Second Sight (24 page)

I lean over him and put my cheek next to his
face to see if he’s breathing. I feel his soft breath stroking my
cheek, and I release the breath I’ve been holding, relieved. He’s
still alive, thank God. I shake him again.

“
Jimmie! You’ve got to wake
up.” I stare hard at his eyes, expecting them to flutter
open.

No response.

“
Jimmie!” A cold streak
runs through me.

“
What have you done?”
Theresa stands there, her mouth in a horrified ‘o’. She rushes to
Jimmie’s side.

“
Nothing.”

“
Yeah, right. Call 911 now,
Lizzie. He’s barely breathing.” For a moment, I just sit there in
stunned silence. “Now, Lizzie. Jimmie is hurt.”

She reaches down and strokes his face, and I
hate her. She glares at me, and I go to the house phone and call
911. I relay the information and start a new waiting game, but it’s
clear by Theresa’s possessive manner I am totally unnecessary here.
Of course, that’s nothing compared to what she says.

“
Don’t you think you’ve
done enough damage, Lizzie? You shouldn’t even be here.” Her palm
flattens against his face. “If you hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t be
lying like this on the floor. Then again, you already know that,
don’t you?” She glares at me and shakes her head. “I told him you
were trouble, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

The distant cry of an ambulance fills the
rough silence between us, and I shake my head. “Maybe you’re the
one who shouldn’t be here. Jimmie and I were doing fine before you
came.”

Her head snaps up. “You were, really? Because
if you haven’t noticed, Jimmie gave up a hell of a lot for you, and
at the first sign of him trying to find happiness of his own, you
act like a spoiled brat and run off. Then, when I come back, it
looks like he’s had a heart attack. He’s given up everything for
you, and this is how you thank him?”

Without realizing it, I step backwards,
hedging away from her. I want to scream out that she’s lying, but
the thing is, maybe she isn’t. Maybe I’ve been exactly as what
she’s saying, and if I hadn’t been so selfish, Jimmie wouldn’t be
lying on that floor.

The wailing siren is louder, so I run to the
door. It’s not like Theresa is going to let me get anywhere close
to him right now, even if I’ve been with Jimmie longer than she
has. As I suspect, the ambulance has pulled up into the driveway,
and the EMTs are heading my way, so I hold the door open and lead
them to Jimmie. Of course, the moment they arrive in the kitchen,
Theresa takes over, not even bothering to look my way. For a
moment, I consider inserting myself into things, fighting my way
beside Jimmie, but that small voice inside me whispers that maybe
it’s too late, maybe it’s my fault, and maybe I should just go away
and never come back.

Jimmie is so still I can’t take it. Is he
even breathing? What did Lev do to him and why? I try to stay calm,
but my heart is racing. Then, just like that, I stumble backwards
and flee to the Jeep. I don’t have my purse or keys, so I’m really
not going too far. Maybe once Jimmie has been loaded up, Theresa
will leave and I can go back inside and get what I need. Until
then, the only place I can think of within walking distance is a
park down the street. It’s not that I’m a big fan of parks, but
they do have the advantage of reminding me of a time long before it
seemed like my life was going to come unraveled and the best thing
was just flying through the air in a swing with Jimmie pushing me.
Closing my eyes, I think of a Dallas park of a decade ago. I wore
shorts and a tank top. I was tall and lanky, and my hair constantly
flew around me as I sailed up and back again. From behind, I could
feel Jimmie’s strong hands gently pushing me. I was seven and
thought he knew everything, and him knowing everything made the
world so much smaller and easier to bear.

Jimmie.

I shiver, not understanding
any of this. I just want things to be okay. I want him to be okay.
At this point, I’ll help him plan the wedding.
Just let him come out of this
, I
think.
Please let me come out of
this.
At the park, I see a few kids and
parents who have come out after the rain. A small girl with stubby
pig tails toddles toward a small slide, and mom, a brunette with a
no-fuss hairdo and harried expression hovers nearby, her hands
wavering in the air as though she’s expecting the child to fall at
any moment.

I sit at the only unoccupied bench and watch
the kids playing tag and running around the monkey bars. Again, I
see myself there, trying to keep the metal beams between me and
Jimmie as he chased me, growling. In my memory, he is so much
younger, and I am so skinny. I have this funny laugh I hide soon
after that because I don’t want anyone to hear it.

Sitting here beneath the warm sun that
trickles down between the branches of an old elm, I stare out at
the beautiful world and yet feel empty, numb, and lost. The warm
breeze tugs at my braid, and fine wisps pull loose to dance around
my face. I wrap my arms over my chest, as if that’s going to hold
everything together.

Time seems to melt with me here. Jimmie is
all I can think about. I want to go to the hospital, but part of me
is too frightened. What if Jimmie also blames me? I don’t think I
could take it. It’s one thing to think it’s all my fault and
another to have someone I love confirm it. Besides, I doubt Theresa
would let me get anywhere near him.

Two hours pass before I finally get up and
shake the numbness from my body. Most of the kids and their parents
have gone, and since this morning’s storms, it’s kind of hot—dry
heat. Still, it’s warm enough so sweat beads at my temples, forcing
me to brush my hand across my forehead before it seeps into my eyes
and blinds me. As I head back to the house, the journey going back
seems longer. Or maybe it’s my desire to leave all of this madness
behind permanently.

As I see the house, relief floods through me.
Theresa’s sports car has gone. Only Jimmie’s beat-up old truck
remains. I hasten my steps to the front door, only to find it
locked. For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. Of course, Theresa
would just assume I’ve gone and won’t return, even though my Jeep
is sitting just outside, waiting for me. Jimmie can say what he
wants. If he thinks Theresa likes me, he’s lost his mind. Our
dislike for each other is mutual.

I turn to walk away but remember my agreement
with Jimmie. He leaves the back door unlocked just in case I forget
or lose my keys. So I slip through the gate and shut it behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I grab the back doorknob, hoping it will
open, and it twists easily in my hand. I nudge the door open and
slip inside the dark garage. Only the light from outside breaks the
inky blackness, and I quickly flip the switch so I can see where
I’m going. The low-wattage bulb barely sheds any light around me,
but it’s enough to see the shadows of all the boxes and things we
still haven’t unpacked. You’d think we’d have gotten to that, but
I’m wondering if moving is just a curse for us—or maybe I’m the
curse. Could that be why my parents died a few years after I was
born? It seems like everyone who loves me ends up dying. A shudder
runs through me, and I half stumble over boxes I can’t see. From
then on, I shuffle to the door leading to the house, my shin still
smarting from hitting the last stack of boxes packed with heavy
books.

Grateful for my hand fumbling across the
knob, I open the door leading to the kitchen and step inside.
Sunlight seeps in around the curtains into an otherwise unlit room.
Jimmie’s soda can still sits on the counter where he struck it down
in anger, and even though I don’t want to, I glance at the floor
where his body had lain as we waited for the EMTs to help. My hand
clutches the door frame, and I shut the door from the garage,
telling myself it will get better. I have to believe that somehow.
I have to. It’s the only thing getting me through this.

I hedge through the kitchen, obviously
avoiding the floor where Jimmie had been, and I slip into the
living room where my purse and keys should still be. My hair slips
into my face, and I yank the pony off my braid, from which numerous
strands have slipped free. It is then I realize just how much my
hands are trembling. It’s hard to focus enough to unweave the
braid, and the hair spills free around my face.

I think about when I was small and Jimmie
would braid my hair. That’s when the pain sucker-punches me. I
cringe. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. I start toward my purse and
see a movement in the corner of my eye. Gasping, I turn toward it,
only to find Evan standing there.

“
What are you doing here?”
I stammer. Immediately, my heart starts racing. Without realizing
it, I’m shuffling backward.

“
Trying to reason with
you.” He steps toward me, but I scurry back, trying to preserve the
distance between us.

“
I want you to leave.” My
whole body shakes, and the trembling weaves into my voice as well.
Another step toward me. I take two back. My shoulders hit the wall,
and I gasp in surprise.

His blond hair glitters, and he seems so
ethereal in the dusky light filtering in through the cream-colored
batiste curtains. As I stand there, trembling, he lowers his hands,
and I watch every curve of his fingers, knowing well enough what he
could do if he chose. I sense that coming the way most people smell
rain, and I wonder why no one else seems to know what he truly is.
How can they be so blind?

“
Don’t you think if I
wanted to hurt you I would have done it long ago, Elizabeth? We
both know I have the power. But I’m not using it.”

I plaster my palms against the wall,
desperately trapped. “Not against me, anyway.” I take a deep
breath. “Why is that, anyway? You want to kill everyone else and
leave me standing here, wondering what happened?”

Evan clenches his jaw. “I’m not trying to
kill anyone. You don’t have a clue what is going on around you and
whom you’ve gotten mixed up with. Part of that is because your mind
is far too clouded.”

He steps toward me, and I inhale sharply.
“Don’t do that.” I keep looking at him, trying to think of some way
to protect myself, but this isn’t just another human being.

“
Elizabeth, Kane is
poisoning your thoughts, and whether you realize it or not, there
is a war going on right now that you’re right in the middle of.
It’s about to get far worse—unless I do something.”

I’m about to ask him what that “something” is
when he suddenly reaches out, and the light explodes toward me. At
first I try to scream, thinking it will hurt, but then all I feel
is a warmth that spreads through me, dragging me toward that
brilliance.

Chapter
Nineteen

“
Lizzie?”

I hear the voice. It’s far away and strange,
kind of like the way you expect people in a funhouse to say your
name. I can feel hands tugging at my body, trying to draw me away
from the warmth and light that surround me. I don’t want to go.

Am I dead?

“
Lizzie?” The voice is much
more frantic. The shaking is harder, jarring me away from the
light. I whirl, watching it diminish, and I want to cling to it.
“Come on, Lizzie.”

Finally I feel my body the floor pressing my
back. My hands lie flat against the linoleum. The breath coming and
going in my body. I lick my lips, feeling a dryness in my mouth. I
force myself to open my eyes. The world is blurry, so I’m not sure
who is with me, only that it’s a guy. I try to sit up, but he sets
his palm atop my sternum and gently presses me back down.

“
Take it
slowly.”

He’s probably right; my head starts spinning
from the motion. In fact, my whole body feels off. I don’t have a
clue what’s going on, but I feel nauseated and sluggish. I can’t
remember how I ended up on the floor like this. It’s all so
hazy.

“
What happened?” The voice.
I’m trying to place it, but everything is so confusing.

“
I…I don’t remember.” A
hand touches my forehead and I flinch, trying to back away. There’s
something definitely wrong with this picture. I can’t put my finger
on it, but it’s all there, waiting for me to remember.

Gritting my teeth, I blink until the face
comes into focus—Kane’s. His skin is pale, and his hair looks
almost black in contrast. A white gauze bandage covers the area
just above his left temple, probably from where Lev punched
him.

Lev.

Now I can finally see, I slowly sit up,
trying to act as confident in my motions as possible so Kane will
keep his distance. I can’t begin to explain why him touching me
suddenly feels so wrong, but it does. And sitting up reveals that
for some reason my muscles are sore, which I really don’t
understand.

“
So where did you go after
fighting with Lev?”

He shrugs. “I saw Theresa and knew the two of
you weren’t hitting it off. The last thing you needed was for me to
be in the middle of it.”

As I listen to his voice, teeming with
compassion and kindness, a thought occurs to me. How does Kane know
about Theresa? I’ve hardly mentioned her, so it doesn’t make sense.
There’s something that isn’t adding up.

Suddenly the silence which has seemed to
thicken around us is shattered by Kane’s ringtone, the chorus to
“Wayward Son.” I jump, not expecting it. It’s so loud, even in his
pocket. As he fumbles in pulling it out, the phone sings two more
choruses. Then he flips it open.

“
Hello?” He rubs his
temples while the other person speaks. “Yeah. I’m with her now.
Why?” Another pause. “What?” The color drains from his face. “I’ll
be right there.” He snaps the phone shut. The way he’s clenching is
jaw and wearing a tight-lipped frown heralds the tension threading
throughout his body.