Authors: L.L. Muir
Coming home from the hospital she’d been happy to see the weight of so many guilty years lift from his shoulders as he forgave the thirteen-year-old he’d once been. He would also forgive his mother because he’d promised his granddad, and Jamison Shaw kept promises. He and Lori could help each other now.
Kenneth would be gone soon and young Jamison would need a real shoulder to cry on, not hers.
“Are you ready, Skye?” Jonathan poked his dark messy head around her bedroom door then walked in and closed it behind him. “It’s nearly three, but I wanted to speak to you just a moment.”
Skye smiled. She’d miss Jonathan, miss his quick readings of her thoughts. They could work side by side for hours and never need to speak. He was a comfortable soul to have about, unless you were trying to hide something. But she was done with all that.
Or was she? The look on her friend’s face told her otherwise.
“What is it, Skye? What happened that makes you hurry to leave here?” Jonathan took her shoulders in hand and made her face him.
“It’s been a difficult assignment, that’s all.”
“Wasn’t difficult until the boy moved in.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me about it.”
“It’s over, isn’t it? You can’t interfere with the past, correct?” He let her go.
“Correct. To answer your question, I don’t know what happened. I suppose I fell in love with him. And I suppose you already knew it.”
“I did. Surprising, isn’t it? That you were able to do so?”
“Yes. Surprising.”
“And it pains you now to leave him.”
“Yes. But loving someone makes it easy to do what is best for them.” She folded her white scarf and laid it aside.
“You hope so. You are not so sure.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“What other alternative is there?”
Her smile faltered for only a second.
“Have you ever heard of a Somerled called Lanny?”
“I have. She is not far. We deal with a man named Buchanan from her ranch. One day I’d like to see it. He told us it is magnificent.”
“It is.”
Jonathan looked genuinely surprised.
“And yet you returned. I’ve been warned that many do not, though I’ve not been told why.”
“She is a Primary. She knows things I’d never been told.”
“A Primary. Interesting.”
“You should go there, Jonathan. When your duty is finished, of course. Go. Before you have your farewell. Everyone should. Her Place of Perfection is a sight to see.”
She hugged him before he could ask her any more, then she left her room for the final time.
One foot in front of the other. Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
She stepped out onto the back porch and looked up toward Kenneth’s windbreak. Jamison was in the tree house. Asleep. It was a lovely gift to have him so close, and just as nice to have him unaware.
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
The air caressed her face and played with her hair, catching it on the cornstalks, tugging, teasing, reminded her of the sensations she’d recently wished for.
Moments away. Only moments now. Home.
Surely there would be someone there who would comfort her before she was expected to go on. Surely she would be allowed to rest, to remember, to understand.
Only steps away from Home.
The circle was none so wide as it had been for Marcus. The community was large of course, but Somerleds had come from great distances for their former leader. Seven or eight years at one leadership post was standard and in that time he’d worked among many.
The circle was only half so big, but it was full of smiling souls who had been her friends—none so close as Jonathan and Lucas, who had lived with her in the big house more than three years—but they squeezed her hands and wished her Godspeed.
Jonathan was last. He hugged her and lifted her easily into the air where he swung her in circle after circle.
She laughed. Of course he would miss her and watch for her—if he still remembered—hoping their paths would cross again, but he needn’t say so. It was all in his laughing eyes, lit by unworldly lights.
He put her down and opened his arms wide toward the center.
Step. Step. Step.
“Be happy, Jamison,” she whispered. Facing the tree house, instead of Jonathan, she took her place and held out her arms.
She winced when the voices started.
***
Jamison’s happy dream was invaded by the sound of Skye’s laughter. That first day, in the school parking lot, that button he’d wished for, to make her laugh again—someone was pushing it! He sat up, suddenly alert, and wondered at the time he’d wasted harassing her instead of making her laugh.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again. With every bit of time he had left with her, he’d make her laugh; hopefully those moments would make the less pleasant ones fade. They’d go to the hospital and make Granddad laugh as much as he could stand.
With every bit of time left.
When Granddad dies, she’ll be leaving!
No matter how hard he tried to look at both tragedies as separate, they smeared together into one giant ball of dread. And after being crammed into his strongbox, over and over again, those thoughts had wiggled out of their cramped quarters and now danced in his head like mimes, warning him to wake up and pay attention.
He
was
awake, fully awake, and his attention was drawn to the smelly wood covering the window. It couldn’t be morning, but there were lights winking between the slats. And someone was singing, badly!
They were having one of their Exploding-Man Ceremonies he’d talked about on the recording, about the night that had been wiped from his memory! And if they were sending someone off—
“Skye!”
He stood and banged against the wood. He’d done too good a job nailing it down. No use.
What had he said on the tape? It was all over, right after the singing?!
Too dark to see anything inside, he lunged for the drop door and fumbled with the latch. Thank goodness he hadn’t felt the need to use the bolt.
No time!
He dropped onto the fork in the trunk and nearly lost his balance, but caught himself.
There, in the field, a crop circle like he’d expected. A figure stood in the center, but with his eyes still blurred with sleep, he couldn’t tell who it was.
The singing improved. What did that mean?
The figure in the center began to move. No, it was rising. In the air!
“Noooo!” His voice broke. “Noooo!” he screamed again. “Stop! I’m coming down!” He didn’t dare wait to see if they’d heard him. He had to get to the field, had to get the hell out of that tree.
He had to be in time. He had to!
Please, God, don’t let them blow her up! Don’t take her! Please!
He remembered what she’d thought the other night when he’d brought out the ropes. She thought they were going to swing over the fence.
He’d use the rope and pulley to get up in the tree hours ago, with the weighted pallet as a counter-balance. Now, with the pallet on the ground and the end of the rope in his hand, he jumped back off the branch. The pallet’s weight jarred the rope, but it lifted off the ground.
Jamison swung like Bloody-freaking-Tarzan over the fence, and as if it were a tire swing over a familiar swimming hole, he let go of the rope at just the right moment and went sailing out over the corn. Too bad his legs didn’t stay under him.
He landed on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. His spine might have been broken but he didn’t stop to check. He just rolled to his side and kept moving while he waited for his lungs to inflate.
Where were the lights?
He looked back to the tree house to guess the direction and veered to the right. Air came back with a vengeance and he felt like he was swallowing a giant, painful bubble of it. Still, there was no time to recover.
“Skye!” Shouting helped a bit. In. Out. In, again. “Skye! Please, God, help me!”
In,
again.
Stop
and
breathe.
No!
Don
’
t
stop!
“Young Jamison, you surprise me. Again.” Lucas stood next to him in a gap between rows, his displeasure visible from the light emanating from the ground beneath him. “Seems you and I have stood in this field together once before. Do you remember?”
Was that a threat in his voice, or just curiosity?
He didn’t care.
“What have you done with Skye?”
“You continually accuse us of losing people. It’s getting tiresome.” Lucas grabbed Jamison’s arm and hauled him to the left.
“Where is she?” Jamison softened his voice and clung to the big man’s white sleeve. “Please, Lucas. Help me. She can’t be gone. She can’t!”
“I’m not allowed to interfere.”
“Just point me in the right direction.”
Lucas tilted his head back and Jamison’s heart stopped mid-beat. No! Not up!
Then Lucas’s arm shot out, his finger pointing in the direction they’d been moving.
Not wasting time with thank-you’s, Jamison ran.
A woman in a white robe was hurrying away between rows. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her.
Not Skye.
The woman patted his hand. He released her and walked away.
“Jamie?”
Tingles popped and melted down his skin at the sound of her voice. He’d been so afraid he’d never hear it again.
Turning, he found her still-tangible form within reach, so he grabbed her and spun her in a circle, making a half-hearted crop circle of their own.
“You called me Jamie.”
“Yes.”
“You know what that means, right?”
“I know, but do you?”
“Yeah. It means you love me. Only people who love me call me Jamie—and get away with it.” He was grinning like an idiot.
“And you let me get away with it.”
“Yeah. You know what that means?”
“Yeah, but I’d like to hear it, I think.”
“I love you, Skye.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“I don’t know. I guess it would be easier if I didn’t.” He stepped back, but didn’t let go of her arms.
“It would be easier.”
“But it’s not a possibility. When I heard them singing—”
“I know. I was facing the trees. I heard you holler. Then you came flying out of the darkness.” She started laughing. “They stopped singing, you scared them so.”
“Good.” He tried to convince himself she wasn’t laughing at him, but at her friends. “Did you fall or did you float to the ground?”
“Oh, no, I fell. Good thing I don’t break.”
He sobered.
“Is there anything we can do about that? Make you... breakable?”
***
It wasn’t easy getting Jamison to go home and go to bed. Skye vowed, promised and crossed her heart that she would be there in the morning. After that, he made Lucas promise the same before he finally walked away—backwards—waving, smiling, and tripping his way along the fence.
“And what will you tell him in the morning?” Lucas held open the front door for her.
“The truth. That there is no hope of happily-ever-after with one of the Final Host.” She entered and headed for the hallway.
“I’ve been instructed not to interfere, and yet I should remind you that your ultimate happiness was guaranteed in The Agreement. Why some change their minds, I cannot understand.”
She turned to face him. He was frowning at the floor.
“You
know
?”
Lucas lifted his frown and settled it on her.
“I know many things that you may not, cousin. What do
you
know?”
“I’ve been to see Lanny.”
Lucas raised his hand and backed away from her. “Say no more. I should never have said anything. I will not interfere.”
“You know the things she told me?”
“I cannot interfere.”
“But you know them?”
“I have heard things. I will not discuss them. I will live by The Agreement. I will not discuss it.”
And when those broad shoulders turned from her and headed into the kitchen to avoid what Lanny may or may not have said, the walls of innocence dropped away and she knew Jamison had been right from the beginning.
The Final Host, cowards all.
***
Jamison woke to his head purring loudly. It was his phone, vibrating through his cheek and into his teeth. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, needing to stay close to the door, in case of singing, he supposed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Skye not to keep her word, but she’d almost abandoned him before.
If she tried to get away again, he didn’t know what he would do—run into the field and grab her legs?
He shook his head, trying to get the paranoia out. If you couldn’t trust an angel, who could you trust?
He opened the message from his mom.
Daddy’s the same. Go 2 school. Keep yr phone close.
School? She had to be joking.
Whether Skye could smell him or not, he showered. He went to the laundry room to wash the white clothing from the ranch, but realized he hadn’t needed to. They were spotless. Even the pits smelled like fresh air.
Hustling back to his room, he folded them up and put them in the bottom drawer of his bureau. He should think about returning them—it was probably against some policy to let a non-Somerled keep them, but he didn’t want to let them go just yet.
He flipped open his phone to tell Skye she had to come to school with him, but realized she didn’t have a number. Maybe he’d have to get her one. They could have day-long conversations—who was he kidding? He wanted to keep tabs on her, the same reason all parents got phones for their kids.
He’d get her a pink phone with a white case. People would assume she was sticking to Somerled tradition, but they’d both know what was underneath.
His t-shirt stuck to his still-wet back and he was out the door, headed toward Skye’s house before the chill hit him. Only it wasn’t just from not toweling off well. He’d been thinking warm and fuzzy, even pink, thoughts all morning and had ignored what he’d be facing as soon as he got on Somerled soil; Lucas knew he remembered. Jamison had interrupted a farewell ceremony—again. Their secret was out. Would Skye’s opinion matter when that secret was threatened?