Second Thoughts (7 page)

My question was met with momentarily strained silence. Dan murmured, “You don't know?” He looked at Carter with a combination of surprise and reprobation, and a look of guilt flitted across Carter's features. Perhaps I wasn't the only one keeping secrets where Jill was concerned.

I looked at Carter too. “I guess not,” I said.
“Is
she okay? What don't I know?”

He ruffled his hair some more, which basically gave me my answer, before he finally said in low tones, “No, she didn't go to Webber. And…I don't think she'll ever be okay again.”

“What do you mean?!” Looking around the table, I saw nothing but sad expressions and I suddenly felt like I was back a year ago, when I'd first learned about Sententia and my strange gift. Here I was again, on the outside of knowledge, surrounded by the pitying insiders. My temper started to rise.
“Carter?”

But it was Dan, again, who responded. “It seems I have much intervention to do this evening,” he said, and I almost thought he sounded amused, which seemed a strange reaction to me. The sad look in his eyes and his tired voice had me dismissing the thought. “Don't be angry with him. My nephew, too, is nothing if not discreet, and I'm
certain he didn't want to upset you. But no, she won't be going to Webber, or any of our schools.”

“Is she…being punished?” I asked tentatively. In truth, she probably should have gone to jail, or the juvenile equivalent, if not a mental hospital, but that wasn't something local authorities knew. The Perceptum did, of course. I assumed they handled the situation, arranging things as best for her as possible. But you know what they say about assuming, and I was about to prove it true.

Dan shook his head and I swore Melinda's eyes started to tear up. “That turned out not to be necessary, Lainey,” Jeff said.

“Oh my God, she's dead, isn't she!” I blurted out. Despite that our table was quite private, I still saw one or two heads turn in our direction. Had Dr. Stewart been hinting at that and I just couldn't understand? I just couldn't think of what else they meant except that she'd killed herself. After all that happened, I couldn't believe she'd died anyway.

But she didn't, not exactly.

Everyone gave some sort of denial before Dan said, “No, no. Jillian is…physically fine. But you see, Lainey, her gift, it's…”

“What?” I pleaded. “What about her gift?”

“It's gone.”

G
one?” I echoed. “That's…” impossible, I started to say, but I knew better by now. “Crazy,” I finally decided on, then cringed. I knew better than to use that word so wantonly too. Jill had taught me that. “Does that always happen?”

Carter shook his head. “To our knowledge, it's
never
happened before.”

“But then, what
did
happen?” I said. “Jill can't be the only Sententia ever resuscitated.”

With a sad chuckle, Carter said,
“You
happened, Lainey.”

I didn't have time for more than my eyes to go wide and my mouth to drop open before Dan interjected. “What he means is though, yes, other Sententia have been resuscitated, it's never been after an encounter with a Hangman.”

I shuddered. God, I hated that term. “But…I thought my ability stops a person's heart.”

“It does,” Melinda said.

“But perhaps that's not all it does,” Dan finished for her.

“The truth is, Lainey, none of us knows exactly what your gift can or cannot do,” Jeff said.

My brain went numb at this news—I swore every time I started to feel comfortable, a new surprise was thrown at me—so all I thought to say was, “Poor Jill.” If she hated me before, and she surely had, then she must
really
hate me now. I sipped my coffee, which was cold and bitter, kind of how my heart felt at the moment. My cup clattered on the saucer and sounded very loud to my ears. “Sorry,” I said, though I wasn't sure just what I was apologizing for.

Dan folded his napkin neatly on the table and gave a gentle smile to all of us. “I suppose we've lingered here long enough,” he said, effectively ending our dinner—and the conversation—much to my relief.

A
FTER ABOUT FIVE
minutes of silence in the car, Carter and I said at almost exactly the same time, “Why didn't you tell me…” though we were split on what we wanted to know.

“About Jill?!”

“About my uncle?!”

“You answer first,” I said.

He glanced at me from the driver's seat. “Whatever happened to ‘ladies first'?” he joked, and if he weren't driving, I'd have smacked him. I considered it anyway. Leave it to Carter always to make light of a serious situation. It was probably one of his better traits, actually, if it didn't irritate me so much.

“Shut up and answer.”

“I can't really do both…”

“Argh! Carter, seriously. Please.”
Before I throttle you.

The headlights swept over the dark curves of the road, illuminating the trees on both sides. It was “quaint” up in our little intersection of three states, meaning pretty much the middle of nowhere, with miles and miles of nothing and no one around. I waited impatiently for my boyfriend's response.

Finally, in soft, more serious tones, he said, “It should be obvious why I didn't tell you. It upset you. I didn't want to.”

“Ditto,” I said.

“I
hate
upsetting you.”

“Same.” Then I sighed. “But…maybe we need to share the things that'll upset us before the not sharing them
really
pisses us off.”

“Agreed,” he said, and reached over to hold my hand. “I'm sorry,” he added.

“Me too,” I murmured. I closed my eyes and powered up my Diviner senses for a quick check of our future—still nothing new—and then, despite that we'd just agreed to be honest with each other, still didn't tell him. If only I would learn to listen to myself. Sometimes the hardest advice in the world to take is your own.

When the new silence in the car felt comfortable, not tense, I said, “There's another thing I'm curious about.” Carter's thumb traced slowly, back and forth, across my hand. I wondered if he was even aware he was doing it, or of the way it gave me little shivers, both inside and out.

“What's that?” He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go to downshift.

“Why does Dan call your aunt
Meri?”

“Well, it is her name.” And it was. Her full Penrose name was Meriwether Avalinda.

“Yeah, but no one else calls her that.”

“He does.” Carter glanced at me and looked back out the windshield. “My father did.”

“Oh.” I stared out the windshield too, thinking about that.

“It's a brotherly thing. She pretends to hate it.” He paused. “Uncle Jeff
does
hate it.”

“Interesting.” And it was. I was going to say
then why does he do it?
but I suspected that
was
why. I'd never had siblings, so it was hard to
really know what it was like. Aunt Tessa and her brother, my Uncle Tommy, loved and annoyed each other with equal passion, though. Maybe it was as simple as that.

The comforting weight of Carter's hand returned to mine, his thumb finding the same path as before. It was odd how such a light touch, a whisper of a touch, really, could have such an effect. I shivered again.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No.”

His grin lit up the car.

It wasn't long before we pulled into the parking area behind the bookstore. It was late, and dark, but clear—a perfect early autumn night. Almost exactly a year since I first arrived at Northbrook. It was crisp out, too, and an extra-chilly gust blew into the car as we came to a stop.

“Hey—it's cold! Why are you rolling down—?” I asked, but too late. Carter had already started our little game, where he would race to open my door for me before I did it myself. He'd employed all sorts of techniques to beat me, including liberal use of Thought and, once, duct tape, but I was almost always out of the car by the time he got there.

As soon as the ignition was off, he Thought down my door lock, a typical diversion, and then—
hoisted himself out his open window!
Wearing dress pants and shoes no less! Like a gymnast, his strong arms pulled his torso up in one quick, fluid motion. And just like that, he was gone, planting his foot on the door rim to propel him smoothly across the roof of the car, all while I watched like an idiot. I was still disentangling myself from my seatbelt when he thumped down outside my door and opened it with a flourish.

“My lady.”

“Wow. Congratulations, Dukes of Hazzard,” I said, stepping out of the car and into the blinding glare of Carter's grin. He Thought the door closed behind me. “Have you been practicing that?”

“Maybe.” The grin never wavered as he moved forward, putting one arm on each side to trap me against the car. It
was
cool out, but it didn't feel that way when he was so close to me. When he kissed me, it got even warmer. Blazing. After a few moments, he paused just long enough to repeat softly, “I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” I breathed, though at that moment, as his lips traveled down my neck, I was honestly having trouble remembering what we were apologizing for. Above me, in the slice of sky between the trees and the towering bookstore, I counted a thousand glittering stars. Wisps of smoke drifted high overhead, the smell of wood fire mingling with the constant scent of pine trees. Against the car, my back felt icy compared to the heat of Carter's body pressed to mine.

“You want to come up?” he said, voice low and rough in my ear.

“What?” His fingers found skin under the hem of my shirt and I gasped.

“You're already cleared for curfew. You could come up. It would be just us.”

It would, I realized. Jeff and Melinda had gone with Dan for a drink at his hotel after dinner. They wouldn't be home for a while.

It would be just us.
Just us. My heart took off at a sprint and my fingers felt too hot, then too cold, with my manic pulse. Not for the first time I wondered what was wrong with me. How could I want something so much but be so afraid to take it? Part of me screamed
Just do it already!
But that was a reason to jump into the cold ocean, not
this.

I wanted, but I wasn't ready to have. I wasn't sure what I was afraid of, but I wasn't ready, not tonight.

I exhaled. “Um. I told Amy I'd meet her at the bonfire.”

Carter nodded, his hair tickling the crook of my neck. “Okay.” He pulled back so I could see his smile. “Long shot, I know. I had to try.”

“Are you mad?” He didn't
look
mad, but still.

“Only because you just asked that.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

He shook his head. “I have to open.”

“I should go then, I guess.” I hugged him, laying my head on his shoulder, and he ran a hand down my hair.

“I love you,” he said, almost loudly, as if he was sharing his feelings with the entire night. And then softly, just for me, “And whenever
you're
ready, I'll still be here.”

T
HAT NIGHT
I spent many sleepless hours listening to my roommate's soft, even breathing while I tried to tame the tornado of thoughts in my head. Carter, of course, whirled near the top. As soon as I left him, I regretted not staying, but I was still too afraid to turn around. I wondered if my subconscious was to blame, that underneath I feared if I deviated from my plan, everything would fall apart. The plan felt safe, somehow. Nothing bad could happen if I stuck to the plan.

Later, I thought about Jill. It dawned on me for the first time that she was my cousin and that I had probably, quite literally, ruined her life. Yes, she'd tried to take mine completely, but that was beside the point. I wasn't sure what it was about me that couldn't hate her—it was probably a
good
thing about me—but hell if I wouldn't take even a healthy dose of apathy where she was concerned. Instead, I lay in bed feeling guilty.

Her Sententia ability was gone.
Gone.
Part of me wanted to believe she was lying about it, but I knew she never would, not about something so very important to her. Being Sententia was as critical a part of her world as it was Carter's. Even I knew that much. And I had taken it from her. One more thing to add to her list.

I wished I could give it
back,
but I didn't think that was in my apparently expanding arsenal of tricks. Frankly, I'd have given her
my
gifts, either or both of them, I didn't care, if I could have. But I knew I could never escape my Marwood gift, so instead I moved on from Jill to wondering about it.

Was there more to it than I, or anyone, had thought? I knew it stopped hearts, but was that all it stopped? Maybe Jill was a fluke, but I'd pretty much stopped believing in flukes or coincidences over the past year.
Something
in my touch had negated whatever inside her made her Sententia. I mentally flexed my Sententia muscles, but I didn't feel anything inside that would answer this question. I could command my Diviner ability pretty well, but that didn't help me here. The Hangman in me wasn't exactly something I could practice.

Naturally, my thoughts drifted next to Daniel Astor. Uncle Dan. Lately it seemed like eventually
all
my thoughts drifted to him. In fact, my obsessive fear of him or, more specifically, being related to him, had given me a bit of reprieve from dwelling on my impending death and Carter's roll in it. I wasn't sure if I should be grateful to him. And, in fact, what I was starting to fear most was that I'd misjudged him.

I couldn't detect anything but sincerity in everything Dan had said at dinner, not in his pained confession or his offer to help me any way he could. He was either the real deal or one hell of an actor. I wondered if it wasn't time to give him more of a chance. He was my uncle, after all.