Watch Over You (22 page)

Taken aback, it took him a moment to return her warm greeting. Giving himself a mental shake, he ordered his drink with an unsteady voice. His stupid heart wouldn’t stop thundering in his chest. She was right behind him. That was all he could think about. He had not got as close as this to her before. In all his previous attempts, she had wandered off without a second glance at him, and the shadows had dragged his failed ass back to his locked cell to wait for her. He had refused to cross over without Tara, and the shadows couldn’t force him to. So, all they could do was hold him in a cell until he eventually decided it was time to go. It was forbidden to go back and get Tara, but after three years of him refusing to budge, they had made a pact. He had been given until her anniversary to try and save her otherwise he would have to cross over without her. It had been the only way they’d let him come back for her.  

He had no idea what to say to her, though.
Hey Tara, you remember that car accident? Well, you died too.
It just didn’t seem to cut it.

He found himself stalling at the bookshelf his mind had projected there. The titles were all unreadable, of course. Pages were nothing more than smudged marks, but he pretended to read the titles, then picked one and stuffed it under his arm. When he did have the
nerve to turn around, he found that there were no other seats available. His mind had managed to fill them all except for the one close to Tara. He cursed himself because there was no way to undo it now. There were two seats at the table; one that would face her and one that would place him with his back to her. The latter was the better choice for now, but his heart was yelling at him. It wanted to see her. It needed to. It had been much too long and inside he was crying for just a simple touch. A word. Something that connected them.

He sat down in the one facing her, but he picked up his book and pretended to read. Tara, however, was making it difficult for him to keep it up. He could feel her eyes boring into him, and he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his eyes from his book. “Is everything okay?” He silently cursed himself the moment the words left his lips. He wasn’t ready yet and neither was she.

She jumped when he spoke, tripping over her words. He remembered her doing that when they first met and every other time after when she would get too nervous. He loved it when she stuttered. It gave out a kind of naivety that was more innocent than childish, and it always made him want to protect her from the world outside. “I…er…” She took a breath to calm herself, but Eric could feel her pulse as it sped up. In his mind, he calmed both of their hearts down even though his own was ready to burst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I was just…” She struggled for the words. “What does it mean about coffee on park?”

Eric smiled at her question, thinking how much he adored her. That was all she was going to ask him? He fought not to break into a full-fledged grin and ended up looking like he was grimacing more than anything else. “It’s what people pay for. For people like me.”

“Like you?”

“On cold days like today, it isn’t easy to get a warm drink. People pay to park them for the homeless, or even the poor. They come here for a hot drink. Sometimes, something to eat.” Eric was proud he had helped set it up. When he was searching the streets for his sister, he had come across so many people who had
gone for days with nothing warm inside them. These were people. Brothers, sisters, sons and daughters.

“You’re homeless?”

The question caught him off guard, and he didn’t know what to say to her. It was too close to the truth. Too close to all he had tried to hide from her for years. Panic rose inside him and he knew that, at any moment, the mirage he had created for her was going to dissolve. He would be the face of her husband and she would run.
Why had he chosen to appear homeless?

He put his head back down to the book to try to compose himself. He pushed his thoughts aside and tried to clear his mind, mentally brushing himself down. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement outside. Shadows. Three of them. They weren’t very clear, but they were watching him and Tara. He filled his mind with thoughts of coffee and books. He mentally recited lines from movies he had seen over and over. He didn’t want to give the shadows strength by thinking about them. In return, he felt the scar across his chest swell and heat up. Pain seared through him. He tensed himself; bit
down to keep from whimpering. They were reminding him of what he needed to do. The scar was from the accident. One of many.

Tara got up, stuffed her book which she had not managed to read much of herself into her bag and then pulled on her coat. He thought about locking the door so that she couldn’t leave. He thought about opening his mouth and talking as the pain on his chest subsided. In the end, he settled on Sasha and mentally sent her into Tara’s path to pique her interest. Already he had her curiosity with the parked coffees; now he just needed to give her something else. It was probably time she knew some things he had been too afraid to say.

Her back was to him. He stood and made a dash in the direction of the men’s room before she saw him. He was a coward. 

As he listened to Tara and Sasha talking, he couldn’t stop the beating of his own damn heart. She was so damn close. He could feel her, and he had no doubt she could feel him too. She was exactly the same
as he remembered her. She had no idea who he was and it tore him apart inside just thinking about it.

“It keeps him busy,” Sasha was saying to Tara. “He comes here, sits with forms and books and god knows what else. Every street kid he finds, he gets them into a home or somewhere safe; even if it’s just one night. When he is offered something himself, he asks how he can have warmth when children are outside? He gives his spot away every time. He used to work with this guy; I guess that’s how it got started. The guy helped him look for his sister and together they helped others.”

“What happened to the guy?” he heard Tara say.

Eric mimed the words for Sasha to say. “He died, not long after I started here. Car accident.”

He noticed how Tara’s shoulders tensed at that, and he desperately wanted to go to her and pull her into his arms. He wanted her to stop hurting. He wanted her to stop torturing herself with guilt and self-hate. 

As she left the coffee shop, he was so tempted to run after her and tell her who he was. She could help
fix everything. The sadness for her husband radiated from her. It followed her around like some dark shadow with its claws deeply embedded into her shoulders. He had the answers that she needed, and maybe they would ease her pain a little. Maybe they would ease his too.

He hadn’t really seen Tara since the funeral. Not like this – up close and personal. On that day, he had stayed in the back and just watched. She hadn’t known he was there. Just like now. He could see her through the window as she stood outside and cast her face up to the rain. He strode across the coffee shop, which was empty now; the projection no longer needed. Her absence made it dark, just as her emotions made it rain. He walked right up to the glass in a trance with only her in his sights. Nothing else existed. His hand touched the cold glass and his eyes remained fixed on Tara; he mentally begged her to turn her around. She didn’t, though. She didn’t turn nor did she look back. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her hair, put her head down and then walked away. He let her.

With the absence of the coffee shop, the shadow walkers swooped in fast. Eric didn’t fight them. He didn’t run away. The only hope he had was to beg them to let him continue. It had worked this time. She was closer now; she was in his world. She had spoken to him. It would be easier.

It took him weeks after that to get back to her. He kept getting closer, but his strength of mind wasn’t enough. He’d make it so far and then catch sight of his reflection somewhere. The manifestation of Devan would dissolve immediately and he would turn back into Eric once again. His soul was fading fast now. The shadows were relentless. As soon as something went wrong, they whipped him out of there and dragged him back to…whatever that place was. It wasn’t heaven that was for sure. Limbo.

They had put the swallow in his hand. It was his final chance they had told him. It carried his soul. His soul bled with sadness and poured from the swallow’s eyes. She was to touch it. That was the key. The swallow would carry her soul back to them and to where she was meant to be. He just had to get her to understand that she was dead before she did that, though, otherwise she would just get trapt in this in-between ether. She was standing on a bridge the next time that he found her. He had bandaged the swallow until she would be ready to touch it. He couldn’t risk the shadow walkers getting her sooner through it. Five weeks had perhaps passed since their first proper encounter.

He knew as he stood behind her on the bridge that it was the final stretch, and he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight again. There was no way he was going to lose her or cross over without her. He could not fail.

*    *    *

She lay on him now, listening as he explained everything to her; the shadows, the swallow. Why he was Devan and not Eric. The fact that the only solution he had come up with was to take her through their life together, to lead her to the end and hope that she would accept what she saw.

Eric was on his back and she was sprawled out on his chest, her chin resting on her arms as he talked to her. She was where she wanted to be. She had everything she could ever want. Tara couldn’t stop smiling. However, there was just one final piece to the puzzle left - except this time it was Tara who held the answer, not Eric. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. “Can I show you something?” she asked him when he had finished talking. 

She moved up his body and ran her fingers through his hair. She chewed on her bottom lip as she studied his beautiful face. Would they always look this way? This age? She hoped so, but in other ways she didn’t. They’d miss growing old together.

“What is it?”

She pushed herself further up his chest and kissed him full on the mouth. She beamed at him, her face inches from his. Grinning, she was on her feet in the next instant. “Come with me.” Eric hardly had time to stand before she was yanking him up with her.

“Tara?”

She loved the way he looked at her. She loved his slender face and the dimple that formed when he got an expression that was neither confusion nor a smile, but something melded between.

“Take my hand and kiss me,” she whispered.

“That’s my line.”

“Shut up and do it.” He laughed but didn’t get the chance to carry out her order. She was already pulling him down and kissing him. When they opened their eyes, they were at their coffee shop.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” It wasn’t the coffee shop that Tara wanted Eric to see. It was something much more extraordinary that she could give him. Tara understood more than anything why Eric had shown her the things he had. He was her swallow. Her mate for life - and death - but more than that, he completed her. Now she wanted to make him as full as she felt.

Tara’s heart almost burst from happiness as they watched the shadow girl approaching them. Only this time, she was no longer a shadow. She was a normal girl - young and slim, with dark hair that fell down her back in soft waves. Her eyes were an incredible shade of blue, one that Tara had only ever seen in Eric.

Tara bit down on her lip to keep it from quivering. Tears welled up in her eyes, but it wasn’t from sadness. It was joy.

Eric stood motionless as the girl moved towards them. Tara felt him start to tremble next to her. “Sam?” His voice was an inaudible whisper. Tears were streaming down his face as he took a tentative step towards her. “Samantha?” he croaked. The girl gave a nervous nod and then smiled at him. The next minute, she had flung her arms so tight around Eric’s neck that even Tara could feel it inside her chest. Her heart swelled as she heard Eric sob. “Oh god, Sam,” he cried, lifting his sister off the ground and hugging her tight.

As her heartbeat sped up in tandem with Eric’s excitement, Tara thought about what Devan had told her on the stairs not so long ago. It skipped and it jumped, and she was sure it was going to explode at any moment. It lifted in elation as Eric spun his sister around and refused to let her go.

It was the truth. Their hearts really did beat as one.

The End

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Mason

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