Safe Landing (12 page)

His last words made my throat ache. I blinked into the wind hoping the cold air would evaporate the tears that were forming on my lashes. “How come nobody stopped the uncle?” My words were barely audible.

Seth’s two fingers pulled my chin around to face him. He pushed a strand of bangs off my forehead. “Are you alright?”

I smiled weakly. He dropped his fingers, but I could still feel his touch on my skin.

“Back then, kids got beaten and nobody did anything about it. My dad said the principal at his school used to have a paddle with holes hanging in his office for punishment. That would’ve sucked.”

I nodded. “My dad smacked me once on the butt, not even hard, but I think he was about to throw up after he did it.” I looked out at the water, the same water where Sebastian drowned a century earlier. “You probably think I’m crazy for making up theories about the guy’s death.”

Seth raised his fingers again and brushed them along my cheek turning my knees to Jello. I turned to look at him, which did not help my unstable legs.

“Crazy was the furthest thing from my mind,” he said quietly.

That was all it took. A brush on my cheek and that sizzling brown stare and I was hooked. Now I wanted that kiss more than anything. My head was swirling with emotions. Was he just teasing me or was he interested? I didn’t know whether to feel giddy or pissed.

We walked back toward the house with the sound of the crashing tide and screeching seagulls behind us. This part of the beach rarely had people. It would be an easy stretch of beach to drown in or be drowned in with no one to witness. Goosebumps crept up my spine. I don’t know why my mind had gone to murder but it had. Now I was thinking about it a lot. Poor Sebastian. An abusive uncle and a stout trust fund, it was a perfect scenario.

“Hey, I was wondering,” Seth’s voice broke the silence. I was glad to leave the icky thoughts running through my head. “You’re probably busy tonight, but my band is playing at the coffee house. Do you want to come?”

Now my mind switched to confusion. Was he asking me out? Where would his clingy girlfriend be? “Of course my social calendar is rather tight, but I think I can squeeze in an evening at the coffee house. I’ll see if I can borrow the car.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

Mom called out the back door. “Dinner!”

Seth waved to her. “Thanks for the invite, but I need to get home.” He turned back to me. “So what page of your mental catalogue does the guy who lived here fall under?” Seth asked with his D for Dangerous smile.

“You know I hadn’t given it much thought.” I tapped my chin. “T for Tortured, I suppose.”

“And what about me? I’m almost afraid to ask after the tongue beating you gave Hank.”

“You are definitely on the M page,” I said. I decided it best not to mention his other entries on the D and S pages.

“M?” he asked.

“Mostly a mystery.” I turned to head inside.

“I can live with that,” he said. “Hey, Brazil!”

When I looked back the wind was whipping at his long black hair. He would definitely look tasty in a top hat. “Eight-thirty?”

I nodded and headed toward the house, the haunted house. With two dark dormers and the wide porch, it almost looked like it had a face as it towered out over the beach in the fading sunlight. I picked up my pace. It was an unusual day so far. It had started as a five, then after the kitchen scene with Mom, it sunk to a two. Now it was back up to a very secure seven. If he had kissed me, it might have reached nine. I thought about his finger tracing my cheek. Actually, a kiss would definitely have made it a ten.

Chapter 11

As I stood in my room rubbing my hair with a towel, I stared at the faded brown picture of Sebastian I’d shoved beneath the frame of my mirror. He hadn’t appeared since I ran down to the beach, but my mind was swirling with images of both Sebastian and Seth. I’d always been good at reading people, or at least that’s what I’d told myself. But all this time, I’d convinced myself that Mom was cold, almost indifferent about Dad leaving. Now I was sure that wasn’t true. Still, why hadn’t she tried harder to stop him? They’d always seemed so in love, then like a puff of smoke, it was all gone. How did that happen? Then there was the extreme opposite—Sebastian. A century had not broken the bond he felt with Emily. Even through the abuse he endured at the hands of his uncle, he’d never stopped thinking of her.

I threw the towel over my chair, reached for the stack of letters, and opened the fourth one. A nervous flutter erupted in my stomach worried about what it might say. A vine of black, thorny roses snaked across the top of the brittle parchment. They were intricate and precise and tragic.

Dearest,                                                            

I know roses are your favorite. These are black like my heart.

I write knowing your blue eyes will never read my words. And yet I write to keep my life from becoming a mute, tedious tragedy.

Uncle keeps a vigilant watch on me. A miserable wretch, whom upon my 18
^th
year, shall be thrown into the foggy darkness. Only then can I sink into the paralyzing chill of my aloneness.

Bitter, bleak winds come early this year leaving long footprints on the white sand. My soul longs to leave the fetid atmosphere of this house and travel with the prevailing breeze. To somewhere far from here, far from the memory of your lush lips and heady fragrance.

Sebastian

I read it three times and pictured him with his paint brush and black paint, his face twisted from the pain in his head as he poured his heartbreak out onto paper knowing full well that his words would never be read. I refolded the letter, determined, now more than ever, to find out who this Warner kid was. The thought occurred to me that I didn’t know Seth’s last name but the odds of him being Warner were slim. My luck was never that great. Of course having to flirt with some other guy might ruin my chances with Seth completely, but then he did have a girlfriend. Maybe watching me cuddle up with another guy would make him jealous enough to leave petite, cute Gina. Now I was being delusional.

My mom poked her head in the room. “I think Seth just pulled up.”

“He’s early.” I grabbed my jeans and struggled to pull them up over my damp legs.

The dogs raced downstairs barking like a pack of wild dogs. I hurried over to my mirror and used my fingers to comb my hair. “Tell him I’ll be down in a second.” My sandals were nowhere to be seen. I checked under the bed, in the closet, and under my mound of dirty clothes. They were gone.

“Looking for these?” My sandals were floating in front of Sebastian who was on his usual perch in front of the window. He had that glimmer of mischievousness I’d noticed from his picture. I plodded to my shoes and lunged for them, but he swept them higher and out of my reach.

“I’m late.” I jumped for them, but he had the distinct advantage that only a floating spirit could have. “What are you doing?”

“Are you going out with a boy?” He sounded slightly annoyed.

“What are you, my father?” I asked. “And it’s not a date. I’m going to hear his band at the coffee house. I’m pretty sure I won’t be coming home with an engagement ring or anything like that.”

“Will he kiss you?” The sandals coasted down to my reach.

I snatched them out of the air and plunked down on the end of my bed to slide them on. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t know if he’ll kiss me.” I walked quickly to the door and looked back. “I hope he does though.” I had to scoot forward quickly as the door slammed shut behind me.

Mom had sat Seth down at the kitchen table with a can of soda. They were talking when I walked in. Seth looked up and his brown eyes looked extra dreamy in the kitchen light.

“Sorry, I took so long. I couldn’t reach—find my sandals.

Seth had a guitar case and an amplifier in the back of his car. I climbed into the front seat, Gina’s seat. “So what kind of music do you play?”

“Mostly Dylan type stuff.”

“Who else plays in your band?” Wasn’t I the exciting conversationalist? I hadn’t been so nervous with a guy since—. Actually I don’t remember ever being nervous with one, which could only mean one thing. I finally found a guy I really liked. And not just because he was so friggin cute either.

“A couple of guys I’ve known since junior high.”

“I take it Hank is not one of them.”

He laughed. “That one came out of nowhere. Believe it or not, we were friends in elementary school. Then his mom discovered that my family and I didn’t go to church, and we kept weird hours. She concluded we were part of a satanic cult, so she pulled the plug on our friendship.” He shook his head wistfully. “I owe that woman my life.”

“I cannot imagine that you two ever had anything in common.” I said.

“We didn’t. But I don’t think that really matters in elementary school. Anyway, the guy has despised me ever since.”

“I’m surprised you can remain so cool around him when he’s being such an ass to you.”

“Everything that comes out of his head is so stupid and ignorant, he’s not worth getting angry at. He’s meaningless as far as I’m concerned. I noticed you took care of him pretty well. He’s stopped hitting on you.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”  I looked at him. “Is Gina coming tonight?” It seemed like a logical question. I mean, after all, she was his clingy girlfriend.

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

It was hard to know if that meant he didn’t care if she came or if he really didn’t know. Or both.

“My last name is Parkin,” I blurted like a lost little kid telling a policeman. I was hoping he would get the hint. The day had become a seven when he asked me to the coffee shop. If his name was Warner, it could easily move to eight or even a nine.

“Parkin, huh? Since we’re exchanging information, mine’s Dallas.”

Crap. Why couldn’t it be Warner? Although Seth Dallas was a pretty cool name. “Do you happen to know a guy with the last name Warner?”

His face turned and he stared at me a few seconds before turning his eyes to the road. “Yeah,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really. Do you sing
Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
?” That’s my favorite.” I decided to switch the subject quickly because my question about this Warner guy seemed to bother him.

“I’ll sing it tonight.” We drove the rest of the way in silence, and I wasn’t sure why my question had upset him. But ten minutes into his song set, I discovered the reason.

The coffee house was crowded with kids from school and college looking people too. There was a tiny stage on the side of the shop, not really a stage but a square of fake wood flooring glued down over the tiles. Two guys wearing t-shirts and jeans like Seth were already setting up a keyboard and drums. Seth found me a place to sit and bought me a decaf latte. The last thing I need was caffeine keeping me awake all night thinking about the weirdness of my life.

Seth played guitar and harmonica well, but his singing made me melt in to a frothy puddle. I was not the only one. Half the girls in the place sat with elbows propped on tables, chins perched in palms, and stars floating in their eyes as he sang
Lay Lady Lay
. I tried to smile casually back at him twice when he scanned the crowd and looked at me, but inside my heart was doing flip-flops.

I’m such an idiot. I’m falling hard for a guy who had a girlfriend, a guy who I only met earlier this week, a guy who I knew little about except that he had an unbelievable smile, dreamy eyes and a great voice.  After that little attribute list, no wonder I was falling for him.

Loud voices shattered the mood of his song. Hank and some other primitives lumbered into the coffee shop. While everyone else was politely listening to and admiring the great music, the ape and his brood were speaking loudly so that everyone would notice them. The only attention they were getting was an air assault of dirty looks. Seth’s eyes flitted toward the brainless thugs, but he never missed a beat or a lyric.

I scooted down in my seat and hid behind my mug of coffee, but Hank spotted me instantly. Unfortunately there were several empty seats next to me at the counter height table. He walked toward me with all the grace of a thousand pound gorilla.

“Isn’t that cute,” Hank said as he pulled up a chair. “You’ve come to watch your sweetie sing.”

Seth kept singing but his gaze was locked on our table. Two of Hank’s equally square-headed friends joined him. One of them smacked him on the shoulder and leered at me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Warner?”

I had to grab the table edge to keep myself upright on the stool. Not him. Anyone but him. Anyone. I could not possibly help Sebastian if it meant having to flirt with Hank. Sebastian’s last letter floated through my head and the vision of him in agony as he wrote it. How could I not help him? His life had been a nightmare, and he still could not be at peace, even in death. I had to help him.