Forgotten (18 page)

“
Is he a god? I mean, do
you find him attractive?”

I nearly choked. It was the furthest
question I expected him to ask. “You’re not listening to me,
Hector. He knows something about me, about my family. Jace said my
sisters trusted him.”

“
You only had one,” Hector
said, analyzing my predicament. “It troubles you that he knows you
had a sister who died, but what’s really bothering you is that he
got the number wrong, isn’t it?”

He knew me too well.
Everyone and their dog knew I was the poor little blind orphan girl
whose family was murdered. That Jace was positive I had more than
one sister bothered me because it gave me a false sense of
hope.
Did I still have living relatives,
or were they taken from me that rainy night too?

“
Want my advice?” he
asked.

“
I wouldn’t be telling you
all of this if I didn’t.”

“
Find out why he thinks you
have more than one sister. Encourage him. Either he knows something
about your family, or he’s grabbing at straws. Quite possibly, it’s
nothing but a guy pining for your affection, but if there’s a slim
chance he knows where your siblings are relocated, it’d be a chance
I’d take.”

I asked, “Do you think I actually have
more than one sister?”

“
Sorry, blondie,” Hector
said. “But this Jace character thinks you do, and probably won’t
leave you alone until proven otherwise.”

“
You say that like you know
from personal experience.”

“
Let’s just say I’ve had my
fair share of stalkers.”

Finishing my coffee, I declined
Hector’s offer to drive me home. Walking in the dark didn’t exactly
instill much confidence I’d get home safe, but I needed time to
think. The cool breeze had transformed into a cold wind. Hugging
myself, I paced quickly down the sidewalk, with Stella stretched
outward. The night was getting colder so I couldn’t wander the
streets forever, even if I owed Bree a night out with her
boyfriend. Then I remembered that I’d cracked my window open. I
hadn’t climbed the tree in years, but it was a shot to slip inside
my room and buy Bree more time with Ryker. I owed her that
much.

“
Anything,” I said,
looking into his chocolate brown eyes.

“
Give me a second chance
to make this right,” he begged as smoke seeped from his skin. “Give
me a second chance to be with you like we once were.”

“
You wish for my
immortality,” I said, stroking his thumb with my gnarled hand. My
old body scarcely obeyed my command. I wanted to rest, needed it.
The thread of my life was unraveling while his was as strong and
youthful as ever. It was cruel in more ways than one.

He held my face in his
hand, comforting me. “I want your immortality and for you to have
what you and the humans used to have.”

“
You only get one request,
and you have to be willing to kill me for it,” I said and guided
his hand over my chest. The knife skimmed my skin, but it was
enough to tear it open.

“
Living as an immortal in
this body would be more like a curse than a gift,” he said. The
regret in his eyes was already evident. “I want you to have the
opportunity to be what you once were, before she took
it.”

I missed a step as the vision faded. I
walked the rest of the way home and tried not to think about what I
just foresaw, my abnormal gift, or anything important. I didn’t
want to know my death. The future wasn’t meant to be seen. The
truth scared me. Would I react differently because of what I
foresaw? Could I prevent or change it? Or was I just a few years
from wearing a straight-jacket?

Folding up my stick, I walked
carefully to the tree outside my window. Years ago, unwanted
children built a tree house. I tested the first two-by-four step.
It held. I carefully climbed each step, reminding myself that I
owed Bree. Even if I didn’t like Ryker, she did, and asked me to
cover for her.

Climbing up the sawed off
two-by-fours, I made my way up the steps into the tree house. I
slid my shoes off and left them on the broken floorboards.
Scurrying across the old tree branch, I pretended not to notice how
it cracked with my weight as I came within a foot of my window.
Sitting on the edge of the branch, I braced my weight with my feet
and slowly managed to slither inside my room without alerting the
entire neighborhood. I breathed a sigh of relief that the branch
hadn’t broken.

For the rest of the night,
I had to be careful not to step on any of the squeaky floor boards.
Leaning against my wooden bedroom door, I listened for any
acknowledgement of my presence downstairs. I gasped in disbelief
hearing
his
laugh.
The smooth vibrations of Jace’s voice were so attractive – too
attractive. I cracked the door open to hear their
conversation.

“–moved here a couple weeks ago,” Jace
said. From the projections of his voice, he must be near the front
door. “I never thought I’d be sitting next to a goddess who was so
adamant about never accepting a helping hand.”

“That she is,” Martha admitted. “She’s
come a long way and should count her lucky stars that she has
someone as nice as you to care about her.”

“Just do me a favor,” Jace asked
smoothly, and my hand began to tingle like it had when he kissed
it. “Don’t let her know I was here. I don’t want her thinking it
was a handout, or she’d never take it; especially since I’m sure
she’s heard the rumors that I’m… financially well off.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

The moon’s light shone through my open
window, illuminating a light silhouette. A young man sat on the
edge of my windowsill. Hoping that I’d imaged it, I blinked a
couple times. The two people I’d seen outside the windows earlier
couldn’t have been all by chance. I was constantly being watched,
but by friend or foe? My heart skipped a beat as his familiar
warmth passed over me, which calmed me, but was accompanied by his
anger too. It prickled my skin. I closed my eyes. Jace’s clearly
defined outline stretched around him as it poured like smoke into
my room.

“You cry in your sleep,” Jace
whispered.

I sat up and nonchalantly covered my
pillow. The feathers had absorbed my tears. Times like today, it
would have been easier if I were in a coffin next to my
family.

Jace whispered my name so softly it
felt like he’d caressed my soul with his voice. “You’ve been
screaming to the heavens for years too, haven’t you?”

I clenched my teeth, willing my
swollen eyes not to flood with more pointless tears. I buried my
own suffering deep in my soul. He acted like he knew me for years
when we’d only just met a month ago. He hadn’t earned the privilege
of seeing me cry about lost loved ones. As often as he picked up on
the feelings I’d broadcasted, I hoped he didn’t acknowledge the
grief still alive in my broken heart. The sense of loss had
consumed my life for as long as I could remember.

He moved from the windowsill like he
was going to comfort me when the floor creaked by my bedroom door.
I tore my gaze away from Jace for a split second to look at the
door. After I saw Elsie’s dark shadow, I looked back at the
windowsill that Jace had been perched on. The window was now
closed; Jace was gone.

“
Were you talking to
someone?” Elsie asked.

“Only in my sleep,” I admitted and
turned my pillow over to hide my misery from a girl who had no
family.

***

After I leashed Max, we headed for the
bus stop a few blocks from my house. John and Martha snored loudly,
so I knew I couldn’t be told no. Flipping out my cell, I sent
Martha a text that Max and I were restless and needed a walk.
Knowing that she kept her phone on silent until she woke, I knew I
was in the clear. Bakker’s Cemetery was a thirty-minute bus ride,
so I packed enough treats for my bud, and me as well, as my laptop
and blanket. Max sniffed out everyone on the bus who came close
enough. I assumed he was blinking up at them with his puppy dog
eyes, begging to be pet.

The bus screeched to a stop half an
hour later, we got off and walked down the familiar sidewalk that
I’d taken many times. The bus stop was only one block from the
church and vast yard. Max led the way. Finding our old oak tree in
front of three old stones, I threw the blanket down. Snuggled
against the stump and using the surface roots for an arm rest, I
dug in my bag and popped out a treat for Max. He gobbled it up
eagerly. After pulling out my computer tablet, I rested it on my
legs.

Settling against the tree, I wiggled
in for a long haul. Using my voice command, I navigated to a search
engine. I investigated any information about Jace Eatros. After
getting nowhere fast, I closed my eyes. Refocusing my strategy, I
pronounced the name he called me the first time we met. Diageo?
Deno?

The best I came up with was Deino,
which lead to an old MySpace account. I would’ve searched Analee or
Marco, but I didn’t know their last names. I searched Chronicler.
History material popped up.

“
Lily!” My computer found a
website about flowers. After telling it to “scratch that” it went
back to the previous site. “Search Lily Patterson.”

The search engine found the articles
about my parents’ brutal murder and my sister’s mutilation. I
didn’t have to listen to the material read back to me for very
long, before I knew I wasn’t going to uncover anything not already
burnt into my brain. Instead, I searched myself. Gwyneth Patterson.
Again, I came up short. My life, as far as the rest of the world,
was about as interesting as anyone else’s orphan. Searching about
changes in blindness got me about as far as searching for
information about myself.

“
Lover's
sickness.”

My computer listed off different sites
giving information about its history, remedies for falling for
evil, multiple sites for Valentine’s Day. Looking deeper, the term
love sickness first started long ago at the dawn of humanity. It
was said that humans fell ill when coming in contact with ancient
spirits. The remedies website suggested wearing olive leaves to
ward away unwanted attention. That wouldn’t work even if I was
desperate enough because I was deathly allergic to olive
leaves.

“
It’s been my experience
that if you have to Google anything about love, you probably
already know what it has to say, even if you don’t like the answer,
munchkin.”

John was leaning against an old fence
a few paces away. I’d been too consumed with being the worst
investigator ever, to notice him. He pushed off the fence and
walked over to me. I scooted over so he could sit down beside
me.

“
October third,” he
muttered and kissed my forehead. “You know I wouldn’t be a very
good lawyer if I forgot dates. It wasn’t difficult to piece
together where you’d gone after Martha showed me your text. You
know I would’ve driven you here if you wanted.”

I sighed, not wanting to talk about
it. I knew he’d drive me, but visiting my family’s burial place was
something I wanted to do alone; thus, we sat in silence. Max
enjoyed himself since John and I both decided the awkward silence
was best filled by petting him.

I broke the silence first. “Did you
ever think about suing Martha when she spilled coffee on
you?”

John let out a laugh and said that was
the last question he’d expected me to ask. “The woman drove me
nuts. I couldn’t stand it. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the
first thought that popped in my mind when the coffee cooled, but
she had already grabbed half a dozen towels and was dabbing the
drink off my lap and saying sorry like she had some form of
apologetic turrets. I was a goner.”

“
What are you talking
about?” I asked, not following his train of thought.

“
She ruined my suit by
spilling coffee on it; I was the one who acted like it was the end
of the world; still, I refused to get my morning coffee anywhere
else. I’d convinced myself it was because their brews were the
best, but if I’d have been honest with myself, I would have known
it was because of Martha. Her eyes lit up when she looked at me. It
scared me,” John said, and put his arm around me. “My life was
planned out perfectly. I was on the fast track to becoming partners
in a corporate firm. Good looking ladies chased me. It was only a
matter of time before I asked one of them out, settled down and got
married, but then Martha came along and made a mess of my
life.”

“
But you had the perfect
life,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, Martha’s great – a little
crazy, and extremely disorganized – but great.”

“
Life is messy. If I wanted
to live a life where I’d know exactly how everything would play
out, I wouldn’t have settled down with someone who didn’t know how
expensive a handmade Italian suit was. Love isn’t something you
chose, Winnie. It picks you when you aren’t looking. And love isn’t
just between two people; it makes a family,” John said, squeezing
me tight. “Just because someone isn’t flawless doesn’t mean he’s
not ideal. Martha isn’t perfect, but she’s the best fit for me.
Nothing you find on the internet can explain love like
that.”