Falling into Forever (19 page)

“There's only one way to find out,” Taylor said, securing her crutches in her arms. “Let's go, Ben. We don't want to keep your driver waiting.”

“Wish me luck,” Benjamin said, winking at Alexandra, before he and Taylor disappeared around the corner of Sumter Hall.

The fire alarm inside the building finally fell silent.

Alexandra slumped back down on the bench. The sudden silence allowed Benjamin's message from Callahan to penetrate her mind.

“Who does he think he is?” she asked herself aloud, growing more agitated with each passing moment. “Some teacher,” she muttered under her breath. This utterance seemed somehow to call him into her presence. Suddenly there he was, walking across the lawn toward her.

“My dear,” he addressed her. “Please excuse me for saying that you do not look so well. You're quite pale.

Should I fetch you some water?” He sat beside her, his eyes gauging the scratches from her accident at lunch. He finally took in a view of her necklace.

“I'm fine,” she told him. “Really, I'm okay. It's just—”

she hesitated to say more, but she found a strange comfort in his soothing, patient eyes. They offered the first sense of calm she had felt in days and erased her fear and agitation.

“Miss Peyton, what's wrong?” Callahan asked sincerely as he waited for her answer.

Breathing in and out deeply, Alexandra finally admitted the truth. “I'm kind of freaking out right now,”

she revealed to him, her hands shaking slightly as her fingers reached for the medallion around her neck. Her fingertips fumbled nervously with the pendant as she confessed everything to Callahan about how she felt.

“Things I can't even begin to explain to you have been happening to me,” she told him. “I think I might be going crazy.”

What am I doing?
she wondered.
But his eyes are so kind.

“What sort of things?” he asked, genuinely interested, shifting closer to her on the bench. He took her hand gently into his to comfort her. “Have you been harmed?”

His eyes again wandered over the bruises and scratches she received from falling off her Jeep in the parking lot.

“No,” she insisted. “Not by anyone but me, that is. A stray dog snuck into the parking lot, and I fell trying to get away from it. Benjamin helped me, though.”

“It must have been quite a tumble. Please go on,”

Callahan said, nodding his head.

“If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy,” she admitted.

She realized what her fear was—that perhaps her usually unflinching sensibility was abandoning her.

He did not look startled at her admission.

“It's like Taylor told you. I saw something in the cemetery, and I've been hearing a voice.” She looked away, across the quad. Tears came to her eyes, not just from the shame of losing her mind, but also due to the fact that she hurt so much because her father was gone. She kept her watery eyes turned away from him, embarrassed to be crying.

He kept listening.

“And then you started with your ghost stories and that

nonsense to Benjamin about my necklace.” Furious with herself for letting her emotions overwhelm her sanity, Alexandra now looked directly at him.

He did not look away.

“Why?” she asked, pondering the sympathy on his face.

“I wouldn't be surprised at this point if you told me you're not even really a teacher, and that you're here on some kind of secret mission.” She gave a nervous laugh.

“Actually I am,” he answered calmly.

Alexandra heard faint whistles and shouts in the distance as the football team took to the field for afternoon practice.

“I have to go,” she declared suddenly, leaning away from Callahan. “I have a lot of homework.” She stood up from the bench.

“Alexandra, I only want to help you,” he insisted.

“Trust me. Please sit back down.”

Alexandra weighed her options. Stay or run? She had everything to gain by giving him a chance to explain. Why not? Nothing lately has made sense anyway.

Callahan took her trembling hand carefully and cupped it between his palms. His eyes squinted shut in concentration as his grasp held firm. Alexandra's breathing calmed, and she studied the intensity of his face.

Opening his eyes, he said to her, “The cemetery behind campus—you were there?”

“Yesterday,” she fibbed, trying to hide her familiarity with the spot.

“There is a path behind the grand old church that you call Drake Hall. You and your friend Taylor know it well,” Callahan continued with his eyes closed, her palm clutched between his fingers. “But today you did not go with Taylor. You had to return to your car, and there was some sort of large dog lurking between the cars.”

“How did you know that?” she asked, alarmed. “Did you see me? Have you been following me?”

“So that's how you got those scratches . . . and the bruises as well,” Callahan said, releasing Alexandra's hand.

“Yes,” she answered meekly, an awareness growing within her that Callahan already knew.

“Don't be afraid, Alexandra,” he said, trying to calm her. “You are a very special young woman.”

“I'm scared. Something feels wrong,” she confided.

“I don't understand. How could you know all of that?”

She mournfully dabbed at a tear that had escaped her eye.

Staring into Callahan's dark eyes, she asked, “Where's Mr.

Frost? He's not really out on a family emergency leave, either, is he?”

“He's fine. Wonderful, in fact,” Callahan tried to assure her.

“You would say that even if you had him tied up in a basement somewhere,” Alexandra said emphatically.

“Is that where you really think he is?” Callahan asked playfully.

“Maybe. I don't know. Probably not,” she reasoned.

A wry laugh escaped his lips.

“What's so funny, Callahan? What am I supposed to think? For all I know, you're planning to put me in there with him.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed louder.

She had stopped crying. Gritting her teeth, she glared at him. “Then what is the truth? Tell me the truth, or just go ahead and blindfold me. Trot me off to the basement with Mr. Frost.”

“The truth is that the home I am renting does not have a basement—not even a garage. Mr. Frost is entirely safe and quite content. He is enjoying an extended vacation.”

“Who told you that?” Alexandra insisted. “I don't believe you.”

“He told me himself,” Callahan answered bluntly.

“Does he know about your colossal waste of his students's time, telling ghost stories?” she asked in disbelief.

“It was his idea,” Callahan insisted.

Alexandra gasped. “That doesn't sound like the Mr.

Frost I know.”

“Then perhaps you don't know him,” he offered. “Not truly know him, I mean. Of course, you know what he allows you to know from his tales and lectures. How can you be sure anything he has ever told you about himself is true?”

Alexandra shook her head side to side. Her words fought past the growing lump in her throat. “Why have you come here, Callahan? Why Collinsworth? Why me?

Why now?”

Raising his eyes, he squinted at the lawn. Someone was coming their way.

“Hello there!” It was the short, round academy headmaster. He briskly approached with a sunken expression spread across his red face.

“Dr. Callahan, I hope your enthusiasm has not been dampened by this turn of events,” Headmaster Sullivan said, waving his arms toward Sumter Hall.

“It's been an explosive introduction to your institution,”

Callahan joked. “But not to worry, my good man,” he said, patting Dr. Sullivan encouragingly on his shoulder. “Your students have at least proven how brazenly curious they are. There is no doubt about that.”

With his mood lifting, Dr. Sullivan smiled weakly and noticed Alexandra standing behind Callahan's shoulder.

“Young lady,” he addressed her. She could see him taking notice of her disheveled appearance.

“This is Miss Alexandra Peyton,” Callahan said.

“I apologize, Miss Peyton,” the headmaster continued.

“Is there anything Nurse Connie can do for you?” Staring at her face, recognition crept into his eyes.

Shaking her head no, Alexandra lifted her book bag to her shoulder.

“You're friends with Taylor Woodward, aren't you?”

Dr. Sullivan asked her in an accusing tone.

“Yes,” she admitted and shied her eyes from his gaze.

She noticed that Callahan's impatience matched her own.

“Does she have chemistry class during seventh period?”

the headmaster asked Alexandra.

“No, sir,” Alexandra answered. “She has history with Dr. Callahan. And me. She wasn't anywhere near the chemistry lab. Not this time.”

“Not this time,” he repeated, nodding his head.

Turning back toward Callahan, he extended his arm to shake hands.

“I'm going to walk Alexandra to her car. She has had a long day,” Callahan explained.

“As have we all, sir!” Dr. Sullivan exclaimed, loosening his grip on Callahan's hand. “Good day to you both, then.

Perhaps the firefighters will allow me to assess the damage inside,” he sighed wearily.

The headmaster departed uneasily, and the firefighters met him at the entrance. With a last brief glance back at the quad, Dr. Sullivan walked inside, shaking his head in disgust.

“Your friend Miss Woodward seems to have quite the reputation around here,” Callahan said.

“She likes attention, good or bad,” Alexandra

explained, while her fingers played nervously again with the pendant.

The familiar afternoon rumbling of distant thunderstorms reverberated faintly in the air. A stray cloud floated in front of the blazing sun.

“Do you ever get cold standing in her shadow?” he asked, gazing toward the cloud hanging above them.

But she did not answer, because she never thought of Taylor that way. Turning his eyes toward her, Callahan noticed her fingers entwined in the leather straps of her necklace. “Where did you get that?” he asked, reaching out to touch the medallion.

“What are you doing?” Alexandra said, recoiling at the unexpected gesture.

“I'm sorry,” Callahan said, dropping his hand.

“From my father,” she said and then hesitated. “It was a gift,” she told him.

“It suits you, Alexandra,” Callahan told her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn't mean to snap at you like that.”

“No worries,” Callahan insisted, staring at the medallion. “Did your father tell you where he bought it?”

“He found it, actually,” she confided, her back slumping against the bench. “And I've never gotten the chance to thank him.”

“What do you mean, Alexandra?” asked Callahan, a puzzled glint in his eyes.

“My father disappeared two years ago,” she said. She closed her eyes, remembering his face. “And then all of a sudden, a package shows up in the mail last week, with this medallion in it. It found its way to me after all that time.”

“My goodness,” he mused. “This case gets more bizarre by the moment.”

“Case?” she repeated the word and let go of the medallion. “You're full of questions,” she accused Callahan, her eyes blazing. “Now how about some answers?” She pointed to his ring. “For instance, where did you get that?”

“I earned it,” he said, twisting the ring around his finger, and he leaned closer. “It's more of a trophy, actually,” he admitted.

“What a coincidence,” Alexandra said, staring at the ring. “The two figures look so much alike.” Callahan slid his palm over her hand as it trembled against her knee.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Though mine is a copy of the original,” Callahan said, gazing at the medallion. “Have you ever heard the legend of the dragon king?”

“And of Princess Iselin?” she asked whispering the words.

“Ah ha,” Callahan said, nodding his head. “You have been a student assistant for Mr. Frost for a couple of years now?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“So you knew him better than most students?” Callahan asked.

“Well, I mean, he never told me anything personal. I don't even know if he's married or has kids or anything like that. But he did talk a lot about all the places he had been, all over the world. Who wouldn't think that's exciting?” she asked.

“He's not married,” Callahan assured her. “Members are not allowed.”

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“He belongs to a . . . Well, how shall I put this?”

Callahan explained. “We are brothers.” Alexandra raised her eyebrows. “Brothers,” he continued, “in the sense that we are members of the Order of the Dragon King.”

Suddenly she pictured the magnolia tree on the hill

in the cemetery. Within the tree's sturdy limbs, she saw a dark figure watching her. Gliding to the ground, he took a step toward her. Her cheeks began to sting with a blazing heat. Her eyes popped open to see Callahan's deep-blue eyes staring back at her, and he cupped her hand tenderly.

“Alexandra?” he asked, gazing into her eyes and releasing her hand. “What did you see just now?”

“Him,” she sputtered.

“In the cemetery?” asked Callahan.

“Yes,” she said shaking. “How did you know?”

“I saw it, too,” Callahan explained.

“How? What do you mean?”

“Place your palm on top of mine and concentrate,”

he instructed, pulling her hands on top of his own.

“Concentrate,” he repeated, as she gripped his hand.

Blazing warmth tingled in her fingertips and spread quickly up her forearm, chasing furiously toward her heart.

An electric heat sparked through her nerves and spread over her body. The reality of Callahan and Collinsworth faded into nothing more than flickering images shrouded by a dense fog inside her head.