Broken (7 page)

I couldn’t deny
there was something strange going on. The fact that my
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all died at the age
of twenty-four was a bit odd. And that trip visiting my
parents’ house was surreal. I wasn’t sure I wanted to
believe that any of it was true, but the pieces were starting to
point to something I didn’t want to face. And somehow Aunt
Marigold was connected to this. Giving my grandfather an emerald
cufflink could have been coincidence, but the fact he had also seen
freaky little green men was pushing the coincidences beyond what I
could blow off.

Then something hit me and I couldn’t believe I said it out
loud. “My mother knew I was seeing things that my grandfather
had seen too.”

Chris just looked at me.

“Oh my god,” I said. I repeated it over and over in
my head, like it was becoming clearer every time. “She knew I
had been seeing the same things as my grandfather and she medicated
me to shut me up. Holy crap!” I climbed out of bed. “I
have to get home.”

“What’s going on?” Chris asked, climbing out
after me. Like me he was naked, and in fine form.

There wasn’t time for that right now.

“I have to go,” I said, looking for my shirt.

He took me by the hand and those green eyes held me still.
“You told me you wanted honesty and openness. I want the
same, Katherine.”

I loved hearing him say my name like that. It was soft and
affectionate.

I nodded. He was right. He deserved the same if this was going
to go any further. He needed to know what he was getting into. I
felt ashamed of what I was going to tell him. I was a nut job. Yet,
either I was going to be
his
nut job, or I was going to be facing
this alone. I hoped it wasn’t going to be the latter.

“Get dressed,” I said. “I’ll tell you on
the way.”

As we dressed and walked to my apartment, I told him everything,
about what I had seen as a child, about the doctors, about the
return of the little green man, about Aunt Marigold, about the earrings,
about what I’d read in the pages so far, and about the little
trip I’d taken. Chris said nothing. He just listened.

When we got to the apartment, I expected him to make up an
excuse, and that he needed to go. It was a long weekend. He didn’t have
to work today, so I braced myself for what was coming. Instead, he
stood there.

“Aren’t you going to open the door?” he
asked.

I could feel my eyes watering.

He wiped them away, his hands caressing my face.
“What’s wrong?”

“You’re still here,” I said. “I thought
maybe I’d scare you off with all this.”

He kissed me. Hard. “I’ve known you for almost a
year, Katherine. And now I’ve finally got you, I’m
not going anywhere.”

I kissed him again, and unlocked the door.

Waiting for us were the papers where I’d left them. Chris
sat on the futon and picked up the earrings.

“These are pretty,” he said, holding them up to the
light. “So these are what you wore when you had that
vision?”

I nodded and took them from him.

“And what about when you saw the homunculus?”

“Homuncu-what?”

He paused for a moment. “Homunculus. It’s Latin for
little human.”

Sounded fine to me.

We both looked at the ficus. It was looking a little greener
since Chris had watered it. I was actually sad there was no one
there waving at me. I wanted Chris to see it. Although, as a child,
Geoff had never seen the homunculus or any of the little winged
people either. So I guess I shouldn’t have expected Chris to
be able to see the little green man.

Nope. Just crazy old me.

Then I realized I hadn’t answered his question. “No,
I wasn’t wearing these when I saw him. I’ve been seeing
him for years off and on. And I ran out of my meds so I’ve
started seeing him again.”

Chris handed the earrings to me. “You going to put them
on?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Not yet. I
want to read some more.” With that, I grabbed the sheets from my
mother. Chris took the diary entries.

The death certificates were on the top where I’d left
them. I started looking through more, which were photocopies of
various documents, but then I found one sheet with my
mother’s impeccable handwriting.

On it, she detailed dates and names:

1891—Thomas Gregory—drowned—age 24

1916—William Gregory—WWI—age 24

1939—John Gregory—WWII—age 24

1963—Charles Gregory—car accident— age 24

1987—James Gregory—electrocution—age 24

I supposed my name would be next. My birthday was tomorrow.

If what Joan had written here was correct, I could go any day
after that.

I handed the sheet to Chris without saying a word.

It took seconds before I heard him say, “Holy
shit.”

My hands were trembling, and Chris put his arms around me. “We’ll figure this
out,” he said.

I waited for him to say that this had to be a mistake. I waited
for him to abandon me like Geoffrey had.

And like someone else had when I was sixteen.

I wondered what had caused that last thought to resurface. I
shook my head.

“Do you know how to reach your Aunt Marigold?” Chris
asked. “You said she seemed connected to this. Maybe she
knows something.”

Although they weren’t quite the reassuring words I might have
hoped for, it sounded like he was still with me on this.

I pulled back and looked into his eyes. They were determined and
true. “I don’t think I have her number,” I said, “only
her address. I’ll call Geoffrey.”

Geoff answered on the first ring. “Hey.” His voice
was pretty cold.

“Hey,” I said. I was going to have to lie to him.
“Um, any chance you found Aunt Marigold’s number?
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You could be right. This
couldn’t have been from Mother. There has to be a mistake
here. I’m hoping Aunt Marigold can help me.”

He exhaled on the other end of the phone. “I was starting
to think maybe you actually believed what was written there.
Someone must have faked a bunch of documents and mailed them as a
cruel joke.”

It was too elaborate for a joke.

I heard a woman’s voice in the background, one of his
numerous fag hags. “It’s preposterous!”

Preposterous? Who uses that word?

“But who would do such a thing?” I asked.

Again, the pause. “I don’t know, Katherine. Someone
who wants to besmirch Mom’s name, maybe?”

Besmirch? What was going on over there?

Then I thought about what he might be inferring. That’s
when my blood started to boil.

“What are you implying, Geoff? That I did this? That I would go
through all this trouble? For what?”

He cleared his throat. “No one else has anything to gain
from it. No one except you, Katherine. I think it’s a ploy to
get her money.”

Those last words stung.

I hung up on him.

Bastard.

Chris was next to me in a heartbeat. “He still
doesn’t believe you, does he?”

I shook my head. There were tears sliding down my face. He wiped them away and kissed my cheek.

“I do,” he whispered.

“Thank you.” I was really glad for
his support right now. I kissed him once more and rose.

“So if Geoff doesn’t have it,” Chris said,
“grab her address and let’s check the web.”

I pulled her address up on the computer. For every tool I could
think of to search for her, Chris knew five more.

We turned up nothing.

I put my head in my hands. I needed to think. I needed answers.
I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed at the moment. If this
was all true, I could die any day after tomorrow, doing
anything.

I was scared shitless.

“Call in sick,” Chris said. “Don’t go to
work tomorrow. I’ll do the same.”

I pulled my head up. “Huh?”

“We’re going to England.” He grabbed the
phone.

“What? Wait a minute. I can’t just go flying off to
England. I’ll probably drop into the ocean if this is all
true.” I paused. “And what do you mean
‘we’?”

“I’m coming with you.”

I stood up. I couldn’t afford a ticket to England. My
credit card was maxed out.

“Chris—”

He looked stern and I could swear his shoulders got bigger.
“Go pack. I’m calling to get us tickets now.”

I was a little taken aback at the authority in his voice.

“Wait just a second,” I said. My hands were on my
hips. “You can’t come in here and start telling me what
to do!”

He softened his stance. “I’ve waited a long time to
get you, Katherine. I’m not going to lose you now. I told
you, I’m not going to live with that kind of regret.
I’m coming with you, and that’s that.”

Somehow I dropped my hands from my hips, flung them around his
neck, and kissed him. I was turning girly again.

“Go pack,” he said.

“But this isn’t safe. What if I go down on the
plane? You’ll go with me. I couldn’t live with
that.”

“Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” he said.
Those emeralds of his were shining.

I hadn’t told him it was my birthday. “How did you
know?”

He winked. “Well, it’s in the letter from your
mother, but Natalie mentioned it last year.”

“And you remembered?”

“Well, yeah,” he said.

I was grinning stupidly. “I’ll go pack.” This
boy could end up being a keeper.

Maybe he couldn’t smell the man repellant.

I ripped the room apart, grabbing whatever I could stuff into a
carry-on. There wasn’t a lot of time so I figured packing
light was best. I grabbed my papers, ID, and some clothes and
stuffed them into a backpack. While I packed, Chris made
arrangements for the flight. It was leaving in five hours.

I looked at the clock. It read twenty minutes after eleven.

It didn’t give us a lot of time. Officially, my time of
birth was noon. Since, according to my birth records from Joan, I
was born in England, I would turn twenty-four in just over nineteen
hours from now.

After that, I didn’t know how long I had to live.

Chapter 9

We rushed to Chris’s place where he grabbed a few items,
shoving them into a backpack of his own. We didn’t want to
waste time with baggage. He’d already called to arrange an
air taxi to pick us up so we didn’t have to wait once he was
ready.

When we got to the airport, I stopped Chris at the door.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”

He squeezed my hands, confidence set in his eyes.
“Couldn’t be more sure. And you can’t do this
alone.”

I returned his squeeze, and then we swept into the airport.

I hadn’t flown since my trip to England at the age of
sixteen. Chris, who flew frequently for work, seemed to know his
way around well enough. He got us through the terminal and checked
in without a hitch.

I was a tad nervous. My stomach was feeling it while we waited.
I was never a big fan of heights, hence the balcony of
my apartment rarely saw any use. I was also a little anxious about
going to England, in general. It had been years since I’d
seen him, but this unexpected trip was also resurfacing memories of
my first love. Memories I’d rather leave buried.

The flight departed on time, thankfully. Had it been delayed, I
somehow imagined us being over the ocean when my birthday struck.
All I could picture was an albatross getting sucked into the engines
mid-flight and us screaming to our deaths as we plunged into the
ocean.

I was quiet during the ascent, trying to avoid looking out the
window. It was like going up a rollercoaster ride that just kept
climbing.

When we reached cruising altitude, Chris leaned over. “Why
don’t you try the earrings again?”

I gave him one of those sidelong glances that asked him if he
was mildly insane.

“Nothing will happen,” he said. “I’m
right here with you. And if anything seems strange, I’ll take
the earrings off and wake you up.”

I pondered the thought for a moment. It would give me something
else to think about. Maybe if I was lucky the flight would be close
to over by the time I woke up.

There was something inside me that suggested I should do this; I
was meant to learn something from this. I wasn’t sure what.
There’s nothing like watching your predecessors die horribly.
But then again, my birthday was coming fast, and unless I figured
out what was going on, the next death would be mine.

I nodded, but I was scared. “Promise me you’ll wake
me.”

“I’ll be right here the whole time.”

I took the earrings out and hooked the first one in. I looked at
Chris. He squeezed my leg.

Then I put the second one in, and everything went black once
more.

Knowing I wasn’t a ghost this time, that this was sort of
like a dream, I didn’t seem to mind the fact I was glowing
and in the back seat of another car. This one was even older than
the last one. I was sitting on a long white bench at the back.
Forget seatbelts. There were none.