Second Sight (4 page)

“
I just wanted to get out
of Tellico Plains.” I brush the hair from my face and look at the
bed, carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was going crazy. I’m not
like you. I hate small towns.” The words just keep rambling from my
mouth, but they mean nothing. Not to him. Never have. Not simple,
not possible, not happening.

“
This isn’t about small
towns, Lizzie. We both know it’s about Lev.” He rubs the bridge of
his nose, and for the first time I realize just how tired Jimmie
looks these days. It started in Hauser’s Landing and just kept
going, unfortunately for both of us. He slowly walks over and
lowers himself to the chair. “Christ, Lizzie, you know Lev is dead.
Why would you say such a thing?”

I shrug. “Probably because I hit my head and
that kid, Miguel was shot right in front of me—just like Lev.”

Cringing, I realize this is where things get
too real. I have a new image to add to my nightmares—Miguel dying
just like Lev. It doesn’t matter if he was a stranger. He was a
kid, someone who deserved a chance he never got.

Jimmie reaches for my hand, and he’s
trembling. “I can’t take you holding all this in, keeping it away
from me, Lizzie. Scott wondered if you might need a psych
evaluation, and—“

“
I’m not crazy!” I explode,
yanking my hand from his. I start to say something else when the
door opens again, admitting a beautiful nurse with long, straight
black hair and dark eyes that first flash toward me and then settle
on Jimmie. The nurse’s uniform does nothing to diminish her
hour-glass figure. From the first moment I see her, I realize three
things. First, she’s achingly beautiful, with her dark, exotic
features. Second, she’s got that aura which seems to hint at her
being an angel. Third, Jimmie can’t take his eyes off her—and she’s
pretty focused on him as well.

She looks from Jimmie to me and back again.
“Is everything all right?”

“
Fine,” we both say, but
looking at Jimmie’s wistful expression, I realize suddenly he means
it more than I do. What in the hell is going on here? If Jimmie
only knew he was attracted to an angel. Would that make a
difference? Nope, he doesn’t do emotions, regardless of what he
says. But he goes through the motions just fine. And this one is
just that—fine.

As she walks towards us, the papers she
carries slip from her hands and tumble to the floor. Immediately,
Jimmie shoots from his chair and grabs them before she can even
bend to retrieve them. He presses them into her hands.

“
Thank you.” She offers a
smile to me. “I came to have you both sign the discharge paperwork
so that Lizzie can go home and get some rest.” Her voice is
seductively rough, and I struggle the with texture of
it.

Thank God
, I think, grateful to be getting out of Dodge. I reach for
them and patiently pretend to listen to the discharge instructions,
but it’s pretty hard with Jimmie over there going gaga over
Florence Nightingale. I shake my head. I’ve never seen Jimmie so
shamelessly taken in by a female before. Then again, she is really
beautiful, so I can’t question his taste on that score.

Jimmie leans close and signs in all the right
spots, watching like a love-sick puppy as she separates the forms
and hands us the copies. When she’s done, she offers a smile to
both of us.

“
I guess that’s it unless
you have any questions.”

“
What if Lizzie needs
attention? An emergency or something?” His voice is fast and
desperate, as though he really doesn’t want her to
leave.

She points to the paperwork. “Oh, the number
is right there, just in case.”

“
Ah. Well, could you write
your name just in case, so I’ll have someone I can talk
to.”

I shoot him a nasty look,
thinking,
it’s a concussion, Jimmie, not a
terminal illness. There aren’t going to be any side-effects.
Still, I shake my head and watch as the nurse
jots her name, Theresa Whitmore, at the top.

Then she is gone. But that doesn’t stop
Jimmie from staring at the door even after she has walked through
it. It’s like I have ceased to exist. Everyone has except for the
beautiful Theresa. Gritting my teeth, I wave my hand in front of
Jimmie’s eyes, trying to prompt him out of his nice little reverie
back into reality even thought I much prefer the thought that I can
somehow escape the chaos and Jimmie’s wrath.

Jimmie blinks and looks at the clothes he’s
brought, sitting on the window sill. “I’m going to go chat with Ms.
Whitmore while you get dressed.”

“
Okay.” I shouldn’t mind
this sudden distraction. After all, she’s taking Jimmie’s mind of
the grief he wants to give me for running to Knoxville and almost
getting myself killed. I sure have a knack for things, don’t I?
Still, nobody has to tell me twice to get this stupid hospital gown
off. Although I hate the outfit Jimmie has brought—a pair of khaki
shorts and a white tank top—it’s still better than the
alternative.

When he comes back in, he seems strangely
quiet. Again, I should be grateful, but there’s something wrong,
something I can’t put my finger on. The Jimmie I know and love
should be freaking out, but he’s not. So what exactly did little
miss angel have to say, and how exactly did she get Jimmie to
listen in a few minutes when I’ve been trying that for most of my
life?

He stares at me, but I can’t tell by his
expression what he’s thinking, which really bugs me. Somehow I feel
as though I’ve let him down. There are so many things I wish Jimmie
could understand, especially when it comes to Lev. But truthfully,
I don’t think I even get all of it, so how could I ever explain it
to him?

“
Jimmie, I’m
sorry.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “Let’s
just go home, Lizzie. Then we’ll worry about the damage.”

Chapter Three

Although I am more than willing to drive the
Jeep back to Tellico Plains, neither the doctor nor Jimmie will
agree to that. Scott volunteers to drive it for me with his partner
following to give him a lift back.

Not only is the lack of freedom stifling, the
silence lingering between Jimmie and me leaves me on edge until it
feels like I need to hit something, anything. Usually Jimmie reacts
more verbally than this, and it makes me wonder if his mind lingers
behind with that nurse, which was just too weird for words.

Don’t get me wrong. Jimmie likes women as
much as the next guy, but usually he’d react to what I had done and
been oblivious to the nurse, not the other way around. And I just
can’t take the silence anymore.

“
Jimmie, I’m really
sorry.”

He shakes his head. “You could have been
killed, and all you can do is apologize?” Gripping the steering
wheel turns his knuckles white. “You never said what you were doing
in Knoxville.”

“
I was looking
around.”

“
Bullshit, Lizzie. At least
be truthful.” He grabs a cigarette from the pack stashed in the cup
holder and takes the lighter. Closing his eyes, he exhales a thick
cloud of smoke, and I roll the window down, despite the cool air
blowing in through the vents.

“
I am.” My protest lacks
the bravado to ring true, but I knew that going in. I can’t lie
very well, but that’s probably a good thing.

“
Look, I’m tired of trying
to guess when you’re gonna do something to get you in trouble so
until I say different, you’re grounded. Period.”

Aw. How
dad
of him. Part of me wants to burst
out laughing because at least this way I won’t have to socialize,
and Jimmie can’t expect me to find new friends. Instead I can just
try to figure out other ways to find Lev. Sounds like a plan. So I
just lean back in the seat and close my eyes. I start to drift off
until Miguel’s face surfaces, then I jerk awake and force a deep,
calming breath.

For whatever reason, my thoughts immediately
go back to Scott and his concerned frown as he tried to make sure I
was coherent at the scene of the shooting. Even now, I can see the
aura of his wings as clear as day, and no matter what he might say,
I know he’s an angel.

I glance in the door mirror, and my Jeep
follows about two car-lengths behind—close enough so I can see
Scott’s face but not near enough to read his expression. Part of me
hates being grounded because even though today has been awful, I’d
come back just to find Scott. But there’s no way in hell Jimmie’s
going to allow that. Or anything else.

Jimmie’s uncharacteristic silent treatment
lasts the rest of the drive home—that and his chain smoking. One of
us is going to develop cancer over this, I’m sure, but I know
better than to argue with him about it. It’s his one vice, and when
he’s ready to give it up again, he will. Of course, that will be
when I stop getting into trouble. Until then, all bets are off.

Once we pull into the driveway, I fly out of
the car and head inside, hoping to stall any further bits of
conversation Jimmie might have been planning. I mean, I know he
wants me to tell him all about my big day in the city, but right
now all I can think about is Miguel and the disappointment of not
running into Lev. I was so sure I’d find him. If I’d died, would he
have come?

I close my door and plop onto the bed,
careful to weave around all the unpacked boxes. You know, the way
our house looks, it reminds me a lot of the house at Hauser’s
Landing—old-fashioned and dated. A Jimmie house. We still had stuff
that hadn’t been unpacked when we moved so I guess that made it
easier, and leaving most of my friends wasn’t hard because they
never really got beneath my skin.

The only person I hated leaving was Griffin.
I don’t know why. Maybe because he was the only one who was with me
the night Lev died, and knowing I hadn’t been alone made it easier
to bear. I never thought he and I would be friends, but we became
close. I figured I owed him that much, and once we’d started
talking, I wasn’t sorry.

Since we’ve been here, I haven’t had time to
write him and let him know how things are going. Besides, what
would I say? That I still miss Lev so much it hurts and I hate this
place at least as much as I hated Hauser’s Landing? And he’s
graduated and has a life now. He doesn’t need me unloading all this
crap. And I shouldn’t complain because Jimmie took quite a loss on
his mother’s house just to unload it and get us out of there after
Lev’s death. It’s not really the house that made Jimmie choose this
place but the land and the nearby lake. Somehow he thinks Mother
Nature will make things more peaceful, I guess.

I lie on the bed and prop my hands behind my
head. Even as I close my eyes, I see Lev’s face, and I miss him. I
never knew it could hurt to love someone this much.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my
thoughts. “Come in,” I say, knowing there is no getting rid of
Jimmie when he decides he wants to talk.

He opens the door and lingers in the hallway.
Behind him, I also notice Scott standing here. “I’m going to fix a
burger for lunch. You hungry?”

“
No, not really.” I swallow
hard.

Jimmie walks down the hall, and once he
disappears, Scott holds out his hand, offering my keys. “You might
need these. And don’t forget the side window needs to be replaced.
I cleaned out all the glass I could find.”

“
Thanks.” I take them and
set them on the dresser. “Have they caught the shooter?”

He nods. “Yeah. Not that it’ll do much good.
He’s a minor.”

“
Oh.” Nothing about him
reminds me of a teenager, certainly not his expression.

“
There’s something else.”
He reaches into his pocket and offers me something encircled in his
palm. I’d take that, too, and once his fingers withdraw, I see the
bracelet Lev gave me what seems like a lifetime ago. The silver,
lying in my palm, seems so warm, and once again, my breath halts,
just like when Lev first gave it to me. Tears prick my eyes, and I
feel myself stumbling as I dance with the pain yet again. I almost
drop it, but Scott sets his hand beneath mine, his palm touching
the back of my hand, supporting it.

He frowns. “You all right?”

“
I’m fine.” All the pain
and rage of losing Lev threatens to tremble through me until I can
barely breathe and my chest aches from the emotions I’m trying so
hard to restrain. I close my fingers around the bracelet

Nodding, he silently withdraws his hand and
steps back, giving me one last glance before turning.

“
Scott?” My voice is as
ragged and uneven as the breath coursing through my
body.

“
Yeah.” He stops completely
but does not face me. His shoulders form a hard line, as though the
weight of the world rests upon them.

“
You remind me of someone.”
I know it’s something stupid to say, but I can’t seem to help
myself, even though I know nothing good can come out of it. Even if
Scott is an angel, which I really believe he is, that doesn’t mean
he’s going to admit it or anything else, including knowing
Lev.

“
Really.” His voice is
flat, and he’s so completely still he even seems to be a part of
the furniture, not a human being. Or an angel—if he is one. But
maybe I’m seeing things—seeing what I want to see. “And who do I
remind you of?” His voice sounds rougher than I’ve heard thus far.
I just wish I could see his face and read his
expression.

“
Lev.” It’s a half-whisper
that almost dies before I can utter it.

For a moment he just stands there, silent as
a stone. Then he slowly turns, and a frown deepens the furrows in
his forehead. His jaw clenches, and his eyes fix on my mine.