Shadow Bound (Wraith) (6 page)

I didn’t stay to see the look on her face or wait for her to make excuses for her comments. I turned my back to them and walked away.

My house wasn’t that far away. A mile or so and I didn’t mind walking. I knew I needed to cool off a little. Julia was wrong, but she touched a nerve. I trusted Connor, but I was no fool. People often fell into the same traps. It’s why alcoholics can’t drink and gamblers can’t bet. I worried about him. The fact he showed up stoned at my house the other day did nothing to refute what Julia just said. I hoped that as long as he took his medication, which helped keep the majority of the ghosts away from him, he would remain stable.

As for Charlotte, I had no idea what to think. Julia’s accusations sounded pretty extreme as far as standard teenage problems go. But she wasn’t standard. She was in the same hospital as Connor. The idea made me sick to my stomach. I hoped she wasn’t caught up in anything like that and I really hoped he wasn’t involved.

“T
hanks for the
ride. I wish you had every morning off.”

“Me, too,” Connor said. “Luckily, I have a good grade in Spanish and I could opt out of the test.”

We’re sitting in Connor’s car, parked in the art studio lot. I’ve barely seen him this week. The last two times we spent time together, we fought. When he offered to take me to work today, I jumped at the chance to hang out with him.

“I’ll see you later?” I asked, gathering my bag off the floor of the car. He hesitated and looked away.

“Or not?”

“I’ve got some stuff to do this afternoon.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s descriptive,” I muttered.

“What? You want an itinerary?” he barked back. “I’ve got some school work to do at the library, then my mom wants me to clean out the garage and…”

“You don’t have to yell.”

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath. “I’m not yelling.”

“You’re totally yelling!” Now I was yelling.

“Jane, you’ve got to back off a little. I know you’re still pissed about the weed.”

“I’m not pissed about that.”

He leveled me a hard look. I was pissed. But not just about that. He’d been acting different lately. I don’t know if it was the drugs or Charlotte or what, but whatever was going on made him a mess. “Then what is it?”

I shook my head, not wanting to escalate the fight.

“Tell me.”

I had one hand on the door handle just in case he got angry, and asked, “Are you taking your meds?”

“Are you kidding me? You think we’re fighting because I’m off my meds? You know I’m only on those for one reason.”

“Yeah, to keep the ghosts away, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect your moods and stuff.” He held a hand up, indicating he wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. “Whatever, Connor. Forget it. I’ll talk to you when you’re over being a jerk.”

I got out of the car and slammed the door behind me, making the little car shake from the impact.

Connor’s car shifted into reverse and he peeled out of the parking lot, swerving into traffic, forcing a car to honk at him. “Great!” I yelled. “Really mature!”

The front door of the studio opened and Ava stuck her head out. “Who are you yelling at?”

“Connor,” I said, pushing past her into the building.

She looked out the door and into the parking lot. “Is he out there?”

“Not anymore. He left.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

I reached behind the counter for my apron. “Nope. It’s nothing. Stupid stuff,” I told her. I opened up the folder where we kept the registration forms and class information. In a measured voice I said, “I see we have Andrew coming again today. Hope you’re ready.”

Ava unlocked the doors and pulled the shade on the front window. “I’m always ready.”

&

Four weeks into camp, the days started to merge together. Doling out paint and glue, along with beads and glitter, to 15 kids a day started to feel like factory work. Ava and I had a good time teaching the class, but I looked forward to my family vacation. Each summer, we took a week off and stayed in a rental at the beach. I’d taken Grace, my pre-ghost-seeing, pre-serious-boyfriend best friend, with me in the past, but this year my parents told me I could invite Connor. Summer school held classes during the first part of the week so he couldn’t come the whole time, but our vacation was over the Fourth of July, which gave him a couple days break.

“When do you leave?” Ava asked.

“Saturday morning. Connor gets there next Wednesday.”

“Good. I think you both need a break.”

“Yeah, it’s been a hard couple of weeks for him and I won’t deny the idea of having Connor alone for several days feels nice.” A frustrating tension had developed between us since Charlotte died. I didn’t even know this girl when she was alive, but dead she had an unbelievable effect on my relationship. I hoped if we got away from school and work and everything else, we could put it past us and move on.

“Come on guys, let’s wash your hands and then you can eat lunch,” Ava called out to the group. The kids flew past us to the bathroom where they fought over the sink and made a general mess.

“Outside… go. Move. Sophie, get your lunch box. Not that one, your lunch box. Yes. That one. Go,” I directed. It was like herding cats.

The best thing about having the art studio in a house was the fact it had a small back yard. Picnic tables and a small garden added to the open space. It helped everyone to have fresh air and get outside for a little bit.

We settled the kids, opening containers and drinks before moving over to a small round table to eat our own lunches. The kids were under strict instruction not to get up for 20 minutes. They would pretend to be done in five if you let them.

Ava methodically sorted her food and containers. She had the worst OCD. I, on the other hand, dumped my lunch on the table, opened my Coke and began eating.

“I talked to Julia,” Ava said.

I swallowed a mouthful of turkey. “Did you?”

“She feels bad about the other day.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“She does. She’s just worried about you. She just doesn’t show her concern well.”

“That’s an understatement,” I said. “Julia doesn’t understand me or Connor and she especially doesn’t understand our relationship.”

Ava picked up a container and popped off the lid. “That’s the thing, Jane. None of us do.”

I stopped the can of Coke before it hit my lips. “What does that mean?”

Ava looked me directly in the eye. “It means you and Connor are these two vastly different people, both with some kind of secret backgrounds that no one has ever really understood. He spent time in lock-up and you had your problems, but you have this connection – a really strong one. Anyone can see that.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Ava smirked. “Yeah, it is a big deal. He saved your life. You could have died and he was there for you. That, is a big deal.”

We never talked much about the fire and Evan’s mom. Ava didn’t know the whole story. She believed the story we gave the police and newspapers. Due to my volunteer work at the battered women’s shelter, I found myself in the middle of a domestic argument. She didn’t know about the ghosts.

“It’s complicated. All that stuff between us,” I replied weakly.

“I can imagine. I’m not pressuring you to talk about what happened between you guys or about the fire last year, but you need to at least admit that the relationship between you two can be a little intense.”

That I could admit, to myself at least. We went from quasi-enemies to friends to, well, much more. To more than my boyfriend. We were connected by something greater than both of us. We needed one another and we shared secrets. Big ones.

I picked up an apple and took a large bite instead of responding. There was nothing I could say. Ava, of course, had no problem filling the silence. “I don’t think you should worry about this Charlotte thing anyway. He pretty much worships you.”

I almost choked on the apple. “He what? No. I don’t think so.”

Ava nodded her head vigorously. “Yeah, he does. He watches you. And he’s so protective. Ever since the fire, it’s like he’s afraid to lose you.”

Her words made my stomach sink. I knew Connor cared for me, but lately things had been so tense. I brushed her off. “I don’t think he’s worried about that anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about? He’s smitten.”

“Stop,” I said quietly. There was a time he was like that with me. When he called and texted all day. When he showed up unexpectedly and offered me a ride, but not so much anymore. I knew he still had feelings for me. I could tell in his touch and the kisses we shared, but there was a strain. I wanted to blame it on the normal easing into a long-term relationship, but I had doubts.

Ava put down her sandwich. “Tell me what’s going on. You aren’t buying into this stuff Julia was saying are you? About Charlotte? You know Connor wasn’t messing around with her or anything.”

“I know.” I did. I knew there was nothing for me to be jealous about, but I couldn’t deny something was off. Everything was fine until she committed suicide. “He won’t tell me anything about her, but he’s very upset about it all. He showed up stoned the other day after forgetting to pick me up from work. He’s barely around and won’t answer his phone.” 

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with you,” she said. “Look, I love Connor and he’s great, but he struggled before you came along. I’m not sure I’m surprised he’s smoking up with his friends or screwing around about school. Maybe Julia is right. Maybe he’s sliding back into old habits.”

What Ava didn’t know was I wasn’t so worried about the outward behavior. I was worried about his mental health. The mood swings and erratic behavior. I knew enough about antidepressants to know some of the signs. I also knew what happened if he got off of them. What could happen. Was he seeing ghosts and not telling me? Was he seeing her?

Ava interrupted my thoughts. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“Not really. Like I said, he won’t discuss Charlotte. He says the weed was a one-time thing. Which is fine. I don’t really care. There’s other stuff, too. I don’t think he’s sleeping and I’m not convinced he’s going to class every day. I have no idea what’s going on with him.”

Saying it all out loud wasn’t making me feel any better. In fact, I felt worse. I stood and walked over to the trash can and threw the remainder of my lunch away. I felt nauseous.

I checked on the kids. They were all still eating. Only one had decided to smear peanut butter all over his face to make a “beard.”

I frowned in disapproval. “Jack, knock it off. Go inside and clean up.”

The little boy hopped off his seat and ran up the back steps. A couple of campers giggled at him getting in trouble, but resumed eating.

“Five minutes to finish,” I announced and walked back over to sit with Ava until it was time to go inside.

“I won’t say anything else about it, but I do think you should talk to him. Like, really talk to him.” Ava swept her hair behind her head and tied it up. The sun hit the high part of the sky and beat down on us in the yard.

“I will. I mean, things aren’t terrible. It’s just different. There’s a distance or something. Julia just poured salt in a festering wound,” I confessed.

Ava laughed humorlessly. “She’s good at that. But he’s going on vacation with your family, right?”

“That’s the plan. Since he can’t ride with us, his dad is letting him drive the SUV down.”

“Good thing. His rust bucket would probably fall apart on the way down.”

I laughed. “Be nice. I love that crappy car. It suits him.”

“It does, a little broken down and damaged, but still sexy and rugged.” She giggled at her own description. She was right. That was the perfect way to describe him and his car.

“Talk to him. He’s worth it,” she said, her tone serious.

“I will. Promise.”

&

My aunt operated in her own time and mind. Some call it flakey, others artistic. I had no idea what I would call it except it’s just how she’s always been. Now that I knew about her gifts, the ability to read auras and palms, I thought she just spent part of her time in another level of consciousness. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when she called and started in on a conversation as though we’d never stopped talking.

“I’m working on a new painting.”

These were the first words I heard when I answered the phone. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s a girl with fantastic, bold wings instead of arms.”

Jeannie’s words were as much a collage as her paintings. I could almost see her moving her arms around in a flapping motion. “Like an angel?” I asked, trying to imagine white wings protruding from the girls back.

“No, not like an angel. They aren’t on her back. They are where her arms are. Red, like fire. Like your aura.”

“Like the devil bird?”

“Energy and life.”

“Okay.”

“She’s transporting spirits between this world and the next. Carrying them like a baby.”

The imagery was freaking me out. “With her wings?”

“Stop being so literal.”

“Sorry.” Obviously, I didn’t have my aunt’s gift of artistry.

“Never mind. How are you?”

This thing, this ability, was hard to talk about. The idea alone made me uncomfortable. “Send me a picture, I’d love to see it. And I’m okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Working, Connor, ghosts, drama. Teenage life.” I sat on a stool by the kitchen window. I could see the tire swing in Ms. Frances’ yard.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Psychic now?”

“No, just a good aunt,” she laughed. “What’s going on?”

“Just the ghosts. I hate it. I had to tell this woman she was dead but her baby survived. That was the worst.”