Second Sight (17 page)

Even as I pull into the driveway, I keep
replaying Scott’s conversation, and his words about Sarah really
don’t set well, considering just how fixated she seems on Colin.
Granted, I don’t much care for Scott and it felt really good just
to drive away and leave him standing there all stupid in the
red-blue glow of his cruiser lights, but I am smart enough to know
when I hear something that should warn me, and his words about
Sarah definitely struck a nerve. As someone who has barely
penetrated that circle of friends, I’m just not sure what he thinks
I can do about it. I mean I didn’t even get a chance to actually
meet Colin. The only thing I remember is that he was even bigger
than Kane, which means the guy is huge. Sarah, on the other hand,
is thin, and I mean, thin as in a storm could blow her over if
she’s not careful.

I force myself to stop thinking about Sarah
and Colin to get back to the problem at hand: Jimmie and Griffin.
Or more precisely, Theresa and Jayzee. I fish my phone from my
purse to find that I have one missed call from Jimmie, probably the
blatant warning that I’ve missed supper and I am in trouble, his
usual spiel when it comes down to me not doing what I should be.
The front porch light glows, and the moths flutter about it at
random. It’s kind of weird that neither Jimmie nor Griffin has come
to the door.

Taking a deep breath, I shove my phone into
my purse and yank my keys from the ignition. I reluctantly stride
up the walk and, as my hand touches the knob, I peer into the front
window to see Jimmie and Griffin sitting on the couch. The
television rambles on, suggesting either a sportscaster or
talk-show host. I stand there for a moment, looking at them both,
grateful they seem to be alone. The red convertible is gone, at
least.

I twist the knob and step inside. Nothing
better than both of them simultaneously looking at me, and, for the
record, I was right. It’s a baseball game—not that they that even
see it now I’ve walked into the room. I’d still feel better if
Jimmie was sitting in the recliner, but at least he’s here and
seems to be cognizant of what’s going on around him.

“
Where have you been?”
Jimmie demands, rising fluidly and walking toward me. “And don’t
even bother lying about the cemetery.” A vein stands out in his
forehead, and his face is pasty. His hands dangle at his side, and
he twists his fingers into fists.

Griffin eyes both of us, starting with me and
then going back to Jimmie. I glance at him, find discomfort in his
expression, and turn back to Jimmie.

“
I was at the cemetery.”
It’s not a lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth, and if I can
help it, I won’t.

“
All this time, you were at
the cemetery?” He waves toward the clock, as if I’m not aware of
what time it is. “You said you’d be back for dinner. Both Theresa
and Jayzee left because they were worried about you.”

“
Is that what really
bothers you? That they left?” I never meant to utter that aloud,
but the words came out, and I’m not sorry.

“
Not even close. Damn it,
Lizzie. How am I ever going to count on you when you keep doing
stuff like this?” He paces around me, glaring, as if he can read
exactly where I’ve been from my posture.

“
I’m sorry about dinner,” I
say in a contrite tone, even though I don’t mean it. This probably
isn’t the best time to play the truth game. “I was at the cemetery.
I promise.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Griffin
heading toward his room, leaving me to field Jimmie’s never-ending
questions alone. Lucky me.

“
Try again, Lizzie. There
aren’t that many statues to take pictures of. I wasn’t born
yesterday.” He shakes his head, still pacing. I could tell him to
chill and stop wearing out the carpet, but somehow I don’t think
that will go well. So I do the next best thing. I walk over to his
recliner and sit, effectively cutting off the circle he’s been
pacing around me.

“
You’re right,” I finally
admit. “I wasn’t taking pictures of statues. “I was sitting on a
bench, talking to a little old man who was still mourning the death
of his wife.” I set my purse on the table beside the
chair.

“
That’s the best you can
do?” Jimmie stands over me, glaring. “Talking to a little old man
so much you lost track of time? I’m not buying it. You were in
Knoxville, weren’t you?”

“
No, I wasn’t. Not that
you’ll believe me.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“
You don’t exactly give me
reason, Lizzie.” He shakes his head.

“
And how would you know?
It’s not like you’ve been home much before o’dark
thirty.”

“
So this is about me seeing
Theresa, is it?” He turns away. His tone suggests a question, but I
know better. The last thing he wants me asking anything about is
Theresa.

“
I didn’t say that.” My
heart is racing, and I wish this whole night would go away. I’m so
tired of fighting with Jimmie. I don’t want it to be like
this.

“
You didn’t have to. She
could tell you didn’t much care for her. Why do you think she isn’t
here?” He levels an angry gaze at me, and it suddenly occurs to me
Jimmie looks like a total stranger, and I’m not even sure I’d
recognize myself at this point. All of this feels so painfully
wrong, and I don’t understand what’s happening to us.

“
Jimmie, I just felt
claustrophobic with everybody here. How exactly could I tell you
that when Theresa’s sitting right there and you want me to just sit
on the couch and play the get-to-know-each-other game?”

“
She was just trying to be
friendly.”

I stand, realizing that no matter what I say,
Jimmie is not going to react well, and every argument we have
tonight will all go back to Theresa and the fact I don’t like her.
I had only thought I was doing a good job of being discreet about
my negative feelings about her. So I do the only thing I can think
of. I start toward my bedroom.

“
Lizzie, don’t you walk
away from me.” Jimmie’s face is turning a bright red to match his
furious glare.

I stop and whirl. “I’ve had it, Jimmie.
Enough is enough. I can’t take anymore. Why don’t you just go back
to Knoxville and spend a little more QT with Theresa? And I’ll get
the hell out of your way.” Then I change course. I started out
heading to my room, but now I’m heading back to the front door.

“
Damn it, Lizzie.
Stop!”

I grab the door and jerk it open. My keys are
still in my hand, and I don’t give a crap that my purse is on the
table where I left it. It doesn’t matter because I’m not going back
for it. By the time I get to the Jeep, my whole body is shaking,
and I realize that even though I’ve been plenty mad at Jimmie
before, I’ve never come close to losing my cool with him like this,
but I meant what I said: I’ve had enough. With that little go-round
with Scott, having Jayzee and Theresa over, and realizing certain
things about Lev, I really am at my wits end. I don’t know how much
more I can take.

I don’t even know where I’m going. I just
can’t be here. I shove the keys into the ignition as Jimmie opens
the door; the engine catches and I slam the shifter into reverse,
zipping backwards, hoping he’ll let me go. I can feel him watching
me as I drive away, and my heart is racing.

“
What are you doing,
Lizzie?” I whisper to myself, knowing there is no real answer. It’s
a small town with no real options, and I don’t think I’m up to
Knoxville. I have a whole five bucks in my pocket, which won’t even
get me enough gas to get out of this stupid town. So I drive back
to the cemetery.

Although it’s dark, I’m not daunted. To me,
the places where the dead are have to be some of the calmest spots
going; right now, I could use calm, and I’m sure not going to get
it at home. I’m shaking as I wander among the headstones, and I
feel myself tearing up. I’m just not sure if it’s because I’m so
angry or hurt or something else I can’t begin to name. Then again,
it really doesn’t matter, I realize, making my way to the empty
bench beside Bess Hudgens’ grave. I know Bob won’t be here, and
right now it’s a good thing because I can’t talk about this feeling
ripping me up inside. Jimmie and I often argue, but not like
this—not trying to hurt each other because we can. The wind tugs at
my long hair, and I see the sun is setting the sky on fire as it
slowly sinks beyond the horizon.

I push my hair back and shake my head. “This
is really crazy, Bess. Now your husband has me talking to you like
I know you, but I’ve got to talk to someone.” I pause and my body
aches from the tears I’ve been restraining. I’m tired. “You were a
lucky lady. You had a good husband who loved you like crazy. And
you got to spend your life with him. I would have given anything
for that.”

The wind ripples through the branches, and I
get the feeling I’m not alone. I turn, and that’s when I see Scott
there, his hands deep in his pockets. His face is full of pain, but
he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, his shoulders curved
under an invisible weight. It’s then I realize just how much I hate
him.

“
I told you to leave me
alone. What part of that weren’t you smart enough to get?” I yell,
standing. My whole body is shaking wildly, and I feel that any
minute I’m going to lose control of what sanity I have
left.

“
I….” He starts to say, but
his voice twists like someone has jerked his arm behind his back,
threatening to snap the bone. “I…have to tell you
something.”

“
Go away!” I launch myself
at him, my palms landing on his chest, pushing him back.

“
I can’t.” His voice is
broken, the way accident victims speak when they’ve been hit by a
car and didn’t know half their bodies are mangled beyond
hope.

“
It doesn’t matter what you
have to say. I don’t care!” I shove at him again, thinking he’ll
stop me and order another stupid trip to his shrink friend. Won’t
that be nice? But he doesn’t fight me. He lets me push him, which I
hate even more because it scares me. His whole demeanor scares me,
and when I finally stop pushing, I look into those blue eyes and
realize just how damned I am, tethered to a loss I can’t seem to
find the bottom of. Maybe I never will.

“
Go on?” I finally manage,
hoping maybe if he just gets out whatever he thinks he has to say,
he’ll leave, and I can go on raving to a dead woman about an angel
and how things are so twisted I can’t seem to untangle
them.

“
You were right. I am an
angel.” He swallows hard so his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. “And I
am your angel. I am Lev.” He closes his eyes and lowers his
chin.

Breathless, I stagger backwards, my breath
hiccupping out of my body. Not looking, I trip over a stone but
manage to catch myself. “You…lie.” My voice is deep and guttural, a
feral warning.

Then the air shifts, blurring his face until
I see Lev standing before me, his white wings unfurled behind him.
His ocean eyes peer at me, the blue deeper from the pooling tears.
“And I am sorry.”

“
You bastard!” I fly at him
again. This time, my palms have curled into fists, and with my eyes
open, I strike out at him, remembering the day he “died” and every
day since with so much clarity I can’t breathe.

I’m shaking hard and crying and hitting him
as he tries to grab me and entangle my body in his arms. But I
won’t let him. I won’t. I don’t want him touching me.

“
Get away!” I scream,
jerking backwards.

“
Stop fighting me,” he
pleads. “I need to talk to you.”

I jerk free. “No. You deceived me. You let me
believe you were dead. And now, suddenly I’m supposed to jump for
joy because you’ve come back dressed like some cocky cop who wanted
to look out for me?” I step back, blinded by tears. “Go to hell.” I
start to walk away.

“
Elizabeth, you’re in
danger. I can explain.” I whirl around. “I don’t give a damn, Lev.
About anything. Don’t try to protect me, and don’t come near me. I
never want to see you again.”

I run then—not to my Jeep but to the woods
beyond the cemetery, hoping I’ll get so lost I won’t be able to
find myself again. It’s dark and the trees seem to thicken around
me. My steps are erratic because of the uneven ground and I can’t
see anything. My foot tangles in the undergrowth and I fall, my
head hitting something harder than itself.

Chapter
Thirteen

My head swims as I sit up, trying to orient
myself in the darkness. My vision is blurry, and I probe my
forehead, wincing. I’m dizzy, but I need to get up and get a move
on. The last thing I need to happen is for Lev to find me like
this. I’ve been saved often enough for a lifetime. Still, it takes
me longer than it should to get up.

From behind me, I hear the thud of footsteps
in the grass, telling me I’m not alone. I force myself to rise and
feign feeling nothing, even though my head pounds viciously. Taking
a deep breath, I grit my teeth.

“
I said to leave me alone,
Lev. And I meant it.” Yet when I whirl, it’s not Lev standing
there. In fact, with my blurry vision and tears, the only thing I
can tell is that it’s a woman.

“
Lizzie? What are you doing
out here?”

I blink until my vision clears enough for me
to recognize Sarah. She wears a black tank top which ends just
above her navel, and her black jeans appear as a second layer of
skin. Her long blonde hair falls in waves around her shoulders, the
moonlight glistening off it.