Rising (45 page)

Dad had come in once since then.
 
He didn’t say a word about Mom.
 
He just held me close, saying, “Thank God,
you’re alright.”
 
I’d noticed how his
eyes followed the length of the scar spanning the left side of my face from the
top of the cheekbone to an inch above my mouth.
 
He didn’t say a word about that either, but there was a pained
expression on his face.
 
I had made Mel
give me a mirror earlier so that I could see what was still stinging after two
of her healing sessions.
 
I knew how
awful it looked.

It was past midnight now, and I could
tell by the low voices through the closed door that only a few people were
still awake.
 
I glanced at the two cots
beside my bed that had been set up for Zack’s brother Noah and Jessie’s brother
Hunter.
 
They slept soundly as if there
was nothing at all wrong with the world.
 
Their yellowish auras shined dimly in the room.
 
I started to wonder why most children had
yellow auras.
 
Misty’s purring had
finally stopped, and she settled into sleep, making a low wheezing sound.
 
The warm glow of the lantern played on the
ceiling, giving me a distraction as I waited.
 
I was thinking about how I used to lay outside on my back with my mom in
the summertime, making shapes out of the puffy clouds above us.
 
I remembered how she would agree that she saw
whatever animal or object I imagined in the sky.
 
That aching emptiness was sinking into me
when I heard someone entering the cabin in the next room.

“She’s awake,” I heard Mel say.

It had to be Gabe.
 
Adrenaline
pumped quickly through my veins.
 
My
stomach lurched in a panic, but I didn’t know why.
 
Then I heard Mel’s muffled voice again.

“What happened to your hand? Wait a
minute.”

There was silence then a funny,
high-pitched noise then silence again. A minute later, the door to the room
creaked open.
 
It was Gabe.
 
Oh, crap.
 
That’s a little scary.
 
He had
such a serious expression on his face, while his aura spun around him in
intertwining ribbons of deep purple and blue.
 
He walked to the edge of the bed, still not saying a word.
 
I watched quietly as he paced just a little,
enough to make me more nervous.
 
His
right hand was swollen all along the knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?”

He didn’t answer me, just shook his
head.
 
Was he still ticked that I’d left
Jessie’s without them?
 
He finally came
and sat on the edge of the bed, not touching me at all.

“What possessed you to take off by
yourself?” he asked, obviously trying to maintain his cool.

Yeah, he was still ticked, to put it
mildly.
 
I pulled myself up into a
sitting position, not caring that I was wearing just my pink
cami
pajamas.
 
Rules
of indecency and proper etiquette for a southern lady were kind of irrelevant
right now.

“I wanted to save my parents,” I said.

“Clara.
 
You could’ve killed yourself as well.”

His voice had softened.

“So,” I said bitterly, feeling a lump
in my throat.

“So?” he said much louder.
 
“Are you kidding me?”

I couldn’t respond.
 
My cheeks were flushed, and I could feel a
burning in my eyes.
 
The stormy look in
Gabe’s dark eyes made me tremble.
 
He
looked so angry.
 
He stood up and paced
again.
 
Misty lifted her head, apparently
annoyed.
 

“Is that helping?” I asked, knowing
full well that being a smart-ass wasn’t exactly a wise decision.

He turned on me then, sitting very
close on the bed and grabbing me roughly by the shoulders.
 
I was kind of scared all of a sudden.
 
Misty had had enough and jumped off the bed.

“Damn it, Clara,” he said gravely,
“don’t you understand what that did to me?”

“No,” I said, trying to keep the fear
from my eyes.
 
He really was scaring me a
little with his stern looks and hostility.

“Don’t you even care?” he asked lower,
gripping me tighter.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.
 
I did it to save my parents, Gabe.
 
But, I couldn’t save them both anyway, could
I?
 
I watched my mom die right in front
of me,” I said in one breath.

All sarcasm had leaked away.
 
Hot tears poured down my face.
 
I was a sobbing mess.
 
I was ashamed of what I’d done, of leaving
them when I shouldn’t, of being too weak to save my mother, of crying
shamelessly about it now when it couldn’t change a thing.
 
It was the deepest, darkest grief I’d ever
felt.
 
I just wanted it to go away.
 
Gabe loosened his grip and pulled me into his
arms.

“I’m sorry, Clara.
 
I should’ve listened to you, but I just was
trying to do what was best for everyone.”

There was a moment of silence where
only my muffled sobs could be heard.

“He made me choose, Gabe,” I said
through the tears.
 
“How could he have
done that?”

He pulled away and gazed at me
tenderly.

“The reaper made you choose between . .
.”

“Yes.
 
My parents,” I finished for him.

That stern look crept back across his
brow.

“They’re cunning, Clara.
 
The reaper knew exactly what to do to weaken
you.”

He was definitely right.

“I just can’t believe she’s gone,” I
said.

Gabe cradled my face with his hands,
wiping the tears away.

“I’m sorry, Clara.
 
I wish, I wish I would’ve listened and gone
there with you, then it might’ve turned out differently.”

I hadn’t intended to make him feel
guilty for something I failed to do.
 
It
wasn’t fair.
 
I was wrong, and I knew it.

“We can’t live our lives with regret,
Gabe,” I said.

How ironic, since I’d been regretting
being unable to save my mother ever since.
 
Even now, that sickening feeling deep inside continued to weigh me
down.
 
I felt so hollow.

“You’re right,” he agreed.

My mind wandered back to that moment I
watched my mother evaporate into ash.
 
The pain of it was too much to bear.
 
Then I thought of Jessie—my willful, vibrant cousin now a slave for
these abominable creatures.
 
That pain
was even greater.
 
At least I could
imagine my mother free of this place, of this world where nightmares stalk the
living.
 
This was no longer a world she
would’ve been able to endure.
 
I could at
least be thankful she was at peace.

“I’m glad your mom and Pop made it,” I
finally managed to squeak out; trying my best to find some way to escape the
well of grief I was in.

“Thanks,” he said, holding my hand and
tracing the lines on my palm distractedly.

“I can hardly believe that last week,
we were just sitting in class, thinking that everything was normal, just trying
to figure out if these creatures were real or part of our crazy, overactive
imaginations.”

“That feels like ages ago,” he agreed,
looking up at me with sad brown eyes.

I don’t think Gabe knew what else to
say to comfort me.
 
There was nothing he
could say.
 
The pain was too sharp, too
new, like a fresh cut that continues to bleed no matter how many times you dab
it clean.
 
I had to close my mind off to
it, to the loss of her, or else my heart would never recover.
 

“When he struck me,” I said, noticing
Gabe flinch, “I heard you saying my name before I fell unconscious.
 
I didn’t imagine that, did I?”

“No.
 
That’s exactly when I ran up.”

A flash of anger passed over his eyes,
but I didn’t want him to be angry anymore.
 
The dark feelings threatened to dig wounds too deeply that would leave
us both scarred. I wanted everything to be normal, just for a little
while.
 
I wanted to forget the heartache
that wouldn’t go away and the agony of the unknown that lay ahead of us.

“So,” I said, scooting closer, needing
the comfort of being near him, “should the maiden reward her knight in shining
armor with a kiss?”

I asked the question as playfully as I
could, though tears were still damp on my face.
 
To Gabe’s credit, he played along.

“Well, Jeremy helped.”

“Oh, should I give him a kiss, too?”

“The hell you will,” he said, leaning
into me.

I sank back onto the pillow, smiling,
but he wiped that stupid look off my face pretty dang quick.
 
This was the Gabe I’d been missing.
 
The warmth of his lips on mine made me forget
what had happened, where we were, and what was still left to do.
 
I savored every second, knowing that an aching
hole waited to swallow me up with despair if I let it.
 
Gabe pulled apart and looked at me, tucking
my hair away from my face.
 
Defensively,
I pulled my hair over my left cheek, trying to hide that hideous scar.
 
Gabe grabbed my wrist gently and pulled my hand
away.
 
He tucked the hair back behind my
ear.

“Don’t even think for a second that
this makes you any less beautiful,” he said, trailing a finger along the
outside of the scar.

Did he just call me ‘beautiful’?
 
Wow.
 
That was a first from any boy, except my dad, but he doesn’t count.
 
Gabe was obviously happy with my
reaction.
 
I felt a flush of pink fill my
cheeks, and I couldn’t help but smile timidly.

“Good.
 
Now I know another way to render you speechless—with compliments.
 
Push over.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m exhausted and I want to
get some sleep.
 
There’s plenty of
room.
 
Michelle there barely takes up any
space at all.”

“Oh, no, Gabriel Goddard.
 
You’re not sleeping with me.
 
My dad’s in the next room, and he wouldn’t
allow this at all.”

“Clara.
 
That’s not what I meant.
 
First of
all, I’m sleeping next to you, not sleeping with you, with you.
 
I really don’t think your dad is worried
about any of that going on.
 
I mean, come
on,” he said, gesturing to the three children lying asleep around us, “we’ve
got chaperones.”

Gabe was a gentleman.
 
I knew that, but I eyed him carefully all the
same, inching over very slowly into the middle of the bed.
 
Michelle was all the way on the left.

“Hands will stay above the covers.
 
I promise,” he said, showing me both of his
hands.

He shoved off his filthy shoes and
pulled a blanket draped over the foot of the bed up over him.
 
I lay back down, facing him, and
smiling.
 
He looked at me for what seemed
like a really long time like he was trying to memorize my face.
 
Then, he pecked me quickly on the lips and
flipped over.

“Goodnight, Clara.”

I couldn’t help but stare at the back
of him.
 
His purplish aura was so
distracting.
 
It had started to slow down
and stop spinning so crazily.
 
Then I
noticed what a mess he was.
 
There was
some kind of dirt all over him and, wait a second, right at the base of his
neck above his t-shirt there was a reddened, raised mark.

“Gabe?
 
You’ve got some kind of cut or burn right here,” I said, touching the
small cut.

I felt him shiver as my fingers
lingered and brushed his neck.
 
He
reached over and doused the light of the kerosene lamp.

“Stop that, Clara,” he warned, “or I
won’t be able to keep my promise.”

I didn’t know what he meant for a
second and then it dawned on me.
 
Note to
self, his neck is a sensitive spot. A small laugh escaped me as I tucked my
hands under my pillow.