Illusion (17 page)

“Well, goodie for you, Stefan.  So you just figured you’d just be your normal over-bearing self and drag Josie along with you.  ‘Cause I’m sure you figure she doesn’t have anything better to do besides follow your ass all over the world.”

… And she was off.

Moving quickly, I unfastened my seat belt and leaped out of the car.  I was going to attempt to head off Stefan and get between them before she could say anything else.  I was too late.  He was already out of the car, his six-foot-four frame barreling around the front of the car to Georgia’s door.  Managing to cut him off, I placed my hands against his chest and looked up at him with imploring eyes.  I understood his frustration.  I was also trying to figure out her real problem with Stefan.  She antagonized Stefan at every turn and was testing his patience.

“Stefan, please.  Don’t let her do this.  She’s trying to get you angry,”
I silently pleaded with him.

His chest pushed against my hands for a moment.  He closed his eyes for a second and drew in a deep, unnecessary breath.  When his blue eyes reopened, he looked down at me wearily. 
“I am only tolerating this because she is your friend and I love you.  Know and remember this.”

My shoulders sagged in relief as I sent him my mental thoughts. 
“Thank you, Stefan.  I love you.”

“Georgia, open the trunk please,” I called out.  The trunk lid popped open and I placed my keys in his hand, my fingers lingering against his longer than necessary.

“Let me handle this.  Take our bags inside and let me talk to her, ok?”
  I thought to him, trying to force a tiny smile.

He nodded imperceptibly and turned to head to the back of the car, pulling our luggage out.  He headed towards the front porch with the bag in one hand, impatiently jingling the keys in the other.  I waited until he had opened the door and stepped inside before I faced Georgia.

She looked smug and self-satisfied with her little performance as she leaned against the side of her car, her arms crossed under her chest.  Seeing her like this made me even angrier, even though I was trying my best to not take sides.

“Are you happy with yourself?” I asked, walking to stand in front of her, mirroring her stance.

“Huh?” Georgia blinked.  She pulled her arms tighter around herself, her head rising sharply as she met my gaze.

“I’m trying to not take sides and you’re making it really difficult not to do it,”  I confessed, glancing away to stare at the gravel before meeting her blue eyes.  “I get that you maybe don’t like him, or you think he’s wrong for me or hell, maybe you’re just pissed off that I’m running off with him.”

“Dickmatized was more along the lines of what I was thinking actually,” Georgia interrupted, her eyes burning holes through me.

A dry laugh escaped before I could stop it.  “Whatever.  You can think what you want because no matter what I say, I’ll never change your mind.  You’re my friend, and you’ll continue to be my friend if I live in New York or New Zealand.  You have to stop with the whole ‘I’m going to annoy Stefan’ thing you’ve got going on.  It’s not helping things with him.  Or with me.”

She glanced over my shoulder, off into the distance.  Her face was set in a mask of defiance.  “Fine.”

I’d had enough, enough of her pettiness and enough of her bullshit.  Grabbing her by the shoulders, I gave her a gentle shake.  “Stop acting like a petulant five year old that lost her lollipop, Georgia!  For fuck’s sake, I love him.  Does that even matter to you?”

She pushed a strand of dark hair back from her face and looked at me, her blue eyes glittering with tears.  “Of course it matters to me.  He’s going to break your heart.  He’s too smooth, too pretty and he’s gonna be like Jon and leave you once you’re not so young and pretty anymore.”

A proverbial light bulb went off in my head with her honest statement.  Georgia’s problem with Stefan had nothing to do with him, it had everything to do with her ex-husband who’d left her six years ago.  There was no way to tell Georgia that I’d never have to worry about pesky things like aging anymore.  I’d always look 28.  If Stefan chose to leave me, it wouldn’t have anything to do with me getting older.

“Georgia, Stefan isn’t Jon.  First of all, Jon is a jerk,” I reminded her, moving to her side, leaning against the car.  “Second, Stefan is it for me.  When I saw him, my heart and soul knew it.  He’s the one.”

I couldn’t help but lose myself in the memory of seeing him on the beach and in the bar the first night I met him, with his golden blond hair, high cheekbones and eyebrows that arched over his expressive sea blue eyes.  My mind had taken a mental snapshot of him leaning across the polished wood of the bar, dressed in the black t-shirt that strained tightly against his broad chest and the low-slung jeans he wore that rode low on his narrow hips, clinging to his long, powerful legs.  I didn’t ever stand a chance.  Deep down I knew I fell in love with him at that moment.  My heart knew it then; my mind was the hardest thing to convince.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Josie.  You’re my best friend,” her voice pulled me out of my memories.  My eyes refocused and I put my arm around her shoulders.  “You’re gonna move and forget all about me.”

Careful to keep my shields in place, my own sadness wrapped around me and tugged at my heart.  I knew how difficult it was for her to admit her feelings like this, which made the fact that I’d eventually have to let her go cut even deeper.  Moving away was the first step, slowly cutting ties.  In a few years, we’d have to disappear from their lives for our own safety.

Georgia needed me to make her laugh and I gave in, feigning mock irritation.  “How could I forget about your exasperating ass? You have to be the most annoying woman on the face of the earth.”

My words coaxed a giggle out of her.  She put her head against mine and we were quiet for a moment, listening to the quiet sounds of the wind rustling through the trees.

“So are we ok?” Georgia asked meekly.

“Of course.  But I’m going to take a rain check on tonight.  I just flew 20 plus hours and I have a house to sort through.  I promise we’ll get together in the next day or so.”

Georgia sulked for a moment and then smiled, pulling me in for a hug.  “Deal.”

I backed away from her car and watched her get inside and start her car, honking wildly as she drove down the driveway.

Waving until her car was out of sight, I dropped my hand and hugged my arms around myself.  For the first time in my life, after all of my years of wandering from place to place, saying goodbye was going to be difficult.

* * *

We had been up since 8 am sorting through my bookshelves.  Books and clothing were really the only thing I shipped from place to place when I moved.  Tackling the bookshelf was also the most time consuming since Stefan was trying to talk me out of keeping the majority of them.

“Explain why you have two copies of
The Great Gatsby
?” His question was more of a statement.  He flipped through the first well-worn copy before tossing it aside to reach for the second.  He looked down at me, waiting for me to answer him.

“One was given to me by my Dad.  I mean, my adopted father.”  I pointed to the book in his hand.  “The other I picked up at a thrift store while I was waiting for my books to arrive to my new address during one of my moves.”

Stefan nodded and flipped through more books.  He picked up another, his eyebrow raised in humor as he ran his hand over the cover.  “
The Picture of Dorian Gray
.  Ironic book to have, yes?”

From my cross-legged position on the floor, I observed him as he stood barefoot in front of the giant, built-in bookcase with the leather bound book in his hand.  His bright blond hair was messy and rumpled, his navy blue t-shirt snug against his chest.  He leaned against the wall and crossed his denim clad legs, skimming through the pages of the book, reading at what seemed to be super speed.

“I suppose it is now that I think about it.  A beautiful man that doesn’t age,”  I said.  He glanced up from the book and his tongue swept over his lower lip as he waited for me to continue.  “You don’t have a painting of yourself stashed away in an attic somewhere that is revealing your true age and evil deeds, do you?”

He chuckled and waved the book in front of him.  “No, I can assure you I do not.  I am going to assume this goes in the keep pile.  Should I mention I happen to have the 1891 First Edition copy of this very book?”

My mouth gaped for a moment.  I tucked a piece of hair that escaped from my ponytail behind my ear, trying to act nonplussed about the fact that he owned a First Edition copy and he’d been around to purchase it, instead trying to refocus on packing.  I couldn’t help watching him from of the corner of my eye.  “Please.”

He sighed and placed the book in what was the unofficial “keep” pile.  He started on the last shelf, pulling out another leather bound volume.  He examined the book in silence, opening it and flipping through the pages.  He stopped and  concentrated on a page, tension pinching between his blond eyebrows.

“What?” I asked, distracted by packing books away in a box.  Each book I touched made me think about the only man I would ever call my Dad, my adoptive father.  Seeing all of these books always made me think of him, remembering the joy he would feel when he would read them, the happiness apparent in his dark blue eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

“This book. 
The Life of Napoleon
by John Holland Rose.  The 1904 version.  Interesting.”  He held on to the volume and crossed the room to sit on the floor beside me, one leg bent with his arm resting on his knee.  “How did you come to own this edition?”

“It was another gift from my adoptive father.  He was a book lover as well as a collector.  When my adoptive parents died, his collection became mine.”  I shrugged and went back to packing.

Stefan was still holding the book.  He reached over and placed one of his large hands on mine, stopping me.  Looking up at him, I was confused at his sudden interest in a book on Napoleon that my adoptive father had gifted to me.

“There is a note inside.  Did you know that?”  Stefan questioned, his voice low.

“What? A note?  No, I’ve never even opened it.”

He placed the heavy text in my hands, his finger marking the spot where the yellowed note rested.  As the pages fell open, my eyes were drawn to the paper that was folded and lodged in the binding of the book.  I recognized the scrawl of my adoptive father’s handwriting immediately.

Running my fingertips over the fragile note with my fingers, I hesitated before opening it, sucking in a ragged breath.

“What are you waiting for, Josephine?”

Laughing nervously, I twisted my mouth to the side.  “More bad news?”

Stefan leaned across and cupped my cheek with his hand.  “Read it.  Unless there is news about your other side of the family being werewolves, I think we are fine.”

Blanching, I forgot about the note.  “Werewolves?  Are there werewolves?”

Stefan rolled his blue eyes at me.  “Are there vampires!?  Yes, there is a scarce amount of werewolves in the world.”  He waved his hand and pointed at the note.  “Read.”

I sat slack jawed for a moment.  Werewolves?  What other mythical creatures could there be?  My mind drifted to thinking about the possibilities of Bigfoot, pixies and unicorns existing.  If there are vampires, could they be real too?

He reached over and closed my mouth.  “Josephine, focus.  Werewolves are mainly in Europe.  I assure you we are safe.  As for the other creatures, even I do not know.  Now stop stalling and  read the letter.”

My hands were trembling as I opened the delicate paper.  Glancing at the top of the page, I noticed the date.  It was dated over 15 years ago, when I would have only been 13.  I could almost see him sitting at his desk, writing this letter to me.  I suddenly missed him more than I could understand, or even begin to put into words.  There was so much I wished I had said to him, that I wished I could say to him now.

Stefan tapped the paper again, drawing my attention back to the letter and I began to read.

Josephine,

If you are reading this letter, it is well after my death and you have either found out about your true parents, or will soon.  You cannot begin to understand how difficult it was for us not to tell you the truth about your birth parents, even when you begged us to do so.  It will always be my deepest regret. 

Your birth mother, Armes, was my younger sister.  She disappeared soon after your birth, and your father and his representatives showed up on our doorstep with demands for us to take you in and raise you.  We fell in love with you at first sight and agreed to their terms to never disclose who your true parents were.  We were silenced by our fear, their threats and money, I am ashamed to admit.  You were well provided for, so I can only say that did alleviate some of the guilt which has plagued me for many years.

If your birth father, Kian, has already approached you, tread with extreme caution.  I fear my sister met her end at his hands and your father is a dangerous man.  If he has not yet found you or approached you, know that he will at some point.  Look beyond his words to find the truth.

As I watched you grow, you reminded me of your mother and made her loss from my life a little easier to accept.  Having you in my life was one of the greatest joys of my life, Josephine.  You share the same gift as your mother, and I know that she would be proud to see what a beautiful, intelligent woman you are sure to become.