The Hidden (17 page)

“She did? Why didn’t you have her call my cell?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you guys. Just call her back when you get the chance.”

“I will.”

Crossing into my room, I tossed my overnight bag onto the floor. My bed looked super comfy, and it was calling my name. “Nap time?” I said suggestively to Caspian. “The bed I slept in last night was pretty crappy.” He followed me over and I flopped down, rolling to one side. He lay down too, facing me.

We both lay there for a while, communicating silently.
I love you,
I wanted to say.
I missed you.
Eventually I settled for “Hi.”

“Hi.” He put out a finger and went to trace my arm. I felt the slow hum all the way down.

“That was pretty scary when you went to sleep like that,” I said.

“I know. For me, too.”

“What was it like this time? Was it different?”

“Not really. Just deeper.”

“Like you couldn’t wake up?”

“Yeah. Like I wouldn’t ever wake up.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked, looking deeply into his eyes. “About this. About us …” I put one hand up and made a frustrated gesture.

“I don’t know. Wait? See what happens?”

“How long can we wait? How long can we go on like this?” I closed my eyes. “I’m scared of something changing. I’m scared of what it means when you fall into this sleep that feels like you’ll never wake up from.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“No!” My eyes flew open. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“Because of me.” He moved his hand, and it went through mine. “Who I am. What I am.”

“You can’t help that. You are what you are.” I propped my hand under my head. “It’s funny, though. Uri and I were talking about the same thing today. We went to this insane asylum that used to be a prison.”

“They took you to an
insane asylum
?” He looked shocked.

“Well, more of a mental health institute now. But, yeah. It wasn’t really all that bad.”

“I can’t believe they took you there. Especially after …”

“After what happened when I went to go stay with Aunt Marjorie? And seeing Dr. Pendleton?” I said.

“It seems a bit insensitive,” Caspian replied.

“I don’t think they meant it that way. They didn’t seem to think anything of it. It’s hard for them. They’re here only part of the time.” I told him what Uri had said about the white energy space, and what happened when they got their assignments.

“So there are more of us?” he said. “More Shades?”

“I didn’t get an exact count, but it didn’t sound like many. And they come at different times. It just happens when it happens.”

He looked at me intently. “I’m glad they made us in twos, then.”

My cheeks felt warm, and I looked down. “I thought I saw another Shade today,” I said. “At the asylum. There was a girl there, and she mentioned having a friend die. Then she said she could see my color. It was kind of spooky. Turns out she was a patient. Had a mental breakdown.”

“And you thought it could have been you,” he guessed. “That you could have been that girl.”

Sadness filled me. “Yeah. I did. She just looked so lost and alone. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. It was … tough to see.”

“She’ll get the help she needs if she’s in there. It’s the right place for her.”

“How do we know what the right place is? For any of us? She didn’t ask to be put in an insane asylum. She didn’t ask to have a mental breakdown. It just seems so unfair. So random. None of us
really
have a choice in life.”

“Are we still talking about her?” he asked gently. “Or you?”

“Her. Me. Don’t you get it? We’re both the same.”

He leaned in closer. He was almost right on top of me. “No. You’re not the same. For one thing, she doesn’t have me.”

A little laugh bubbled out of me. “Ego much?” But I smiled so he knew I was teasing.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean that she doesn’t have me to love her. You do.”

Love. Love. Love.
The word spun around in my brain and made me feel all fizzy in there. Closing my eyes, I nestled closer to him. Not touching, but close. Oh, so close. “November first, November first, November first,” I chanted. “Please come fast.”

I called Aunt Marjorie back after dinner that night. Caspian was up in my room, and I sat down on the porch to make the call.

“Hi, Aunt Marjorie. It’s Abbey,” I said. “How are you?”

“Well, bust my britches! I’m great! How are you, sweetie?”

I had to cover up the receiver so I could laugh. “I’m good, Aunt Marjorie.”

“School start yet?”

“Oh, yeah. They finally reassigned Kristen’s locker this year and gave it to someone new.”

She made a disapproving sound. “That must be hard to see.”

“It was, at first. But now it’s a little easier. The girl, Cyn, is really nice. That makes it better.”

“How did your summer schoolwork go?”

“Good. I passed my science test.” That was the unexciting part of the end of summer. I couldn’t tell her the other part, about Vincent. “Are you taking your plane out anymore? Or is it too cold?”

“She’s still going up. Not as often, though. I have to keep an eye on the engine and make sure the block heater doesn’t get too cold. It’s a bitch to unfreeze midflight.”

I laughed. “Aunt Marj, you are the coolest aunt ever.”

“I try,” she said. “So how are the other things? Fitting into your hole again?”

“My hole?”

“Round peg, square hole? It’s a metaphor for life. If you’re the square peg in a square hole, you fit back in.”

That makes sense in a strange sort of way.
Aunt Marjorie logic. “Actually,” I said, “yeah. I am finding my place.”

“See? I knew you would. And you were worried about going back.”

“You were right. And I can honestly say, I wouldn’t be the same person if I hadn’t come back.”

“Then, everything was meant to be.”

“Hey, Aunt Marjorie,” I said, “if I don’t ever get the chance again, I just wanted to tell you how much I really appreciate everything you did for me. Especially the advice about love and being sure and all that. My head is a lot clearer now, and I can make decisions easier. So, thanks.”

“Decisions?” she said. “Planning something?”

“More so, just now I know what I need to do. And I’m at peace with that.”

“Are we talking about being at peace with ourselves because we are strong, individual, confident women who don’t need men,
or are we talking about being at peace with a decision that involves something drastic?” She sounded alarmed.

“I don’t know what you mean by drastic, but it’s the right choice for me.”

“Abbey, you’ve discussed this with other people, right? Talked to someone else about it?”

“Well, yeah, actually, but it didn’t work. They don’t understand me. I tried to talk to Mom and Dad, but they just got upset.”

“You can talk to me.
Please
talk to me. You have other options. This is a serious decision! I know it might seem like the world is ending now, but there’s more in store for you. Just hold on. Some boy isn’t worth it!”

“Worth what?”

Now she sounded flustered. “Are—aren’t you talking about hurting yourself? Because a boy dumped you?”

I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but I did. “Um, no. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not?”

“
No,
Aunt Marjorie. I’m talking about having a clearer idea of where my life is headed. For the future.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded her voice. “Oh, that’s good. Very, very good.”

I shook my head at the phone. Hurting myself because a
boy dumped me? I don’t know where she’d gotten
that
from. “Okay, then. So are we good? All clear?”

“All clear.”

“I’ll call you again soon.”

“Okay, sweetie. Talk later.”

I tucked my phone away and looked up. It was a beautiful night out, with clear skies and a big silvery moon. But there weren’t any stars.

Getting up, I dusted off my jeans and headed back inside. Luckily, I had my own set of stars. And someone to look at them with.

The letter from Aunt Marjorie came two days after our phone call, and I realized she must have written it pretty much
right
after I’d called her. I found it in the mailbox when I got home from school, and sat down on the front steps to read it.

Dear Abbey,

I feel that this letter has been a long time coming, mostly because I feel that you should know something very important about me. The irony that it seems like recent boy troubles have been on your mind
is not lost on me, especially in light of this news.

I am not one to judge, so please do not feel that this is me judging you, or passing my opinions or thoughts on to you. You are my great-niece, whom I adore and cherish with all of my heart. Whatever choices you have made in life, and will continue to make in life, I fully support. Wherever that may lead you.

In the long run, however, I feel that you deserve to know this because I fear I may have given you the wrong idea of how smoothly life went for your uncle and me. Even though we haven’t discussed your uncle in great detail, please know that I loved that man with everything I had. With everything I was. In fact, I still do. He was kind and patient and wonderful. There will never be another person on this earth who is the kindred soul to me that Gerald was.

Our love was strong. And fierce. As I’ve told you before, when it hit me, I
knew
. I
knew beyond anything else that he was the one for me. There were happy times, and sad times, because such is the way of life, but above all, there were good times. Always, always good times.

I could fill these pages with memories of all the good times, Abbey. Pages and pages of good times. But what I think is most important for you to know, what something deep in my soul tells me you need to know, is about the bad times.

Gerald and I were married right after he joined the Navy. He was a scientist. A fixer and builder of things. After he’d returned home from his tour of duty, he told me a story once. About how his platoon had been sent on a top secret mission to spy on a new project that the enemy was developing. On the night they were supposed to go in, someone tipped off the other side, and Gerald and his platoon walked straight into a trap. He was so scared that he started to recite elements of the periodic
table. The “scientist’s prayer,” he always called it.

One of the guards recognized what he was saying and put him and the platoon members into a different cell. A safer cell. Every day, until they were rescued three weeks later, the guard came in to talk to Gerald, and even snuck him in extra food. It was because of those extra rations that the platoon managed to stay alive.

The guard who snuck in the extra food used a woman to do it. A woman who got to know Gerald. Who fell in love with Gerald, and he with her.

I tell you this, Abbey, not to besmirch the man I loved. He admitted what he had done, which was the unforgivable. He’d had an affair. But in the end, though it took me some time, I forgave him.

The reason why I’m telling you this is
because
of what he did. He betrayed my trust. Yet in the end, I was the one made
stronger by it. I was the one to overcome adversity, as you have so recently done.

The day that your uncle Gerald told me of his affair was the day I started taking classes for my pilot’s license. In some ways his admission freed me to follow that part of my soul that longed for something more, and I will always be grateful to him for that. And yet … And yet I regret that I waited so long. That I waited for
him
to free that piece of me. I wish I had done it for myself.

You’ve been through a lot, Abbey, and it breaks my heart to know that you have gone through such trying times alone. Losing your best friend, and in a sense part of yourself (for who are we, really, when our dearest friendships suddenly end?), is something that I wish you would have never had to experience. Although I know that it has made you a stronger person, I’m still your auntie, and I don’t want you to have pain. Ever.

All I want for you, Abbey, is to live. Live and love like nothing has ever broken your heart before. And choose.

Choose wisely. Choose freely. Choose for you.

All my love,

Aunt Marjorie

I sat there for a long time, rereading the letter and thinking about what she was saying. Even though she didn’t know what was truly going on, in the end her advice to me was that it was really all about
my
choice to be with Caspian.

Choose wisely. Choose freely.

I knew what choice I would make.