Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (28 page)

I parked Holden’s expensive, shiny car in front of mom’s house and braced myself before getting out.
I can do this. I can do this,
I repeated in my mind then let myself into the house.

“Hello,” I said, closing the door.

“Hello,” Mom called back from upstairs. “You’re early!”

I walked up to see her, sitting on the bed in her bedroom where still packing her suitcase. Mom came out of the closet with a sparkly top in her hand.

“Do you think this is too much?” she asked.

“Not for a cruise.”

She looked at it critically once more, then folded it and added it to the stack of shirts already in the case. “How are you, dear? You look tired—I don’t have to go. I can stay here with you.”

“No, Mom, go. There's nothing you can do here. I'll be here when you get home. We can spend some time together then. I just need a little more time.”

Mom squeezed my hand. “You've always been like this. Always working things out of your own.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about it. “How have you been?”

“Day by day, dear. She was almost like a child to me. I wish you would stay here. We should be together.”

“It's easier for me with Holden.”

“Holden seems like a nice man. When do I get to meet him?”

“You met him at the funeral.” She gave me that mom look that said I knew what she meant. “Soon—and yes, Holden is wonderful. I'm more at peace around him.” Or at least I didn’t constantly think about Juliet when I was around him, anyway.

Mom nodded and looked thoughtful. “I think you may be in love,” she said seriously.

Normally, I would have scoffed at this, but this time Mom had a point. Perhaps I
was
falling in love with Holden. ”You’ll like him. I’m sure of it.”

She smiled. “I'm happy for you, Olivia—but don’t jump without looking where you're falling. Juliet just died. I worry you’re blinded by that. It all seems so fast.”

“I started seeing him before she died, actually—but don’t worry, we're taking it slow.”

“You're living with him. Is that what you call slow?”

“It isn’t what you think.”

She shrugged not looking particularly convinced. There was no use arguing with her. I spent the rest of the morning helping her pack and then we had lunch. After I saw her off, I still didn’t feel like going home. I’d told Holden I'd be back by three, but still hadn’t had anytime to myself. Since I didn’t want to go back to mom’s house and mine was still out of the question, I went to visit Juliet.

The dirt was still loose and the flowers had not yet died on her grave. I sat on the ground, my legs folded underneath me. I looked at the cold grey headstone and tried to sense my dearest friend here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere. She was gone. I sat beside her grave doing nothing. I didn’t think, I didn’t talk, I didn’t look around. I just sat there and waited. What I was waiting for was unclear, but I waited nevertheless. The peacefulness of my surroundings blanketed me, but never penetrated. Inner turmoil bubbled and churned.

I had to find out who did this. I needed to know what happened. Not knowing consumed me. I couldn’t sleep at night. . . . If it weren’t for Holden distracting me I didn’t know what I would do. 

“This is useless,” I muttered as I gave up on trying to connect with Juliet.

“It isn’t easy to talk to a headstone is it, my dear?” An aged voice came from behind me. “But it isn’t useless. You have to have faith that they can hear.”

An old man hobbled towards me. He was crooked from his head to toe and looked about four-hundred-years-old. His ears were huge and stuck out from his head like a little kid’s and his sharp blue eyes had a mischievous glint.

“I don’t think she's here. I can’t feel her,” I told him sadly.

He nodded his head and looked sympathetic. “Graveyards are for the living, not the dead. If you really want to communicate with your loved ones, you can only do so within yourself because that's where they still live.”

I nodded, my eyes filled with tears.

“What happened to your friend? Had she been sick?”

“No. She was killed.”

“Oh my. I'm sorry to hear that. What a tragedy—and someone so young too.”

I nodded then felt a little uneasy. “How did you know Juliet was young—for that matter, how did you know she was my friend?”

The old man smiled. “Intuition, my dear.”

“
Intuition
?”

He nodded. “You can’t help your friend now. You must live your life to honor hers. Don’t waste your time here moping about it.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, I'm old. I've lived enough for ten lives. I'm here visiting my love. She left me thirty years ago, and I've visited her every day since.”

“You've visited her grave every day for thirty years?”

“She changed the way I saw the world. She still does.”

“You never remarried?”

“My heart is hers and hers alone. We had many great years together. Our parting is only temporary. I'll join her soon.”

“How do you know?”

“I can’t live forever, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

“Keep trying, dear. You'll eventually get through. I must go—Spanish lessons.”

“You’re learning Spanish?”

“Absolutely! As I said you honor the dead by living your life. It was lovely meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you, sir.” I hugged his fragile old body.

“Keep trying. Never give up. You'll do many great things.”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you—intuition.” His mischievous eyes twinkled at me. “There's something about you, child. Are you in love?”

“How can you tell?”

“It shines through you. Who is this man? Is he worthy?”

“It's too soon to say. I haven’t known him very long.”

The man took my face in his hands and tilted it right then left like he was inspecting me. “He’s worthy.”

“How can you tell?”

“You could never love someone who wasn't worthy. I see it in your skin.”

“You're a strange man.”

            He smiled as he walked away. I looked back at Juliet’s headstone.

            “I'll sort all of this out, Jules. Then I'm going to live my life bravely, like you would have, every day for the rest of it. I promise you.”

 I walked back to Holden’s car feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful.

The highway was stopped for miles and my phone was dead. All I could see were cars stacked up in front of me and impatient faces. I flipped through the radio stations listening for traffic reports and finally found one. A chemical spill and massive accident was ahead. I wasn’t going to get anywhere very soon. I didn’t make it back to Holden’s until after eight—far beyond late. He was so overly protective of me I braced myself for him to be furious.

“Did you enjoy your day without me?” I asked lightly, trying to gage his mood. He didn’t respond right away, but kept reading his book. He held himself stiffly. Was I getting the silent treatment?

“Traffic was horrible, and my cell phone was completely dead. I guess I forgot to charge it,” I tried again.

“You're a lot later than you thought.” Holden finally said, his voice sounding odd and restrained.

 “Oh, sorry. I spent some time with mom then drove her to the airport. After that I went to the cemetery. I just needed to think, you know? Talk with Juliet. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I felt bad. I would've been furious in the reverse circumstance.

Holden relaxed a little and set his book to the side. I continued to explain. “There was a horrible accident. I'm not sure what happened, but I must've been stopped for an hour and a half at least.”

Holden told me a colleague stopped by his apartment. His eyes were shifty and worry ticked in his eyelid. I wanted him to let me be a part of his life. If I was ever going to come to terms with his life style, I needed to understand. I needed him to help me find Juliet’s killer, and I needed to know what kind of criminal he was. A con artist, thief, I could
maybe
handle that. Mafia, assassin—

 “What sort of colleague?

“The bad sort” he said as if that would mean anything to me. I wanted details, not plans to keep me away from the people who knew him. Someone had to know him; someone had to shed some light on who he was when he wasn’t with me if he wouldn’t.

“Do you really think that is necessary? I would like to meet your friends.”

“I don’t have any friends. You need to remember they're dangerous people that
you
should have nothing to do with.”

This was such nonsense. He had to have people in his life besides for me. No one could live like that. “You have to have friends.” I wanted to know something real about him. It would be nice to meet someone that knew him outside of me.

We did our usual back and forth for a few minutes. I waited for him to shut down like he always did when I started to get somewhere, but Holden did something surprising. He reached out and touched my face, tracing a line from my neck to my breasts. Moments like these were rare with him. Most of the time he went out of his way not to touch me. All annoyance melted away, and Holden filled my senses.

“You need me,” he said after a long pause.

“I do need you.” My fingers curled around his firm bicep and pulled him closer, my breath shallow. Holden popped another button of my shirt open. “You trust me,” he said, like it was a secret between the two of us.

“Completely,” I breathed, and then I was kissing him and he was responding—and then he wasn’t. He pushed me away—gently, though it felt like a shove.

 “I have to work tonight.”

What? It was hard to not be hurt by this continued game of pulling me closer only to push me away again. It was time to know where we stood, where we were going.

But of course a definitive answer was not to be had. Holden seemed to think it was funny that I’d even asked, said we should “worry less about starting a relationship, more about keeping me alive.” I was mad enough to spit.