the side yard where he took up the metal detector again. “Why does he make you nervous?” Waylon asked. “Should I go inside to meet him?”

“No,” I responded quickly. “I mean, no, he doesn’t make me nervous.”

Waylon gave me a look as if he didn’t believe me before he slipped the headphones over his cap and began sweeping the detector over the ground where we’d found the minie ball earlier.

I fought to keep from returning my gaze to the window which faced this part of the yard—the window where Waylon had seen Jeremiah. Instead, I kept my eyes riveted to the ground where Waylon metal detected as if I could physically see what was underneath.

Waylon’s wide, fearful gaze unexpectedly clashed with mine.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, visibly shaken as he dragged the headphones off his head. The color drained from his face. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the handle of the metal detector.

“Hear what?”

His eyes bored into mine. “You didn’t say anything?”

A shiver crawled up my spine. Confused, I shook my head. Waylon’s hands began to tremble. Fear gripped me hard as his gaze darted around the yard and then up toward the second story windows again.

“W-what did you…hear?” I dreaded the answer.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I…uh…nothing,” he replied and began adjusting knobs on his metal detector. “This…uh…this thing doesn’t seem to be working right.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep him from seeing that I, too, shook from head to toe. Something had frightened Waylon.

He glanced nervously back toward the upstairs window. My window.

My heart skittered wildly against my ribcage but I didn’t dare look up. I knew from Waylon’s horrified expression that he’d heard Jeremiah’s voice—and whatever Jeremiah had said to him wasn’t friendly. I’d never guessed Jeremiah would be angry or jealous of someone else. The thought both excited and terrified me.

Still, I didn’t know what he was capable of and I certainly didn’t want Waylon to get hurt because of me. “Maybe…we should try this another time,” I suggested gently.

Waylon nodded, his gaze still darting anxiously back and forth between my bedroom window and me. When he didn’t move toward his truck, I hefted the shovel and started in that direction.

He took one last furtive look at my window before he finally followed me. His hands quaked visibly as he lifted his metal detector into the back of his truck. Not knowing what to say or ask, I merely stood there offering him the shovel. Without words, he snatched the shovel from me and tossed it in the truck bed. It landed next to the metal detector with a loud clang.

Part of me couldn’t wait for him to leave so I could ask Jeremiah what had happened. Another part of me felt bad for Waylon. Still, I was dying to find out what he’d heard. I prudently didn’t ask.

“Hey…um…I’ll see you at school Monday,” he mumbled as he climbed into his truck. “Thanks for letting me come out and for showing me the place.”

As I muttered an awkward goodbye, his gaze nervously skimmed the front of the house. He gave me a nod, shut his door, cranked his truck and drove off.

Eight

“Did your friend leave?” Mom called from the back of the house.

Ignoring her, I ran up the stairs and to my rooms. I had to find out what Jeremiah said that had spooked Waylon.

The attic door remained as I’d left it—closed. My heart pounded as I reached for the knob. Unlike when Waylon tried it, the door swung open with a resounding creak.

Also unlike the times I’d been to the attic before, no tell-tale tingling or ghostly energy greeted me.

No Jeremiah.

Dread seeped through my veins as I climbed the stairs. “Jeremiah,” I called as loudly as I dared whisper.

The top stair groaned under my footsteps. “Jeremiah?”

Deafening silence met me. “Are you here?” I ventured farther into the attic although, intuitively, I knew he wasn’t here.

For some strange reason, the attic seemed like a sinister, spooky place without Jeremiah’s ghostly presence in it. A chill that had nothing to do with his energy pervaded me and, shivering, I hugged my arms. “Please come out,” I begged, realizing he might be angry at me for kissing Waylon.

The possibility that he might be in my bedroom filled me with optimism and I hurried down the steps in hopes of finding him there. But when I reached the threshold, my bedroom loomed as stark and desolate as the attic. “Jeremiah?” I searched the long afternoon shadows for a glimpse of him.

Still nothing.

Dismay consumed me. I felt I’d somehow made him angry and I didn’t know what to do about it.

“Who’s Jeremiah?”

My heart skipped a beat. Ella stood in my doorway and I gaped, unable to think of a reply. I squeezed my eyes shut. I could deal with just about anything or anyone except Ella right now.

Her eyes narrowed and her little hands found her hips. “And what were you doing in the attic?” she demanded. “What’s up there?”

“Nothing,” I snapped.

She whirled, intent on flying up the attic stairs.

“Ella, don’t!” I dove after her, grasping.

She managed to get the door open but I caught a fistful of pink hoodie before she could climb the stairs. I spun her around and held her in place. “You can’t go up there,” I said firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”

Her dark eyebrows lowered. “
You
were up there.”

Heat rushed into my cheeks. “I was putting something away.” My impatience fueled my anger. I forced myself to relax. “It’s not safe for you. I promise to take you, later.”

“When?”

“Later.”

“Five minutes?”

“No,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow.” I hoped she’d forget about it by then but Ella was a tenacious little thing. And, unfortunately for me, she had a memory like a bull elephant.

“Promise?” She jerked free of my loosened grip and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

“Yes.”

“I thought your boyfriend’s name was Waylon,” she said, eyeing me.

“He’s not my boyfriend and, yes, his name is Waylon.”

She jerked her chin at me. “Who’s Jeremiah, then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Do, too!” she cried. “You were calling somebody named Jeremiah.”

Despite the driving urge to look away, I held her gaze. “You must have misunderstood.”

“Is he the man I saw standing in your room last night?”

Shocked, I sucked in a breath.
She’d seen him?

“Is he?” she asked again.

Of all people, I couldn’t tell Ella. She’d announce it to everyone. “You must have been dreaming,” I told her. “There was no man standing in my room last night.”

But the thought that Jeremiah watched me sleep rippled through me like a warm, gentle wave. Right behind that wave, though, followed a sharp stabbing pain. Instinctively, I knew he was angry at me. I should have canceled with Waylon. I never should have led Waylon on.