Tainted (32 page)

“No!” She shouts it this time. “Where is Jason?”

I drag my right leg when I step to the side. Paul limps the other way. Emma reaches out, hooks Bree’s hand but the girl shakes her off. She runs the last few steps to the bed. Her gasp sounds painful and too loud.

“Jason!” She screams, clutching at his shoulders. “Jason, wake up.” His head lolls when she shakes him, his filthy hair flops side to side. “Come on. You’re not dead. You can’t be.”

“Bree,” Em says in a soft voice. She places a hand on Bree’s arm. “Let him be.”

“No, don’t you tell me what to do!” Bee smacks Emma’s hand away. Tears run down Bree’s face, a sooty trail of make-up and pain. Her bottom lip quivers. “You’re not dead. Alex is not dead. Jason is. Not. Dead.”

Wails break from her. Then Bree collapses over Jason’s body, her face buried in his neck, one hand clutching his crunched shoulder, one hand stroking his cold, still cheek. “You’re not dead,” she tells him over and over. Then she throws her head back and rails, “God, this is not fair! You don’t need him.” She collapses, one hand dragging his arm over the edge of the bed, clinging to his hand. “You don’t need him.
I do
.”

Em turns to me, tears brimming on her lashes. She wants to help Bree, I can see it in her eyes, read it on every line of her face. Bree’s not ready for anyone’s comfort yet.

“
You
,” Bree says, jumping to her feet, pointing at me. “This is all your fault. You called him for help.”

“I didn’t know this would happen.” But the guilt is still tearing me up.

“I don’t care.” She swings her accusing finger at Emma. “You revived her. You can bring him back, too, right? You got what you wanted. I still want Jason!”

“Bree, no,” I shake my head. “It’s not a good idea.” It’s so hard to deny her what I wanted too.

“Not a good idea?” She drops his hand to dangle lifeless from the bed, and grabs my bare shoulders. “You brought Emma back. Give him back to me.”

“No. He’s been hurt too bad. If I revive him he’d suffer.”

“Your father did it with you.”

She couldn’t cut me any deeper. Even Emma gasps and moves closer in my peripheral vision, a hand hovering near.

“I am not my father. He murdered people to get what he wanted. I won’t cause anyone pain.”

I cup Bree’s shoulders with my hands, barely touching her. “Please, Alex,” she pleads.

I mouth the word, “No,” and shake my head.

The brown of Bree’s eyes drowns in her tears. “Give him back?”

I increase the tension in my fingers, shake my head again.

“But you can do it,” she says.

“Just because you can,” I say, “doesn’t mean you should.” It’s a lesson I just learned.

What’s left of Bree’s will breaks and she crumbles against my chest. I fold my arms around her, let her fall apart where she feels safe to. She reaches out, snags Emma’s shirt and drags her close. Soon, the three of us are tangled in pain, bonded in grief.

“I just spoke to him,” Bree says, voice thick with tears, “not even an hour ago. Listen…”

She turns a little sideways in our arms, but won’t break the connection. Bree pulls her phone from her pocket, thumbs through the system to the voice mail, then an eerie, diminished version of Jason’s voice says, “Gonna do something reckless, babe. If forever was a reality, I would’ve spent it with you. If I don’t make it back, ask Alex. He’ll explain everything. So in love it hurts…”

“What am I going to do without him?” she whimpers.

Em strokes her hair, talks softly, trying to reassure her. I bite my bottom lip and hold her like I know my best friend would want me to. Jason was there for me through everything with Em. A look with a thousand thoughts and one shared pain passes between me and Em. Holding my gaze, she rests her head against Bree’s. Emma knows Bree’s loss. I know a shadow of her pain.

Together, the three of us will make it through this.

A week later, the majority of the White River community are packed into Bree’s church for Jason’s funeral. I sit up front, my crutches on the floor in front of me, Bree on one side, Emma on the other, depending on me to hold them together. Taking care of the girls gives me purpose, and also gets me out of the house and away from my gran’s attempts at forcing me into a happier state of being.

I don’t want anything happy right now. I think Bree and Emma would agree with my need to nurse my wounds and wallow in the hurt for a while. The pain keeps the memories of Jason sharp and clear.

Jason’s parents didn’t dress him in something stupid. They bought the costume he wore in his last starring role with Bree, dressed him in that, and left his hair spikey-messy. Paul and I insisted on paying for his casket and all funeral expenses. The casket’s shiny black, with shooting stars molded into all the hardware. Jason would probably tell me it didn’t suck.

What sucks is being without him.

After a tear-jerker of a eulogy, everyone moves downstairs to the common room to “share a luncheon and their memories of Jason,” according to the pastor’s invitation. I follow a bunch of people I’d never seen before down the aisle, and watch the girls disappear over the edge of the stairwell. Not ready for a final goodbye, I stall, then turn and park my butt in the last row of the sanctuary.

Now I sit, arms crossed and leaning on the pew in front of me. This is one of the last moments I’ll be able to be in the same room as Jason. Even if he isn’t really here.

A soft tap-tap comes from Paul’s cane as he limps into the sanctuary. Hailey really did a number on him: she fractured his skull, broke his hand and his foot with the same lamp. And he isn’t blessed with our regenerative formula.

“Hey, kid,” he says. Bruises still lump up the side of his face. He looks like something more than just a genius lab geek. Paul points to the bench beside me, a silent request to join me.

I pat the seat. His foot brace creaks when he eases his body down. His dark hair falls forward in a loose wave before he shoves it back. Paul tilts forward like me.

“So,” he says, and hooks the handle of his cane on the seat back. “How’s Bree holding up? Did she take the news of Jason’s health OK?”

“About as well as she can, considering.” I lean back and look up into the rafters. A few weeks ago all four of us sat in here. Now Jason’s body lies in the coffin at the head of the church, and the girls are most likely sitting in a corner, sipping punch and hating having to talk to people. “First she was mad that he didn’t tell her he was sick. Then she was sad. Then she was mad at me for not telling her. Then she was sad again.”

“Sad will be the norm for a while, poor girl.” His age shows in his wrinkles when Paul nods. The weight of his hand on my shoulder is comforting. “Just because there was some kind of reason doesn’t make the loss hurt any less.”

“Exactly.” I shift my focus back to Jason’s casket. “At least she has Em. Emma’s suffered that kind of loss before.”

Days later, I can understand what Jason did and why. He wasn’t murdered like Em’s first boyfriend Daniel. Jason met death on his own terms, rather than facing a life of illness watching death creep up on him. I wasn’t given that choice. And I didn’t give it to Emma. Now we’re both stuck in a cycle of highs and lows, fire and fade.

“Any word on Hailey?” I ask. I have asked every day since the police told us they didn’t find her body in the tunnels.

“No.” Paul takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He squints at the lenses before putting them back on. “The tunnels lead to the sewer, which has an overflow spillway into the river. With a flood like that, her body could be anywhere. I’ve recovered every file she stole and locked her out of all Ascension accounts. There’s been no news, no movement, nothing.”

It doesn’t make it any better. I didn’t create a monster in Emma, but my father made one in Hailey, and until her body is found, I will always be wary of the next phone ring, or text message.

“But,” he says, and pulls a folded document from his suit coat. “I have some news. Two things, actually. All the paperwork came through and you’ve been approved to rework your father’s property.”

“Everything?”

“Every single permit you need.” Paul gives me a hesitant smile. When I return it with genuine enthusiasm, the grin lights up his face. “Although I think it would do your grandparents a world of good if you stayed on with them until you graduate.”

“They’ve been through hell since I moved in.”

“And Renfield,” Paul adds. “You said he’s quite a character.”

“I’m going to miss that cat when the Gentrys move into their house.” I run my finger along the paper’s edge. “And the second thing?”

“I think I’ve figured out the problem with your weekly doses. It’ll take another few months or so to tweak the doses, but there’s real hope.”

Hope – something I haven’t entertained in a while. Even now, with him genuinely happy about it, the idea of hope after all we’ve been through seems unreal. “I can hardly believe it. I… don’t even know what to think.”

“So don’t. It will be a while yet. How about we go join the girls downstairs?”

“I think they’d like that.”

I hold Paul’s cane as he stands and wait from him to reach the aisle. Then I slide my crutches out and lever my ass up from the pew. Paul walks out, giving me time for a last farewell. The silence is so loud I hate to disturb it by saying something here. My crutches make a clack-clack noise as I walk to the head of the church.

Jason’s casket is closed. I don’t need to see his body. Heck, I know he’s not really there, anyway. His spirit is free, his joints don’t ache and never will again.

I place my palm over the gleaming dome.

“You were the brightest star,” I say. “See you on the other side, Weller.”

Apparently, Emma and Bree didn’t want to sit with all the I’m-so-sorry people anymore. Emma was never good with that anyway. The two blonds stand in the church foyer near Paul. Their hands clasped, both of them wait for me, neither of them looking at Jason’s casket.

I stop at the sanctuary doors, and take one last look at the cradle of Jason’s body. I’m going to miss him. So bad.

“So,” Emma says, putting on a brave smile. “What do we want to do?”

“Girls’ choice,” I say.

“There’s a great new pizza joint in my neighborhood,” Paul suggests. “How about pizza and movies at my house?” Food we like, movies we don’t have to think about or interact with, a person who understands our grief, and accepts us for all the broken pieces we are.

“Perfect,” the girls say in unison.

And it is.

EPILOGUE

20 May

Warm breezes blow through the wrought iron gate, bringing the scent of lake water, fresh tilled earth and grains. Summer in West Michigan is beautiful, and it looks good on my father’s old estate. I’ve made so many changes here – or, the crew I hired with Paul’s help have. They’ve completely transformed the property. The house, windmill and out-buildings are gone. Only the gatehouse at the far end still stands, the rest is fields, trees, a newly constructed shelter and barn. And the required fencing.

Gravel crunches beneath Bree’s sandals when she joins me by the passenger’s door. The ghost of her loss still haunts her, but her poodle-ish demeanor and mad fashion sense have made a healthy comeback. She’s been in on today’s secret for a while, and even tied the blindfold around Emma’s eyes. She bounces beside me, and takes one of Emma’s hands when we lead her from the car.

Emma’s in jeans and a white tank top, a familiar outfit to me and the guy whose memories are now mine. She leaves her new sweater in the seat.

“Where are we?” Emma asks.

“Guess,” Bree tells her.

“I don’t know.” She tugs back on our hands. “Stop moving me so I can get my bearings.”

Bree rolls her eyes, then rubs at the shooting star tattoo she got to commemorate Jason on the back of her neck. “Do you want us to let go?” she asks Em.

In response, Emma tightens her fingers around ours. Other than classes, the three of us have been close to inseparable since winter break when Hailey devastated so many lives. After a long discussion – lots of tears and cussing, too – the Gentrys accepted what happened to their daughter, and thanked me for saving her. I’m even allowed to sleep on their sofa when the girls have overnights. Which is a couple of times a week, even now.

Em tips her head back and goes still. Her blond hair catches the breeze, dancing around her bare arms, inviting my fingers. “Hm,” she says. “I can hear the breeze whispering in pine trees.” She inhales through her nose. “And I can smell Lake Michigan. Smells familiar… Alex, did you take us to see Paul’s brother’s deer?”

Bree’s eyes go wide and she jerks her head at Emma, silently accusing me of telling Em the secret.

“No,” I say, dragging out the game. “Were we in the car that long?”

“Well…” Freckles ride the wrinkles when Emma scrunches her nose in thought. “Not really. I guess not.” She moves her hands toward the blindfold. “Can I take this off then?”

“Not yet,” Bree tells her, and takes both her hands while I unlock the gate. “This way,” Bree coaches her, and walks backward on the gravel drive leading Em into the reworked estate.

“We’re definitely outside,” Em says. “Grass tickling my toes. And we’re near the lake.”

“Keep guessing,” Bree tells her.

I open the gate to the paddock, and make room for the girls to pass through.

“That sounded like a gate squeaking,” Em says.

“Yep,” I agree. “There’s one more.”

My two blonds walk toward the second gate. Emma’s my girlfriend, Bree was Jason’s, but she’s mine to worry over and protect now. The winter was hard on us all, spring a little better. With the early summer sun shining down, the girls look happy. Bree’s heart will heal. Jason would be proud of how we’ve helped each other through.

I rush into the barn, scoop a few handfuls of feed into a bucket and meet the girls at the last gate.

“What’s that smell?” Em asks. “I know I’ve smelled it before.”

“OK, Bree,” I say, and Bree releases Em’s wrists. “Cup your hands together,” I tell Em.

The smile on her face was worth every hoop I had to jump through and every cost this project incurred. Emma complies, and I pour the feed into her hands.