Second Sight (Sojourner Series Book 3), Page 3

  “Can I speak with you outside?” Scott asks, glancing at Jimmie and then at me. Without a word, they both step outside, leaving me wishing I could just take everything back—all of it. I mean, after all, what’s the point? It’s all about control now, and who has it and who doesn’t. And me, I don’t. What was it about Scott that made me loosen up? Just another way he reminded me of Lev. Why do I get so stupid sometimes? It’s like I don’t even know who I am. Used to be I thought about what fitting in with people, but this—this is somehow worse. I am alone in myself.

  Frustrated, I snap my head back into my pillow as the doctor scribbles a few notes on my chart. I glare at him as though this is his fault, but like Jimmie he is completely oblivious.

  “Can I go home yet?”

  “Soon.” He takes the chart and steps outside. I tug the blanket from beneath my body, hating the hospital gown more with every breath. Whoever designed this snap-thing should be shot. I hate my butt hanging out in the wind. Then again, that’s the least of my worries right now. Being committed to the looney bin is pretty close to number one.

  The door swings open, but this time it is only Jimmie, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, probably because he doesn’t have a clue what else to do with them. Once he’s inside, he shuts the door and turns to me expectantly. I figure he’ll start yelling any time now, but he doesn’t, and that makes it so much worse, which I didn’t think was possible, really. Just goes to show what can happen when you don’t believe in something. But then why should I? I did with Lev, and look what happened? It always happens that way with me.

  “Jimmie, I can explain.”

  He walks around the room, looking at the floor. “Can you? Really?” He slowly looks up, and I can tell if I don’t find a way to calm him down, his face might really stay just like it is, and that would definitely not be a good thing because Jimmie’s wearing what I call the scary dad face. His expression is tight with apprehension, and his whole body is tense. He frowns, and that frown furrows his forehead. I’d rather have the angry Jimmie. At least once his temper blows, he can finally cool off. There’s no relaxing the scary Jimmie.

  “I just wanted to get out of Tellico Plains.” I brush the hair from my face and look at the bed, carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was going crazy. I’m not like you. I hate small towns.” The words just keep rambling from my mouth, but they mean nothing. Not to him. Never have. Not simple, not possible, not happening.

  “This isn’t about small towns, Lizzie. We both know it’s about Lev.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, and for the first time I realize just how tired Jimmie looks these days. It started in Hauser’s Landing and just kept going, unfortunately for both of us. He slowly walks over and lowers himself to the chair. “Christ, Lizzie, you know Lev is dead. Why would you say such a thing?”

  I shrug. “Probably because I hit my head and that kid, Miguel was shot right in front of me—just like Lev.”

  Cringing, I realize this is where things get too real. I have a new image to add to my nightmares—Miguel dying just like Lev. It doesn’t matter if he was a stranger. He was a kid, someone who deserved a chance he never got.

  Jimmie reaches for my hand, and he’s trembling. “I can’t take you holding all this in, keeping it away from me, Lizzie. Scott wondered if you might need a psych evaluation, and—“

  “I’m not crazy!” I explode, yanking my hand from his. I start to say something else when the door opens again, admitting a beautiful nurse with long, straight black hair and dark eyes that first flash toward me and then settle on Jimmie. The nurse’s uniform does nothing to diminish her hour-glass figure. From the first moment I see her, I realize three things. First, she’s achingly beautiful, with her dark, exotic features. Second, she’s got that aura which seems to hint at her being an angel. Third, Jimmie can’t take his eyes off her—and she’s pretty focused on him as well.

  She looks from Jimmie to me and back again. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” we both say, but looking at Jimmie’s wistful expression, I realize suddenly he means it more than I do. What in the hell is going on here? If Jimmie only knew he was attracted to an angel. Would that make a difference? Nope, he doesn’t do emotions, regardless of what he says. But he goes through the motions just fine. And this one is just that—fine.

  As she walks towards us, the papers she carries slip from her hands and tumble to the floor. Immediately, Jimmie shoots from his chair and grabs them before she can even bend to retrieve them. He presses them into her hands.

  “Thank you.” She offers a smile to me. “I came to have you both sign the discharge paperwork so that Lizzie can go home and get some rest.” Her voice is seductively rough, and I struggle the with texture of it.

  Thank God, I think, grateful to be getting out of Dodge. I reach for them and patiently pretend to listen to the discharge instructions, but it’s pretty hard with Jimmie over there going gaga over Florence Nightingale. I shake my head. I’ve never seen Jimmie so shamelessly taken in by a female before. Then again, she is really beautiful, so I can’t question his taste on that score.

  Jimmie leans close and signs in all the right spots, watching like a love-sick puppy as she separates the forms and hands us the copies. When she’s done, she offers a smile to both of us.

  “I guess that’s it unless you have any questions.”

  “What if Lizzie needs attention? An emergency or something?” His voice is fast and desperate, as though he really doesn’t want her to leave.

  She points to the paperwork. “Oh, the number is right there, just in case.”

  “Ah. Well, could you write your name just in case, so I’ll have someone I can talk to.”

  I shoot him a nasty look, thinking, it’s a concussion, Jimmie, not a terminal illness. There aren’t going to be any side-effects. Still, I shake my head and watch as the nurse jots her name, Theresa Whitmore, at the top.

  Then she is gone. But that doesn’t stop Jimmie from staring at the door even after she has walked through it. It’s like I have ceased to exist. Everyone has except for the beautiful Theresa. Gritting my teeth, I wave my hand in front of Jimmie’s eyes, trying to prompt him out of his nice little reverie back into reality even thought I much prefer the thought that I can somehow escape the chaos and Jimmie’s wrath.

  Jimmie blinks and looks at the clothes he’s brought, sitting on the window sill. “I’m going to go chat with Ms. Whitmore while you get dressed.”

  “Okay.” I shouldn’t mind this sudden distraction. After all, she’s taking Jimmie’s mind of the grief he wants to give me for running to Knoxville and almost getting myself killed. I sure have a knack for things, don’t I? Still, nobody has to tell me twice to get this stupid hospital gown off. Although I hate the outfit Jimmie has brought—a pair of khaki shorts and a white tank top—it’s still better than the alternative.

  When he comes back in, he seems strangely quiet. Again, I should be grateful, but there’s something wrong, something I can’t put my finger on. The Jimmie I know and love should be freaking out, but he’s not. So what exactly did little miss angel have to say, and how exactly did she get Jimmie to listen in a few minutes when I’ve been trying that for most of my life?

  He stares at me, but I can’t tell by his expression what he’s thinking, which really bugs me. Somehow I feel as though I’ve let him down. There are so many things I wish Jimmie could understand, especially when it comes to Lev. But truthfully, I don’t think I even get all of it, so how could I ever explain it to him?

  “Jimmie, I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head and looks away. “Let’s just go home, Lizzie. Then we’ll worry about the damage.”

  Chapter Three

  Although I am more than willing to drive the Jeep back to Tellico Plains, neither the doctor nor Jimmie will agree to that. Scott volunteers to drive it for me with his partner following to give him a lift back.

  Not only is the lack of
freedom stifling, the silence lingering between Jimmie and me leaves me on edge until it feels like I need to hit something, anything. Usually Jimmie reacts more verbally than this, and it makes me wonder if his mind lingers behind with that nurse, which was just too weird for words.

  Don’t get me wrong. Jimmie likes women as much as the next guy, but usually he’d react to what I had done and been oblivious to the nurse, not the other way around. And I just can’t take the silence anymore.

  “Jimmie, I’m really sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “You could have been killed, and all you can do is apologize?” Gripping the steering wheel turns his knuckles white. “You never said what you were doing in Knoxville.”

  “I was looking around.”

  “Bullshit, Lizzie. At least be truthful.” He grabs a cigarette from the pack stashed in the cup holder and takes the lighter. Closing his eyes, he exhales a thick cloud of smoke, and I roll the window down, despite the cool air blowing in through the vents.

  “I am.” My protest lacks the bravado to ring true, but I knew that going in. I can’t lie very well, but that’s probably a good thing.

  “Look, I’m tired of trying to guess when you’re gonna do something to get you in trouble so until I say different, you’re grounded. Period.”

  Aw. How dad of him. Part of me wants to burst out laughing because at least this way I won’t have to socialize, and Jimmie can’t expect me to find new friends. Instead I can just try to figure out other ways to find Lev. Sounds like a plan. So I just lean back in the seat and close my eyes. I start to drift off until Miguel’s face surfaces, then I jerk awake and force a deep, calming breath.

  For whatever reason, my thoughts immediately go back to Scott and his concerned frown as he tried to make sure I was coherent at the scene of the shooting. Even now, I can see the aura of his wings as clear as day, and no matter what he might say, I know he’s an angel.

  I glance in the door mirror, and my Jeep follows about two car-lengths behind—close enough so I can see Scott’s face but not near enough to read his expression. Part of me hates being grounded because even though today has been awful, I’d come back just to find Scott. But there’s no way in hell Jimmie’s going to allow that. Or anything else.

  Jimmie’s uncharacteristic silent treatment lasts the rest of the drive home—that and his chain smoking. One of us is going to develop cancer over this, I’m sure, but I know better than to argue with him about it. It’s his one vice, and when he’s ready to give it up again, he will. Of course, that will be when I stop getting into trouble. Until then, all bets are off.

  Once we pull into the driveway, I fly out of the car and head inside, hoping to stall any further bits of conversation Jimmie might have been planning. I mean, I know he wants me to tell him all about my big day in the city, but right now all I can think about is Miguel and the disappointment of not running into Lev. I was so sure I’d find him. If I’d died, would he have come?

  I close my door and plop onto the bed, careful to weave around all the unpacked boxes. You know, the way our house looks, it reminds me a lot of the house at Hauser’s Landing—old-fashioned and dated. A Jimmie house. We still had stuff that hadn’t been unpacked when we moved so I guess that made it easier, and leaving most of my friends wasn’t hard because they never really got beneath my skin.

  The only person I hated leaving was Griffin. I don’t know why. Maybe because he was the only one who was with me the night Lev died, and knowing I hadn’t been alone made it easier to bear. I never thought he and I would be friends, but we became close. I figured I owed him that much, and once we’d started talking, I wasn’t sorry.

  Since we’ve been here, I haven’t had time to write him and let him know how things are going. Besides, what would I say? That I still miss Lev so much it hurts and I hate this place at least as much as I hated Hauser’s Landing? And he’s graduated and has a life now. He doesn’t need me unloading all this crap. And I shouldn’t complain because Jimmie took quite a loss on his mother’s house just to unload it and get us out of there after Lev’s death. It’s not really the house that made Jimmie choose this place but the land and the nearby lake. Somehow he thinks Mother Nature will make things more peaceful, I guess.

  I lie on the bed and prop my hands behind my head. Even as I close my eyes, I see Lev’s face, and I miss him. I never knew it could hurt to love someone this much.

  A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I say, knowing there is no getting rid of Jimmie when he decides he wants to talk.

  He opens the door and lingers in the hallway. Behind him, I also notice Scott standing here. “I’m going to fix a burger for lunch. You hungry?”

  “No, not really.” I swallow hard.

  Jimmie walks down the hall, and once he disappears, Scott holds out his hand, offering my keys. “You might need these. And don’t forget the side window needs to be replaced. I cleaned out all the glass I could find.”

  “Thanks.” I take them and set them on the dresser. “Have they caught the shooter?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Not that it’ll do much good. He’s a minor.”

  “Oh.” Nothing about him reminds me of a teenager, certainly not his expression.

  “There’s something else.” He reaches into his pocket and offers me something encircled in his palm. I’d take that, too, and once his fingers withdraw, I see the bracelet Lev gave me what seems like a lifetime ago. The silver, lying in my palm, seems so warm, and once again, my breath halts, just like when Lev first gave it to me. Tears prick my eyes, and I feel myself stumbling as I dance with the pain yet again. I almost drop it, but Scott sets his hand beneath mine, his palm touching the back of my hand, supporting it.

  He frowns. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” All the pain and rage of losing Lev threatens to tremble through me until I can barely breathe and my chest aches from the emotions I’m trying so hard to restrain. I close my fingers around the bracelet

  Nodding, he silently withdraws his hand and steps back, giving me one last glance before turning.

  “Scott?” My voice is as ragged and uneven as the breath coursing through my body.

  “Yeah.” He stops completely but does not face me. His shoulders form a hard line, as though the weight of the world rests upon them.

  “You remind me of someone.” I know it’s something stupid to say, but I can’t seem to help myself, even though I know nothing good can come out of it. Even if Scott is an angel, which I really believe he is, that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it or anything else, including knowing Lev.

  “Really.” His voice is flat, and he’s so completely still he even seems to be a part of the furniture, not a human being. Or an angel—if he is one. But maybe I’m seeing things—seeing what I want to see. “And who do I remind you of?” His voice sounds rougher than I’ve heard thus far. I just wish I could see his face and read his expression.

  “Lev.” It’s a half-whisper that almost dies before I can utter it.

  For a moment he just stands there, silent as a stone. Then he slowly turns, and a frown deepens the furrows in his forehead. His jaw clenches, and his eyes fix on my mine.

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” His lips part slightly, and he looks as though I slapped him. He walks to the chair in front of my desk and slowly sits down. Clasping his hands, he leans over and closes his eyes. After a deep breath, he peers at me.

  “You remind me of him.” I say again, not knowing what else to say.

  “That’s not uncommon, Elizabeth.” He stares into my eyes, piercing me with the blueness of his own. “After someone we love dies, we tend to see them everywhere and in everyone. I don’t know if that is our way of protecting ourselves. Or whether it’s just a sick joke. I don’t know if maybe some part of the person remains behind and every so often, when things come together in a certain way, we see them.”

  I squint, searching for the aura around him, but it has gone. Now
Scott looks just like everyone else, and something inside of me breaks.

  “I guess you think I’m just a stupid teenage girl.”

  “Nope. Just somebody who’s had her heart broken. There’s no shame in that.” He pats my shoulder and gives me a scrap of paper.

  “What’s this?” I start to unfold it.

  “My number. In case you need somebody to talk to before you go walking into another shoot-out.”

  I try to think of something—anything—to say, but my throat is dry, and suddenly I’m so tired I just want to sleep and forget this day ever happened. This time, when Scott reaches the door, he keeps going, and I just crawl into my bed and draw the covers up over my head, wondering if I can just sleep the rest of my life away.

  The next few days pass pretty much in a blur of solitude, with Jimmie heading off to work leaving me in an empty house full of boxes I’m supposed to unpack. Trouble is, unpacking only leads to mucho boredom, which, in my case isn’t a good thing. It makes me think of Lev.

  Then again, there isn’t much which doesn’t make me think of Lev.

  Still, I do the box thing, as much as I can, and I head out to the lake near our house after I jot a note for Jimmy; it’s not that I expect him home any time soon, but if I don’t, I’m afraid what little sanity is left rattling around inside his head will evaporate. It feels good to shed the stillness of the house. The lake is one of the few perks of this whole Walden thing Jimmie always seems to want to drag me into. I’m guessing he believes sooner or later this supposed tranquility will eventually sink in with me so he can stop worrying. But there is no cure for this restless pain except Lev, and I won’t stop until I find him.

  Still, the lake is pretty right now. Half of it seems placid whereas a gaggle of geese has splashed down towards the opposite bank, rippling the water so the reflection is unclear. Along the bank is a flourish of cattails and tall reeds, hiding the waterline. Sunlight glitters off the area which is still and glints back harshly, half-blinding me.