Paradox - Progeny Of Innocence (bk2) (Paradox series) (14 page)

"Come on Grace," Angela said, tugging on her arm. "History is up next with Miss Raphael. Your all-time favorite subject," she said, trying to coax Grace away from the Damon Draco dilemma.

Grace let herself be led away to class by Angela and Joshua. She took a fleeting look over her shoulder, hoping for one more glimpse, but Damon had already disappeared. History was the last thing she had on her mind. Her head and heart were in a tailspin and she had already begun counting the minutes until school finished.

The last three classes went excruciatingly slowly as Grace watched the hands on the classroom clock resist each second that passed.

She constructed a plan in her head for the afternoon. She would go straight home after school. No detours to The Coffee Bean for a coffee like she usually did with Josh, Angela and a host of Zach’s footy friends. Yes, straight home so she had time to wash her hair. She ran her fingers through her hair absently. Should she wear it up or down? What should she wear? A pair of jeans, skirt, shorts maybe. She frowned; her shoulders sank down. What if Damon didn’t call her? Doubt began coursing through her veins.

"Oh, don’t worry, he will call you," Angela replied, as though Grace had uttered the words out loud. And then under her breath she mumbled. "This is all we need..."

Joshua frowned. "Well, as much as I don’t like to admit it, he seems okay to me, but I still don’t like his friends, they’re just plain weird if you ask me."

Damon peered out from behind the wall and smiled as he watched Grace being led away by Joshua and the tiny, but far from defenseless, Angela. Winning Angela over, Damon knew, was not going to be an easy task. But then again, he had never thought it would be. He also knew that he would spend the rest of the day thinking about Grace until he saw her again that afternoon. He reflected on how similar she looked now. It was foreign to him seeing her with fair hair; Juliette’s hair was dark. Although he imagined there had been numerous times over the centuries, depending on her nationality, that her hair would have been many different colors and lengths. Grace's eyes were a steely grey, identical to Juliette's. Grace's voice, smell, and the way she looked at him were also identical. The way she had kissed him, that he could never mistake; that was all Juliette.

That was all me. And as the realization of that sank into my being, it stirred memories in me that I had buried such a long time ago; memories of intense passion, devastating heartbreak, and acute sadness. I felt an ominous chill wash over me, and Grace, feeling it, too, held her breath and rubbed her arms vigorously.

"Is it just me, or did it just get really cold in here?" Grace said, shuddering as they walked down the corridor. "I feel like someone has just walked over my grave."

"Come on, Grace," Joshua said, wrapping his arm around her protectively. "Let’s get you to class."

Damon kept watching until Grace had turned the corner into B Block and vanished from his sight. He contemplated changing some of his subjects so that he could be in more of her classes. Now that he had spoken to her, he was finding it almost impossible to stay away. He thought about the kiss again and frowned.

Was he being drawn to Grace, or the memory of me, or both? Had it been Grace that kissed Damon in class, or me? I thought about this. Was it my memory of our life together, centuries ago, that had compelled Grace to stand up and kiss Damon? Was Grace the innocent pawn in a cosmic game of chess that had begun over nine hundred years ago in our ancient world?

Damon flinched; was he reading my thoughts or Grace’s? All he knew was that, after years of searching, this was the closest he had come in over four hundred years to the Juliette he loved. And if there was still a chance I would remember him, he would not let me go.

* * *

Damon felt a sudden pang of guilt; was he being selfish? A question lingered in his mind:
am I using Grace to win Juliette? If I stay too close, push too hard, could I be risking her life?
He knew the answer was yes. "I made you a promise, Juliette, that I would find you, and remind you of our love. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what." His eyes dropped, and he turned and walked away.

* * *

I am tormented by Damon’s thoughts, his feelings, and his undying love for me. I have loved and lost in so many different ways. And I have died endless deaths. So when I ask myself the question today, who am I? My answer is… I do not know.

"I just can’t believe how stupid I was," Grace said, dumping her schoolbag on the kitchen table. "The first time that a guy wants to call me, that I really like, and I forget to give him my phone number. How unbelievably moronic is that?" She trudged over to the refrigerator and grabbed the pitcher of water from the fridge door.

"Yes," Angela replied, "that was pretty moronic."

"You’re not helping, Angela," Grace said irritably.

"Oh, don’t worry. He’s going to call you," Angela said, setting two glasses down on the counter.

Grace put down the pitcher and started to sort through a pile of magazines and flyers on the kitchen counter. "Where is it, where is it?"

"It’s over there on the coffee table," Angela said, filling the glasses.

"What is?" Grace asked continuing her search in the bottom kitchen drawer.

"The telephone book that you are looking for; you want to know how many Connorses there are in the phone book, right?"

"Yes," Grace answered walking over to continue her search amongst the pile of magazines on the coffee table.

"There are six Connorses in the phone book," Angela said. "So
if
he looked you up in the phone book, it wouldn’t take him long to find you."

"
If
, he looks me up?" Grace asked, flipping the telephone book to the ‘C’s’. She ran her index finger down the long column until she came to Connors. "Connors A, Connors F. Here it is, Connors K, third on the list," she said triumphantly.

"But he won’t do that," Angela said, refilling her glass.

"Why not?" Grace asked, slumping down heavily on the sofa.

Angela frowned. "Because he already has your number."

"Really, how do you know that?" Grace sat up a little straighter; perhaps all was not lost.

"He asked Josh for it."

Grace’s eyes shone. "Were you there? Did Josh tell you that?"

"No," Angela said, handing Grace a glass of water. "Have something to drink, you’re bordering on neurotic."

"Then how do you know that he has my number?"

"Because that is what I would have done," Angela said.

"Well, maybe he isn’t as smart as you. Did you ever think of that?"

"He isn’t," Angela said, sitting down next to Grace. "So I will have to think about it a little longer to come to a definite conclusion."

"How long?" Grace asked, exasperated by Angela’s calmness.

The shrill sound of a phone had Grace scrambling for her backpack.

"Oh my god, do you think that’s Damon calling now?" Grace asked as she rummaged through the contents of her bag. Frustrated, she promptly upended the bag and emptied the entire contents onto the sofa.

Angela sighed. "Sadly, yes, it is Damon. However,
you
won’t know that for sure until you have answered it." Angela picked up her schoolbag and headed for the door. "I will talk to you tonight, Grace. Do be careful," she said, letting the screen door close quietly behind her. Champsie appeared from under a bush in the front yard, and trotted dutifully beside her.

Grace stared at the phone ringing in her hand.

"It isn’t going to answer itself," she heard Angela call from the front yard.

Glancing down at the dog beside her, Angela said, "Well, Champ, life has just got a whole lot more complicated."

An hour later Grace was pacing the lounge room, waiting. She checked herself in the hall mirror for the umpteenth time and studied her reflection. She knew she was losing all rational thought, that she shouldn’t have such strong feelings for someone she had just met. But she couldn’t help it. It was like something, deep down inside of her was saying that this was the one. Damon was the one.

She ran back to her bedroom and changed the top she was wearing for the third time. She studied herself in the mirror again, holding her hair up in a ponytail. "Yes, better up," she said to her reflection as she fastened her hair up with a clip. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Definitely down." She unfastened the clip and let her hair spill down over her shoulders. She darted over to her wardrobe and began flipping through her clothes until she found a denim skirt. She wriggled out of her jeans, dumped them on the floor, and stepped into the skirt. "That’s better," she murmured.

The doorbell rang. She froze. It would be Damon. She stole another glance at herself in the mirror. It would have to do.

She raced down the hall and stopped, taking a second to compose herself, then walked casually to the front door, wondering now if all those long hours reading magazine articles on boys and relationships were finally going to pay off. "Act cool and casual," she repeated to herself. Apart from that small piece of wisdom, everything else in her mind went completely blank.

She pulled the door open. "Oh hi, Damon, you made it. Is it that time already?" she said, casually looking down at her watch.

"Yes," Damon replied with a fleeting smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "It is that time."

Grace smiled and pushed the door open. "You should come in. Can I get you something to drink?" The perfectly practiced smile on her face was a contradiction to her pounding heart. Damon Draco was in her living room and suddenly the room felt smaller, like the bars of a cage was closing in on her. Nothing else in the room existed, only Damon standing there, towering over her. His cat-like eyes drew her in and slowly devoured every little piece of her. The little canary flapped its wings frantically against the bars of its gilded cage.

She felt giddy, elated, unworthy, frightened, and ecstatic all at the same time. She felt like she was in over her head, surely he would see through her, realize that she wasn’t worth his attention after all. He would make up some excuse as to why he had to go. He had made a terrible mistake. She was the terrible mistake.

Then he spoke. "No, thank you," he smiled. "You look lovely, by the way," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with his finger. Then he let the back of his hand trail gently down the side of her face.

She gulped. "Thank you," she stammered, praying that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding noisily against her ribcage. "So do you."

"Grace?" he asked.

"Yes." Grace answered in a whisper.

"You’re beautiful," he said with a sudden seriousness to his face.

Her legs felt weak. Any moment now he would realize that he didn’t mean it, and turn and walk away. Of course he would never talk to her again. It would be over before it had even begun.

He sensed her insecurity and smiled. Behind those gray eyes he felt an undeniable connection. But her face betrayed nothing. Had he been wrong? He had wanted so badly for the Juliette he knew to remember him that perhaps he was imagining feelings that were not there.

Grace exhaled and relaxed her shoulders. Up until that moment, she hadn’t realized that every muscle in her body had had her twisted into a tight knot.

Damon took her hand. "So, would you like to go for a walk? I thought along the beach might be nice, before it gets too dark. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want you home too late."

Grace felt consumed by a sudden sadness. "It’s just me and my Mom. My Dad…" She stopped. "A walk, that sounds nice…"

Damon held her hand a little tighter. "Shall we go then?" He asked. "I have my car parked just outside…" He picked up Grace’s bag and handed it to her. "Shall we?" he asked, prompting her.

"Can you give me just a second? I’ve left my phone in the bedroom. I’ll only be a moment. I need it in case my Mom calls, I left her a message…" shut up, she told herself. Stop talking, just go get the damn phone.

"Sure," Damon said, "I’ll wait."

Grace rushed off to her room. When she got there, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She pulled in long slow breaths. She walked to the bed, pushed away the pile of clothes to make a space, and sat down. "Okay, I can do this. He's just a guy. Damon Draco is just a guy," she said, getting up, grabbing her phone from the dresser and heading back to the lounge room.

Back to an empty lounge room.

She looked around the room and then stuck her head around the corner to look into the kitchen. "Damon?" she called out, "I’m ready…"

The room remained silent.

She noticed a piece of paper flapping gently under a glass on the kitchen table. She retrieved it from under the glass. The first thing she noticed was the beautiful handwriting. She read the words. Then she read the words again.

I am so sorry, Grace. I had to go. Will explain tomorrow.

Damon.

Grace sank down into a chair. All she felt was her heart breaking in her chest and the tears running down her cheeks. She screwed up the piece of paper in her hand and threw it at the wall. Of course he left, why wouldn’t he? No one had thought of her as beautiful before, so why should Damon be any different?

The phone rang in her hand; she looked at it. Angela’s name appeared on the illuminated screen. She answered it and listened. "No, Angela, everything is fine, no really, I’m fine. Mom will be home soon anyway, and I’m pretty tired," she lied. And she knew that Angela would know it was a lie, too, but she knew Angela would forgive her. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay." Grace switched off the phone and walked to her room. She sat down and reached for her music box and wound it up. She opened the lid and watched as the little ballerina twirled along to the melody. Then she lay down on her bed, fully clothed, and cried herself to sleep.