Second Sight (5 page)

“
How did I know you were
going to say that?” His lips part slightly, and he looks as though
I slapped him. He walks to the chair in front of my desk and slowly
sits down. Clasping his hands, he leans over and closes his eyes.
After a deep breath, he peers at me.

“
You remind me of him.” I
say again, not knowing what else to say.

“
That’s not uncommon,
Elizabeth.” He stares into my eyes, piercing me with the blueness
of his own. “After someone we love dies, we tend to see them
everywhere and in everyone. I don’t know if that is our way of
protecting ourselves. Or whether it’s just a sick joke. I don’t
know if maybe some part of the person remains behind and every so
often, when things come together in a certain way, we see
them.”

I squint, searching for the aura around him,
but it has gone. Now Scott looks just like everyone else, and
something inside of me breaks.

“
I guess you think I’m just
a stupid teenage girl.”

“
Nope. Just somebody who’s
had her heart broken. There’s no shame in that.” He pats my
shoulder and gives me a scrap of paper.

“
What’s this?” I start to
unfold it.

“
My number. In case you
need somebody to talk to before you go walking into another
shoot-out.”

I try to think of something—anything—to say,
but my throat is dry, and suddenly I’m so tired I just want to
sleep and forget this day ever happened. This time, when Scott
reaches the door, he keeps going, and I just crawl into my bed and
draw the covers up over my head, wondering if I can just sleep the
rest of my life away.

The next few days pass pretty much in a blur
of solitude, with Jimmie heading off to work leaving me in an empty
house full of boxes I’m supposed to unpack. Trouble is, unpacking
only leads to mucho boredom, which, in my case isn’t a good thing.
It makes me think of Lev.

Then again, there isn’t much which doesn’t
make me think of Lev.

Still, I do the box thing, as much as I can,
and I head out to the lake near our house after I jot a note for
Jimmy; it’s not that I expect him home any time soon, but if I
don’t, I’m afraid what little sanity is left rattling around inside
his head will evaporate. It feels good to shed the stillness of the
house. The lake is one of the few perks of this whole Walden thing
Jimmie always seems to want to drag me into. I’m guessing he
believes sooner or later this supposed tranquility will eventually
sink in with me so he can stop worrying. But there is no cure for
this restless pain except Lev, and I won’t stop until I find
him.

Still, the lake is pretty right now. Half of
it seems placid whereas a gaggle of geese has splashed down towards
the opposite bank, rippling the water so the reflection is unclear.
Along the bank is a flourish of cattails and tall reeds, hiding the
waterline. Sunlight glitters off the area which is still and glints
back harshly, half-blinding me.

Although it’s a perfect day, when I look
around, the lake is deserted as far as I can see, and further
around the left side of the water, I spot a beach area where the
winds have rippled the sand into soft dune, begging for my feet to
sluice through. In anticipation, I wriggle my toes against my flip
flops and trudge that way, ignoring the heat. Although I’d much
rather be out looking for Lev, Jimmie has made it perfectly clear
I’m not going anywhere until he agrees.

So, until then, I guess I’m beach-bound. I
never thought I’d say this, but school is supposed to be starting
in a few days, and I’ll be grateful for the reprieve from what
Jimmie lovingly refers to as peace. Shaking my head, I trudge to
the sandy spot, grateful for the momentary isolation. Although the
sand is warm from the sun, the heat radiating from it certainly
isn’t unbearable. I’ve always loved the extra warmth against my
skin, and while it would probably bother most people to lie in the
sand without a blanket, it’s not so big a deal to me. I’ve gotten
quite used to being ill-prepared for most things in my life.

There’s a small break in the clusters of
cattails opening into a shallow area of the lake, and while I
figure I might test the water later, right now I sit on the beach,
ignoring the way the sand splashes up into my shorts as I lie down
and soak up the warmth washing over me. My sunglasses block most of
the brilliance, but I still close my eyes, feeling the nosy tug of
sleep washing over me.

In a flash Lev is here, standing with his
back facing me, his large, white wings spread wide in the sunlight.
His skin glistens, and his hair appears as spun gold in the light.
I want to call his name from where I lie against the bleached sand,
but my voice won’t come. Still, he must sense my thoughts, for he
slowly turns, one hand toying with a large conch shell. Grinning,
he ambles toward me, the wings slowly disappearing until they have
been completely hidden, allowing him to kneel beside me.

“
Don’t tell me you’re
sleeping.” He lifts a palm full of sand and sprinkles it on my
leg.

“
I was.” As always, I feel
diminished next to his beauty and purity. “Why are you putting sand
on me?”

He winks at me. “Because I can.”

“
Don’t you have something
more important to do?”

“
Than spending time with
you?” He shifts to lie next to me, where I can rest my head against
his chest. “I don’t think so, Elizabeth. Not in this
life.”

My breath catches, and all I can do is stare
into his blue eyes. I tug off my sunglasses to take in his full
beauty and reach to take his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “I’m never far
away. Never.”

My stomach cramps, and I twitch, feeling
unnerved by his words because even though they sound comforting,
something is definitely wrong with them. “It feels like you
are."

He slips the sunglass from my hand and puts
them on my face. “You should go back to relaxing.”

“
Will you stay?” Each breath
shudders through me.

“
What do you think?” He lies
down with me.

“
Lizzie?”

I hear the voice, but it’s not coming from
Lev. His mouth isn’t moving, and the timbre is lighter, less
ethereal. The sky and world around me ripple, distort.

“
What’s happening?” I ask,
my arms cinching around him desperately.

“
You’re waking up.” He
kisses my forehead. I try to hold onto him, but then something
prods my shoulder.

My eyes fly open, but even with the
sunglasses, the light overhead is blinding and I keep blinking,
unable to recognize the guy leaning over me. As I struggle to sit
up, I see the conch shell from my dreams half tucked in the sand
beside me.

“
Did you put this here?” I
ask, my trembling fingers latching onto it, and I keep staring,
knowing it wasn’t here before I drifted to sleep.

“
No, Lizzie. I
didn’t.”

I blink and take in the dark hair, the nice
pink polo and khaki shorts, the dock shoes. A gold watch glitters
in the sunlight. Griffin. He looks different, his jaw covered with
a few day’s growth of facial hair. It makes his face longer and
leaner.

“
How long have you been
here?” I crane my neck, looking for someone else.

“
That’s a nice greeting,
Lizzie. No ‘hi’ or ‘how are you.’” He offers a hand to help me
stand. “I’ve been here about ten minutes.”

“
Did you see anyone?” I
keep scanning the shore, but Griffin is the only person
nearby.

He shrugs. “No. There’s just me.”

My fingers cinch down around the conch, and I
shake my head, unable to sort between the dream world and reality.
The rough surface of the shell tells me it hasn’t been cleaned up
and smoothed. Its form is natural, and it didn’t come from this
lake.

Griffin enfolds me in his arms, and I feel
myself pushed up against his chest. At one time, I would never have
let him get that close, but there’s nothing like a guy saving your
life to tell you he’s not nearly as bad as you think. He’s been the
only link I’ve kept to Hauser’s Landing. Some things are just too
painful to remember.

“
How have you been?” His
voice is quiet and low key as it rumbles through his chest—and, by
proximity, me.

“
Good.” I slowly pull away,
the shell heavy in my left hand. “What are you doing here?” My
voice sounds breathless, unprepared.

“
Jimmie said if you weren’t
at the house, I’d find you here at the lake.”

My whole body stiffens with realization, and
I avert my gaze. “Oh, so Jimmie sent for you.” Gritting my teeth, I
fold my arms across my chest and try counting to keep my patience.
Good old Jimmie. I just wonder what he told Griffin to get him down
here so fast. That I was losing my mind? Maybe I was suicidal?
Maybe I just needed the comfort of an old friend?

“
Yeah,” he finally admits,
looking at the ground.

“
Sorry you drove so far for
nothing, Griffin.” I start to walk away but he grabs my arm and
stops me.

“
Damn it, Lizzie, just
because Jimmie sent for me doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be here or that
I can’t help. If you’ll let me.”

“
I’m fine,” I snap and jerk
away, trying to keep walking. Maybe if I just leave him at the
lake, he’ll go away.

“
You keep saying that,
Lizzie. But the thing is, I don’t think you know any other way to
describe yourself. You just tell yourself that so maybe, given
enough time, you’ll believe it. But I don’t.”

That’s when I run back to the house. The
problem is that no matter how far or fast you run, the past always
catches you in the end.

Chapter Four

“
Lizzie, wait!” Griffin
shouts. I’ve almost reach the house, and although I’m a fast
runner, Griffin is determined to catch me, which causes both of us
to plunge head first in to the dirt. Slamming against the ground
knocks the air from my lungs, and I gasp, trying to take in enough
air to catch my breath. That gives Griffin enough time to get up
and kneel in front of me. His face is wan, and the expression
crossing his face hints at feeling guilty about me lying on the
ground.

“
You okay?”

I nod, knowing that if I could just get the
word out of my throat, I’d squeak, “Fine.” But right now words are
beyond me. So all I can do is glare at Griffin leaning over me,
gasping air as he tries to catch his breath.

“
I didn’t come here to be
Jimmie’s spy, Lizzie.” He offers me a hand, and, as he stands he
hauls me to my feet. “I came because whether or not you want to
admit it, you need me, and, as things aren’t going so hot at home,
I damned sure need some of your time. Can’t we just leave it at
that?”

For a moment I ponder his words and realize
he’s right. I can either cuss Griffin out for coming when Jimmie
called him, or I can look at Griffin’s sudden appearance as a gift.
Okay, so maybe I won’t go that far, but I’m willing to bet
Griffin’s intentions lie somewhere between spying on me and trying
to take care of me. If Jimmie thinks Griffin is keeping an eye on
me, he might actually loosen up, which would make it so much easier
to find Lev.

“
Okay.” I pat the dirt from
my body and shake my head. Trust Griffin to tackle me just to get
me to talk. Or listen. As he sees me trying to clean off my
clothes, he gestures for me to turn around and pats down my
back.

“
Good as new.”

“
Thanks.” I scan the ground
to find the shell, luckily still intact. My trembling fingers pick
it up.

Together we walk to the house, and while I
might open up to him in time, us being thrown together like this is
so uncomfortable I can hardly stand it. In one hand I carry the
conch, and in the other is shoved deeply into my shorts pocket,
probably to hide the fact I’m trembling—which has nothing to do
with Griffin’s sudden appearance and everything to do with this new
dream, one I really didn’t want to leave.

I tug open the screen door and gesture for
Griffin to follow, plunking down on the couch. The silence is
festering, but I’m not sure what to do. Nowadays, I feel I have to
guard everything that comes out of my mouth. Setting the conch on
the coffee table, I venture to break the silence.

“
Not much going on these
days.”

Griffin sinks down next to me. He folds his
arms across his chest, waiting.

“
What?” I ask.

“
You used to trust me,
Lizzie.”

I stand and start pacing. “Let’s just say I
don’t think you’re acting of your own accord these days, and the
last thing I need is you and Jimmie breathing down my neck.” All
the frustration and resentment I’ve been holding back since Lev’s
death—all the stuff I’ve thought but never said—is in danger of
boiling over. I can’t seem to control myself; too much is too much.
Maybe it’s just part of the brokenness and maybe not. Maybe it’s
just me, a part of whom I’ve become. Of anger and brokenness, anger
is much easier. Brokenness begs to be fixed. Anger is what it
is.

Griffin stands and sets his palm on my
shoulder. “I’m not on a secret ‘Jimmie’ mission. All he asked me to
do was come up and spend some time with you—to make sure you’re
adjusting.”

“
Adjusting. Right. Yeah. In
Jimmie speak, that’s code for blowing it off. Game over. Next
player. But this isn’t Joust, Griffin—There’s nothing to talk
about.”

“
Oh, really? So you just
drove to Tennessee and got right in the middle of a gang shooting,
and that’s it? End of story?” He shakes his head. “I don’t buy
that, either.”