Secret of Fate, Page 4

  I’m not surprised the following morning when I find Tanisha kneeling beside the lake. It’s early, even earlier than yesterday after the run-in with Thomas, but there she is.

  She looks young and fragile, a lone body leaning over as if trying to study her reflection. But I know she’s not. She’d be watching those she left behind, wondering how the world is faring now that she’s gone.

  I’m about to turn around, but I stop. This must be a hard thing for Tanisha to do. It’s humbling for some to see how the world continues on regardless, whether they’re there or not. Accepting our insignificance can be as hard as taking responsibility for the monumental impact our existence has.

  She must hear me approaching, because she looks up. I pause, gauging whether she needs some time alone. When she registers it’s me, a smile spreads across her face.

  She indicates for me to come closer, her face full of wonder. “Micah. You need to come and see this.”

  I walk over, even though I already know what will be glistening across the lake’s surface. “Hey, Tanisha.”

  She points at the lake. “I can see it all here. Everything they’re doing.”

  I smile and nod. “Yes, it can be a real blessing for some.”

  She looks back. “I bet it can.” She motions for me to take a closer look. “You need to check this out.”

  Unsure if this is a good idea, I sit beside her, acknowledging I can’t say no. Tanisha’s still adjusting to all this. She needs to know she’s not alone.

  Rippling on the water’s surface is the image of a stairwell. A woman, hair long and blonde like Tanisha’s, but darker and limper, is dragging an old suitcase down the stairs. Her face is puffed with exertion.

  “That’s my mom,” Tanisha whispers in awe. “She’s leaving him.”

  “This is a good thing?” I ask, even though I can tell by her happy expression that it is.

  “Hell, yeah.” She slaps her hand across her mouth. “Can I use that sort of language here?”

  My smile grows. “You can speak however you like.”

  Tanisha nods, but still glances around, as if to check no one overheard her. Returning her focus to the water’s surface, her face softens. “Losing me was the catalyst.”

  I look a little closer. The woman’s clothes sag around her lean frame, and she has the roughened skin of someone who’s led a tough life. “For leaving him?”

  Just as I ask the question, a man storms down the stairs behind her. There’s no sound—a choice Tanisha must’ve made when she went searching—but he’s obviously shouting. His bearded face is dark with fury as he waves his arm at the woman, who’s doing her best to pretend he’s not there.

  “He’s quite the bastard, Ned is.” Tanisha glances over her shoulder again, but seeing no one, returns to the movie playing out if front of us. “Drunk and abusive, not always in that order.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tanisha.”

  She shrugs. “It sucked when I was there, that’s for sure.”

  Her mother reaches the ground floor. Ned stands several steps above, face contorted with the words he’s throwing at her. He spits, the globule shooting out and smearing across the wall beside her head. She winces but doesn’t back down.

  “That’s it, Mom. You can do this.”

  Ned storms back up the stairs, and Tanisha’s mother doesn’t move. She looks like she’s wavering, watching her husband stomp up the stairs, then glancing at the door.

  I find myself leaning forward along with Tanisha, hoping she makes the decision that will alter her trajectory. The ones where you choose your fate are never easy.

  When she squares her shoulders and walks out the door, Tanisha whoops and punches the air. “You’ve got this, Mom!”

  Out on the pavement, the woman maintains her momentum, walking toward a car parked at the curb. She pops open the trunk, then drags the suitcase closer. Her face stony with determination, she tries to lift it in.

  Except it rises a few inches off the ground before falling back down sharply. Tanisha’s mother frowns, braces her shoulders as she tries again. The suitcase doesn’t come anywhere near the back of the trunk.

  Two more tries, and the woman realizes it’s too heavy. Shoving her limp hair out of her face, she lets out a breath. It seems to drag everything down, along with her shoulders.

  Tanisha leans forward, her face tight with worry. Has she watched her mother come this far, just to give up?

  Another person walks toward her. It’s a young man, cap pulled low over his brow, hands shoved in his pockets.

  Tanisha draws in a sharp breath. “That’s Tyler.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. Thomas’ younger brother. The resemblance is there in the dark-blond hair and stance full of attitude.

  He sees the woman sitting dejectedly on her suitcase and walks over. They chat, faces long with grief, before Tyler indicates toward the suitcase. The woman nods. They grasp it from each side, and lift. It wobbles and slips a couple of times, but they get it inside the trunk.

  The woman turns to thank Tyler, but he’s already walking away. Without looking, he waves over his shoulder and disappears around the corner.

  The woman lets out a breath as she turns to take in the apartment building. She holds there for long seconds, gazing up. My chest tightens as tears begin to trickle down her weathered cheeks.

  “Oh, Mom. It’s okay. It’s not too late.”

  With a shuddering sigh, Tanisha’s mother climbs into the car and drives away, leaving behind a cloud of blue smoke.

  Tanisha sags back onto her haunches, her smile small and bittersweet. “I’m glad she finally got away.”

  Tanisha’s right. The loss of her daughter was what had her getting in the car.

  I squeeze Tanisha’s shoulder. “Things can be different for her now.”

  Her smile relaxes as she looks at me. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m happy for her, I really am.”

  My hand falls to my side, and I’m about to stand up, when Tyler strides back into the image. This time, his walk is different. His shoulders are raised, his hat pulled low as he slinks along the building. I glance at Tanisha. I don’t think Tyler’s up to anything good.

  She’s totally focused on the image as she pulls a strand of hair to her mouth. “Don’t do it, Tyler.”

  But unlike her mother, who seemed to want a guardian angel whispering in her ear, Tyler makes his way to the door. Once there, he jams his hand in his pocket, and pulls out a spray can.

  “Tyler!” Tanisha scolds as if he can actually hear her.

  Tyler shakes the can, then begins to spray the building with large sweeping strokes.

  Tanisha shakes her head. “Although I never told him what was going on, Tyler hated Ned. I’m pretty sure he’s not leaving him a love note.”

  Tyler freezes suddenly, spinning around to look over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he breaks into a run. In a flash, he’s disappeared down an alley.

  Tanisha waves her hand over the surface of the water, and the image disappears.

  Thomas’ words echo through my mind: I need you to check on Tyler. He’s the one who’s been hurt the most.

  I can see why this is causing Thomas so much heartache. Watching his little brother make those choices wouldn’t be easy.

  But it doesn’t mean that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Glancing at Tanisha, I remember what I told him. I said she was evidence you didn’t have to do a lot of good to be here. You just have to be good at heart.

  Her shoulders sag as she peers into the lake, nothing but her reflection looking back at her. “It was his rose I was trying to get when I died.”

  I frown. “His rose?”

  Her cheeks turn pink as she glances away. “We kinda…you know…had a thing going. That rose was in the garden we built—it was his mom’s.”

  Kadence’s garden.

  The garden that was destroyed along with the apartment building.

  All the more proof what I’m saying is right. I intervened, more l
ike interfered, and broke her heart when she needed it the least.

  “I snuck out the night before. Ned had exhausted himself after using Mom as a punching bag and was drunk snoring on the couch. I needed to get out, you know?”

  I nod. The need to escape pain is universal.

  “I went to the apartment block. It was cordoned off, so I knew I’d be left alone. I got the rose from the rooftop—someone had already destroyed the gardens—and decided to rest inside the stairwell. It was so silent there, so peaceful.” She shrugs. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

  I close my eyes for a long moment. Hearing stories like hers is always hard. I clasp her hand in mine and squeeze. Words can’t do this moment justice. She squeezes back. “It’s all worked out okay, though. I’m here, at peace at last, and Mom finally made the choice to leave him.”

  I nod. “It all balanced out in the end.”

  More proof I’m making the right choice. I expect some level of calmness to come with that knowledge. I wait, but instead the edgy restlessness only grows. I frown somewhere deep inside. It seems the more I try to convince myself, the further away from calm I get.

  Tanisha releases my hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, back on Earth, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to talk to someone like you.”

  I look at her in surprise. “Someone like me?”

  “Yeah, just the good looks would’ve had me running. But you’re also smart and nice, the sort of smart and nice you can see just by looking at you. I would’ve decided you were way out of my league.”

  “Which isn’t true, Tanisha.”

  She pulls in a breath, taking in the beauty around her. “I guess not, or I wouldn’t be here, huh?”

  I smile, glad she’s finally realizing there’s a reason why she’s here. “Exactly.”

  “I guess it’s because I protected her.”

  I almost don’t want to hear what’s coming next, but I look at her questioningly, anyway. This is important for Tanisha to share.

  “When Ned went into his rages, I’d get in his face, take the beatings for her when I could.”

  “You’re very brave,.”

  She blushes and looks away. “I didn’t feel like it at the time.”

  “Which is what makes what you did all the more courageous.”

  Looking back at me, a slow smile spreads across her face. “Thanks, Micah.”

  I stand, dusting off my jeans. “Just pointing out the truth. You belong here, Tanisha.”

  She nods as her smile grows. Crossing her legs, she turns back to the lake, but this time, she stares out at the expanse of it all, content to enjoy the view.

  Retreating the way I’d come, I rub my brow. You belong here, Tanisha. My words are running on a loop through my mind as I head back down the path. And each time they do, Thomas’ assertions that he doesn’t belong, echo like a counterpoint.

  Before I realize it, I find myself back at our cottage. Without giving myself time to think, I head to the Loom. There are too many questions. Am I having trouble letting this go because I don’t want to? Because my heart yearns for Kadence?

  Or is it because something is actually going on?

  Thomas’ words burn through my consciousness when I told him, “you don’t mess with fate.” However, I think someone is.

  The Loom whirrs and clicks like it always does. It’s a sound I’ve grown up with, a sound I’ve always found reassuring. I breathe in the scent of timber and time. It’s fascinating to think fate is being woven as I stand here and watch.

  I just never realized I wanted to be part of it.

  Not knowing what to do with that, I step forward, deciding to focus on what I’m here for—answers.

  Waving my hand over the Loom, just like Tanisha did earlier over the lake, I zoom in where I want to look. I see it almost immediately—the darkness has grown again.

  Like black ink stains slowly spreading over the continent. I frown, knowing Mom’s said this has happened before.

  But this quickly? And so soon?

  I zoom in again, finding Pontiac Point. A few steps to the right, and I scan the fabric as I move back in time, finding a day when Thomas was still alive. A person’s true colors don’t appear until after their death. It honors the fact that right up until the end, choices can be made, fates changed. Afterward, they take on the bright shine of light, the shadows of a life wasted, or any of the shades of gray in between.

  I find it, only to check again. It can’t be… But it is. Woven with Tyler’s, linked to all the generations that have come before him, it’s definitely Thomas’ thread.

  Except it’s gray. Not a silvery, shiny gray, but a drab, mix of shadows.

  Tanisha’s is close by, the bright gold you’d expect of anyone who’s entered Elysium.

  But not Thomas’.

  I follow it along, only to gasp at the next surprise. There’s a hole where it ends. I lean in closer. I’ve never seen a hole before, like a missed stitch. How is that even possible?

  When a person dies and their thread ends, the fibers around them converge, souls weaving closer together as they mourn. But Thomas’ death is different. It’s literally left a hole in the lives of those around him.

  The tick, tick, ticking continues, as if nothing’s wrong. I stand rooted to the spot, trying to understand what this means. When Thomas first arrived, Mom had seemed surprised. She’d even commented he was early.

  Could it be true? Did Thomas die before his time?

  And if so, how?

  My eyes scan the fabric as my mind works, but all I manage to do is raise more questions without finding any answers. As I do, another thread catches my eye. A thread I promised myself I’d leave alone.

  Kadence.

  My eyes, my heart, are drawn to it.

  Just like the days when I was first fascinated by it—the fragile fiber is easily identified because it’s almost solitary. The fabric around it is there, but separate. Dislocated. Kadence has distanced herself again.

  Just like I did with Thomas’, I trace it back, finding the time she immersed herself with the garden and those building it, and see Tanisha’s and Tyler’s threads. I keep going, heading further back in time, unsure why, but suddenly curious. I find the moment her mother died, the place where she withdrew from those around her. Even further back, and I see how close she was with her. Their threads are tightly woven.

  I remember her mentioning her father. I assumed he lived elsewhere, but I can’t see his thread connecting with hers. I go further back and still find nothing. I have to go back two more steps, back seventeen years, to the moment Kadence was born to find him.

  Only to discover another impossibility.

  Her father’s there, a thread yet to discover its color, meaning he’s still alive. Except it connects with her mother’s…and disappears. I lean in as close as I can without touching the sacred fabric, but the sever is there. He appears to conceive Kadence, and then he’s gone.

  Only the gods can do—

  “Micah, what are you doing here?”

  I spin around, heart jumping in my throat like I just got caught doing something wrong. My mother stands in the doorway, hair its usual intricate mass on her head, her white coat immaculate.

  “Mom. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  She glances at the Loom. “You were pretty focused. You were very close, Micah…”

  “You know I wouldn’t touch it.” One of the first rules I ever learned is, “don’t touch the Loom.”

  She seems to relax a little. “I know. You were raised knowing how important all of this is.”

  She goes to turn away, expecting me to follow, but I don’t move from beside the Loom. I came here for answers. “What’s going on, Mom?”

  She turns slowly, her gaze sweeping around the room before connecting with mine. “What do you mean?”

  I wave my arm at the machine next to me. “The darkness. The”—I pull in a breath, watching my mother closely—“Is Thomas suppos
ed to be here?”

  “He wouldn’t be at Elysium if he wasn’t destined to be.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Is he supposed to be here now?”

  Her shoulders sag as I ask a direct question. “No. He arrived ahead of his time.”

  Her words have me reeling, and I bring my hand to my forehead as if to steady the whirlwind inside. “But…that’s not supposed to happen.”

  “It has happened before.”

  “How?”

  Mom’s jaw tightens. “When one of the gods interferes.”

  I glance back at the Loom. This must be linked to the growing darkness. “Someone needs to do something about this.”

  “Kronos is.”

  The man who was here, the god who restarted time.

  Mom’s hands clench. “Despite my advice not to interfere, he has his demigod child investigating it.”

  The world seems to slow, although the click, click, clicking says otherwise. I watch in slow motion as pieces begin to come together to create a whole I hadn’t realized existed.

  Kadence not having a father in the Loom. Kadence telling me she had a job to do for her dad…

  Time stopping after she realized I was on the rooftop of the apartment block.

  Kronos investigating…

  I go to take a step back only to stop myself before I crash into the Loom. “Kadence is Kronos’ daughter.” I whisper the words, my voice hoarse with shock.

  Mom doesn’t answer, she doesn’t move. But her silence is all the confirmation I need.

  I gasp as the next revelation slams through me. “She’s the one who stopped time.”

  Because she thought I died when the building collapsed.

  Mom straightens her spine, her chin angling in a way that tells me everything I’m saying is true.

  Betrayal spears through me. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

  She blinks, her façade finally cracking. She takes a step forward, her hand reaching out. “Because I knew you’d decide to go back.”

  I step to the side, wanting to touch her as much as I want to touch the Loom. “Damn straight, I am.”

  Mom sucks in a sharp breath, and I’m not sure whether it’s my words, or the fierceness that powered them.