Through Indigo's Eyes (34 page)

Crap.

“Tell her I'm sorry,” he said again. Then he disappeared.

I put my head down and left the cafeteria, walking as quickly as I could down the hallway without spilling the drinks. When I came closer to the waiting room, I stopped to lean against the wall and catch my breath.

A paring knife and an apple.

I slid down the wall.

My mom does that
, John had said.
She often has a knife by her bedside.

No! I opened my eyes and stared at the concrete blocks on the other side of the wall. Then I put my hands over my ears. “Lalalala.” I rocked on my heels.

I had seen a shovel. And smelled dirt.

My body was almost convulsing; I was so overwhelmed. This was way too much to absorb.

Then I thought about Lacey and Burke and everyone in the waiting room. John included.

“Act normal, Indie. Today, just be there for your friend.”

I stood, picked up the tray of drinks, and walked back to the waiting room. As I rounded the corner, I saw John still sitting with Lacey. I tried to breathe. My entire body shook and shivered, but not like it had earlier when I was jittery. This was the shakes of a person who had stood out in the snow with nothing on for much, much too long. How was I going to tell him his father was dead?

And that … his mother … had … killed him.

Did I know that for sure? Or was I just jumping to conclusions?

I walked back into the lobby with the drink tray and immediately went over to Lacey and John. I waved to Sarah, and she also walked over to our little group. Before taking her coffee, Sarah gave Lacey a big hug.

“I heard he is going to be okay,” she said to Lacey.

“Did I miss something while I was gone?” I asked. How long had it been? I touched the side of the cardboard cups—they were still hot.

“They managed to stitch up his neck before he lost too much blood. He's already in recovery.” Lacey sighed—a good, relieved sigh. “The doctors came out and said it could have been so much worse, and it's like a miracle that he's okay.” She took her tea from the cardboard container. “They also said he has a torn shoulder from the fall, but that's minor. He'll probably be out for the rest of the season, but they don't think his career is over completely.” She sipped her tea and looked at me. “Thanks, Indie. If he hadn't looked up just before the hit, the doctors say it could have been much worse.”

Sarah gave me a little jab in the ribs.

“How will that affect his draft?” John asked, also taking his coffee.

“Pittsburgh,” I blurted out. “They'll still draft him.”

Lacey smiled at me and shook her head. “I've missed you, Indie.”

“Me too.”

Sarah sipped her coffee and made a face. “I hate crappy coffee.” She glanced at her watch, then jingled her keys. “I got to head out soon,” she said. “It's after midnight. You need a ride, Indie?”

I was about to say yes when John piped up and said, “I'll give her a ride.”

Sarah widened her eyes and stared at me as if to say,
don't.
But I touched her arm and said, “It's okay, Sarah. I can go with John.”

Before Sarah walked away, though, she turned to me and said loudly, “See you at rehearsal.” Of course, her comment was more for John than it was for me.

I turned to John and said, “I'm ready when you are.”

I gave Lacey a big hug before leaving. It felt great to be friends again.

As John and I walked toward his car, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed so jittery. Inside the hospital he had been the John I knew, but now I sensed some tension, and it made me nervous. I was still totally freaked out about his father, and I had no idea what to do with the information. I didn't want to be the one to tell him that his father was dead. I couldn't. Perhaps he would figure it out on his own, now that he was seriously searching for him. John still had some sort of huge hold on me, and I could feel myself being drawn to him again—it wasn't good. I couldn't figure it out, but it was there. Was it need? Want? What? John and I drove for a few blocks before either of us said anything. John spoke first. “I'm glad Burke is okay.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“He is going to be a star,” continued John. “He definitely has a pro career in his future. And the guy's got great grades. Plus … he has the best-looking girl in the school, and he can have every other hot girl any time he wants.”

My back went rigid, and I turned my head to stare out the window. Was he talking about Amber? Was he trying to hurt me on purpose? Why would he say something like that, today of all days? I mean, saying that about Lacey was okay with me. She was my friend, and she
was
the prettiest girl in the school. But Amber? My skin itched, and I gnashed my teeth together. Did he not think I was pretty, too? He'd only ever once said anything about my looks, and that was at Christmas. I opened the car window to let in some air. It flowed through my hair and around my body.

Why was I worried about something like how John feels about my looks just after such a crazy night?

Forget about it, Indie. Just forget.

John continued talking, obviously not noticing my silence or my hurt. “The guy got really lucky. He could've been paralyzed.”

I helped him.
I fiddled with the clasp on my purse. Life was worth living if I could help people.

“I met a guy in a wheelchair one day at Billings Bridge, and he seemed really happy,” I said. “Maybe Burke would have worked in hockey in a different way, just not as a player. Or maybe he would have made a total recovery with some new research.” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn't help myself.

John glanced at me, from the side of his eyes. “I was wondering,” he mused, almost hemming and hawing. He paused for a beat. Then he quickly said, “If you still wanted to go to grad with me?”

My heart hummed, my blood bubbled, and my nerves tingled just like when I had first met him.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “I'd like that.”

“Me too,” he said. Then he took his gaze off the road for a second to look at me. Our eyes connected. He smiled at me, and my body thawed and felt warm and fuzzy. Then he looked back at the road but put his hand on my knee.

His touch sent shivers flying through my entire body. What was it about him that made me react so strongly? Why could he control me with such a small gesture? But then something else crept through my body like a slithering sneaky snake. I could feel his hand vibrating on my thigh. He seemed distant, jittery, overly talkative … and his eyes were always bloodshot. Deep down, I knew he was high; I just didn't want to admit it.

He took his hand off my thigh and casually rested it on the back of my seat, behind my neck. I felt the pad of his fingertip circling the skin on my neck, like a brush of warm air.

So much to say, but how to say it? I needed to tell him about his father and his mother. It was as if a pile of words were lodged behind a dam in my throat. I stared straight ahead. How was I going to tell him?

You have to learn when to talk and when not to talk. Some people have to figure things out for themselves
. My gentle man's voice spoke to me.
You can't save people, but you can help
.

Were these words of wisdom?
I don't know what to do
, I thought.

Patience. When the time is right, you will tell him
.

Tonight I had stood up and yelled at Burke, and perhaps by doing that, I had saved his life.

But I hadn't saved Nathan.

Because you didn't know how
.

“You want to hang out tomorrow?” John interrupted my thoughts.

“I can't,” I said. I paused for a second before I said, “I have a rehearsal with the band. They're going to let me do one song with them.”

“Are you serious?” His tone was accusing again, the old John.

I turned and looked at his profile. “Yeah,” I said firmly, as if his question was stupid.

He took his eyes off the road long enough for me to see the frown on his face. “So lame, Indie. Rise above that crap,” he said, shaking his head.

“You've never even heard us.”

“Well, don't ask me to come to your stupid performance if that's what you call it.”

“I won't.”

He tapped his hand on his steering wheel in obvious agitation. Then suddenly, he cranked the steering wheel and pulled the car over, skidding on the gravel on the side of the road. He grabbed my upper arm and squeezed it until I could feel his fingers digging into my skin. “I don't want you in that band.”

I yanked my arm away from him. “Don't. That hurts.”

He sank into his seat. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. He hung his head. “It's just this thing with my dad is eating me up inside.”

I wanted to hug him, tell him everything was going to be okay, that I would help him through the stuff with his dad. Instead, I said very calmly, “It's not an excuse, John.”

He glanced at me and in a hushed tone said, “I didn't hurt you, Indie. I barely touched you.”

“I want to go home.”

The car lurched forward as John pulled away from the curb, going well over the speed limit. I gripped the door handle and stared straight ahead. Why had I agreed to ride with him? He pulled into my driveway, and when I went to get out of the car, he tenderly put his hand on mine. I turned and stared directly in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, Indie,” he said. “Would you help me find my dad?”

“John, I don't know how to tell you this, but I think your dad is gone.” The words came out of my mouth before I realized what I had said. If the truth be known, at that moment in time, I would have done anything to take them back. The pain etched on John's face was unbearable, more than I could handle. I looked down at my hands, letting my hair fall in front of my face. My heart beat through my skin, and it ached. His pain seeped into every pore in my body.

“Dead?” he asked.

I nodded.

John smacked his hands against the car steering wheel over and over and over. He cursed and yelled. I just watched quietly. Finally, after more than a minute of him ranting, I put my hand on his. His body stilled, and he curled over the steering wheel, sobs racking his body. “I'm like him,” he said. “I hurt you tonight, just like he hurt my mom.”

I didn't speak. I didn't want to tell him it was okay, because it wasn't. I moved beside him and put my arm around his shoulders and rested my cheek against his arm. I let him cry until he had no more tears to cry. Then he turned and took me in his arms and hugged me. I hugged him back. When we pulled apart, he lifted my chin and looked me in the eyes. “How did he die?” he whispered.

Without thinking of my words, I replied, “That's something you should ask your mom.”

 

Chapter
Twenty

Roses bloomed, and their sweet smell lingered in the air. Nathan splashed around in a huge lake, wearing a bright red life jacket. “Look at me, Indie,” he yelled. “I can swim.” A lady in a red coat skated across the lake, and it turned to ice, and as she skated, Nathan played his violin, the high notes ringing. He was now standing on the ice but still wearing his life jacket. “You'll be great at your concert,” he said. The lady made a perfect hockey stop, and suddenly she became Burke in a black and gold Pittsburgh Penguins jersey. “Thanks, Indie. You saved my life.” He flashed his perfect smile, and as he skated away, he turned into a woman wearing a blue winter coat and a gray and blue scarf, walking, holding a child's hand. Nathan still played his violin.

My alarm buzzed. I reached over and turned it off, glancing at the time. I had an hour to get ready. I sat up and shook my head. What a weird dream. So muddled and full of characters. Feeling my movement, Cedar sat up, licked her paw, and glared at me.

“Sorry,” I said.

Nathan had come to me to tell me he was going to be with me in spirit. That was so Nathan. He remembered about the concert.