A Gift of Wings (49 page)

She stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Making as little noise as possible, she filled the teakettle and started it heating, while she located a mug and teabags. She began to understand why Zeke was always making tea. There was something soothing about the familiar everyday motions, and the heat of the steaming mug in her hands brought her attention back to her body and out of her anxious head.

She wrapped her fingers around her mug as she padded back to the window. The day was well underway; the sun had advanced high enough in the sky that she couldn’t see it through the glass. She couldn’t believe she had slept through the early morning hours when the sun would have shone directly into the room.

In the light of day, the events of the night before—of the past few days—seemed unbelievable. She knew they had happened though. Her memories were too intense to be anything but real—and, besides, she was still wearing Aidan’s black sweater.

“Hey.” His voice, husky from sleep, intruded on her thoughts.

“Sorry if I woke you,” she replied, turning toward him. No wonder she hadn’t heard him approach. His feet were bare, as was his chest. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding, faded blue jeans. He stretched and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, and she was struck anew by his masculine beauty.

Without thinking, she reached a hand toward his chest, but then let it fall before she touched him. Since the Striking, she’d been less sure about her feelings for him—and that uncertainty had only increased since the Making. It wasn’t that she was no longer attracted to him—she couldn’t imagine a world in which that would even be possible. It was just that she felt so confused about everything—about herself, her world, her place in it—that his apparent certainty about their relationship, whatever it was, made her uncomfortable. Plus, if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that his brother had been creeping into her thoughts more and more. She had a vague sense that she had dreamed about Kev the night before as well, although the threads of the dream remained stubbornly beyond her grasp.

“It’s alright,” Aidan said, his lips curving into a sleepy smile as he stepped closer to her. “You can touch me. In fact, please do.”

Reluctantly, Lucky gave in to the smile that tugged on her mouth. It was hard to resist the blue-eyed Naphil. When he leaned in to kiss her, she allowed her hand to slide up over his bicep and shoulder and curve around his neck. But when he tried to draw her closer, she pulled away.

He frowned at her sudden withdrawal. “Lucky?”

“I’m sorry, Aidan,” she said, wrapping both hands around her mug of tea. “I just—I feel kind of confused right now. The last several days have been—well, ‘intense’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. My whole world is different, upside down. I just need some time to think, to be alone.”

“But I thought….” Aidan’s voice trailed off.

He looked so hurt Lucky couldn’t bear it. Resting one hand on his waist, she leaned her forehead against his sternum. His hands slid up and down over her upper arms.

“Between Lilith and the Making,” she said, “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” She could feel the warmth of her breath as it collected in the small space between her mouth and Aidan’s chest. “I need some time to figure things out.”

She raised her head to look up at him. “Okay?”

Aidan sighed and nodded. “Just keep this in mind, will you?” he said, pressing a deliberate, lingering kiss on her mouth. Lucky let her lips part beneath his, allowed herself the pleasure of his touch. He’d done so much for her, and she did care about him. How could she not respond?

“That’s definitely something to consider,” she breathed, when he lifted his head and moved away from her.

He chuckled. Her response to his kiss had erased the wounded look from his face. “So, does that mean you want me to take you home now?”

Lucky shook her head. “I’d rather take the bus, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright,” he sighed, “if that’s what you want. But be careful, okay?”

Lucky nodded. She had taken only a few steps toward the door when she stopped. “My keys. Is my purse here? I had it that night at the bar, when Josh collapsed. I don’t remember taking it to Zeke’s.”

“It’s probably in my room. I’ll check.”

Aidan was back in a matter of moments, with her purse and her scarf.

After she’d thanked him and taken the items from him, he said, “I have something else for you.”

“What is it?” she asked, noting his slight frown.

He held out his closed hand, and she placed her open palm beneath it.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped, when the locket on its broken chain dropped into her hand.

“Lilith gave it to me—at your Making. She told me to tell you to call for her whenever you’re ready for some answers.”

“Where did
she
get it?” Lucky asked, suspicion darkening her voice.

Aidan shrugged. “She left before I could find out.”

Lucky opened the locket, relieved to find the picture of her mother still inside.

“Your mom?”

Lucky nodded. “Hold this,” she said, snapping the locket closed and handing it back to him.

She pulled the Light-Bringer’s Medallion out from under her sweater and removed the chain from around her neck. Then she slid her locket off its broken chain and dropped it onto the one on which the medallion hung. As she went to clasp it around her neck once more, she stopped and dropped her hands.

“I should give this back to you,” she said.

Aidan shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“But you just loaned it to me.”

“I know, but I don’t want it back. It’s more yours than mine now, somehow.”

Lucky hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Lucky, I want you to keep it.”

“Thanks,” she said, clasping the chain around her neck and tucking the dual pendants beneath her sweater. “I’ve gotten used to wearing it. Your sweater I’ll give back though. I promise.”

Aidan chuckled. “No worries. I have more just like it.”

“Find something you like,” she began.

“Buy several,” he finished.

Lucky had made it to the door and turned the knob when his voice stopped her. “Is it okay if I call you?”

“As if it would make a difference if I said ‘no,’” she teased.

Aidan didn’t laugh; he just looked at her, his face serious and unsmiling, as he awaited her answer.

“Yes,” she said softly. “You can call me.” Then she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

***

As she walked toward State Street where she could catch the #6 bus back to Hyde Park, Lucky did her best to let her thoughts wander as she took in the sights and sounds and smells of the city. It was one of those perfect fall days, with a few puffy, white clouds adorning the clear blue of the sky and the light soft and mellow, like nature itself was taking a break after the intensity of summer. The faint breeze blew a few strands of hair about her face, and though the air was cool, the heat of the sun collected in the dark fabric of her borrowed sweater, warming her skin. She took a deep breath and then sighed in relaxation. It was good to be outside, in real sunlight, to walk through the city and feel almost normal.

A sign for a coffee shop caught her eye, and on impulse, she popped inside. Latté and scone in hand, she returned to the sidewalk, walking slowly, alternating sips of coffee and bites of scone.

She relaxed enough to begin to play with her Sensitive powers. She had wondered if the Making would have any effect on them, make them stronger, or maybe alter them in some way. The only difference she found was that it was even easier for her to access her control room now. And she could turn her extra senses on and off in a flash. After a few moments of experimentation—during which she moved out of relaxed mode long enough to determine as best she could with her senses wide open that no danger presented itself—she turned all the extra switches off and settled into being normal, human Lucky, or at least what passed as that these days. For now, for as long as she allowed herself, she refused to worry about what had happened or what might happen. She was just a girl enjoying a coffee and pastry—and the freedom to walk through the city on her own.

By the time she’d finished her latté, Lucky had decided she didn’t want to go straight back to Hyde Park after all. She wanted to see G-Ma. She knew she’d have to contact Lilith soon; she was unable to resist the lure of whatever “answers” the red-haired woman who called herself her grandmother might be able to offer. And Lucky wanted to go into that conversation with the sense of grounding that seeing her real grandmother could provide. Even if G-Ma was no longer quite the same woman as the one who had raised her, she was still enough herself to provide the sort of lodestone Lucky feared she might need. She didn’t trust Lilith, but she had no doubt that the woman had strong powers of persuasion—and if she wanted something from Lucky, she’d use everything in her arsenal to get it.

As if affirming the rightness of her decision, a 151 pulled up just seconds after Lucky had reached the bus stop. She stepped on board, swiped her card, and found a seat.

***

G-Ma was in the activities room, participating in an exercise session that appeared to be winding down, when Lucky arrived. Lucky watched through the door as a staff member led the residents through a series of simple stretches. She was pleased to see that G-Ma not only followed the leader’s instructions and was able to perform the movements, but that she also seemed to be enjoying herself. She was exchanging laughing comments with the instructor and some of the other residents.

The class ended, and the participants began to trickle out of the room. When G-Ma saw Lucky standing by the door, her face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she held her arms out to her granddaughter for a hug. Looking into her bright, alert eyes, Lucky could almost believe her grandmother didn’t have Alzheimer’s after all. She stepped into G-Ma’s embrace, and the sense of homecoming caused her eyes to fill with tears. She held on to her grandmother as if to a lifeline.

“It’s so good to see you, G-Ma,” she said.

“It’s always good to see you, my dear,” G-Ma said, releasing her and reaching up to pat her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming to see me today.”

Lucky laughed. “I didn’t know I was coming to see you either until just a little while ago. I’m glad I did though. It’s such a pretty day. Why don’t we find you a jacket and go for a walk in the garden?”

G-Ma agreed that a walk sounded pleasant, so after retrieving a light fleece for her, they went outside into the enclosed courtyard that the facility had landscaped for the use of the residents and their visitors. They seemed to have the space to themselves. G-Ma held on to Lucky’s hand as they strolled over the walking paths, noting the changing colors of the leaves and admiring the last of the summer blooms. Several times, she commented on how much she liked the large sprays of ornamental grasses that dotted the area.

When G-Ma started to tire, Lucky directed her to a secluded bench, where they could sit and rest while still enjoying the outdoors.

They had been sitting there for several moments when G-Ma placed her hand beside Lucky’s. “How different they look,” G-Ma said, studying their hands. “Yours is so young and pretty. Mine used to be like that, but now it’s old and ugly.”

Lucky took her grandmother’s hand in hers, caressing the back of it with her own smooth fingers, noting the prominence of the veins beneath the thinning skin. “Just think of everything these hands have done though, G-Ma: all the people you took care of—including me—all the meals you cooked, all the paintings and pottery you made. Your hand isn’t ugly; it’s full of all that life.”

Lucky turned to smile at her grandmother, and G-Ma’s eyes locked on hers. “My life is in you now, dear,” she said. Then the intensity faded from her eyes, and she glanced back down at their joined hands. “So young and pretty. Yes, mine used to look like that.”

“Lucinda?”

Lucky looked up to see a young woman with straight dark blonde hair escaping from its ponytail walking toward them. She was dressed in the regulation khaki pants and maroon polo shirt that marked her as a staff member.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said as she came closer. “But it’s snack time, and I wanted to see if Miss Lucinda wanted something to eat.”

Turning to G-Ma, she added, “Would you like a snack, Lucinda? We have cookies or cheese crackers—and either milk or juice.”

“Cookies and milk would be nice,” G-Ma said.

“Alright, then. Let’s go back inside, and we’ll get you some,” replied the young woman—Jenny, according to her name tag.

She smiled and extended her hand to G-Ma, and the older woman accepted the offered support as she rose to her feet. Then she released Jenny’s hand to take Lucky’s again.

As they strolled back across the garden, Jenny smiled at Lucky. “You’re her granddaughter? Lucky, right?”

Lucky nodded. “That’s me.”

“I’m glad you came to see her. She’s been so worried about you the past few days. And last night, the overnight staff said she was really agitated. I guess it was early this morning—around three or four sometime, I think—when they were finally able to get her settled enough to sleep. But when she got up—a little later than usual, no surprise—she was all smiles. When I told her she seemed bright and cheery today, she said, ‘I know my Lucky is okay now.’ Strange, huh? Anyway, I’m glad you came, so she can see for sure that you’re okay.”

Lucky said good-bye to G-Ma, so Jenny could get her settled in the lounge with the other residents who were having snacks, and after thanking Jenny for taking care of her grandmother, she made her way out of the facility, her thoughts filled with what the young woman had told her as well as the echo of G-Ma’s voice saying she lived in Lucky now. The Making would have been completed between 3:00 and 4:00 AM; she would have regained consciousness somewhere in that time period. Lucky blinked to clear the sudden moisture from her eyes. Somehow, G-Ma had known. She really had been part of the Making.

***

It was good to be home. As Lucky ascended the stairs of the three-story walk-up, the creaks and groans of the treads welcomed her with comfortable familiarity, and when she turned her key in the lock and swung the door open, she sighed with relief.