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GUARDIAN

Courtney Cole

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Courtney Cole

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copy-

righted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including in-

fringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is pun-

ishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of

the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and

retrieval system, without permission in writing from the

publisher.

ISBN 978-1-61160-034-6

Credits

Editor: Marsha Briscoe

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

Everyone has a dad, but I have been blessed enough to

have two. One is in Kansas and the other is in Heaven. This
book is dedicated to them.

I also want to thank everyone who put up with me while

I obsessed over every miniscule thing and who read every re-
vised manuscript. My husband, my sons, my mom and my lit-
tle writing assistant. You’re the best and I love you.

Guardian

Chapter 1

It’s my party, I can cry if I want to

The small black box in my hands was plain and nonde-

script, only slightly larger than a recipe card box. It probably
only weighed five pounds tops. I ran my thumbs back and
forth over the cool metal, lingering on the sharp corners. It
had no label or engraved plaque to announce its purpose, so
no one could possibly have guessed at the precious contents it
held within. I could scarcely believe it myself. It was too small
to hold my dad. Yet, it did.

It held what was left of him, anyway. It had been sitting

on a shelf in my house for the past seven weeks, waiting for
my mother to feel well enough to have a service, waiting for
something to be done with it. Just waiting. It seemed to stare
at me every time I walked past the shelf, reminding me of its
contents.

As if I needed reminding. I remembered everything

about that crisp April day with perfect recall—just like it was
yesterday. Seven weeks and three days ago. To the average

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person, that time would have passed like it was nothing. Just
an irrelevant chunk of time like any other, one day blending
into the next and before anyone realized, seven weeks would
have passed. But that’s not the way it is for me.

To anyone who has lost someone significant, time be-

comes a painful unit of measurement. One week since “it”
happened. Three weeks since “it” happened. Seven weeks and
three days since “it” happened. These small, finite slices of
time mark off how long it has been since I have felt normal.

In fact, I have gotten to the point where I hate thinking

about it because any time I let my mind go there, it stays for a
while, dwelling in the misery of it. I don’t like that. There is
no reason to be negative… it doesn’t change a thing. It only
makes my heart ache. And lucky for me, my Pity Party is di-
verted today. My little sister frantically called my name from
somewhere behind me, her voice tiny and anxious.

I turned to watch Ellie bound over a rippled sand dune

and run across the beach, jumping lightly over sharp stones
and jagged sticks while avoiding the wet, stringy clumps of
green moss washed up by the current. She was so small…all
arms and legs, with her long hair streaming behind her in the
wind.

“Whit-ney! Not yet!”
Ellie skidded to a halt by the edge of the shore and then

splashed into the frigid water until she stood knee-deep with
me. She didn’t even comment on how cold the water was.
And it was. Like melted ice.

“What’s the issue, Monster? I wasn’t going to do it yet,

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not without you.” I tried to reassure her, using Dad’s nick-
name for her, but it was hard without realizing exactly what
the problem was. Ellie’s little face was panicked, her dark
eyes stricken.

“We have to do something first.” She pulled insistently

on my hand, attempting to tug me out of the water. “Whit-
ney, it’s important.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. What is so important?” I

smiled what I hoped was a patient smile as I allowed myself to
be pulled from the lake, walking through the greenish foam
lip of the shore and stepping onto the burning hot beach that
lined Grand Traverse Bay.

“It’s a surprise. Come see!”
Ellie pulled loose and ran ahead, climbing the giant hills

easily, with the energy of a golden retriever. It wasn’t quite as
easy for me. Sand makes it feel like you are hiking through
two feet of water.

I followed at a slightly slower pace, trying to hurry so

that I didn’t burn my feet on the blistering dunes. As I
climbed, I considered my baby sister’s strange behavior this
morning. She had woken me at the crack of dawn—well, be-
fore nine a.m. anyway—insisting that today was the day that
we held our own private memorial service for Dad. No other
day in the week was going to be acceptable; it had to be to-
day.

And after I had woken up a little more and had my morn-

ing dose of caffeine, I found myself agreeing with her. We
both knew it was time. Our Dad deserved more than to sit on

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a shelf with my Mom’s glass turtles collecting dust. So, at my
sister’s request—no, at my sister’s

demand,

we were doing it

today. On the same exact beach that his body had washed up
on. It seemed fitting.

“Whittie—come on! We’re almost there!”
I raised my eyebrows as I watched my sister’s little red

shirt descend into a sand hollow directly in front of us. For
the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why we needed to trek so
far from the beach.

As I diligently followed, my face started to glow. My

tank top was uncomfortably sticking to the indentation be-
tween my shoulder blades. It was hotter out here than I had
thought—my lips were actually starting to taste a little salty.
As a bead of sweat slid down my temple, I curiously exam-
ined the colorful array spread out on a blanket in front of me.
Nestled in the bottom of the little dip in the sand, hidden
from the beach, it had all the majesty that a six-year-old could
muster.

I recognized a red and white checked picnic tablecloth

from our house, spread out on the sand with rocks holding
down the corners. The rocks were good thinking on Ellie’s
part because the wind was stubbornly trying to lift the corners
anyway. Bright green leaves served as plates, with Twinkies
sitting daintily upon them. At each of the three place settings
was a little bunch of bright yellow wild-flowers and a juice
box.

I wasn’t sure how Ellie had managed to sneak the sup-

plies from the house without drawing my attention, but she

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had. This was either a perfect little picnic or a tea party sitting
in front of me, and I wasn’t sure which. But whatever it was,
it was definitely as elegant as a kindergartner would know to
do.

Ellie was currently sitting cross-legged behind one of the

little place-settings, watching my confused face in delight.
Just as I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, she
burst into song.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…”
My knees buckled as realization accosted me in a full

frontal attack. I instantly felt nauseous. Today was June 4

my sixteenth birthday. The day that all teenagers waited for
with bated breath, counting down the days one by one, and I
had forgotten about it. It had slipped my mind like an unim-
portant detail.

Six months ago, I had it all planned out. A Sweet Sixteen

luau on the beach with tiki torches, a roasted pig and poi.
New car keys. A gigantic white cake masterpiece with a pink
bow. My entire family and all of my friends would wear leis,
eat themselves sick , swim in the lake and dance to a live band
into the night in celebration of my birth. None of that mat-
tered now; I didn’t even care anymore. It was all so inconse-
quential.

And none of my friends had said anything, even my best

friend Delaney. I suppose that they had wanted to follow my
lead, to wait and see if I felt like celebrating. I couldn’t blame
them. I had been kind of an emotional time bomb over the past
few weeks although I was pretty sure that I was getting better.

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My birthday. I shook my head. It felt like someone had

plowed me over at the knees. I knew my mom had forgotten
and obviously my dad couldn’t make it. But my baby sister
had remembered—and was trying to make it special in the
only way she knew how—a tea party in the sand with juice
boxes and Twinkies. So I did the only thing I could do. I
cried.

Ellie promptly knocked me over in the sand in an at-

tempt to give me a hug, knocking the small metal box that
contained our father’s ashes onto the ground.

“Whit—I’m sorry! Don’t cry!”
Her voice was panicked and she smelled like the sun,

sand, and little girl, all mixed up together. And she was stran-
gling me with her tiny bird-like arms. Ellie was surprisingly
strong when all of her strength was wrapped around my tra-
chea. I disentangled myself carefully, wiped at my eyes and
looked at the little “table” again. I could see that sand had
blown onto the Twinkies. I would have to eat mine carefully.

“Ellie, it’s okay. I’m not sad; you are the best little sister

ever! Really!” The smile I mustered up was contrived, but she
didn’t notice. Her little face lit up and I could see that she
really wanted me to be happy today. She had taken great pains
to make it so even with the dark storm clouds of grief lurking
over us—so I would try not to disappoint.

“Why are there three place settings?” I asked curiously.

“Is Delaney coming?”

I picked up a warm juice box and inserted the straw,

scanning the sprawling sand for signs of my best friend. There

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was nothing there, though, but a flock of disgusting sea gulls,
staring at us with beady eyes as they watched for any signs of
crumbs. I shuddered. I hated those birds. Something about
the way they hovered directly overhead with no fear of people
at all just completely creeped me out.

“One’s for Daddy, silly!” Ellie looked at me with a puz-

zled look, as if her older and wiser sister should have known
better.

And as I watched her gently pick up the little black box

and set it down at one of the little place settings, everything
clicked into place like a camera lens shuttering closed: why
Ellie had insisted on coming to the beach today, why she
wouldn’t take no for an answer. It all made sense now. Dad
couldn’t come to us to celebrate my birthday, so Ellie was
trying to bring it to him.

That’s when I dropped onto my hands and knees and

threw up in the sand.

My poor stomach just couldn’t take it anymore. Ellie

rushed over to me, gathering back my hair to hold it out of
my face while I lost the contents of my stomach from what
felt like as far back as last week. Ellie perched next to me on
her heels, her long brown hair whipping in the wind around
her as she tried to take care of me. The look on her face was
pure panic.

I struggled to still my quivering stomach. It wasn’t Ellie’s

fault that my stomach was weak. Ever since I was a little girl,
whenever I’ve gotten upset, my stomach reacts with extreme
nausea. Other people get hives or jittery, I throw up. It’s a

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little inconvenient. It’s better than passing out, however. And
unfortunately, I do that, too. The afternoon my dad died, I
went down like a ton of bricks.

I finally got a grip and sat up, taking deep breaths. I could

still feel an excess of saliva in my mouth, which wasn’t a good
sign. The faint sour taste of vomit still lingered on my tongue,
making my stomach roll all over again. I could start heaving
again at any moment. I needed to move around.

I stood up and briskly brushed the hot sand off of my

knees. It was stubborn though and lingered in dingy, wet
patches.

“Monster? Why don’t we go ahead and do it now? I need

to wash up anyway.”

Ellie’s face was immediately panicked again. We both

needed the closure that today would bring us, but neither of
us felt ready. I didn’t know if we would ever feel ready,
though, so we needed to just go ahead and do it. It was time.
It wasn’t right to wait any longer. It wasn’t fair to our dad.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Mommy, Whittie?”

Ellie studied my face worriedly. “Do you think she’ll be mad
at us?”

I considered that. My mother had checked out of reality

seven weeks and three days ago. She barely spoke, she barely
ate. Hell, she didn’t even shower unless I told her to. I didn’t
even know if she had any true thought processes. She was a
shell of her former self. We couldn’t wait for her—or we
would be waiting all year. Dad deserved better than that.

“No, Ellie-Bellie. I don’t think she’ll be mad at all. She’ll

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be happy that we took care of it.”

I bent down and picked up the plain little box with one

hand and grabbed Ellie’s sweaty hand with the other. I was so
not looking forward to this. It was too…final. I think that’s
why I had been putting it off. At least with it sitting on a shelf
in the house, it felt like Dad was still with us somehow. If I
whispered something to him, I could pretend that he could
still hear me. But not after today.

We skidded down the side of the sandy dune and walked

to the edge of the lake, stopping when our toes touched the
water. We took a couple more steps, allowing our feet to
sink into the silty rock and sand mixture. After having our
soles scalded on the sand, the iciness of the water was a relief.
We stood still for a moment, allowing the water to gently lap
against our legs. Sea gulls screamed overhead, circling in huge
figure eights, but I ignored them.

“Are you ready?” I looked down at my sister.
Ellie stared back up with wide dark eyes and nodded si-

lently. Her face was entirely devoid of color, as pale as her
white shorts. Even her lips were white and chalky. I squeezed
her hand in encouragement and then handed her the box.

“Why don’t you go first, Monster? You’ll feel better

once you do. If you want to say something to him, now is the
time. You can say anything at all. I know he’ll hear you.”

Ellie stared down at the box, every ounce of the sadness

that she felt swimming in her eyes as she thought. She studied
the horizon, the box, the water and the sea gulls before she
finally looked at me again.

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She whispered dejectedly, “I don’t know what to say,

Whittie.”

My heart broke into a million pieces and a lump formed

in my throat that I couldn’t seem to swallow. The worst part
of this whole thing was watching Ellie’s grief. It was almost
worse than experiencing my own. She was too small to have
to shoulder such wretched, debilitating pain. Two months
ago, her biggest concern was not being able to hula-hoop.

“Just tell him whatever it is that you are thinking today,

Ell-Bell. It’s okay. No one is listening but you, me and
Daddy.” I grasped her bony little shoulder encouragingly, try-
ing to transfer some of my gritty resolve into her by osmosis.

“Okay.” Ellie gulped and jutted her pointy little chin out.

“Daddy, I miss you. Every day. I wish that you hadn’t tried to
save that boy so that you didn’t have to die. I wish…that you
were still here with me.”

As my sister spoke, my mind whirled back to the day

when Dad did try to save that boy—that stupid tourist who
had ignored the red flag whipping in the wind and had gotten
swept into a rip current. Red flags were a warning—a bright,
obvious statement to everyone coming to the beach. DO
NOT SWIM—the current is too strong. But he had ignored it
and now my father was dead.

“Was that okay, Whit?” Ellie’s beseeching voice brought

me back to the present as she stared up at me with wet eyes. I
knelt down and hugged her gently, taking the box back and
balancing it carefully on my knee.

“That was perfect, Ellie.” My own voice broke slightly.

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Whoever said that grief gets better with time, that time

heals all wounds, had been a liar. A big, fat liar. That, or they
had never lost anyone.

I gazed down at the box, at the flat black paint, and tried

to think of the last words I wanted my father to hear. I closed
my eyes for a moment and pretended that he was standing
right behind us, watching as we said our goodbyes. Smiling at
us in encouragement. It seemed to make it easier. I pictured
his chocolate brown eyes twinkling at us.

“Dad, I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.

We miss you every day.”

My voice broke again and I stopped to get a hold of my-

self. The ice cold water was numbing my legs from the knees
down as I dug my feet into the silt. I wish my heart could be-
come numb so easily. Ellie slipped her tiny hand into my big-
ger one and squeezed lightly. I looked down into her watery
smile and then gazed out at the yawning breath of blue in
front of us. It stretched from one side of my periphery to the
other—as big as the ocean.

“I love you, Dad. We’re going to be fine. I hope you are

too, wherever you are. We’ll love you forever.” I inhaled
deeply as I pushed the lid of the box back, letting it fall back
on its hinges. Ellie and I both peered inside.

All that was left of Peter Lane filled up a small clear plas-

tic bag and looked like cigarette ashes. It was incomprehensi-
ble to me that my dad; a renowned archeologist, a doting fa-
ther and loving husband, was tied up in a little clear baggie,
like loose change or snack crackers or screws. The bag was so

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small (too small!) and he had been larger than life.

He was tall and handsome and had a lightening quick

smile. He traveled a lot for his job, but he said good night by
webcam every single night that he was gone. He used funny
accents to entertain Ellie and danced in the car at red lights to
embarrass me. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he
laughed. And even though he couldn’t sing a lick, he sang in
the shower at the top of his lungs…making our mom roll her
eyes.

But he wouldn’t be doing any of those things anymore.

He wouldn’t cheer for one more of my track meets or shoot
baskets with me until dark. Not even one more time. He
couldn’t. He was in a little baggie in my hands. I shook my
head, trying to shake the grief from my mind, as if that could
possibly happen. I knew that I would carry it with me every
day of my life.

With shaking fingers and an even shakier breath, I

opened the top of the baggie and lifted it out carefully of the
box.

“We love you, Dad,” I whispered and then emptied the

contents into the wind.

Both of us watched the gray ashes glint in the sun and

then drift down to settle on top of the clear water, floating
like some sort of amoebic sludge with the current. We
backed up, out of the water, so that the ashes didn’t get
washed onto our legs. I knew that the current would eventu-
ally pull our dad further out into Lake Michigan, far beyond
shore. Just like it had on the day that it killed him. And some-

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how, that seemed fitting, too.

Ellie wrapped her arms around my waist as we stood on

the edge of the water for the longest time. The sun shone on
our shoulders and the water lapped against our toes. Anyone
that observed us would assume we were just enjoying a sum-
mer day at the beach. No one would have guessed that we had
just said goodbye to our father. For the last time.

After a few minutes, Ellie looked up at me.
“Do you think he heard us, Whitney?” Her voice was

tiny, soft and uncertain. The knot in my throat clenched even
tighter.

“I know he did, Ellie,” I murmured, just as softly. Both of

us took one last look at the water in front of us before we
turned and began the hot climb over the sand dunes again,
holding hands.

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Chapter2

My Life as I Know It

I could feel the sand forming small mounds in my shoes

as we walked up our long driveway. It was also securely
wedged into obscene places inside my shorts, and my hands
were grimy. My neck felt slightly like sandpaper—which
meant that I had gotten a little burned and my tongue felt like
wool. I needed a drink.

A quick appraising glance of our house told me that every

room inside was dark. The sheer size of our sprawling white
stucco home usually made it seem intimidating to visitors, but
we were used to it by now. Our dad had modified Mediterra-
nean style architecture to incorporate a wrap-around porch
on one side of the house—Mom’s only request. The finished
product had become a running family joke, an architectural
monstrosity, but it was home.

There were no visible signs of life now though, other

than the neighbor’s cat jumping off our porch swing and run-
ning around the porch, its black tail disappearing around the

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corner. I walked past all of the potted flowers that were wilt-
ing in the heat and flipped on the lights as we walked in,
dropping our bags inside the heavy wooden door.

“Mom—we’re home!” I called out of habit, though I was

fairly certain that she wasn’t paying attention. The only an-
swer I received was the shrill ring of our house phone. I
briefly wondered how long it had been ringing as I rushed to
find the cordless handset. I found it buried in the couch cush-
ions.

“Hello?” My voice was breathless.
“Maricel?” A harried male voice sounded surprised. The

phone must’ve been ringing awhile.

“No, this is Whitney, her daughter.” Everyone always

said that we sounded just alike on the phone. I guess they
were right.

“Oh, hello, Whitney. This is Dr. Evans. I was just calling

to check on your mom. How is she doing?”

My mom had taken a leave of absence after Dad died, but

she was lucky enough to have partners in her Pediatrics prac-
tice that could help pick up the slack while she was out. Dr.
Evans was one of them. He had known me since I was in pig-
tails, which was why I felt so bad for lying to him.

“She’s fine, Dr. Evans. She’s doing so much better. It’s

been hard, for all of us, but we’re adjusting. I’m sure she will
come back to work before long.” Lie, lie, lie. I felt my ears
burn as I lied through my teeth. There was no way she was
returning to work any time soon. That would mean that she
would have to shower. And get dressed. And leave the house.

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I didn’t see that happening.

She was a far cry right now from the young, stylish doc-

tor that everyone knew. They knew the beautiful woman who
left a subtle trail of Chanel no. 5 in her wake as she walked
down the clinic hallways smiling at her little patients. Right
now, I knew a woman who hadn’t combed her hair in weeks.

“That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “We’ve all been very

worried about her. Such a difficult thing to go through.
You’ve all been in our prayers, Whitney.”

Gee, thanks. As if that had done us any good. I instantly

felt bad for the snide thought. He meant well.

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure to tell her that you

called.”

“Thank you, Whitney. Have a good night.”
I tossed the phone back onto the couch and made my way

into the kitchen, searching through the dark cherry cabinets
for something to make for dinner. Cooking was a hobby of
my mom’s and she had stacks of cook books, but I rarely used
them. If I had to cook—and it definitely wasn’t my favorite
thing to do—I preferred to get creative, treating it more like
art than a science. I figured I might as well make it interest-
ing. If something didn’t turn out, we just ordered a pizza. I
dug some chicken out of the freezer and started simmering it
on the stove before wandering upstairs to check on mom.

It didn’t take long to find her. She was sitting in Dad’s

study, curled up in his oversized, brown leather desk chair
with her legs tucked under her and still in her nightgown. I
was pretty sure it was the same nightgown that she had been

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wearing yesterday and probably even the day before.

Her honey-colored hair, just like mine and Ellie’s, hadn’t

been combed and was tangled in the back. It was a far cry
from the sleek French-twist that she usually wore to her
clinic. She was absent-mindedly running her fingers lightly
back and forth down the length of the mahogany desk, staring
blankly at the closed window. I hesitated at the door.

“Mom?”
Her dull hollow eyes vaguely registered my presence, as

she looked at me fleetingly, without saying a word, and then
returned her attention to the closed wall of windows. She was
staring at it as though there was a movie playing there, but the
only thing there was a wall of closed blinds. I didn’t under-
stand it. Sometimes she spoke in short, stilted words. Some-
times she spoke about nonsensical things, and sometimes, like
today, she didn’t speak at all.

“Mom, we’ve got to let some light in here.” No re-

sponse.

I crossed the room to open the shades. At this time of

day, the sun was on the other side of the house, but at the
very least, we should let some light in for the plants. They
would thank us for it. Dad’s study was a very dark room filled
with dark wood and flannel-gray wall color. Even the books
lining the walls were dark. It was definitely too dark to keep
the blinds closed.

Mom squinted as slats of light flooded into the room. She

had probably been sitting in the dark all day. It was starting to
really worry me. She stayed curled in a chair for the majority

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of the day, hardly speaking and barely eating. But I haven’t
admitted that to anyone. To everyone outside of our home, I
pretended that everything was fine—because to admit that it
wasn’t, to say the words, would make it real. And that was
just way too scary. I couldn’t do that.

So, instead, I did the best I could to hold everything to-

gether. Last week I had even sorted through her giant stack of
mail, paying bills by signing her name to checks. I was pretty
sure that it was illegal, but we wouldn’t have electricity oth-
erwise and I enjoyed the luxury of hot food and showers.
Mom was oblivious to everything; she wouldn’t notice if our
electricity did get turned off. It was as inconsequential to her
as everything else.

“Mom, I’m making some chicken. Why don’t you take a

nice, hot bath while it cooks? I’ll let you know when it’s
ready. Do you want me to start running the water for you?”

She nodded silently, still staring out the window, so I

padded quietly down the hall to her bedroom and crossed
over her thick carpet into her bathroom. I couldn’t help but
smile as I remembered when they had renovated this room.
They had good-naturedly bickered back and forth about every
color swatch, every tile sample. Mom wanted something
warm and inviting and Dad had wanted cool and refreshing.
As usual, Mom had won. Dad always let her have her way,
but he liked to make it a challenge. He always said he would
take his entertainment where he could get it.

As adobe colored tile enveloped me and the thick white

rug poked up between my toes, I had to admit that it was

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warm and inviting in here. It seemed a little bit like a south-
western spa. That was probably the atmosphere that Mom
was going for. She loved spas. And she loved warmth. Every
winter, when the snow drifted in huge mounds around us and
the ice covered everything in thick sheets, she threatened to
move us all to Arizona.

A picture of the two of them taken from their last trip

together sat on the counter by Mom’s sink. They were laugh-
ing. Mom was looking up at Dad, and he had his arm wrapped
around her shoulders, pulling her up to him, kissing her fore-
head. The Mediterranean Sea sparkled in the sunlight behind
them. I loved that picture.

I hesitantly glanced at Dad’s side of the sink. Everything

was exactly the way he had left it. His razor, his toothbrush,
his cologne. I picked up his cologne and sniffed at it. Scent is a
strong emotional trigger and it suddenly washed over me in
waves. I desperately needed my dad to swoop me up in one of
his big bear hugs and tell me that everything was going to be
okay because he was going to make it that way. But of course
that wasn’t going to happen. I quickly set the bottle back
down and started Mom’s bathwater before I quickly fled the
bathroom without a backward glance.

“Monster?” I called as I walked through the kitchen,

“Where are you?”

“I’m here,” she answered quietly from the long mahogany

dining room table.

And sure enough, there she was, surrounded by work-

books as she worked on her summer reading project without

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anyone even prompting her. When had she become such a
good kid? I stirred dinner again, re-covered it and went in to
sit beside her.

“Ellie, I just want you to know how much I appreciate

what you did today.”

I know that such sentimental and corny statements

weren’t normal coming from a teenage girl to her little sister,
but nothing was normal about us now and I kept seeing im-
ages of her stricken little face in my head as we stood at the
edge of the water.

“It was the nicest thing that anyone has done for me in a

long time.” And that was the undiluted truth. While it was
true that my parents used to spoil both of us, that life was
long-gone. It just wasn’t the case anymore. I was the care-
taker now, the parent. No one took care of us now but me.

Ellie stared at me seriously. “You’re welcome, Whittie.

I’m sorry it made you sick.”

She looked down at her reading workbook again, pushing

her hair out of her face with grubby fingers. I gulped. That
stupid lump was back in my throat, constricting my airway
and making it hard to swallow. I swallowed harder, trying to
dislodge it by force.

“I also wanted to check and make sure you are okay.” I

examined her as I spoke. “I know today was hard. It was hard
for me, too.”

Ellie used to be a normal, laughing six-year-old who had

squealed when Dad tickled her and had annoyed the crap out
of me by getting into my stuff all of the time. She had

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morphed into a serious little old woman in a child’s body who
was staring at me now with dark, solemn eyes. The sparkle in
them was gone.

She had been having horrible nightmares, too. Dreams so

dark that she dreaded going to sleep. Every night before bed,
she would line her stuffed animals up in a militant row on the
side of her bed next to the wall. They had strict instructions
to watch for anything scary. But they were plush, stuffed with
cotton. They couldn’t stop her nightmares. She usually ended
up in my bed at least five nights out of the week. Sometimes
she woke me up and sometimes she didn’t; I would just find
her curled up beside me in the morning. And I had never seen
her paler after any of her nightmares than I had this morning.

“I’m okay, Whittie.”’
Ellie was staring at me again, looking hopelessly small

and vulnerable. I leaned over and hugged her tightly.

“You know that you can talk to me anytime, right?”
Ellie nodded silently.
“Okay. Now get back to work and learn something!”
I waggled my eyebrows dramatically together and

crossed my eyes, trying to make her laugh. She humored me
with a giggle, but it wasn’t reflected in her dark eyes. I sighed
and returned to the kitchen to grab our dinner plates.

Mom didn’t join us for dinner. We weren’t surprised—

this was nothing new. I usually made a plate for her and put it
in the fridge, and the next day I would find it in the sink with
a couple of bites gone, the rest dried and caked to the plate.

As Ellie and I chewed the chicken, which was only

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slightly overcooked, I wondered how much weight Mom had
lost. She had been on an eternal diet as far back as I could re-
member, even though she was perfectly fit and trim. No mat-
ter what the occasion, my mom always took pains to look
perfect. Perfect outfit, perfect accessories and hair always
sleekly in place. But her appetite had died with my dad. She
didn’t need to diet any longer; she had simply lost all desire
to eat.

I’m sure if my dad were here, he would joke with

her…“Well, Mari, if I had known that this was all it would
take to get you to stop with those ridiculous diets…I would
have done it years ago!” I couldn’t help but smile at the
thought. One thing about my dad: he could joke about any-
thing. I could totally see him joking about his own death.

After the kitchen was cleaned up and Ellie was bathed

and tucked into bed, I quietly peeked in on Mom. She was
curled up on her bed now. Their bed was so large that she
looked like a toddler curled up in the middle of it. She appar-
ently had taken the bath and she had a clean nightgown on,
but she didn’t wash her hair; it was still tangled and bone-dry.
Her thick lashes rested against the dark circles under her eyes
and I found myself hoping that she got some sleep tonight. I
pulled a blanket up over her and quietly crept back out.

Ellie and I shared a bathroom, which meant I had to clear

out the rubber dolphin and floating plastic rings before I could
run my own bubble bath, so that I could finally wash the grit
from the beach off of me. The bottoms of my feet were dis-
gusting—caked with dried dirt.

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I pulled my shoulder-length hair up into a pony tail and

then twisted it up on top of my head so that it wouldn’t get
wet. I had been trying to grow it out so that it would be long
and glamorous for senior pictures in a couple of years, but
that didn’t seem so important anymore. As it was, it fell just
between my shoulder blades.

I had just settled into the chin-deep water with a book

when my phone vibrated on the counter. I glared at it in an-
noyance. Like any other teenager, I usually kept it attached to
my hip and I liked it that way. But right now, I knew that I
was just compulsive enough to be unable to enjoy my bath un-
til I saw who had texted me. I sighed and stepped from the
peony-scented bubbles to grab it, flipping it open with one
deft flick of my wrist.

“Holy cow! I’m downtown getting pizza and Brady is

here. Looks like they are back from vacation! Woo-Hoooo!”

Delaney’s emotions always showed through loud and

clear, good or bad, even in her text messages. I smiled think-
ing of her mercurial moods. She had been all worked up lately
because she hadn’t seen Brady Parker around town for a cou-
ple of weeks. I knew that she had been worried that he had
moved back to California, which would have been a devastat-
ing state of affairs to every female in Northport.

He had transferred here from California two years ago

and every girl in school—probably even the Jr. High girls—
had lusted after him ever since. He was breathtaking. Dark
blond hair, blue eyes, perfect brilliant smile. I wasn’t posi-
tive, but I was pretty sure that I had seen him in an Aber-

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crombie and Fitch ad once. If not, he should have been. He
would have fit right in. He was probably even a surfer. I
didn’t usually go for fair-haired, blue-eyed guys, but in his
case, I could probably make an exception.

I texted Delaney back. “Great—u can rest easier to-

night.”

I could almost see her roll her eyes as she read it. She

never understood why I didn’t get as worked up about things
as she did. I wasn’t able to adequately explain to her that no
one on earth got as worked up as she did. Every cell in her
body had drama queen DNA in it.

I shivered in the air-conditioning and decided to give up

on the bath. I propped a leg on the sink to dry it off, realizing
as I did that I was already pretty tan, even though I haven’t
been outdoors nearly as much as normal. Ellie and I both had
healthy, golden complexions, even in the sunless Michigan
winters. We looked enough alike that my friends called her
“Mini-Me.” The only difference was that Ellie had inherited
our dad’s wavy hair, while I had not.

I pulled on my favorite comfy PJ’s and looked around the

room for the book that I had been reading, figuring I might as
well curl up in bed and finish it. For a teenager, I was unchar-
acteristically neat—even before Dad died and I had to assume
cleaning duty. Delaney was constantly teasing me about it.
She was just the opposite—a complete mess. Her room al-
ways looked like an F5 tornado had hit it. I had never known
her to be any different. And I had known her practically since
birth—she lived right down the street.

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My bedroom was large, and it looked like a pink volcano

had erupted in here, but I loved it that way. I had worked my
favorite color into as many areas as I possibly could. The walls
were a pale watery pink and my comforter was white with
tiny pink flowers. Even my sheer white curtains had tiny pink
tulips embroidered on them.

As I scanned the room, I glimpsed the edge of my book

poking out from underneath my big white bed and I picked it
up. I must have kicked it as I was getting dressed. I cracked
my window before I climbed into bed and the cool night
breeze fluttered my sheer curtains. Pulling my covers up
tighter, I continued reading, although I was having a hard time
concentrating.

I should have been riveted. I loved to read. Especially

now, I enjoyed escaping my own reality and entering some-
one else’s world for awhile. But I kept finding myself staring
at the words on the page without actually comprehending
them. I finally sighed and gave up, snapping the book closed
and turning off the light. The sooner I went to sleep, the
sooner it would be tomorrow, which would be an ordinary
day—and not my sixteenth birthday that I was

not

celebrating

without my parents. I closed my eyes and burrowed into my
pillow, relaxing for sleep.

Until I shot straight upward like a rocket as something

loud and shrill scraped against my window. My gaze flew to
my clock. Three-twenty a.m. I had drifted off to sleep with-
out even realizing it. As my heart pounded hard against my
ribcage, I quickly scanned every corner of the room.

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In the last few hours, dark shadows had migrated onto

the pink walls, but they were familiar, nothing out of the or-
dinary. I stayed motionless as I allowed the sleep induced fog
to clear from my brain. As I sat, I felt common sense and
logic slowly returning.

Of course nothing had touched my window—my bed-

room was on the second floor. Nothing would be able to
reach it. And there were no trees near enough to brush
against it. Obviously, it had been a dream. I consciously
slowed my breathing down, hoping that my racing pulse
would soon follow.

Regardless of my logic, I suspiciously eyed the darkness

around me and decided that I had better get up to check any-
way. My compulsive urges always reared their ugly heads at
the worst possible times….like three a.m. I got up and stood
at the window, gazing down at the yard, only to find that
there was nothing unusual out there.

The tops of the Cherry trees rustled soothingly and

tossed their sweet scent lushly into the breeze—the main rea-
son why I liked to crack my window, even in the summer
with the air conditioner on. The moon was shining hazily
from behind the billowing cloud cover, illuminating the yard.
My dad’s hammock swayed emptily between the trees. There
was nothing there—no possible source for the noise that I
thought I had heard. I shook my head in resignation and went
back to bed.

* * * *

Sometimes, people seriously annoyed me. I hate to say it

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that way, but it is the truth. This morning, as I waited in line
at the coffee shop for an iced coffee, I could feel what seemed
like a million pairs of eyes focused on me as people carried
out their morning coffee runs. I had become “Whitney Lane,
the girl whose Dad just died in that horrible drowning.”

No one knew how to act around me anymore—whether

they should say something or not say something; whether they
should ask how I was doing…or not. And of course, everyone
knew exactly what had happened. Northport is a small town,
where everyone knows everything about everybody.

Some people ignored the situation, because they didn’t

know what to say, but they still watched me curiously. Oth-
ers just told me how sorry they were or offered trite words
like “God must have needed another angel, Whitney.” Yeah,
right. God didn’t need anything from me. He’s God.

Another girl actually told me, “I know exactly how you

feel; my grandma died last year,” as if losing a ninety-three-
year-old sick relative was even close to being the same thing
as losing your dad in the prime of his life in a horrible accident
as you stood and looked on from the beach.

But I didn’t blame them. It wasn’t their fault that they

said stupid things…there was really nothing very good that
you could say in a situation like mine. It wouldn’t matter
what anyone said, it wasn’t going to make me feel better,
anyway. And even if some people were annoying, they meant
well. Just like Dr. Evans, they wanted to help.

Except for Courtney Williams and Brandy Delacour.

They have been the token “mean girls” in my class from the

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time we were in kindergarten. I could clearly remember
them arguing over whose daddy had the nicest car even back
then. Most kindergartners wouldn’t even know what a Mer-
cedes S-Class even was, but they did, including what options
were offered on it. They were both snotty and superficial-
and both were meaner than snakes.

They had waited a full week or so after Dad’s accident

before they started making snide remarks… I guess even the
Mean Queens, as Delaney and I referred to them, had realized
it was tactless to start immediately with the cattiness. So they
just ignored me at first, which was completely fine with me.
The grace period has been up for awhile now, and I knew that
I was fair game. As I waited in the mile-long line, I overheard
them whispering over their non-fat lattes from a nearby table.

“My mom told me that her mom doesn’t even come out

of the house anymore. She heard it from their neighbor, Mrs.
Levvins!” I could tell from Brandy’s animated whisper that she
was relishing the gossip. I made a mental note not to take
Mrs. Levvins her newspaper anymore when it was rainy out-
side. If she was going to gossip about us, she would just have
to get her bluish bouffant wet from now on.

“Well,” Courtney one-upped her smugly, not bothering

to be as quiet, “I heard that Whitney can’t even leave her little
sister alone in the house with her…because she’s afraid that
Dr. Lane will do something that will hurt her! She already
tried to kill herself; my mom told me.”

The tops of my ears burned, and I couldn’t even think

clearly. Seriously! Why did people spread such hateful gossip?

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Didn’t they have anything better to do? I knew that Courtney
was completely aware that I could hear her. I could tell from
the vicious, overly-loud dramatic whisper that she was using
and the frequent glances in my direction.

I could walk over and confront her, but what would that

accomplish? I would be playing right into her perfectly mani-
cured hands. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of
knowing that she had upset me. Instead, I took a deep breath.
Cleansing breath in, cleansing breath out. I had heard the
cheerful yoga instructor on my mom’s DVDs touting clean-
sing breaths. Drat. They didn’t work. Why did people even
bother doing it when it clearly didn’t work?

I caught Courtney glancing sideways at me, probably try-

ing to judge my reaction, and so I looked away out the win-
dow as I waited my turn, as nonchalantly as I could. Witch!
Why was it a law of nature that every school had to have
mean girls? Courtney and Brandy seemed to take genuine per-
sonal pleasure in tormenting others. I tried not to take it per-
sonally; their meanness had more to do with their own need
to feel superior than anything else.

It was finally my turn at the counter, so I hurriedly or-

dered two iced coffees, one for me and one for Delaney. She
probably wasn’t even out of bed yet, but I would give her a
wake-up call in person. She had never been what you could
even loosely describe as a morning-person. She woke up
grumpier than Naomi Campbell on a bad hair day. There had
been a hundred times that I had attempted to wake her up and
then had to duck for cover as her pillow sailed at my head.

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But it would ease her agitation if I came bearing gifts of the
caffeinated nature. As a treat, I also ordered a small decaf
frappachino for Ellie.

I was going to swing back by and pick her up on the way

to Delaney’s…not because Courtney’s nasty gossip was cor-
rect, but because Mom was absorbed in her own little world.
She would never hurt Ellie, not ever, but she also didn’t pro-
vide supervision for her either, so I tried to keep her with me
as much as I could. She could jump on Delaney’s trampoline
while Delaney and I chatted.

I grabbed the coffees and hurried for the door to avoid

Courtney and Brandy, who looked like they were getting up
to leave. In my haste to escape, I plowed directly into a brick
wall. A brick wall dressed in a lime green t-shirt. I peeked up
from under my eyelashes and Brady Parker was grinning
down at me. Oh, perfect. I had almost laid out the most beau-
tiful boy in town. Color instantly flood my face.

“Oh geez. Sorry, Brady. Really. I’m clumsy.”
I tried not to look at his face as my checks burned, but I

couldn’t help it. My eyes kept migrating in that direction with
a will of their own. I found myself fixated on the dimple in his
left cheek.

“No, you’re not, Whit. You’re just distracted.” He

smiled at me and I swallowed hard and blinked. He truly was
breathtaking. It was definitely an injustice to the rest of the
males on earth that he had been born so gorgeous.

“Do you need a hand?” He aimed a flawless smile in my

direction.

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Wow. Beautiful

and

helpful. At his question, I saw

Courtney’s head whip around; even though she was almost
out the door already. The girl had ears like a bat. And of
course she would be interested in this conversation, both be-
cause of his question and who was asking it. In the two years
that Brady had been here, he had not shown the slightest bit
of interest in Courtney, much to her disappointment and cha-
grin. And it certainly hadn’t been because of her lack of try-
ing. She was not used to getting shut down.

“Um, no. I think I’ve got it,” I said as I juggled my three

slippery coffee cups and my purse. In my head, I was cussing
at myself. I’m such an idiot; why hadn’t I asked for one of
those carrier thingies? The corners of his mouth twitched and
he stepped closer.

“It sort of looks like you need some help.”
He quickly strode to the counter and grabbed a drink

carrier, then returned to help me insert the drinks into it
without spilling them all over the place. I was just hopeful
that he didn’t notice my hand shaking. I was about to thank
him when he put his hand lightly on my arm and leaned his
head in so that he was really close to my ear. His warm breath
grazed my cheek as mine halted.

“If you need anything, Whitney,” he said quietly. “Even if

it’s just to talk…you can call me.” He smiled at me in a gen-
tle, understanding way and continued walking out the door.

I could still feel exactly where his hand had been on my

arm. It was such a mature thing for a teenage boy to say, but
then again, I knew that he did have some understanding of

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what I felt like. I didn’t know the details, but I had heard that
his brother had drowned in a sailing accident right before they
moved here. I stood in place for a second, clutching my card-
board carrier full of coffee, as I tried to collect my thoughts.

“Whitney!” A loud nasal voice firmly broke into my con-

centration.

I turned to see our school counselor walking quickly to-

ward me from a table in the corner. Ugh—seriously? What
was this place—Grand Central Station today? Unbelievable!
The last thing I wanted to do today was to talk to Mr. Blaine,
especially in front of Courtney and Brandy. They had stopped
in their tracks to watch my interaction with Brady and were
currently sitting on a bench nearby in observation.

I knew Mr. Blaine meant well, but I just didn’t know him

very well, and truthfully, I didn’t want to change that status.
He had just come to Northport shortly after my dad died, af-
ter our previous counselor, Mrs. Love (Yes, that was really
her name) had moved out of state with her husband. To his
credit, he had tried really hard to help me before school let
out, but I barely knew him, and because of that, I hadn’t said
much to him.

I sighed and walked back toward him, to where he stood

waiting for me. His pale, pasty skin was damp with a thin
sheen of shiny sweat already, and I could see yellow stains un-
der his arms. Nice.

“Whitney,” he began in an institutional voice, “are you

planning on participating in Driver’s Ed? It’s going to be at
the school, and I will be there sorting through some of Mrs.

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Love’s old files for the next few weeks. I know you are going
through a tough time. I want you to know that if you need to
talk to someone, you can feel free to stop in my office.”

Every part of his body appeared doughy and soft, but his

dark blue eyes were piercing as they searched my face. They
were as sharp as a razor, which was in direct contrast with the
rest of him. I hadn’t noticed this about him before. The
sharpness of his stare was unexpected and I didn’t know what
he thought he would see.

“All right,” I agreed. I had a feeling that he was going to

keep hounding me until I sat down with him. I could just feel
it.

He wasn’t going to get a sincere Oprah-style heart-to-

heart by any means, but I would give him something—just
enough to get him off of my back. Maybe he wanted to prove
to the principal that he was good at his job or something. I
don’t know. I would just talk to him and get it done, but not
today. The condensation from the coffee cups was starting to
run down my hands.

He seemed surprised that I had agreed, but didn’t want

to give me a chance to back out.

“Okay, great. How about next week?” He looked at me

expectantly. I nodded. I was always more agreeable when I
was discussing tomorrow (or next week) rather than today.

“Just pop in after class. You don’t need an appointment.

I’m pretty laid back in the summer time.” He turned and
walked stiffly out the door with a newspaper stuck under his
arm. Um, right. Laid back. Not exactly how I would have de-

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scribed him. Uptight and creepy in an over-weight shark kind
of way. Yep, that was a better description.

Good grief. I didn’t know how I got myself into these

things. Once again, I started walking home and noticed
Courtney and Brandy had abandoned their bench right outside
of the door and were now standing further down the side-
walk, directly in my path. They were probably lying in wait
for me. Fabulous; this day just kept getting better.

“Counseling go okay, Whitney?” Brandy asked as inno-

cently as she could in her snarky voice. I ignored her and
walked past as they giggled together, wondering how many
years a sixteen-year-old could get for justifiable homicide.

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Chapter3

The Merits of Certainty

Icy water pounded against the shore, where I stood nerv-

ously watching a faceless dark head bob in the current. My
dad was already swimming out to reach the boy with long,
strong strokes, oblivious to the fact that he was swimming
towards death. I tried to scream—to tell him to come back,
but no sound escaped from my frozen lips and my legs were
planted firmly in the sand. He just kept swimming.

Suddenly, Dad was gone—replaced with Coast Guard

boats and red and white Search and Rescue jet skis. Divers
dove under repeatedly, coming up empty-handed, just as I
knew they would. I had lived this before and I couldn’t
change it now. And since I couldn’t change it, I stood on the
beach, waiting, in horror. Again. Suddenly, Dad’s bloated,
lifeless body washed up at my feet, rolling over so that his
blank eyes were staring up at me.

I woke up with a start with Ellie standing directly in front

of me. Why was she here? Had I been screaming? I could see

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that I had kicked my flowery comforter off the bed, and my
sheets were wound tightly around my hands like ropes. No
wonder I couldn’t feel my fingers. I consciously forced myself
to loosen my vice-like grip. My hair was soaked in sweat. I
could feel the dampness on my face, in my hairline, and on
my pillow. I don’t usually sweat much, so this was new.

“Whitney, it’s just a dream. Are you okay?”
Ellie’s anxious dark eyes studied my face, trying to find

the reason for my terror hidden there. Her small hand felt for
mine, soothingly. She understood nightmares. She didn’t
know, though, that tonight mine was based in reality.

“Go get your blankie, Monster, and come crawl in bed

with me.” She nodded and crept back off toward her bed-
room. I sat up and smoothed my damp hair back away from
my face. My hands were clammy, too. Good grief, what was
wrong with me? Normal people tried to block out disturbing
images; they didn’t replay them like a movie in their dreams.
I breathed deeply, trying to get rid of the horrible pictures in
my head. It didn’t work. My dad’s dead brown eyes haunted
me.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat for a

second, trying to collect myself. My heart was still thumping.
Maybe I should get a drink or something to reboot my brain
so that I could go back to sleep. I waited until Ellie climbed
into my bed with her stuffed tiger and her blankie before I set
off for the kitchen.

The stone tiles were hard and cold under my feet. I re-

minded myself for the billionth time that I needed to start

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wearing slippers down here. The moon was shining in
through the enormous windows lining the back wall of the
breakfast nook as I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and
filled it with ice water. As the icy water touched my lips, my
dream instantly flashed back to me. I could practically feel the
icy-cold lake water pounding against my legs again. This
wasn’t going to work. I dumped my glass in the sink and
walked into the living room instead.

My dad’s giant saltwater aquarium cast a soft blue glow

from the back corner of the room. He had loved collecting
new sea life to add to it. Once, he had a rare fish shipped all
the way from Africa. Apparently, he had been on a waiting
list for an entire year for that one little fish.

Of course, he didn’t tell Mom about it during the course

of that year; she found out when it arrived and she saw the in-
voice. That was an interesting night in the Lane household.
The black and white striped Chrysurus Angel fish leisurely
swam past me now, intent on swimming laps around the
tank, oblivious to the fact that its benefactor was no longer
here.

I slipped past the bubbling tank toward the front door. I

could practically hear the porch swing calling my name. I
knew that the soothing, rhythmic swing would help steer
sleep to me. As I pulled the door open, however, a screeching
noise from the kitchen startled me, halting my footsteps.

It sounded like something heavy and metallic was scratch-

ing on the tile, like fingernails on a chalkboard. I twisted
around and quickly scanned my memory, trying to recall an

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object that would make that kind of noise, but came up blank.

I quietly crept back around the corner, peeking around

the kitchen doorway, but didn’t see anything. Everything on
the granite counters was as it should be. Canisters housing
sugar and flour stood undisturbed. The cordless phone lay
motionlessly on the counter next to the stove where I had
placed it after talking to Delaney after dinner. The rugs were
un-crumpled on the floor in their normal places. Nothing was
out of place here.

But I had definitely heard something in this room. I

scanned the room again. It was still the same. Not a single
thing had been disturbed. The window over the sink was
closed. The dishwasher was not running. There was no source
for any kind of noise. Good Lord. Was I going crazy, too? My
“fight or flight” instinct had definitely been triggered, as if
there was a threat lurking nearby. But there was nothing here.
Just like last night.

Maybe I was just like my mother. Crazy. My grandpa

would say that I was dipping into the squirrel stash crazy. I
shook my head and walked as normally as I could out onto the
porch. There was nothing here. I didn’t need to creep.

As I settled back into the cushions of the swing, I began

to feel more peaceful. My mom and I used to sit out
here…snapping fresh peas for dinner, talking about nothing
or drinking tea. It was a safe, happy place for me to be. The
rhythmic rocking was doing its job, just as I knew it would.
My eyes started to get heavy and I allowed them to close.

“Whitney?”

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My eyes popped wide open at the sound of a low male

voice. Brady Parker was standing on the top step of my
porch, looking just as impossibly glorious in the moonlight as
he did in the sun. I sat up quickly.

“Brady? What are you doing here? It’s like…really late.”

I didn’t have my watch on, but I knew it was after midnight.
My front lawn was illuminated with the violet hues of night,
as the stars twinkled mutely from behind the low-hanging
cloud cover.

“I know.” Brady sighed as he walked toward me. “I

couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk to get some fresh air and
saw you walk out of your house.”

He stopped in front of me, looking down at me obser-

vantly, his blue eyes sparkling.

“It appears that you have the same insomnia problem.

Can I sit with you?”

My heart stilled for a beat, before resuming at double-

time pace, thudding lightly against my ribcage. Brady Parker
was on my porch. His masculine scent wafted lightly toward
me in the breeze and I took a deep breath, inhaling it, fighting
the urge to hyperventilate.

“Of course. Please, sit.”
He sat down and as he settled in, he pulled me back

against him as though we had sat in such a way a million times
before. It felt just that comfortable as I rested my head natu-
rally in the crook of his shoulder. I felt my nerves still and I
wondered what I had been so nervous about in the first place.

Just as I was about to remark about how comfortable I

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felt with him, he tilted my face back with his finger…and
lowered his lips to mine. He hesitated a fraction of an inch
away, staring into my eyes. Need filled me up in a way I had
never experienced before. I felt as though I might die if he
didn’t kiss me.

I leaned up to meet him and his lips consumed me. My

head started spinning. His mouth was hot against mine and
the porch began to feel as though it were a different place, a
hazy dream-like place where moonbeams were the only real-
ity.

His arms were around me and his hands were every-

where…running lightly down my arms, over my back and
across my hips. I arched against him, completely uninhibited,
whispering his name. It felt so unbelievably good to be in his
strong embrace, to feel just for a second that everything was
fine…to feel like I was normal.

“Whitney…” he murmured against my ear as he nuzzled

my neck lightly. His lips felt like raw silk, and caused goose
bumps to form everywhere on my body. “I’ve wanted you
ever since I saw you the very first time. Is that bad?” I was
molded against his body and I melted even further against
him. Nothing felt bad at this moment.

I knew what we were doing was wrong, but then again,

who decided what was wrong? It didn’t feel wrong to me. If I
chose to lose my virginity tonight, it was my decision. It be-
longed to me, so I could give it away as I saw fit. I was feeling
something other than grief for the first time in weeks. And
that felt very right to me.

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Brady gently tugged at my PJ bottoms and I lifted my

hips in assistance. Everything around me swirled and melted
together. I couldn’t think straight, but I didn’t let that bother
me. Right now was a time for feeling, for experiencing. Not
for thinking. My body seemed to know what to do without
my brain having to tell it. My back arched against Brady again,
inherently trying to get closer. He pulled me to him, then
gently twisted us around so that he came down on top of me.

He smiled in the moonlight and I closed my eyes.

* * * *

I sat up, rubbing first my eyes and then my temples. Too

little sleep always gave me a headache. The porch was filled
with sunlight. I blinked. I was still on the porch-swing. I
looked around. Everything was as normal. And I was alone.
Except for the neighbor’s cat sitting in the corner licking her
paws. Brady was gone.

I did a quick appraisal—everything was fine. My PJ’s

were on, completely undisturbed. I stretched gingerly. There
was a little soreness in my behind and legs, but I had slept on
a wooden porch swing all night. Of course I was sore.

It wasn’t real, then? The details of it were fading quickly…

just like those of a dream. But if that were the case, it had been a
lovely dream. Perfect, in fact. I had felt good—really, really
good for the first time in almost two months. I was a little aston-
ished at my behavior, even if it was only in my head. I wasn’t
usually so impetuous, even in my dreams. But even so, I felt a
strange sense of loss that the wonderful familiarity in Brady’s
smile had only been a figment of my imagination.

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It was just as well. When I do lose my virginity, I want to

remember every detail of it. The only thing I remembered
from last night was Brady’s smile in the bluish-purple light of
the moon. And the feeling that I had been consumed with—
the safe, wonderful, sexy feeling that was charging through
my veins right now just thinking about it.

I shook my head. It wasn’t real. The only thing real here

was my headache and the fact that I was going to be late for
Driver’s Ed if I didn’t get a move on. I jumped up, feeling my
stiff body protest. I really was sore. New rule: No more
sleeping on wooden porch swings.

I headed for the kitchen to grab a Coke for breakfast.

And maybe some aspirin. The breakfast of champions, which
was just what I needed to get me through a morning of
Driver’s Ed.

An hour later, I found myself folded into a school desk

and sitting next to Delaney, waiting for Mr. Divine (who was
also our math teacher) to arrive and start teaching us the me-
chanics of driving. It was funny—a couple of months ago, I
had been so excited when I had turned in my registration
forms. Now, I couldn’t care less that I was here or even that
in a few weeks I would have my driver’s license.

My dad used to take great pleasure in teasing me about

the kind of car he was going to buy me. Since he was the one
footing the bill, I was at his mercy and we both knew it. He
would point out the crappiest, most rickety vehicle on the
road and tell me that it was “the one,” and then he would
crow delightedly as I rolled my eyes. The ironic thing was

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that now I didn’t even care if I got my own car at all. In fact, I
would probably just drive Dad’s He wasn’t going to need it.

I bounced my foot against the side of my chair. I hated

waiting, especially on a summer day. If we started late, we
would probably finish late. And it should be against the law to
be cooped up inside a classroom in June. My patience was
getting thin. The air in the room was already stale, even
though it was bright and early. It had the distinct odor of a
place that was crammed full of too many bodies, some of
which didn’t believe in regular bathing. Beside me, Delaney
was busy mutilating a candy bar.

“Why don’t you put it out of its misery?” I asked, laugh-

ing at her. She picked at it again, gingerly and precisely, like
she was dissecting a frog in Biology.

“You mock,” she said, lifting one perfectly sculpted eye-

brow. She has been addicted to the tweezers since eighth
grade and used them diligently every morning. I always told
her that she was going to run out of eyebrows.

“Of course I do. I’ve never known anyone but you who

picks the peanut butter out of a peanut butter cup. What is
the point in that? Why don’t you just get a different kind of
candy bar—or maybe even something a little healthier for
breakfast?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it, Whit.”
“Apparently.” I smiled, shaking my head, but she wasn’t

paying attention.

She had gone back to examining her candy bar with the

utmost care. I wasn’t hungry, but I definitely needed more

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caffeine. I was just debating whether to duck out and grab an-
other coke from the vending machine when the door opened.
I turned my head in relief, expecting to see Mr. Divine.

But Brady walked in instead, surrounded by three other

football players. The football team tended to stick together,
even in the off-season. Drew Hayden brought up the rear like
an overgrown blond moose. Like many of the kids in North-
port, I had known him since kindergarten. In fact, I had
thrown up all over him once after afternoon snack. He hadn’t
even been mad; he was good natured even back then.

He grinned and waved at me now as they all took seats in

the back. Brady also smiled at me, the normal, dazzling Brady
Parker smile. Not one that was laced with the familiarity of a
lover. And that confirmed it; it had definitely been a dream.

A crazy-sexy-perfect dream that was getting me worked

up again just thinking about it. So I stopped thinking about it
and watching them, too, but I heard them rough-housing
while they waited. Heaven forbid they just sit quietly and wait
like the rest of us.

Pretty soon crumpled up balls of paper were flying past

me and hitting the back of other unfortunate heads; slightly
nerdy boys who had made the mistake of sitting on the front
row. I turned around and glared at them. I hated bullies.

“What?” Justin demanded. “Do you have a problem,

Whitney?”

After Brady moved here, Justin Graber had quickly be-

come his closest friend. I didn’t know how Brady could even
stand being around him—he was loud-mouthed, arrogant and

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annoying—and had been since grade school. He had ears that
were too big for his head, his face got too red at the slightest
amount of exertion, and he wore his letter jacket, dripping
with football awards, everywhere he went until it became ri-
diculously warm outside. He was the epitome of obnoxious.
He was staring at me now with an agitated sneer on his red
face. He and I definitely shared a mutual dislike for each
other.

“Knock it off, Graber.” Brady grinned as he punched his

arm, which of course triggered a punching contest and then
ended up being a good-natured wrestling match on the floor
with desks getting shoved out of the way. I would never un-
derstand football guys. I shook my head and turned back
around in my chair. Thankfully, Mr. Divine hurried in—
apparently there had been some issues with the Xerox ma-
chine—and started class.

As his dull monotone voice stretched from one hour to

the next, Delaney killed time by passing me notes. She
thought she was being incredibly crafty, but in reality, she
was blatantly obvious. As her long pale arm stretched to drop
her latest missive onto the center of my desk, Mr. Divine ap-
peared out of nowhere, intercepting her pass.

“What do we have here, ladies?” His stern tone was dis-

approving. I cringed. Mr. Divine was not known for his leni-
ency or sense of humor. I only hoped that this note didn’t say
anything insulting about him, like her last one. It had read:
“Check out Mr. D’s hair. So bad! It’s got to be a toupee, or a
really bad dye-job.” I held my breath. Was it possible to get

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detention in the summertime?

“Let’s take a look…if it’s important enough to interrupt

class, then it’s important enough to share with everyone.” I
mentally crossed my fingers. Please, please, God, don’t let it
be horrible. I glanced at Delaney and she had the classic deer-
in-the-headlights look frozen on her face. Not a good sign.

“Hmm. Interesting.” Mr. Divine raised his eyebrows as

he peered over the edge of the note at me, then looked at the
rest of the class as he crumpled it up in his hand.

“Mr. Parker, apparently you’ve been staring at Whitney

throughout the course of class today. Please keep your atten-
tion on me so that you might actually learn something.”

My cheeks exploded into flame as Mr. Divine stalked

back to the front of the class and started a movie about acci-
dents. I kept my eyes fixed straight in front of me while the
whole class giggled. I wanted to curl up and die under my
chair. I glanced over at Laney and she gave me her best “I’m
sorry” face. I would kill her later. For now, I kept my eyes
glued on the excruciatingly dated movie showcasing horrible
accidents caused by negligent driving so that I could tune out
the tittering class.

As I observed the twisted metal of a circa 1985 Ford Es-

cort after a drunk-driving incident, I distinctly felt someone
staring at me. I turned my head as casually as I could and
glanced behind me. Brady was blatantly staring at me. De-
laney had actually been right!

When my startled eyes met his, he smiled gently, exactly

as he had in my dream. The familiar, soft smile of a boyfriend.

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My stomach turned to jello and my heart started racing. Why
the heck was he staring at me like that? He barely knew me.

But as he stared at me with his friendly, warm eyes, I

found myself feeling better. My embarrassment slipped from
me and I shrugged my best “What can you do?” shrug, smiling
back before I turned back around in my seat. We hadn’t ex-
changed a single word, but the simple exchange left my palms
clammy and my heart racing. I couldn’t help it; he was beauti-
ful. And he liked me. That much was apparent.

Three long hours later, Mr. Divine released us and we all

charged for the door like someone had opened a flood-gate.
Delaney turned to me in the hallway.

“Hey, do you want to pick Mini-Me up from her play-

date and come over for lunch?”

I had arranged play-dates for Ellie with her friend Alexis

from down the street while I was in Driver’s Ed. It accom-
plished two things in one fell swoop: it gave Ellie something
fun to occupy her time with and it kept her supervised in my
absence. Alexis’ mom kept a vigilant eye on them, unlike my
own.

“Sure, sounds great!” Ellie loved jumping on the Harris’

trampoline. And I owed Delaney a long excruciatingly painful
death. I briefly wondered how much work pulling out her
fingernails one by one would entail.

“Miss Lane?” Mr. Blaine’s nasal voice came from behind

me. Again. The man seemed to have a radar for when he
could catch me. I groaned silently.

“Whitney, are you available to meet with me today?”

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He was wearing a pair of slightly wrinkled khakis and a

green, striped oxford shirt, also slightly wrinkled. He looked
like he had just rolled out of bed. The only neat thing about
him was his sparse hair. He was bald on top, but the sides
were cut short and neatly combed. I mentally gave him credit
for not attempting the comb-over thing.

I quickly tried to come up with a viable excuse but noth-

ing was coming to mind. I helplessly glanced at Delaney, so
she piped up, probably trying to get back into my good
graces.

“We sort-of already had lunch plans, Mr. Blaine.” He

pierced her with his blue eyes.

“Well, Miss Harris, I think that Whitney’s session with

me is slightly more important than your ‘sort-of’ lunch
plans.” Yikes. The man was seriously unpleasant.

My “session”? I didn’t need to have a

session

with any-

body! I sighed though and turned to Delaney. It was obvious
he was going to be persistent. If I didn’t just get it over with, I
would have to put up with him even longer. And that was
definitely something I didn’t look forward to.

“Lane, we’ll have to take a rain check. Thanks for the in-

vite, though. I’ll call you later!” She smiled encouragingly at
me before she made a break for it, escaping before Mr. Blaine
could say anything else to her. I stared at her retreating back
wistfully. He turned to me.

“Whitney, why don’t you go ahead and take a seat in my

office. I have to take care of something and I’ll be right in.”
He turned on his heel and stiffly walked away, leaving me to

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wonder once again how I got myself into these situations.

Ten minutes later, I was still waiting impatiently in his

office, staring at the pale green walls. Why did schools always
overuse that shade of green? It wasn’t even a soothing color;
it was more of a sick, germy, mucous color than anything
else, and it never looked good on concrete walls. Maybe it
was sold in bulk or something for institutions. No matter how
it got here, I decided that the repulsive color was a perfect
match for our uptight guidance counselor.

I bounced my foot again, a nervous habit that I’ve had

ever since I was a kid. Everyone always teased me about it. I
could consciously stop when someone pointed it out, but it
never took long for my foot to start bouncing again on its own
accord, particularly when I was nervous, although I tended to
do it when I was restless, too.

I really just wanted to get this over with. When you think

of a guidance counselor, you kind of assume that they will be
comforting and helpful. Something about Mr. Blaine put me
on edge. But then again, he didn’t seem to be that comfort-
able around teenagers, either. I wondered, then, why he
chose to be a high school counselor.

I could hear someone whistling tunelessly as the door

opened and he finally came in, bringing with him the smell of
stale Old Spice which almost, but not quite, masked the sub-
tle smell of body odor. He sat down at his desk and folded his
pale, doughy hands, looking over them at me.

“How are you feeling today, Whitney?”
So, I guess we were jumping right into it, then.

Guardian

“I’m fine, Mr. Blaine. I’m a little stressed out, but that’s

it.” I held my breath for a second without realizing it, exhal-
ing as soon as I noticed. I didn’t want to look him in the eye.
His eyes bothered me—they were too sharp and penetrating.
He definitely made eye contact uncomfortable. I stared at my
pink flip-flops and then at my hands before glancing up at him
again.

“How is everything at home?” The sharp blue eyes were

trained on my face again.

“Everything is fine. It’s been…hard. But we’re adjusting.

I’m mostly been worried about Ellie, my little sister. But
she’s going to be okay.” I didn’t even know why I said any-
thing about her. It just came out. Sometimes, my mouth had a
mind of its own.

“Yes, I spoke with Mrs. Getlin, the elementary school

principal, this morning and she had noticed that Ellie was hav-
ing a very difficult time before school ended.” That caught my
attention and I gazed at him with my brow wrinkled. I
grasped the pen I was holding even tighter.

“Why would you ask about Ellie? You’re a high school

counselor.”

I wasn’t sure yet if I was more annoyed or curious. I was

leaning more toward annoyed. I was pretty sure that he was
overstepping some sort of boundary here. Ellie wasn’t his
concern. Besides, Dad died right before school was out. Of
course Ellie was having a hard time then; what did they ex-
pect?

He smiled in what I was sure he meant to be a reassuring

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way. “Whitney, a counselor that is good at their job keeps
their ears to the ground to find out what is going on. Teenag-
ers aren’t always forthcoming about their feelings or things
that are going on with them. Don’t you find that to be the
case?” He looked at me, but didn’t wait for me to respond be-
fore he continued.

“I’ve heard that your family has been having a really hard

time these past several weeks. That your mother, in particu-
lar, has been struggling. I want you to know that you can talk
to me about that.” Again he stared at me. His probing blue
eyes were unsettling and not comforting in the least. I really
missed Mrs. Love.

“My mother lost her husband a couple months ago. Of

course she is having a difficult time. Anyone would. She took
some time off work to recuperate and she is just spending it
around the house. Ellie is also having a hard time, but we are
adjusting. Like I said.” My voice got infinitely sharper with
my last sentence.

I stared him directly in the eye now, defiantly wanting to

stare him down. Something about the way he was framing this
conversation was putting me on guard, but I wasn’t sure why.

He stared back at me, his pudgy hands still folded.
“Whitney, do you have any relatives that could come and

stay with you for awhile, while your mom…gets her strength
back? Maybe, a grandparent? I understand that your mother’s
parents are out of the country…perhaps there is someone
else?” It suddenly became clear what he was getting at. And if
I had gotten more sleep last night, I would have understood it

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sooner. No wonder I had been subconsciously nervous.

“My mom is fine. We don’t need anyone to take care of

us. Ellie and I are both clean and dressed and fed every day.
Do I need to have my mom call someone?” My voice was gla-
cially cold. I stared at him unflinchingly over his stupid, pale,
clasped hands.

Something shifted in his demeanor and he suddenly

smiled, although his smile was vaguely reminiscent of jagged
piranha teeth. No, there was nothing at all comforting about
this man. He had definitely chosen the wrong profession.

“No, there is no need for your mother to call. I’m glad

that everything is fine. I just wanted to check in with you. If
anything changes, please know that you can come to me any-
time and talk to me about anything.” He finally unfolded his
hands and shuffled some papers around on his desk. Appar-
ently I was dismissed.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that. Thanks.”
I was out of his office like a shot. I fled through the

empty halls, and out of habit headed straight for my locker
from last year, sliding to the floor and sitting with my head
leaned back against the cool metal. If only I

could

ask my

mom to call the school. Eight weeks ago, if I had gone home
from school and relayed the conversation that I had just had to
my mom, she would have been on the phone within three
seconds, calling the principal, the superintendent, and proba-
bly even the mayor all at once and talking them blue in the
face and then some.

I knew though, that if I were to return home right this in-

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stant, my mom would be listlessly sitting in a chair, staring
out the window. She couldn’t call anyone, even if I asked her
to. She was completely out of it. I doubt she would notice if
an entire army of Guatemalan Black Howler monkeys took up
residence in our house.

I replayed the conversation with Mr. Blaine again in my

head. What exactly had he been implying? What could he ac-
tually do? Could he actually call someone and have Ellie and I
taken out of our house until Mom got better? Good Lord.
What grounds did he need to do that?

I had very limited options regarding people that I could

turn to for advice.

My dad didn’t have any family left. He was an only child

and his parents had died before I was born. My mom’s parents
moved to Venezuela a few years ago. My grandpa’s family has
owned a home near Maracaibo for generations and they had
moved there after they retired. I pondered whether I should
call them. I knew my grandma would come if I asked, but my
mother would kill me. Well, she would eventually…when
she started caring about things again.

But maybe it would be best to run everything across

someone who wasn’t immersed in all of this craziness… I
should get an outside opinion from someone who knew us. I
would call Grandma first thing in the morning. She would
know what to do.

I felt two pounds lighter after making that decision. And

better yet, I still had extra time to kill before I picked up
Ellie. I knew exactly how I would pass the time. I hadn’t

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eaten lunch yet and my stomach was reminding me that I was
starving. I yanked my phone out of my pocket, texted De-
laney and asked her to meet me at Barb’s Bakery downtown
and headed in that direction. There were very few things in
life that a freshly baked Danish dripping with chocolate icing
couldn’t fix.

As I passed Northport Harbor, I stared at the boats that

were neatly lined up and bobbing gently in their slips. It
wouldn’t be long before we could go sunfish sailing. The little
personal sized sailboats were perfect for children and adults
alike. I had been sailing them since I was ten or so. My dad
had picked up a used boat at a garage sale for two hundred
dollars after I had caught the sailing bug from my friends and I
had been sailing every summer since. I wasn’t sure how I felt
about being out on the lake this year after everything that had
happened, but the idea of being out on the open lake with the
wind in my face was definitely calling to me. I couldn’t help
it.

I had gotten my current sunfish for my thirteenth birth-

day…the “No Problem.” Her fourteen foot hull was glisten-
ing mother-of-pearl and her sail was brightly striped—green,
white, and blue. I spent a lot of time on her in the summers,
after my mom had gotten over her nervousness about me
spending so many hours on the water alone or with just De-
laney. There was room for two on our boat, so I would take
Ellie with me this summer. It would do us both good.

Someone brushed against my arm and I stepped aside to

let them pass. I was in no hurry. I would get there when I got

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there. I knew that Delaney was probably already there—
more than likely picking out the center of her Danish, too.
The girl was strange. She was my best friend so I could say
that. When I realized that no one was passing me, I turned
around and found that there was no one on the sidewalk, not
up or down the street. Strange. I shook my head. I could have
sworn there was someone there.

As I pulled open the bakery door, I found that Delaney

wasn’t poking at her Danish as I had expected. She was suck-
ing the cream out. I stared at her, watching as she held up the
entire long cylinder and noisily sucked until she was sure that
all of the decadent goo was gone before she placed the shell
back onto her plate. Only then did she delicately cut it into
bites with silverware like a normal person. Her porcelain skin
and green eyes looked beautiful in contrast with her long red
hair. I wondered if I should tell her that she had a big dollop
of cream in it.

“You’re an enigma, Laney.” I leaned over and wiped the

cream out with a napkin.

She smiled widely. “But you love me.”
I shook my head again, something I seemed to do a lot

around her, and went back to relishing every bite of my own
sweet roll. Of course I loved her. And I loved this quaint little
bake shop with its little tables and gauzy curtains, too. I had
been coming here with my mom ever since I was a baby.
Since she was forever on a diet, she would reward any and all
good behavior with a sweet roll from Barb’s. It was a family
tradition now.

Guardian

In fact, after Dad died and Mom had stopped eating en-

tirely for awhile, I had taken home a box of her favorite apri-
cot squares, hoping that they would entice her to eat. No such
luck; she left them untouched, like everything else. Ellie and I
had eaten them instead…we sat right in the middle of my
bed, each of us on either side of the box and had eaten until
we felt sick. There had been no one to tell us to go eat at the
table or to not spoil our dinner.

Delaney finished chewing her last bite of sweet roll and

delicately wiped at her mouth with a napkin, like a perfect
lady. She seemed to have forgotten that she was sucking the
entire thing like a straw two seconds ago. She primly placed it
back down on her lap before she folded her arms on the table
and stared at me over her soda glass.

“So, what do you think about Brady?” I knew that she

would come back to this. She was like a dog with a bone. And
there was no way that I was going to tell her about my
strange, erotic dream. She would never let me forget it. She
would think it was some sort of sign.

“What I think is...I’m going to kill you. Should I do it in

here or outside where there will be less mess?” The entire
conversation with Mr. Blaine has deflected my agitation with
her for a little bit, but it was back now in full-force.

“Cop-out!” She sang the words as she licked the glaze off

of her fingers. “It wasn’t my fault that Divine was right behind
us. I didn’t know. Besides, you know what I meant. Brady
likes you. I can tell.”

I knew she was right and I had to admit that I found it cu-

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rious. In fact, every time I thought of it, a little thrill coursed
through me and my stomach did back-flips. And a part of me
felt guilty about that. I wasn’t supposed to be interested in
Brady Parker right now. I definitely wasn’t supposed to be
having sexy dreams about him. I was supposed to be grieving.
My dad had just died a minute ago; what kind of daughter was
I, anyway?

“I can’t think about that right now,” I muttered.
“Yes, you can. It’s okay, Whitney.” She was staring at me

from across the small table, with a serious expression on her
usually carefree face. I watched her play with the multi-
colored string bracelets circling her slender, pale wrist. I had
made one of them for her. “It’s okay for you to miss your dad
and still do normal things. My mom said so.”

“Your

mom

said so? Since when do you discuss me with

your mother? And your mom is a lawyer, not a psychologist,
so she doesn’t know, anyway.”

“Yes, she does. Right after your dad died, she told me

that I needed to make sure that you still did normal things.
She said that she could easily see you letting yourself get
caught up in grief and doing what was right, but forgetting
about yourself. For once, my mom was right.”

Delaney and her mom tended to butt heads a lot—

mostly because they were just alike, from their red hair to
their red-hot tempers. In fact, they sort of fought like cats and
dogs. You would think that

they

were Venezuelan, but they

weren’t. They were Irish—somewhere down the line, any-
way.

Guardian

“You’re a good sister and a good daughter, Whit. But it’s

okay if you think of yourself sometimes, too. You need to.”
She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “And you might as
well think about Brady while you’re at it.” She grinned at me
mischievously as she sipped her soda. She glanced out the
window and surprise lit up her lovely features.

“Holy crap. Speak of the devil! I don’t believe it!”
I followed her gaze to find Brady crossing the street di-

rectly in front of Barb’s. The amber strands of his hair picked
up the golden light from the sun and I found myself remem-
bering how he had looked last night in the moonlight. It might
not have been real, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I idly wondered what he was doing here. He could be

shopping—but he didn’t have anything in his hands. What-
ever he was doing, he must have felt himself being stared at
because he looked up at just that moment and met my gaze.
He grinned broadly and my breath caught in my throat. A
smile like that should be illegal. He waved and casually con-
tinued on his way, walking out of the window frame and out
of my line of sight.

I leaned forward ever so slightly to see if I could catch

another glimpse, thunking my forehead on the window in the
process. Luckily, he didn’t notice. He passed from my field of
vision, but the clock on the post outdoors didn’t. I realized
with a start that I was cutting it close for picking up Ellie from
her play-date on time. Some substitute parent I was! I
grabbed my purse and dashed out, calling, “Call you later!”
over my shoulder, leaving Delaney to stare after me.

Guardian

As I rushed out the door, I glanced up and down the

street. Brady was nowhere to be found. Oh well. Another
glimpse would have been nice, but I didn’t have time to stand
around and talk to him anyway, so it was just as well. I
quickly hurried for my street.

I didn’t want to be late, but I couldn’t help and slowed

down just a bit so that I could enjoy the fresh air as I walked.
The Leelanau Peninsula was the most beautiful place on earth,
in my opinion. It was just like stepping into a Norman Rock-
well painting.

As I crossed the street by the marina, I noticed a tall

dark-haired boy sitting with his legs hanging off the pier. He
had to be a tourist because I had never met him. His hair was
dark, almost black, and even though I couldn’t really see his
eyes from this distance, it seemed like they were really dark
too. He was staring out at the water with a clouded, dis-
tracted expression; as if he were thinking about something
else, something far removed from today. As I crossed over
the pier boardwalk, my feet clomped loudly on the uneven
boards. I winced at the noise as it startled the boy from his
thoughts. He glanced in my direction and then visibly froze as
his eyes locked with mine.

I had been right; his eyes were very dark. They were

large and serious and were shooting daggers at me. What the
heck? I hadn’t meant to startle him. I can’t help it that I’m not
the most graceful thing on the face of the planet. I smiled
apologetically, but he turned away abruptly, without another
glance. I was stunned. How rude! My cheeks burned. I hated

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Chapter 4

Crazy Town

“Grandma, I can’t put her on. She doesn’t know that I’m

calling you. She would be furious.” Well, she would be furi-
ous if she could comprehend or care what I was talking about.
And that was doubtful.

I spoke in a low conspiratorial tone, whispering as I

glanced around me. As much as I hoped that my mom would
snap out of it, I hoped that today would not be the day. Well,
at least not this morning, anyway. I didn’t want her to catch
me discussing her with my grandma; she would kill me. Even
though the probability was slim, I kept a watchful eye on the
dining room door. Ellie was in her room getting dressed, so
even she didn’t know that I was calling. This was a completely
covert operation.

“I don’t know what to do.” I could hear the helpless

pleading in my own voice. I sounded more like a little girl
than the capable teenager that I was. That was bad. I tried
again.

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“I don’t know long it is normal to act the way she is act-

ing. She doesn’t shower, she barely eats, she barely sleeps.
My counselor from school was asking all sorts of questions,
and he suggested that someone come stay here with us. I
promise, Grandma, we don’t need someone to take care of
us—Ellie and I are fine—but I am worried about Mom. She
doesn’t seem….right. I don’t know what to do.”

That was the best way that I could put it—to simply say

that she wasn’t “right”. I wasn’t going to explain that she
sometimes went for days without speaking to us, because

she slept, she slept during the day. I wasn’t going to tell her
that I had woken up last night to find Mom standing in my
bedroom doorway with the strangest expression on her face-
like she was angry—and that she had turned and walked
wordlessly away when she noticed that I was looking at her.
No, Grandma didn’t need to know that. I wouldn’t be able to
put the troublesome part into words anyway—the ferocious
expression that had been on her face.

Grandma Ava was instantly concerned, but to my relief,

she respected my opinion that Ellie and I didn’t need to be
taken care of. After she made sure that we were getting
enough to eat, her initial reaction was that it had only been a
couple of months, a handful of weeks, really.

Her familiar, strong voice soothed me through the

phone.

“Whitney, your mom is a strong woman. All of the

women in our family are! But we’re passionate—about life
and everything in it. Because of that, we tend to feel emotions

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very strongly.” She stated this proudly, like a badge of honor.

“Let’s just give your mom a chance to work through this

on her own, to figure out how she’s going to handle it. She
loved your dad—more than life itself—so of course she is go-
ing to be devastated now. It’s natural. Everyone grieves in
their own way.”

I bit my lip. I couldn’t decide whether to try and better

verbalize my concerns. On the one hand, I knew that
Grandma Ava was right. My mom had loved my dad more
than everything in the world rolled up together. Just as I had
told Mr. Blaine, anyone would be devastated. But on the
other hand, I knew in my heart that her behavior wasn’t nor-
mal. She wasn’t going down a path that was going to end
well. The expression on her face when she had glared at me in
the night from my doorway lingered in my memory. No, it
definitely wasn’t normal.

My grandma was clucking and bemoaning and saying all

of the dramatic things that you would expect from a Latina
grandmother. I could imagine her on the other end of the
phone waving her hands around, then wringing them, as she
spoke to me half the time and relayed our conversation to
Grandpa Vin the other half. He was always a solemn voice of
reason and I suddenly heard his deep voice speaking from be-
hind Grandma.

“Tell Whitney to give Maricel a couple more weeks. Tell

her to be patient and take care of her mama. If things don’t
change, though, you tell her to call us and we’ll be on the
next plane to come help. And tell her that I love her.” A knot

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formed in my throat. I loved him, too. He was tall, strong
and calm, so much like my dad. Everyone always says that
girls marry someone like their dad…and my mom certainly
had. Grandma relayed his message, clucked some more, gave
me her love a hundred times and then hung up.

Well, that was that. I did feel a little bit bad about not

giving them the entire scope of Mom’s downward spiral, but I
felt so much better knowing that they were poised and ready
to climb aboard the nearest 747 and fly here to fix everything
the minute that I called and said that they were needed. In
fact, I felt a giant weight lift off my shoulders. I hadn’t real-
ized how much all of this responsibility had been weighing on
me, until my grandparents had taken some of it just by being
willing to share it. And if my grandparents thought that this
was a normal part of the grieving process, then maybe it was.
I chose to forget that I hadn’t completely explained every-
thing. Those were just details, anyway.

I grabbed a banana from the kitchen and ate it on the way

to my room. Mr. Divine had told us that we were learning to
change a tire today, so I would need my strength. I wasn’t
really a physical labor type person, not if it involved grease or
tools, anyway.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and a blue tank top and then

yanked a brush through my hair. As I wound my hair into a
knot in the back and stuck a clip through it, I found myself
wishing that I was one of those girls who always looked ready
for the runway. I wasn’t. I had the foundations for it, I guess,
but I never knew what to do to look glamorous. My hair al-

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ways wound up in a ponytail or something and I wasn’t really
that good with my make-up. I always tended to just throw
some mascara and lip gloss on, which was exactly what I did
this morning. I was “girl next door” pretty, not Tyra Banks
gorgeous. I sighed at my reflection and gave up. I was only
going to Driver’s Ed, anyway.

I peeked in on my mom before we left. She was sleeping,

which was good. I wasn’t sure what time she had actually
drifted off to sleep. She wasn’t in her bed; she was in dad’s
office, curled up in his chair, her head resting on his desk. She
was wearing one of his sweaters over her nightgown and had a
bunch of his things spread out around her.

I wished that she would sleep at night, instead of during

the day like a hamster, but at least she was sleeping. I was just
thankful for that. For the first couple of weeks, I was pretty
sure that she hadn’t slept at all.

My grandma was right—Mom had always been a strong

woman. She had put herself through medical school on an
academic scholarship and built her medical practice from the
ground floor. But as I gazed upon her now, it seemed like she
was another person… like my familiar, strong Mom was gone
and had been replaced by a broken-down stranger. But I
shook those thoughts from my head. Mom just needed some
more time.

I was actually in a cheerful mood after talking with my

grandma, so much so that Driver’s Ed didn’t seem so painful
today. Learning how to change a tire didn’t seem like com-
pletely useless information and so I paid close attention as Mr.

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Divine showed us how to jack up the car, loosen lug nuts,
take the tire off, and then put it back on.

I had never done anything mechanical on a car, so I found

myself getting nervous. And of course, when it was my turn, I
had some trouble. Drew had gone before me, and when he
tightened the lugs nuts back on, he had gotten them inhu-
manly tight. I glared at his gigantic ham fists as I tugged on the
lug wrench.

I struggled with it unsuccessfully for several minutes, be-

fore giving up. I had no idea how Drew had gotten them on
there so tight! I looked up at Mr. Divine helplessly. I didn’t
want to be the girly-girl in class, but there was no way that
these lugs were coming off. The morning sun was actually
starting to get hot as it shone down on the concrete pavement
of the parking lot and I could smell the grease from the
wheel. I would rather be anywhere else than here right now. I
was just getting ready to ask for help when Drew took a step
forward.

“Here, Whit. I’ll help. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get

them so tight. My fault!” But Mr. Divine held up his hand.

“No, no. She can get it. There will probably be a time in

your life when you are stuck on a highway without anyone to
help you. And many mechanics use an air-wrench to tighten
lugs. In those cases, they are much tighter than these. It’s
helpful to know what to do. Whitney, carefully use your foot
to apply pressure.” And he demonstrated in the air as he
spoke.

Carefully

was obviously the key word here.

Unfortunately, I’ve always had balance issues so when I

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tried to carefully do what he had demonstrated, I lost my bal-
ance and fell backward. In the process, I somehow turned the
lever that handled the hydraulics for the jack. The car came
crashing down, rocking vicariously in place as it slammed
loudly onto the ground.

Instant embarrassment flooded through me in the form of

red splotches spreading onto my cheeks and chest. Glancing
around at my classmates, I saw their reactions ranged from
shocked to wildly amused. Over the roar in my ears, I could
hear Justin wise-cracking from the back. I couldn’t even look
at Brady. Luckily though, there was no need for concern; no
one was near enough to get smashed under the car. I tried to
concentrate on my breathing so that I could calm down. No
one was hurt; it was okay.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is an example of how

not

do it. Thank you for the demonstration, Miss Lane. Let’s try
it again, and this time, let’s leave the jack in an elevated posi-
tion while we change the tire, hmm?” Humiliating. I could
feel my cheeks burn.

I doggedly made a second attempt, and this time every-

one made a big show of backing up and giving me wide birth
as I worked, just in case I messed up again. Hilarious. With
quite a bit of very careful tugging this time, I was able to get
the lug nuts off and managed to change the tire without fur-
ther incident. My hands shook the entire time. Oh, well. I
wasn’t going to stress about it. Besides, how many people
could say that they had dropped a car?

I gratefully took my place back within the group as Justin

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took his turn. He smirked at me after he accomplished it in
two minutes flat with no issues. I looked away. He was a jerk
and he wouldn’t have had such an easy time if he had gone af-
ter Drew. I made a mental note to not follow Drew myself in
anything of this nature again. I liked him, but he really was a
giant moose. He just didn’t understand how strong he really
was.

As we finally finished up and walked back through the

school to get to the classroom, I realized that my hands were
covered in grime and grit, probably because it took me twice
as long with my turn as everyone else. What could I say—I
was technically and mechanically challenged. It wasn’t a
crime. I had also smeared grease on my shorts—and I just
prayed it wasn’t on my face, too. I grabbed Delaney’s arm.

“Hey—I’ve got to go wash up. You can go on ahead if

you want.”

“Sure. I’ll grab your purse for you and wait on the

benches outside.”

We parted at the main T in the hallway. The smell of

school-floor wax, stale air, and various forms of paper wafted
over me as I walked. Yuck. I was really glad it was summer.

As I walked past the massive, glass panels of the trophy

cases, I was startled to hear angry voices hissing just inside the
big metal doors of the gym. The hallway was deserted—not
even a janitor. My curiosity piqued, I decided to take a short-
cut through the gym instead of going the long way around. I
didn’t really need to save time—the nosy side of me just
wanted to see who was arguing so heatedly. I didn’t recognize

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the hushed whispers and they were definitely not joking
around.

As I passed through the doors, I stopped short. The

voices were gone; it was completely silent. There was no one
in the gymnasium. The gym floor was empty, the bleachers
were deserted. It was a ghost town in here. Holy cow, I had
heard voices as plain as day only two seconds earlier. No one
would have had time to reach the locker room doors. The
only other option would be to pass through the door that I
was standing in and I certainly would have noticed that.

I was alone. And I was hearing voices. This couldn’t be

good. Not only was I raiding the squirrel stash nuts, I was also
packing my suitcase for the loony bin. What the hell was
wrong with me?

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly caught a glimpse

of blue. I whirled around, but the only thing beside me were
stacks of folded blue bleachers. That wasn’t what I saw. The
blue that I had seen had been in motion—a blur on the edge
of my periphery. It hadn’t made any noise, but there had been
movement—a flash of blue—right next to me. I was sure of
it! Wasn’t I?

I stepped inside the door and sank to the dirty gym floor,

still scanning the room suspiciously. Brightly colored champi-
onship pennants hung motionlessly from the ceiling. The huge
digital scoreboard was dim and dark. The only noise in this
room was the persistent ticking of the wall clock behind me.
Was it possible that my emotions were causing me to see and
hear things? I suddenly felt a little dizzy and rested my chin on

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my knees, hugging my legs.

“Whitney?” Brady’s voice echoed from across the gym.

“Are you all right? What’s wrong?” He emerged from the
boys’ locker room door and crossed over to me. He must
have had the same idea as me about washing his hands because
he smelled like soap.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, sliding down to sit beside

me. Great. This is just what I needed: Brady Parker witness-
ing my nervous breakdown. “Is this about the car?”

“Um, no. I’m fine.” I had actually already forgotten about

the car. I looked up at him through my lashes, which I was
startled to realize were wet. I had been crying and didn’t even
realize it.

“No, you’re not. And it’s not about the car, is it?” He put

his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him.

I was mistaken; only his hands smelled like soap. The rest

of him smelled like cedar and musk. I faded into the warmth
of his body, resting my head on his shoulder. I have never
been an overly huggy person, but I suddenly realized how
much I had been needing a hug. At the same exact time, I re-
alized that I was getting snot on his shirt. I wiped at my nose
with the back of my hand. He lowered his head so that his
eyes were level with mine.

“Whitney, you probably know this, but my brother died

a couple of years ago. I remember every detail of it like it was
yesterday. I thought I should try not to cry, because I was
supposed to be a man, but I wanted to cry every other min-
ute. Bryant knew me like no one else did, like a built in best

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friend, only better, because he had always been there. And I
didn’t get to say goodbye to him that day, because I didn’t re-
alize I would never see him again. I thought it was an ordinary
day, like any other day. Just like you did. When I heard what
happened to your dad, I felt an instant connection to you, be-
cause I knew exactly what you felt like. Is that weird?”

Tears started running down my face all over again as I

shook my head. Great. I was a human faucet.

“I haven’t talked about it much with anyone here, even

though I know people are curious. Sometimes it makes it
worse to talk about it; have you noticed that?” I nodded si-
lently. “But, sometimes, it makes it better. You’ll eventually
notice that, too. It just takes awhile longer for that.”

Everything he said was exactly right. Losing his brother

must have matured him, because he was much more mature
than any other boy I had ever met. In fact, I knew grown men
who didn’t communicate as well as he did. They couldn’t
have offered the comfort that he did for me now—
effortlessly. He knew what I needed, because it had been
what he had needed too, two years ago.

Sometimes, when you are so sad, you crave physical con-

tact, the warmth of someone else near you or someone else’s
arm around you. It breaks through the numbness. When
someone who had already lived through it told you that it was
going to eventually be okay, you listened. And it was just
what I needed.

I sagged against him, staring at the wooden planks of the

gym floor, enjoying the warmth from his body and his mascu-

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line scent. We sat that way for a few minutes, as he let me
regain my composure—a perfect gentleman. After a few si-
lent minutes, he spoke again.

“Okay, so I haven’t seen you out much lately. I think you

need a distraction…something to keep your mind off of
things. What do you think about a movie?” He had no idea
how much I needed a distraction, but I didn’t elaborate for
him.

I found myself wanting to go out with him, especially af-

ter my dream the other night. I hadn’t been able to stop
thinking about him ever since. He was sweet, he was beauti-
ful, and he understood. But I couldn’t. Literally.

“I can’t. I mean, I wish I could, but I have to take care of

my little sister. My mom…isn’t well right now.”

“You know what? That’s fine. No problem. How

about…I come over to your house? You can just hang out,
right?” He looked at me imploringly, waiting for me to come
up with an excuse. I surprised myself by deciding that I didn’t
want to.

“Okay. Sure. That would be great.” It wasn’t like my

mom was going to notice.

“Great. I’ll call you.” He stood up then, and I immedi-

ately felt the absence of warmth on my shoulders where his
arm had been. I watched his lips as he spoke to me, and felt
the ridiculous urge to step forward and kiss him. Heightened
emotions seemed to do strange things to me. I tore my eyes
from his lips and zoomed out again on his face.

“I’ll talk to you later, Brady… Thanks.” I said softly.

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He smiled at me, and then got up and walked out. I

found that my knees were weak. Until that moment, I had
always thought that the phrase “weak in the knees” was just a
literary phrase. But no, it was an actual physical reaction.

I pulled my phone out and texted Delaney. “OMG! Just

talked to Brady! I’ll catch up to u later.”

I would call her later and discuss the details, but for the

moment, I just wanted to relish them alone for a little while. I
needed to try to make sense out of what had just happened
before I could explain to someone else. And I would be able
to; Ellie was still at her play-date. I headed outside into the
bright sun, in the opposite direction from where my best
friend was waiting for me.

* * * *

The Northport Market was practically deserted as I en-

tered it. As I walked through the door, I suddenly had the
strange sensation that someone was hovering right by my el-
bow. I quickly looked, but there was no one there. Again. I
shook my head. My craziness was getting out of hand. Of
course I wasn’t alone; I was in a market. What did I expect?

I knew exactly what I wanted and so made a bee-line to

the fresh floral section at the back of the store to make my se-
lection. Unfortunately, the selection of everything in this
store was limited because they tried to stock just a little bit of
everything. But I knew that they would have a handful of
flowers.

I tried to zip in and back out again without bumping into

anyone that I knew. But I should have known that would be a

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futile effort. In a town the size of Northport, you can’t go
anywhere without running into someone you know…because
you literally know everyone.

“Whitney, dear. How are you doing?” Miranda Eli had

zeroed in on me from the end of the aisle and had broken her
neck to get to me. She was now grasping my arm with her
glistening crimson nails in a motherly way. I knew I wasn’t
going anywhere. She meant well, but she was a busy-body. I
knew that anything I said here would be shared with everyone
on Miranda Eli’s speed dial.

There was a movement from behind her and a tall dark-

headed boy moved into focus. With a jolt, I realized it was the
boy from the pier. His dark eyes contained a slightly conde-
scending stare in them as he stood next to her. He looked to
be about my age. His glare unnerved me and I tried to focus
on what Miranda was saying.

“I’m fine, Miranda. How are you? How’s your mom?” I

utilized my newly-learned talent of redirecting conversation
back onto the other person. It worked ninety-eight percent of
the time because people almost always liked to talk about
themselves and their own problems. Except for me. I was
definitely part of the two percent minority. It was clear,
though, that Mrs. Eli was not and ten minutes later, we were
still in the same spot, discussing her elderly mother’s aversion
to her new nursing home.

“I just don’t understand it,” she was saying. “I do all of

her laundry personally and visit her every day at lunchtime. I
see her now more than ever!” She was absorbed in our one-

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sided conversation, but I was not. As I tried to avoid the un-
comfortable stare of this new boy and Miranda’s ramblings, I
had daydreamed myself back into the gymnasium with Brady’s
arm wrapped comfortingly around my shoulders.

“Whitney?”
I snapped to attention. Clearly this wasn’t the first time

she had said my name. She was now phrasing it as a question.

“Whitney, I want to introduce my newest swimmer. This

is Carter Kelly. He and his family just moved here from Chi-
cago. He’s on my swim team.” Of course- that made sense.
Miranda coached the city swim team in Traverse City. North-
port wasn’t big enough to have its own team.

I inwardly groaned. I didn’t want to officially meet him,

not when it was clear that he wasn’t thrilled to be meeting
me, either. But I held out my hand and smiled what I hoped
was a passable “Welcome to Northport” smile. I would be a
bigger person. Besides, this was my town. If he didn’t like it
or the people in it, he could go right back to wherever he had
come from.

“It’s nice to meet you, Carter. I hope you’ll like it here.”

I kept my voice perfectly pleasant.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” But his dark eyes told me

that he didn’t quite mean it. I couldn’t help but wonder why.
I hadn’t done anything to him. We’d only just met; I hadn’t
had time to do anything yet.

I let my eyes do a quick casual appraisal. He definitely

looked like a swimmer: tall and lean. His eyes and hair were
dark brown and his jaw was square. His lips looked soft and

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were perfectly shaped. He had the brooding good looks of a
starving artist. Well, I had never actually seen a starving art-
ist, but I imagined that one would look like Carter Kelly. He
must be a pretty good swimmer, too, in order to make the
team in Traverse City. They had won State last year. I was
just about to ask him what grade he would be in when he
spoke.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Miranda, but we’re going to be

late for practice if we don’t hurry.” My eyes flashed up to
meet his and he didn’t look like he much cared if he sounded
rude. He just looked impatient. He was staring at me again, as
if I had imposed on his Gatorade run with his coach, making
both of them late. As if! I could have done without this little
catch-up session.

“It was nice to see you, Miranda. Nice to meet you,

Carter!” I forced a smile and ducked back to the floral section
without another glance. If I didn’t hurry up and get out of
here, I wasn’t going to have time to get out to the bluffs be-
fore I had to pick up Ellie.

As I expected, the flowers were slim. I quickly chose

some Black-Eyed Susans with only slightly wilted leaves and
darted up to the front to pay for them before I ran into any-
one else that I knew. Luckily, the cashier wasn’t in a talkative
mood today, so I was able to pay for my things quickly and
make my escape before I saw anyone else I knew.

As I walked toward Grand Traverse Bay, the sun swept

across the treetops like a golden paintbrush. The air smelled
fresh and clean and as I took a deep breath I was reminded of

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why tourists love it here. We really were surrounded by
beauty; just being around it made me feel good. Whereas just
the other day when I was here I had felt hopeless and hateful;
today I felt like there was a chance that I could start feeling
normal again, like maybe things would eventually be okay.

I was going to enjoy sitting on the beach, watching the

water and being alone with my thoughts for awhile. I wanted
to dissect everything that had just happened at the
school…every word that had come out of Brady’s mouth,
every smile and every gesture, including his arm around my
shoulder. Had he just been trying to comfort me or had he
also wanted to be near me?

As I crossed the wide street to enter Leelanau State Park,

I suddenly had the odd feeling that I wasn’t alone again. I
turned around; there was no one behind me. I had half ex-
pected to see Delaney behind me. After the text I sent her, I
figured she would be too impatient to wait for me to call her
later in the evening. I loved her for that, even though some-
times, like now, I really did want to be alone.

There was no one in sight now, though. Delaney wasn’t

here. Even the beach was mostly empty. My frustration
started to well up even though I tried to curb it. I was getting
really tired of this stupid paranoid feeling that someone was
following me.

I walked directly up to where the water lapped gently

against the beach and tossed the flowers out as far as I
could…my offering to my dad. With the absence of a real
grave, this was the best I could do for him. I watched as the

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flowers floated and then as a couple of them sank from their
own weight. The lake was calm today; the water was still and
blue. I turned and climbed back up the dunes so that I could
enjoy the view from an elevated view point.

I sat with my elbows on my knees and stared out at the

water, enjoying the sun on my shoulders and the lake breeze.
The sand was slightly damp, but the sun had warmed it up and
it felt really good to sit on it. I stretched my legs out, and as I
turned my head, I caught some movement out of the corner
of my eye. A quick blur…just like in the gym.

I looked and there was nothing there. Just sand and tall

grass.

Okay. This was going to get old really quick. I shook my

head and leaned back on my elbows. Maybe I really was going
crazy. Or maybe it was a stupid sea gull. I quickly sat straight
up and looked around. I absolutely hated those birds. I didn’t
want one anywhere near me. But there weren’t any in sight,
so I relaxed again.

Until it happened again a few scant moments later. There

was definitely a brief, undefined movement from my right
side. It was there for a second and then gone. It was so frus-
trating. There it was there in the corner of my eye, but when
I turned my head…there was nothing. I stood up and looked
over the tall waving grass that obstructed my clear view.

There was something there now.
A boy dressed in blue—he appeared to be about my

age—maybe a couple of years older, was standing on the
sand. He hadn’t been there two seconds earlier. I was sure of

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that. I had no idea where he had come from. Any thought of
anything else that had happened prior in the day disappeared
from my head, as a strange feeling constricted my chest. I
looked up and down the length of the beach. There was no
one else with him.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized that not only

was there no one else on the beach, but there were no foot-
prints leading up to where he was standing. It was as though
he had been set down in that exact place. I remembered to
breathe and my gaze flew back to him. He was staring right at
me, his gaze concentrated and unmoving. I stared back. He
didn’t flinch and he didn’t look away as a normal person
would. His eyes bored straight into mine.

He was suddenly closer, although he didn’t appear to

have moved. His eyes didn’t leave mine. Then before I could
even register it, he was even closer, no more than twenty feet
away. I still had not seen him move. He was simply first in
one spot, and then he was in another. I hadn’t even blinked,
so I knew that his legs had not moved.

A strange conviction washed over me, unlike anything I

had ever felt before. He was not here sightseeing, hiking or
swimming. He had not bumped into me by chance. He was
here for me. I felt it. It was a ridiculous thought and I felt
foolish thinking it, but it didn’t make it any less valid or true.
The waves continued to gently lap at the shore and the sun
was still shining down on my shoulders…but these were in-
significant details in the fading backdrop of a stage. I barely
noticed them.

Guardian

I was preoccupied with the overwhelming physical pull

that I felt toward this stranger. It started in my chest and radi-
ated outward, upward, and downward. Every surface of my
body urged me toward where he was standing—like the
gravitational pull of the tides. He had definitely come here for
me. I knew it. But I realized that I wasn’t afraid and took a
step forward.

Guardian

Chapter5

An Old Acquaintance

“Who are you?” I asked curiously, unable to take my eyes

from him.

I wasn’t scared. I probably should be, but I only felt ex-

pectant, like I should already know the answer but just didn’t
remember it. Like when you forget something but it lingers
on the tip of your tongue, so close but just out of recall. He
didn’t seem threatening, so I took a step toward him.

“I know you.” I still felt the strange magnetic pull to him

but resisted it, standing with my feet planted instead, while I
waited for him to answer me. It was odd how hard it was to
resist it.

“How do I know you?”
He looked at me with brilliant aquamarine eyes, as clear

and beautiful as a tropical ocean in the sunlight. I’ve never
seen eyes that color before, and I realized with a start that
they were the exact shade of the Mediterranean that sparkled
in the picture that I loved of my parents.

Guardian

His brown hair curled against the nape of his neck and his

bangs swept easily across his forehead. His slender arms
hosted lean muscle, nothing flashy, nothing showy. He shifted
forward again, and as he moved, I got the same feeling again
in the pit of my stomach, stronger this time…like Déjà Ju. At
the same time, I knew for certain that I had never actually
seen him before because I would remember that. But I

knew

him.

“I’m confused,” I heard myself whisper softly, but I

didn’t mean to make a sound. The uncertain words had
spilled out without my permission.

My common sense finally kicked in and I backed up,

away from this curiosity. Away from

him

because I knew in

my heart that something wasn’t normal here. He advanced as
I retreated; his eyes shimmering oddly in the sun, rippling like
someone had dropped a rock in a pool of water. My breath
froze in my throat.

“What are you?”

“Don’t be afraid, Whitney. I won’t hurt you.” His voice

was soothingly deep and masculine—maybe a little too much
so for his boyish body—and he held up his hands. His fingers
were long and I could see unexpected strength there.

He knew my name and I knew his voice. It touched

something deep within me and I stopped moving. He smiled
and it was like the sun and the moon and the stars and all
other possible sources of natural light were radiating from
him at that moment. His teeth were white and brilliant and
his face brightened the entire beach around us. There was no

Guardian

denying that he was beautiful, but it was more than that. Be-
ing next to him touched something inside of me, like a guitar-
ist strumming a chord. He was familiar, like home.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “How do you know my

name?”

My head was swimming. The past several days of feeling

crazy for seeing things that weren’t there and of hearing
noises that had no source culminated in a frustration that I
couldn’t help but to direct at him. I somehow knew that he
was the key here. I could feel it. A stranger that I knew but
had never met. I threw my hair back out of my face, even
though the wind kept blowing it right back in.

“Please?” I added, in a more polite and somewhat plead-

ing tone. “What is your name?”

Aside from my frustration, I still felt strangely calm. I

should have been terrified. My heart should have been in my
throat. I should have been running away as fast as I could. But
I wasn’t. I felt eerily calm as I faced this strange boy head-on.

He gracefully sat on the bluff and stretched his legs out in

front of him, gesturing for me to sit with him. I noticed that
his feet were now making footprints. I hesitated, resisting the
strange magnetism that drew me to him.

“Please?” he added, copying my polite tone from a second

ago. I carefully perched in the sand, a few feet away from
him, and watched his face intently while he spoke.

“My name is Samuel. Is that a good place to start?” He

placed a slight emphasis on the last syllable of his name, pro-
nouncing it Samu-el.

Guardian

He smiled patiently again, as though he were talking to a

child. The beauty of his smile captured my attention. I’d
never seen anything like it, not in a movie, not anywhere.
Even Brady’s one hundred-watt Hollywood smile dimmed in
comparison…yet strangely, I didn’t feel any sexual attraction
radiating between us. It was as though I were sitting next to
the most magnificent painting in the Sistine Chapel, beautiful
and breathtaking, but not a flesh and blood man. All I felt was
a comfortable familiarity.

“Samuel

what

? Do you live here, in Northport? Why do I

feel like I know you?” I was intimidated by him…and by the
strangeness of the situation, but I couldn’t stop the questions
from spilling out.

He smiled again and I swear the earth stilled. I literally

felt as though everything around me stopped. He seemed so
patient, as though he had nothing but time and nothing better
to do than spend his time with me.

“Samuel is my only name. No, I do not live in Northport,

but I do spend most of my time here. You have never seen me
before, that is true, but I am sure that you feel as though you
know me. Don’t you?” He cocked his head and looked at me
to gauge my reaction.

Waiting for me to what…realize something? Recognize

him? I would have to disappoint him. I wasn’t able to connect
the dots.

“Why are you speaking in riddles? You have to have a last

name!” Frustration made me agitated and I dragged my heels
through the damp sand, creating long divots.

Guardian

“Why is that? Because you do?” He sounded amused and

just a little patronizing. He had that luxury. He knew what
was going on. I still didn’t.

“Um, no, because everyone does. Unless you are Prince

or Madonna. Are you an undiscovered rock star that I’ve
never heard of?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
It seemed like he was purposely being evasive and it was
maddening.

“You know that

know that something is not normal

here. Please just tell me what it is…enlighten me. And how
did you know my name?”

“I’m sorry, Whitney. I’m not being kind…and you’ve

been through a lot. You certainly do not need added stress.”
He turned to face me more squarely, but before he could say
anything else, I interrupted him.

“So, you know about me…about my dad?” I asked qui-

etly.

“I know everything there is to know about you, Whitney.

I have known you since before you were born.” He calmly
and quietly stated it as a fact, and watched my face for my re-
action for a moment before continuing.

“Your middle name is Diane, which is a family name.

You have a compulsion to keep the volume of your radio
turned to eight, although you don’t know why. You like to
sleep with your feet hanging out of the blankets because a
small part of you, deep down, is afraid that something will
grab your feet. You love your sister, but sometimes you des-
perately wish that you didn’t have to take care of her all of the

Guardian

time and that makes you feel guilty. Your favorite cartoon as a
child was Scooby-Doo and you’ve wanted a Great Dane ever
since, which you would name Sampson. You love to play bas-
ketball, but you don’t really like watching it. Should I go on?”
He raised an eyebrow.

He knew me. I couldn’t deny that. There was no joking

here, no sarcasm, no metaphors or similes. I knew in that in-
stant that he was serious. And I somehow innately knew that
he was not crazy.

“

What are you

?” I breathed, staring directly into his star-

tling beryl eyes.

“I’m your guardian.” He said it quietly, with no pream-

ble; stated as simply as if he were talking about the weather.

“My…guardian.” I repeated, watching his face, trying to

read it, to interpret something there, something to help me
understand… because my brain was not getting it. What the
heck did he mean, my

guardian

“You mean…like an

angel

?” The wheels in my brain

were spinning and I was desperately trying to keep up, like a
mouse running on a wheel that was way too big. “Angels
aren’t real.”

“Aren’t they? Why is that? Because you’ve never seen

one?” He raised one perfect eyebrow again, smiling slightly.
“You’ve never seen me, because you weren’t supposed to
see me. Humans very rarely see their guardians, although it
isn’t unheard of. And yes, you all have one.” He seemed to
know that it was going to be my next question and an-
swered it with a smile before I could ask. He studied me

Guardian

calmly from his perch on the bluff.

“What do you guard me from?” There was no way that

this was real.

“We guard you from things you can’t see. From things

you wouldn’t want to see. We guard you from mundane
earthly things. We protect you from harm, from things that
aren’t in your Plan, until your time comes to die and then we
personally take you to meet God. You’re never alone, Whit-
ney. Not even at the end.”

Several things swirled together in my head…and not the

least of which was the statement that there was actually a
God. But I would have to think about that later. Right now,
the words that kept echoing, the ones that I couldn’t help but
concentrate on were

We protect you from harm

. The only

thing I could think of was my dad.

“If everyone has a guardian that protects them from

harm, then why did my dad drown?” I demanded. “Why did
his

guardian

stand aside and let him die? He wasn’t very good

at his job!”

Just talking about my dad’s accident made emotion well

up in my chest and spew hotly down my cheeks as tears until
Samuel reached over and wiped them away. I didn’t shy
away. I hadn’t even realized until that moment that he had
moved closer to me.

“You see death as the worst possible thing that can hap-

pen to someone. It’s not, Whitney. You view it differently
than I do because I know what waits for you on the other side
of life. Death is not the end; it is just a different beginning.

Guardian

“Your dad’s guardian absolutely stood aside and let him

die that morning. Those were his orders. And I stood behind
you on the beach and watched as you waited for the rescuers
to find him. Those were

orders. We do what we are told

to do—every day, every hour, every minute. You’ll see your
dad again, Whitney. Life doesn’t end with death, I promise
you. Every human has a plan; everything here is connected in
ways that you can’t begin to understand.”

He was looking at me sympathetically, because he knew

that I couldn’t grasp what he was saying—that even if I was
capable, I didn’t want to.

“What I

understand

is…. My dad is gone and I miss him.

I miss the way my life used to be. If there is a God who plans
everything out, why did He have to take him now? Why
couldn’t He have waited?”

I beseeched him with wet eyes, my lashes clumped to-

gether and tears dripping down my nose, falling onto my
shirt. I felt like Ellie, but I couldn’t help it. The pain never
seemed to get any less significant and talking about it made it
seem worse, even though I was supposedly talking with an
angel. And I wasn’t entirely convinced of that last point. It
was still entirely possible that I might be crazy.

“I can’t tell you that because I don’t know. We’re not

given those details. We’re only told what we need to know.
Angels have many strengths, but we are limited, too. We are
not ‘all-knowing’; things are revealed to us as we need to
know them and not before. And we can’t be in more than one
place at a time.” He shrugged lightly, apparently unconcerned

Guardian

with his perceived shortcomings.

“You poor thing, it must be rough to be so limited,” I

said sarcastically, but then caught myself. I didn’t like to be
negative. It just made me sound bitter.

“Why do I get to see you? I mean, if humans rarely see

their guardians, why are you showing yourself to me—why
are you telling me? Why are you a teenager? How old are
you?” I couldn’t seem to stop with the rush of questions. They
were like an endless data stream as I tried to fit the puzzle
pieces together in my mind.

“I’m revealing myself to you because those were my or-

ders. I don’t know why, but I don’t question them. I will ad-
mit that it is unusual, but angels are obedient, always. I don’t
know how it is expected that you will react, so just do with
this knowledge what you will. It will all work out like it is
supposed to. Trust me, it always does.” He smiled again. “I
chose to look like a teenager, someone your age, because I
thought it would make you more comfortable. We can appear
in any form that we wish.”

For some reason, out of all the information he had

handed to me this afternoon, this last bit made me the most
uneasy. What was he really?

“What do you really look like? Am I allowed to know?” I

was almost hesitant to ask, because I was hesitant to know. I
liked looking at him like this; he was beautiful and comforting
and my age. I could relate to that. Maybe he was right in do-
ing it this way. But the other part of me was uneasy without
knowing the truth. If he was with me all of the time, and it

Guardian

sounded like that was the case, then I needed to see exactly
what he was.

He looked at me again. He had a strange way of examin-

ing me, as though he was looking straight through my eyes,
into my deepest thoughts. I knew he couldn’t, because he had
just told me that angels were not all-knowing, but I knew he
must be extremely perceptive, at the very least. The way he
studied my face told me that. He stared at me for a moment
longer and then stood up.

“Are you certain? I will show you, if you like.” I consid-

ered, re-considered, and then nodded. I closed my eyes
briefly and opened them again, ready for the transformation
to begin. But it was already done.

Samuel was seven foot tall. His sinewy muscles bulged

like an Ironman Triathlon champion’s. The soft knit fabric of
his blue shirt clung to his chest where I could see the inden-
tions of a highly muscled abdomen. Enormous wings were
folded behind him, but they didn’t resemble the angel wings
that lived in my imagination. I had always pictured them as
snow white and downy soft, like those of a baby bird, per-
haps. There was nothing diminutive about Samuel’s
wings…they were gray and enormous and probably had a
wingspan of twenty feet or more. And I could tell just by
looking that they were strong. There were no downy soft
feathers present here. These feathers looked like a strange
leather-hybrid; the actual material was definitely not of this
earth. I had no idea what it was, but it was definitely not fluffy
and soft.

Guardian

His hair was still dark, but it was straight as an arrow and

shoulder length, parted in the middle. His skin was bronzed
and glistening, his cheekbones chiseled like an ancient Roman
sculpture. In fact, he looked like an enormous gladiator. He
exuded strength. It was literally palpable in the air around
him. His teeth were blindingly white. But his eyes were what
struck me the most…with fear.

They were black as pitch. Absolutely blacker than the

blackest, moonless night. No pupil, no iris, no white. Just
solid inky black. He was perhaps the single-most frightening
thing I had ever seen. And he was not a creature from a hor-
ror movie or a mythical bogey-man. He was real and standing
in front of me with black eyes.

“Change back, please,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I

reopened them a moment later, and Samuel the boy was sit-
ting next to me again; safe and beautiful.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“Your eyes…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to of-

fend him. Who knew what

would

offend an angel? This was

unprecedented territory.

“I’m sure you have heard the saying, ‘the eyes are the

windows to the soul’?” he asked me, as his eyes, now shim-
mering and turquoise, were trained on my face.

“Yes,” I murmured.
“I don’t have one.”
I gasped and my eyes never left his. I could feel my

hands shaking in my lap. He was soulless?

“Why does that upset you?” he asked in a gentle voice. “I

Guardian

don’t need one. You have a soul for a reason—to carry the
essence of who you are to Heaven. I’m a heavenly creature al-
ready, so I have no need.” He must have realized that it was a
lot for me to take in because he backpedaled a bit.

“Whitney, things are not what they seem to you. Here on

earth, you see things as you believe that they are, but you
don’t have the whole picture. You see with a very narrow-
sighted lens. And that’s the way it’s meant to be. But some-
day, you will truly be able to see, and you will realize then
that there is so much more to everything than you ever
dreamed possible.”

“Why do you have to be so scary… I mean, in your real

form?” I looked up at him hesitantly, hoping again that I didn’t
offend him. Apparently, angels have really thick skin, because
he didn’t even hesitate.

“It’s a human misconception that angels are sweet little

cherubs. I’m sure that you are like most other humans…you
hear the word ‘angel’ and you automatically get a picture in
your head of something cute and sweet. I’ve seen the pictures
of the little chubby angel babies flying around the clouds, kiss-
ing, with their little scarves wrapped around their waists. It’s
pretty laughable, really.

“In real life, angels are deadly warriors, Whitney, be-

cause we have to be. We can’t be sweet and harmless. We
can’t be innocent because we fight evil. That is what we were
created to do. We fight evil of the caliber of which you have
never seen, not even in your scariest horror movies, because
your human minds cannot begin to fathom it.”

Guardian

He was utterly calm as he explained this and showed no

concern whatsoever when he spoke of “evil unlike anything I
have ever seen”. Was he serious? Had he never seen the “Saw”
movies? Had he never watched the news? Human minds are
definitely capable of fathoming evil. Lots of human minds

were

evil. Had he never heard of Hitler?

“What do you mean, ‘evil like I have never seen’?” I

asked. “Everywhere I look; there are stories about murders,
child abuse, drugs…. That is evil. I see it every day, every
time I turn on the news. I am fully aware that it is around me.
Humans are completely capable of being evil.”

“And you are right. But that is a different kind of evil.

That evil is man-made and we can’t interfere in that, unless it
threatens to interfere in your individual plan. The evil that I
fight—and the evil that I protect you from—is of the super-
natural nature.” He shifted gears as he realized that I was not
following.

“Whitney, do you remember hearing about a war in

Heaven? About Lucifer being cast down from Heaven to live
on Earth?”

I nodded, because I did vaguely remember hearing that in

church. We weren’t overly religious, but we did go some-
times and he knew that. Apparently, he had been with me.

“Well, other angels were cast down with him. Fallen an-

gels have the same abilities as I do, but they aren’t the same as
me; they have the worst intentions possible.

“You and your friends have gone to see countless vampire

movies…and you calmed your fears by telling yourself ‘they

Guardian

aren’t real.’ And you were right. Vampires aren’t. But the
abilities that your movies portray them to have…inhuman
strength, the ability to influence humans, super-human
speed…these abilities exist in us. And the Fallen don’t use
them for good.

“And that’s just the tip of the supernatural iceberg. Luci-

fer also has an army of demons at his fingertips to do his bid-
ding—anything that he wishes.

“Humans like to make movies and write books about

demons, but they tend to treat them like scary movies…as
entertainment. Society has evolved to a point where people
tend to believe that they aren’t real. In fact, that is Lucifer’s
greatest accomplishment. But they are just as real as you and
me, and they are all around you—more evil than you can
imagine.

“I guard you from that. I protect you from bumps in the

night, the bumps that you can’t see, but that I can. This is the
evil that I fight, the evil that I protect you from.” He watched
my face carefully as he spoke. I hoped that my face didn’t be-
tray my fear, because chills were running down my spine.

“The reason that you feel that you know me, Whitney, is

because you do. I was in the room when you were born and
took your first breath. I stood watch beside your crib every
day after that. I watched as your mom crept into your room
five times a night to make sure that you were still breathing. I
watched you learn to walk. I was there when you broke your
arm when you were eight. I was right beside you when your
dad died. I sat on your bed that night as you cried yourself to

Guardian

sleep. I know you and you know me. Even though you never
saw me with your eyes, you knew me with your soul. That’s
why you felt it there, like a memory, as soon as you saw me.”

His comforting voice silenced any reservations that I had.

I couldn’t argue with that. I did feel it, as soon as I saw him,
in the very innermost depths of my…soul. It felt silly to think
of it in such a dramatic way. But it was the truth. My soul
recognized him when my eyes did not.

“Why did you let me break my arm? Aren’t you sup-

posed to protect me from harm?”

The rhyme and reason to what angels could and couldn’t

interfere with wasn’t making sense to me and this simple
question was the best I could come up with right now. How
could they step in for one thing but not for another? It made
no sense at all.

“How did you break your arm, Whitney?” Again with the

patient voice.

“You were watching—I know you already know. I fell

when I was ice-skating.”

“That’s right. You fell while you were ice-skating. How

did you fall?” he politely inquired.

“I don’t know. It happened so fast and I was only eight. I

tripped, but I never saw what I tripped on. Delaney didn’t ei-
ther.” I shook my head. I remembered part of that day like it
was yesterday, because breaking my arm was so painful, but
the details of what actually happened were blurry.

“Allow me to elaborate for you.” I stared at him in awe.

It was incredible to listen to someone else talk about your life

Guardian

with more detail than you knew yourself. It was as though I
had just met someone who knew me better than I knew my-
self—and I guess in a way, that was true.

“It was very close to spring,” he continued, “and even

though it was really too late in the season to ice-skate, you
badgered your mother until she gave you permission to skate
‘just one last time’. She thought it was still cold enough to be
safe. She was wrong. You eventually began skating toward
thin ice. Very thin ice, but you didn’t see it because it didn’t
look thin.

“You would have fallen through and your friend, De-

laney, would not have been able to pull you out and she
would not have been able to get help in time. I grabbed your
arm, spinning you backward to safety. You fell, of course,
when I spun you around, and you skidded across the lake.
Your arm broke where I grabbed it, not from the fall, like
your mother logically thought.”

“I would have drowned.” My words were a statement,

not a question.

I was stunned. I couldn’t help but imagine my eight-year-

old body breaking through the ice and flailing in the dark, ice-
cold water until I stopped thrashing and drifted to the bot-
tom, trapped helplessly under the ice. The thought made me
shudder.

“Yes, you would have.” Samuel was matter-of-fact, with-

out a trace of arrogance or pride. “But you didn’t. It wasn’t
your time. I pulled you back. But I broke your arm. I’m sorry
for that. You cried for hours that night from the pain. I re-

Guardian

member that you cried so much on Muffy that her fur was
stuck together for a week.” His mention of my old childhood
cat made me smile. He did know a lot about me.

“Thank you. For breaking my arm.” I smiled. He smiled

back, and I swear that my chest vibrated with the brilliance of
it. “Thank you for protecting me. I wish I would have
known…”

“You’re most welcome. But you don’t need to thank me.

It’s my job. It’s what I do. And I’m really good at it.” He
grinned and I finally detected a bit of smugness. “I did a much
better job this morning. Not a single broken bone!”

I stared blankly at him.
“I pushed you out of the way. The jack was going to fall

from all of your tugging. I pulled you backward before you
could use your foot, but I’m guessing that you felt like you
were just losing your balance, correct? You kicked the jack,
releasing the hydraulics, and the car safely crashed down. No
harm done, except to your pride.”

“I didn’t even feel you touch me. I didn’t feel a thing.” I

felt my mouth hanging open and consciously closed it. I had
thought I was just clumsy.

“That’s the way it usually is. I can’t tell you how many

times I have stepped in like that. This time, I was able to in-
tercede quickly and quietly, no mess, no fuss.” He sounded
no nonsense about it—like it was just another day at work.
And I guess for him, it was.

I was having a hard time absorbing everything and shook

my head. I needed to talk about something else. I had a mil-

Guardian

100

lion questions to ask. I zeroed in on his blue shirt. It was the
same shade of blue I had seen out of the corner of my eye ear-
lier. Maybe it was possible that I wasn’t crazy after all. I felt a
puzzle piece almost drop into place.

“Were you in the gym earlier?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“Why? Who were you arguing with?”
“I can’t share that with you. I’m sorry.” And he did look

sorry.

But we were back to the strange angel rules, the ones I

didn’t understand. Why he could help in one situation but not
in another; why could he reveal himself but not explain eve-
rything? My mind might explode. I decided against asking him
to clarify the rules. I had a feeling I wouldn’t understand
anyway.

“All right.…can you tell me more about you instead?

About angels, I mean? You’re not what I would have
thought. Do you ever die? How old are you? Are you with me
every minute?” I couldn’t stop myself, my curiosity was
overwhelming. Even though, apparently, he had been with
me since birth, I didn’t know anything about him…and he
knew everything about me. I didn’t even know that he existed
before today. It didn’t seem fair.

He laughed and the sound of it was contagious. It made

me want to laugh too. “How do you do that?” I asked incredu-
lously.

“What?” I could tell from his face that he honestly didn’t

know what I meant.

Guardian

101

“When you laugh, I feel happy myself. I mean, like really

happy. When you smile, it seems like…everything is beauti-
ful all around me. Like every light in the universe is coming
from your body, but I’m still able to look at you. How do you
do that?” I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Oh, that.” He was blasé. I guess I could understand that.

He was used to walking around like that. “I’m a heavenly
creature, Whitney. I have a little bit of Heaven inside of me.
It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t seen it.”

“Try,” I implored. There was a Heaven. And a God. I

was fascinated, intrigued…and relieved. A part of me, deep
down, had always secretly doubted the existence of both.

“Demanding, today, aren’t we?” he asked, but he still

seemed amused, so I didn’t allow myself to become stressed.
I decided angels must have endless patience. Maybe it’s a pre-
requisite for the job.

“All right. Heaven is everything that is right and good and

beautiful. Every time a human eventually sees it, they finally
grasp that they should never have been afraid to die in the first
place. They realize that they should have been waiting for it,
not dreading it. Your human mind cannot possibly compre-
hend the beauty of it, because it is not simply a physical
beauty. The beauty is within everything. It wraps itself under,
around, and through everything like a ribbon. There is not a
single thing that is untouched or unaffected by Heavenly
grace, which is beautiful. Does that help?” He looked at me
expectantly, clearly expecting me to get it now.

“Not really. But we can come back to it another time.

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How old are you?”

“Time isn’t the same for me, as it is for you, Wh”—
But I interrupted him. “Can you not give me that kind of

explanation, please? It’s too frustrating. Explain it in a way
that I will understand.” My request accidentally came out as
more of a demand.

“Okay, Miss Bossy, I have existed since the beginning of

time. I am millions of years old.”

I gasped again. I have never gasped so many times in one

day before today. “Will you ever die?” I was proud of myself
that my voice didn’t shake.

“No, I won’t. I’m not human, Whitney. I’m not like you.

I was never born; I was created, to be exactly what I am. I
will never die, I will never change. My emotions are not the
same as yours. I have them, of course, but mine are different
from yours. I have some that you don’t and vice versa. For
example, I don’t feel fear. I have never once known what it
feels like to be afraid.” He stopped and looked at me, waiting
for me to absorb what he had said. I nodded mutely, mulling
over his words.

Surprisingly, I realized that I didn’t want to ask any more

questions. I was overwhelmed by all of the things I had
learned already. My brain was overloaded; I couldn’t hear one
more strange thing. If I did, I knew it would explode for sure.
He saw it on my face. I had been right. He was extremely
perceptive. Maybe it came from watching me all of the
time—he knew me really well.

He stood up lithely and held out his hand. I took it, and

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he effortlessly pulled me up. “You’ve got to start keeping bet-
ter track of time!” he said, grinning. “Check your watch;
you’re almost late picking up Ellie again!” And before I could
even blink, he was gone. He wasn’t visible on the beach or
the bluffs…and no footprints led anywhere. For all I knew,
he had been a figment of my imagination.

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Chapter 6

Crazy has a name and it is Maricel

“R U going 2 tell me what is going on???” Three question

marks—Delaney must be fit to be tied. Probably screwed to
the ceiling. I was actually surprised that my impatient friend
hadn’t searched every square inch of Northport to track me
down and get the scoop. As it was, there was only a text.

As I lay with my feet propped up in Dad’s hammock, I

noticed that there were three missed calls from Delaney, as
well, but I had never heard my phone ring. I checked to make
sure that I hadn’t accidentally turned it to vibrate only, but
that wasn’t the case. The ringer was set for “loud”.

I turned my thoughts back to Delaney. I had a brief men-

tal image of Delaney pacing back and forth in her room wait-
ing for her phone to ring. And she only knew half of it—that I
had an interesting encounter with Brady. I couldn’t decide if I
should tell her about what had just happened on the bluffs or
not. It was one thing if I questioned my own sanity, but I
didn’t want other people to start.

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After a brief moment of contemplation, I decided to keep

quiet about it while I pondered everything myself. I wasn’t
sure what it felt like to go insane, but it was highly likely that
the crazy person didn’t realize that they were crazy. If that
were the case with me, I didn’t want to let anyone else in on
the secret until I absolutely had to.

When I had returned home from the bluffs, Samuel had

been nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure what I had ex-
pected…whether I thought he would be waiting for me in the
living room reading a newspaper or what. But he definitely
wasn’t. I had done a quick walk-through of the house and he
wasn’t anywhere. I felt like an idiot standing in the middle of
my room and whispering his name and even stupider when he
hadn’t appeared. The possibility that I was crazy was a real
one.

On the other hand, if I wasn’t, then Samuel was a game-

changer. For the past several weeks, I had been feeling so
alone, so sad and miserable because I thought my dad was just
gone and emptiness had replaced him. But if there really was
a God and a Heaven…then it meant that Dad was still some-
where, doing God only knows what. Literally.

He wasn’t just scattered on the bottom of the lake. He

was probably trying to dig up ancient relics from the cloud
cover in Heaven. That would be just like him. I could see him
carefully examining the ancient treasures lining God’s book-
shelves. In fact, he would be beside himself, because his last
archeological dig, the one he had been working on for the past
two years, was a project in Israel. The thought of him sitting

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by God’s knee, excitedly asking him a plethora of questions
made me smile. A feeling of comfort washed over me.

wasn’t crazy, then everything was going to be okay. But my
sanity was still debatable.

Delaney gave up on texting and called instead, my phone

ringing noisily in my lap. Strange—apparently, the ringer
worked just fine. I had no idea why I hadn’t heard it earlier.
Maybe I was just absorbed in what I was doing—you know,
with seeing an angelic creature and everything. It tended to
command your attention.

I picked it up and waited for the onslaught of questions

from the examining panel otherwise known as my best friend.
She should consider being a journalist…she covered the
“What, Where, When, Why and How” questions quicker
than humanly possible, omitting only the “Who,” because she
already knew that one.

I described my little episode with Brady with as much de-

tail as I could while she chattered like a parakeet on speed on
the other end. I had barely answered one question before she
was on to the next; pondering, supposing, and predicting.
Yep, she should definitely be a journalist. I decided to suggest
that at a later date.

She was just deciding upon a future course of action for

me when I noticed what appeared to be the top of my mom’s
head bobbing along the top of the fence. I recognized the tan-
gled brown hair. I quickly murmured to Laney that I would
have to talk to her later and went to investigate.

I pushed open the gate to the yard and peered down the

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sidewalk. Sure enough, Mom was strolling the length of the
sidewalk, barefoot and in her nightgown. She was looking
around her in wonder, like a two-year-old observing a rain-
bow. I pushed through the gate and rushed over to her, crush-
ing fallen cherry blossoms under my feet as I ran.

“Aren’t the trees pretty, Whitney?” Mom chirped, star-

ing absentmindedly up at the cherry trees, which truly were
gorgeous. I was surprised to hear her speak; she hadn’t been
saying much of anything lately. She didn’t seem surprised to
see me, although she didn’t appear to be expecting me, ei-
ther. She just absorbed my sudden presence as though I had
been there all along.

She continued to stroll as nonchalantly as an afternoon

walk along the beach. She didn’t seem to notice, or care, that
she was in her nightgown outdoors with her hair standing up
everywhere. Her skin was china doll white,with her slight
smattering of freckles drastically visible against the paleness of
her skin. It suddenly occurred to me that she hasn’t seen the
sun in almost two months. I glanced down the street. No one
was out right now. Hopefully no one (especially gossipy Mrs.
Levvins) had seen her yet.

I grasped her elbow gently and tried to steer her back

toward the house.

“Mom, why don’t we go back inside and get some clothes

on? Don’t you think that would be a good idea?” I recognized
the patronizing tone in my own voice and instantly prayed
that she didn’t. I shouldn’t have worried. She didn’t even no-
tice that I had spoken. She had squatted down by the edge of

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the sidewalk to examine a working ant hill. I made a mental
note to look for some ant killer in Dad’s shed.

“Mom, you’re going to get ants on your feet. They’re

red; they’ll bite.” She poked her finger at the ants, suddenly
drawing the letter ‘M’ through the sand of their hill, appar-
ently, she was going to write her name, Maricel. I noticed a
couple of them climbing on her wrist and starting up her arm.

“Mom!” I brushed at the ants and tugged her upwards.

“Mom, let’s go inside!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
Mr. Masapollo start down the sidewalk for his evening walk
with his enormous Saint Bernard, Mutson. Oh, Lord. I did
not need this right now.

I yanked her arm harder and she cooperated this time.

She had red ants crawling up her ankles and up one of her
arms. I knew enough not to track them into the house, so I
dragged her back through the back yard to her little ivy-
covered greenhouse and grabbed a garden hose. I turned it on
and sprayed down her feet, calves and her arm up to her el-
bow. I have to admit, dousing her gave me a little bit of grim
satisfaction. But even with the icy water spraying on her and
her wet nightgown now clinging to her legs, she still appeared
unfazed.

Instead, she just looked around her curiously, as though

she didn’t know where she was. She loved this greenhouse.
Dad had built it for her for her birthday several years ago, and
she loved puttering around out here every minute of her spare
time. She used to say it kept her sane with her otherwise
crazy life. She loved planting flowers and vegetables and

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watching them grow. I guess it was her physician’s caretaking
nature coming out. She looked at it now as though she had
never seen it before.

“This is a nice place, Whitney. What do you call it?” She

looked at me with wide, child-like eyes.

“I call it

your green house

,” I answered through gritted

teeth. She was getting worse instead of better. I wasn’t sure if
that was normal or not. I was pretty sure that we should not
be descending further down the mountain of insanity—we
should be trying to climb upwards toward reason.

By this time, Ellie had come to seek me out—finding

Mom and I standing in the middle of her defunct greenhouse
with Mom’s nightgown dripping on the ground. Her eyes
widened, but she didn’t ask any questions.

She simply said, “Whit—the timer went off on the

oven.” She continued to stare, but didn’t ask a single ques-
tion.

“Thanks, Monster. Could you possibly run in and start a

hot bath for Mom? We’ll be right in and I’ll dish dinner up.” I
was starting to feel a little guilty about the ice-water that I had
just hosed down Mom with. She was shivering, even though
she was oblivious. Ellie obediently turned and went back to
the house, not glancing behind her even once. It was pretty
bad when a six-year-old knew that things were too weird to
ask questions about.

I hauled Mom back to the house and up to her bathroom.

She didn’t offer any resistance. I practically dunked her in the
bathtub…her hair smelled like old bacon grease. Disgusting. I

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doubted that she had washed it in weeks. Possibly even seven
weeks. She sat limply in the tub and let me wash her, rinse
her hair and hand her a towel to dry off with. Then I headed
downstairs to pull dinner out of the oven. Hopefully it wasn’t
burned to a crisp.

Ellie and I ate in silence. I got the feeling that she didn’t

want to know what was wrong with Mom. That was good,
because I wouldn’t have known what to tell her. The evening
light poured in through Mom’s little crystals hanging in the
dining room windows, creating little rainbows on the wall. It
was funny; ever since Dad’s accident, I had begun to notice
little everyday beautiful things like that where I used to just
look past them. I don’t know why. Maybe I had learned
something: like how we should value every minute of life be-
cause our next minute isn’t guaranteed.

After dinner, I washed and Ellie dried. I washed as she

painstakingly dried each plate, making sure that she got every
drop of moisture from each plate and glass like a little perfec-
tionista. We could have run the dishwasher, but that seemed
silly for two plates and two glasses. While I was wiping the
kitchen counters, Ellie turned to me.

“I forgot, Whitney. Alexis wants to know if I can come

over for a sleepover next week.” She actually looked hopeful,
which was encouraging. She hadn’t shown much of an interest
in anything lately.

“Sure, Monster. Just have her mom call me and let me

know when…and give her my cell phone number, okay?”

The last thing I needed was for someone to call the

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house. Mom hadn’t been answering the phone as of yet, but
with her recent strange behavior, who knew what she would
do? She could answer the phone and start singing “The Battle
Hymn of the Republic”. That would be the last time Ellie was
invited anywhere, I bet.

I decided it might be a good idea to make a tray for Mom

and take it to her room. She obviously wasn’t eating enough
left to her own devices. Maybe part of her problem was ex-
tremely low blood sugar. I knew that when I didn’t eat
enough I felt queasy and got a headache. Maybe after awhile it
could affect your mental functions. I doubted it, but anything
was possible.

She wasn’t in her bedroom. I pushed open the door to

the bathroom and she was curled up on the bathroom floor,
stark naked, with her towel covering her up like a blanket.
She was sound asleep. You had to be kidding me. She won’t
sleep at night in her bed, but she’ll curl up on the bathroom
rug like a cat? Shaking my head, I bent over to rouse her. She
couldn’t stay on the floor naked. I helped her with her night-
gown and got her settled into her bed. She barely even
opened her eyes.

As I walked around her bed, I noticed her closet door

ajar. As I moved to close it, I saw a large box shoved into the
back corner. I hadn’t noticed it before. As I walked inside to
investigate, I saw that the label was covered in Hebrew writ-
ing. Ah. It must be a box of my dad’s things from his dig site
in Israel. I ruffled through it—papers, books, an old dirty
spoon of some sort, a small flat marble disc with an ugly look-

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ing eye on it, several pottery jars and a little bowl made from
the same material.

I handled them carefully since I knew that they had to be

extremely old. In fact, I should really be wearing gloves. As I
turned the cold disc over in my hands, I felt unsettled. Hold-
ing it gave me the creeps. Why would anyone carve an eye on
a marble disc? It was incredibly ugly.

I carefully put it back in the box and then wondered why

it was in here in the first place. Maybe Mom had shoved them
in here and then forgotten. The date on the label showed that
it would have arrived the week after Dad died. Mom was
pretty preoccupied with other things during that time…like
grieving.

These things should be at the University, where my dad

had worked as a professor when he wasn’t out in the field.
They always examined any artifacts that came from archeo-
logical digs, and then they kept some in their libraries, but
sent most to museums after they had been catalogued, exam-
ined, and photographed from every possible angle.

I examined the label again. It had been sent to Dad’s at-

tention from someone named Josef Amir. Obviously, he had
sent it before he was notified of Dad’s death. It usually took a
couple of weeks for anything to be shipped from there to
here. But that seemed strange because dad was scheduled to
return to the dig.

Why would this…Josef Amir send this box through the

mail, when he had to know that Dad was on his way back? But
then again, maybe Mr. Amir hadn’t known that. That was the

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most plausible explanation. The question now was, should I
try to contact someone at the University, like maybe my
dad’s boss…or should I see if I could find the contact infor-
mation for this Josef Amir in my dad’s address book and con-
tact him instead? Clearly I needed to contact someone. Dad
was always very serious about his artifacts. I couldn’t leave
them in Mom’s closet.

Probably the least complicated thing to do would be to

contact Mr. Amir himself. Half of the time, Dad’s boss didn’t
even know what was going on with Dad’s projects…so he
would be at a loss for making heads or tails out of this box.

Mr. Amir must be one of my dad’s colleagues from Is-

rael—and was obviously involved with the dig. He would
know exactly what to do with these things. I padded down-
stairs to my dad’s study and searched through his email, try-
ing to find an email address for Mr. Josef Amir. It only took
me a minute to locate his name. Dad had received an email
from him two months ago, shortly before he died. It didn’t
mention the artifacts; it just said that he needed to speak with
him soon. I quickly shot off an email to him, asking for advice
on how to handle the contents of the box.

Samuel was suddenly perched on the desk next to me,

like a gigantic bird. Startled, I shoved back in my chair, al-
most knocking it over.

“Hey! You can’t just do that! You scared me to death!” I

pushed my hair behind my ear with a shaking hand.

I sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit out of

appearing from thin air. It was frightening. My heart was still

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thumping. But unless I was seeing things, at least I knew he
was real. I reached out a shaking hand and poked his shoulder.
He looked at me, mystified. But I had satisfied my curiosity.
My imagination wasn’t good enough to trick myself into
imagining a tangible flesh and blood body. Well, not when I
was awake. My dreams were a different story.

It occurred to me also that the air surrounding me felt

different when he was near. It felt thick with a strange, safe
feeling. I realized that I have felt that feeling before, many
times,before I had actually known Samuel existed. Now that I
knew the truth, it was easy to identify it. It was invisible
strength.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.

But I wanted to tell you that you’re not crazy.” He leapt
lightly off the desk and turned to face me. His eyes shim-
mered. I found myself wondering what caused them to do
that and made a mental note to ask when I had a chance.

“How did you know that I thought I was crazy?”
“My powerfully accurate mind-reading abilities.”
I looked at him doubtfully. I already knew he couldn’t do

that.

“Okay. It’s because I observe you for a living. It’s what I

do. I’ve gotten extremely good at reading your face. I could
see that you were doubting your sanity. Don’t. I’m real.”

“Samuel…” My voice trailed off softly. I wasn’t sure how

this whole guardian-human relationship was supposed to
work. I wasn’t sure what he could share with me.

“What? You can ask me anything.”

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“What’s going to happen with my mom?”
“Unfortunately, you can ask me anything, but I won’t al-

ways have the answers. I don’t know what your mom’s plan
is.”

“Does she have a guardian?”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, she does. But he doesn’t know

what her plan is, either.”

“So, when she does these things…like wandering out of

the house in her nightgown… What does her guardian do?
Stand aside and do nothing?”

“No. He follows her and protects her from everything

that is not in her plan. I wish I could offer you advice, but I
wouldn’t have anything to base it on. I’m not qualified to give
it because I don’t know what is going to happen.”

That so did not make me feel better.

* * * *

As I was stirring breakfast a few days later, something oc-

curred to me. I needed to get Ellie enrolled in some swim les-
sons. If I was going to take the “No Problem” out this sum-
mer, and I was definitely planning on it, then Ellie needed to
know how to swim. There was no way that Ellie was going
out on the lake without knowing—even wearing a life jacket.

I considered my little boat. It was sitting in a storage fa-

cility right now, still covered up tightly for the winter. Usu-
ally, my parents rented a slip at the Marina for me in the
summer so that we didn’t have to lug it back and forth to the
beach every day on a trailer. They wanted me to be able to
access it myself, at my leisure. It made it easier for all of us.

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But right now, it was still sitting on a trailer in storage, out of
my reach. Even though I would be getting my license next
week, I was far from feeling comfortable enough to maneuver
a boat on a trailer. That would take years of practice, I was
sure.

I suddenly felt like an idiot. I hadn’t been thinking.

Surely Delaney’s Dad would haul it to the Marina for me.
That would be easy enough. I’d go over there after breakfast
and talk to Laney about it.

In the meantime, I needed to figure out where to send

Ellie for swim lessons. But even as the question crossed my
mind, so did the answer. And I groaned. I didn’t want to call
Miranda Eli. I would be stuck on the phone forever. Sure
enough, fifteen agonizing, prolonged minutes later, I was still
on the phone.

Her voice was entirely too cheerful for this early in the

morning and I found myself wondering if she had gone
through an entire pot of coffee by herself. But I was able to
get the information that I needed and I enrolled Ellie in swim
classes online with my mom’s credit card. Mom was very
lucky that I was a responsible kid. Someone else might have a
field day with their parent’s credit card. I was only buying the
necessities.

Turns out, it was going to work out perfectly. I was get-

ting my driver’s license on Thursday, and Ellie’s swim lessons
would start that same day. I would have to drive her to the
aquatic center in Traverse City twice a week for the rest of
the summer. But that was okay. Obviously, especially now, I

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wanted my sister to be able to swim. In fact, I should have
thought of this weeks ago. Miranda was doing me a favor by
letting Ellie start after the class had already begun.

I hadn’t even pulled out the “Whitney Lane, the poor girl

whose dad just drowned in the horrible accident” card, either.
But maybe I didn’t have to; it was inherent now. It was who I
was and everyone knew it. I hated being pitied though, and I
hated it more every day. As each day passed, I had decided
more and more that we were going to be okay. Well, Ellie
and I would, anyway. Mom was still a wild card.

As I let the scrambled eggs cool for a minute, I darted

into Dad’s study to see if Josef Amir had answered my email
yet. But no such luck. I had no new mail. It had been four
days since I had sent my email. I wondered I long I should
give him before I tried calling the University instead. I did re-
alize, however, that if Mr. Amir was out in the field, that it
might take him awhile to get back to me. I decided to give
him another week or two to respond before I contacted any-
one else.

“Whatcha doin’, Whit?” Delaney was standing in the

doorway.

“That’s a better question for you, Laney.” I smiled at her

and got up, walking out of the study. I wasn’t surprised by
her sudden appearance; she and I came and went as we
pleased in each other’s houses. She trailed after me into the
kitchen.

“Oh- yum. Did you make enough for me?” Without wait-

ing for an answer, she grabbed a plate from the cabinet and a

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coke from the fridge. She was definitely comfortable here.
Since we have been friends since infancy, my house was her
second home.

“So…. What in the world are you doing out so early?”

Another thing about Delaney—she was always late. She hated
to get out of bed and she arrived for everything at the last
minute. She always just assumed that nothing would start
without her. The fact that she was up and around an hour be-
fore Driver’s Ed started was unheard of.

“I just thought I would stop by and walk to our last day of

class with you. Is that okay? I haven’t been here in forever.
You’ve been coming to my house instead.” And that was true.
I had been making a point of that, for a reason. I didn’t want
anyone, even my best friend, to see how bad Mom had really
gotten.

“Also, I wanted to borrow your hot pink tank top. It

would look way better with these shorts.”

“Ah, the truth comes out.” I smiled. “It’s going to clash

with your hair, but okay.”

She didn’t seem concerned about the color scheme. She

pushed back from the table. “I can go up and get it while you
guys finish if you want.”

She stood up and ran up the stairs. She was so familiar

with our house; she could have found my room blind-folded.
Ellie and I had time to finish our eggs and bagels before she
came back down again—not only wearing my pink shirt, but
also a pair of my white capris. She felt

very

comfortable at my

house. I had to admit, though, the pink didn’t look too bad

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with her hair. But Laney could pull anything off. She was gor-
geous.

We dropped Ellie off at her play date and decided to

swing by the coffee shop on our way to the last day of
Driver’s Ed. I was definitely not sad that it was ending, al-
though I was on pins and needles about my driving test today.
I didn’t know a single person who enjoyed parallel parking.

The sidewalks were wet this morning; it had rained in

the night. There was nothing better than sleeping during a
thunderstorm. It made everything smell fresh and earthy. The
scent lingered this morning and I decided that it was my fa-
vorite smell in the world.

As we pushed open the door of the coffee shop, the bell

over the door tinkled our arrival. Brady was at the counter
ordering and turned to glance at the door. When he saw us,
his face visibly lit up.

“Whitney! Oh, and hey, Delaney! What do you guys

want? I’m buying.”

Delaney elbowed me in the ribs before she sauntered ahead

of me to the counter to place her order. I trailed behind, suddenly
feeling shy. For days, I had been analyzing every detail of my en-
counter with Brady in my head. Now that he was standing right in
front of me, buying me a coffee. I felt apprehensive. It was much
easier to be charming when he was a memory. Real-life Brady was
even more beautiful than Memory Brady.

“Whit? What would you like?” He looked at me expec-

tantly. His cologne smelled really masculine and distracted
me for a second.

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“Oh, um…just an iced coffee. Regular, extra ice,” I

murmured. “Thanks, Brady. You didn’t need to buy our
breakfast.” Behind him, Delaney was making all sorts of ges-
tures. I interpreted them to mean, “What are you doing, id-
iot? Talk to him!”

“This is your breakfast? That’s no good. We should grab

some sandwiches after class…you should eat better.”

“We’d love to.” Delaney smiled engagingly up at him.

She had apparently decided not to clarify that we had actually
eaten already. Clearly, Brady had been talking to me, but
equally as clearly, Delaney wasn’t about to miss an opportu-
nity to put her plans for me into action. She grinned at me
and then turned to face Brady.

“How about the Sandwich Hut? We can eat by the

beach?”

“Sure, that would be great.” He smiled and my mind

snapped to attention. I was having lunch with Brady.

“Is that okay with you?” I asked him. I didn’t want him to

get bull-dozed by Delaney just because he wanted to be po-
lite.

“Absolutely. I would rather be outside than cooped up

indoors any day!” He lightly touched my elbow, sort of guid-
ing me toward the door.

I found that I liked it. It seemed protective, somehow.

After we stepped onto the sidewalk, he removed his hand and
I felt the absence of it. My stomach turned flip-flops again.
What was it about him that set my nerves on fire? Every sin-
gle nerve ending that I had was tingling.

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We made it to the school far too quickly. I would rather

have walked slower and enjoyed Brady next to me, but we
couldn’t be late. One more day of Driver’s Ed, and then we
were completely free for the summer. And I would have my
driver’s license.

Mr. Divine split us up into pairs for the driving test.

Luckily, I was paired with Laney. If I was going to mess up, I
would rather it be her that witnessed it. Luck struck a second
time when he called our names first. Since I had to do it, I
would much rather just do it first and get it out of the way
rather than worry about it all morning. I got up and followed
Laney out to the Driver’s Ed car. I eyed it maliciously. I still
hadn’t forgiven it for falling a while back. I should get over it;
it wasn’t like a sedan was going to beg for my forgiveness.

Laney had already settled herself in the back seat. I glared

at her and she stuck her tongue out. I would have preferred
that she had gone first. I positioned myself in the driver’s seat,
adjusting the seats and mirrors. My stomach suddenly calmed
as I jabbed at the automatic buttons. Peace descended over
me in a wave. I glanced at the empty seat beside me. If I
didn’t know better, I would think that Samuel was here. I felt
the same strange feeling in the air. Also, my heart should be
pounding because I had been dreading this test all week, but it
wasn’t. I glanced in the rearview mirror as I adjusted it and
was startled to see Samuel lounging comfortably on his side of
the backseat. I was right, he was here, which explained my
sudden sense of newfound tranquility. I quickly twisted
around to look…and he wasn’t there.

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“What?” Delaney demanded. “Is my mascara smeared?”
“No, you’re fine.” I turned back around. Samuel winked

at me from the mirror. Good grief.

“Calm down, Whit. You’re going to do fine.” Laney of-

fered me assurances from the backseat, completely unaware
that she had a hulking angel sprawled out next to her.

Didn’t she notice the change in the air? I glanced in my

mirror again and he grinned at me. I might kill him. But that
was impossible—angels couldn’t die. They probably couldn’t
feel pain either. I made a mental note to ask him about that.
My mental notebook was going to get full. And I guessed it
was understandable that Laney didn’t notice—before I had
seen Samuel with my eyes, I had never felt anything strange
around me, either. We only notice what we expect to see,
apparently.

Mr. Divine opened the passenger door and got in. He

wryly reminded me that he had an emergency brake on his
side of the car that he could use if he had to. Fabulous. You
know, you drop a car once and everyone loses faith in your
abilities. I eased the car into drive and carefully pulled it from
the parking spot into the street.

For the next twenty minutes, I kept it under the speed

limit, I used my blinkers, and it had only taken me two at-
tempts to parallel park. Thankfully, Mr. Divine hadn’t chosen
a super-tiny spot. I had plenty of room to maneuver, which
helped. We finally went out on the highway, which was my
favorite. There was far less to mess up when you just had to
drive in a straight line.

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“Well, Whitney, you’re doing a great job!” Mr. Divine’s

voice had a distinct note of surprise in it. I chose to ignore it.
“Go ahead and take this next exit and then turn left.”

I felt a sense of relief. My turn was almost over and I had

done a next to perfect job. My license was as good as in my
pink snakeskin wallet. My poor wallet was actually hideously
ugly, but it had been a gift from Laney, so I used it anyway.

As directed, I pulled onto the exit ramp behind a large

construction truck, doing exactly the speed limit posted. Un-
fortunately, my diligence to the rules of the road didn’t do
me much good as the tailgate of the truck bounced open and a
roll of wire fencing flew out, hitting the top of our car and
bouncing off behind us. My driver’s education had not pre-
pared me for this. There was no chapter in our book entitled
“How to avoid unexpected construction implements.”

I tried not to panic and lightly braked as I pulled off to

the side of the road. My instinct was to slam on the brakes
and swerve hard, but I managed to ignore it. It’s crazy how
sometimes your instincts are exactly the opposite of what you
should do. Adrenaline made my pulse thunder through my
veins as the truck continued on its way, not even stopping as a
couple of cinderblocks also tumbled from its bed, landing in
the middle of the road.

“Put your flashers on,” Mr. Divine instructed. He got

out, looked to make sure the exit ramp was clear, and then
removed the cinderblocks from the middle of the road. They
could really do some damage if someone hit them. I glanced
in the mirror—Samuel was not in the backseat anymore. I

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suddenly knew that my ability to control the situation hadn’t
been my own. He had done something to help.

“Whit… I’m so impressed! You didn’t freak out or any-

thing!” Laney was gushing from the backseat, opening her car
door to join Mr. Divine. He motioned for her to stay in the
car, though, so she closed her door again. He walked back to
the car and climbed inside.

“Whitney, you have successfully passed your driving test.

I’m extremely proud of the way you handled that situation. A
good driver keeps their head in a stressful situation, which is
exactly what you did. Excellent job!”

Well, he was right about that. No matter what Samuel

physically did to help me, I did manage to stay calm, so at
least that much was my accomplishment.

Delaney and I changed places so that she could do her

test. Her test was completely uneventful. She had all of the
luck; not a single unusual thing occurred during her turn. It
didn’t matter though. The important thing was that twenty
minutes later, we both had written approval to get our li-
censes.

She smirked at me while she parked back at the school. I

decided not to point out that her driving test had lacked any
extracurricular challenge whatsoever. We took our slips and
left before Mr. Divine could change his mind. We decided to
kill time until noon by browsing through some local shops;
we both needed new swimsuits.

As we sifted through endless racks of swimwear, she

chattered aimlessly about Brady, wondering if he had any

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good-looking friends that might be visiting him this summer.

“If he does, you’ll let me know, right?” She gazed at me

expectantly.

“Of course. But I don’t even know if I will know.”
“Girl, please. I can tell that you will be spending quite a

bit more time with Brady Parker this summer.” And I had a
feeling that she was right. It was a good feeling.

She had chosen a handful of swimsuits to try on and made

her way back to the fitting rooms. I was still looking for
something that I liked when she emerged with her first pick
on. She was, of course, beautiful. If she wasn’t my best
friend, I would be jealous. She could put a gunny sack on and
look gorgeous. Her hair was long and flowing and the jade
green of her suit matched her eyes perfectly. Her legs were
two miles long. It wasn’t fair.

I was just about to tell her that she looked great, when a

cutting voice came from behind me.

“Oh, look, Brandy! Delaney thought she could carry off a

string bikini, isn’t that sweet?” Courtney and Brandy stood
examining my best friend with snide looks on their haughty
faces. You know, Samuel was so not correct when he said that
I could not imagine horrible evil. I was looking straight at it
right now.

“Courtney, don’t you have somewhere to be? Like in the

restroom purging your lunch or something?” I couldn’t stop
myself as the venomous words left my lips. Sometimes she
dragged me down to her level. It was one thing if she gossiped
about me. I wouldn’t let her attack Laney.

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“Oh, ouch, Whitney. You wound me.” I felt sort of like a

kitten defending itself against a Rottweiler as she stared at me
with an amused expression on her heavily made-up face. Who
wore smoky eyes at noon, anyway?

Delaney looked at her with an expression of disdain.

“Whit, I’m going to change and then we’d better get going if
we don’t want to make Brady wait.” She smugly turned on
her heel and exited back into the fitting room. Just as she had
planned, the mention of Brady’s name had snagged their at-
tention. They had both practically broken their necks as they
snapped around to look at me.

“What?” I asked innocently. I put my swimsuits back on

the rack. There was no way I was going to stay here even a
second longer than I had to with these barracudas.

“What did she mean you can’t keep Brady waiting?”

Courtney snapped.

“Um, exactly what she said. We shouldn’t keep him

waiting for lunch; it would be rude.”

“Hmm. You’re having lunch with Brady Parker? I can’t

imagine why he would sink so low, except maybe he has
heard all about you and thought that you might be an easy way
for him to get lucky.” She eyed me viciously, waiting for my
reaction.

“Courtney, you’re pathetic. Really. You shouldn’t as-

sume that everyone else is cut from the same cloth as you.” I
had forgotten until that minute that even kittens have claws. I
sheathed mine and spun around to walk out, waiting on the
sidewalk outside the shop for Delaney, fuming the whole

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time. There were no rumors of that sort about me, unless
Courtney had started them herself. I was still a virgin. I was
mostly ticked off because I had let her get to me. Again.

Delaney emerged two seconds later, her cheeks flushed

pink.

“Can I just tell you again how much I hate those girls?”
“Calm down, Lane. They’re hateful and negative all of

the time. I feel sorry for them.” I actually hated them more
than I felt sorry for them, but I didn’t want to fan the flames
of Delaney’s fury. Her redheaded temper wouldn’t let her let
go of anything. She was going to be steamed for days as it
was.

We began walking quickly for the beach. There was defi-

nitely one big difference between them and us at the moment:
we were having lunch with Brady and they weren’t. That was
enough satisfaction in itself. I knew that Courtney would kill
to be in my flip-flops at the moment. That knowledge cooled
my temper and replaced it with satisfaction. As we ap-
proached the Hut, we saw that Brady actually was waiting for
us, leisurely sitting under an umbrella at a table in the sun. He
had already ordered drinks for us; there were three glasses on
the table.

Without hesitation, Delaney pulled out a chair right next

to him and scooted up close to him. She had no issues with
personal space, that was for sure. I automatically started to
take the chair on the other side of her, thinking that I would
feel more comfortable with a small buffer between him and
me. But then I remembered how comfortable I had felt with

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his arm wrapped around my shoulders the other day. I quickly
grabbed the chair on the other side of him before I could
change my mind.

“Ladies,” he greeted us. “I ordered you both a coke. I

hope that was okay.” His smile seriously made my heart feel
like it was melting. “How were your driving tests?”

“They were great. Whitney was awesome; you should

have seen her!” Delaney excitedly chattered away about my
small encounter with the construction truck, the Mean
Queens temporarily forgotten. Brady looked sufficiently im-
pressed.

“Wow, Whit…that

awesome! I’ll never believe an-

other word that anyone tells me about women drivers,” he
teased. I couldn’t help grinning at him, even if he was indi-
rectly insulting women as a whole. The warm feeling I got in
my chest when he spoke was worth it.

“Well, feel free to believe every word, as long as they are

speaking the truth, that women are clearly superior,” I zinged
right back at him.

This felt good, this lighthearted banter in the sun. Maybe

my life really was going to get back to normal. I checked my
watch. I still had plenty of time before picking up Ellie from
her play-date. We ordered sandwiches and fries and enjoyed
lounging in the sun while we waited for our food. As we
waited, I couldn’t help but stare at his profile, which made
me suck in my breath. He was unbelievably gorgeous. I willed
myself to speak to him, regardless of my butterflies.

“Brady, I’ve got to ask…how in the world do you put up

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with Justin Graber?” I was still speechless every time I thought
about it. Brady was so…California Cool and Justin was
so…annoying.

Brady flashed his white smile at me. If he was surprised

by my question, he didn’t show it. He leaned back in the sun
and crossed his feet at the ankles. Delaney and I both inhaled
sharply at the same time.

“Well, Justin was one of the first people to try to get to

know me. He can be kind of frustrating sometimes, but he’s
very loyal. The guy would go through hell or high water for
me, and that’s important in a friend, I think, even off the
football field.” He laughed.

I couldn’t help but find myself staring at him. The boy

was beautiful. And unlike Samuel, I did feel chemistry be-
tween us.

Strong

chemistry. Something about him made me

feel warm and safe and like every other female on the planet,
I liked that feeling.

“That’s nothing. Whitney and I are such good friends that

I have followed her into a clearance shoe sale at Macy’s. Seri-
ously, I’ve seen women lose a hand during those things,”
Laney joked as she stuck her straw into her mouth.

He laughed again and casually looped his arm behind my

chair, resting it slightly against my back. My body naturally
reacted by leaning slightly back into the warmth of his arm. I
was disappointed when our food arrived a minute later and he
had to move to eat. Drat.

I had to laugh though as I watched him curiously observe

Delaney eat. At the moment, she was carefully removing all

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of the condiments from her burger and eating them sepa-
rately.

“Don’t mind her. I think she might have a little OCD.” I

smiled. The girl really was strange. She glared at me over her
French-fry.

“Just because I like to savor the individual flavors of my

meal doesn’t make me weird,” she insisted as both Brady and
I laughed.

“Don’t worry, Laney, we’re laughing with you, not

you.” He leaned back and winked at me. I was pleased by the
camaraderie between us—at how comfortable and easy it was
hanging out with him. The check was delivered and he
snatched it, not letting us even look at it. He was a gentle-
man, too. I was even further impressed. When would I find
something about him that I didn’t like?

“So, ladies, what plans do you have for the afternoon? Do

you want to hang out and watch a movie or something?” he
casually asked as he laid out enough cash for lunch on the ta-
ble for the waitress to pick up.

Delaney quickly answered. “Of course we would! I’m

wiped out from our driving test; it would be nice to hang out
inside.” She was wiped out? From what, watching me defen-
sively drive? She looked over at me and wriggled her eye-
brows like the conspirator of a master plan. Heaven help me.
She was up to something.

“Why don’t we go over to Whit’s house? She has to pick

up her little sister and they have a huge T.V. in their base-
ment.” And there it was. Her plan was to get him to my

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house. She had better not think of abandoning me with some
trumped up headache or something once we got there. But
then again, it wouldn’t be like her to miss anything. I could be
safe.

We pushed our chairs into the table and filed out of the

Sandwich Hut, walking along the flower-lined sidewalk to
pick up Ellie. Before I knew what was happening, he had
grabbed my hand. Brady Parker was holding my hand. Too
bad Courtney and Brandy couldn’t turn up now. Courtney
would be furious!

As I would have expected, his hand was perfect. Not hot

and sweaty, but not icy cold. Just right, and he grasped my
fingers lightly. Even his hand-holding was confident. Miss
Matchmaker herself stared at me with satisfaction from be-
hind Brady. She wriggled her eyebrows again. I knew she was
going to take the credit for this, but I didn’t care. I just en-
joyed his hand in mine.

Much too quickly, we arrived at Alexis’ house to pick up

Ellie. I noticed that even Tracy, Alexis’ mom, flickered her
gaze toward Brady before she called to Ellie that I was here to
pick her up. Apparently, females of every age noticed Brady.
Ellie came bounding loudly down the staircase and around the
corner. Her face registered surprise when she saw me with a
boy. She was used to Delaney.

“Hey, you must be Ellie! You’re just as pretty as your sis-

ter! I’m Brady.” He held out his hand for Ellie to shake it.

She was charmed already; I could see it on her face. She

shook his hand, very grown-up. I prayed that she wouldn’t

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say anything to embarrass me. I shouldn’t have worried. The
rest of the short trip to our house, she kept him engaged in a
conversation about sea turtles. Apparently, she and Alexis had
been watching the Discovery channel and had learned that sea
turtles eat jellyfish, which both girls found repulsive and in-
teresting at the same time. She shared the news with Brady,
to which he showed the appropriate amount of disgust. She
smiled in satisfaction and continued chattering.

When we entered the cool darkness of my house, I nerv-

ously glanced around. Mom was nowhere in sight. I found
myself hoping that it stayed that way. I felt guilty about that,
but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want her to make a spectacle of
herself in front of Brady. If he knew about the craziness in my
life, he would run as far from me as he could. And I wouldn’t
blame him.

Ellie decided that she wanted to continue watching the

Discovery Channel upstairs, and I led Brady and Delaney to
the basement to our fully stocked family room. We had eve-
rything down here; my dad had made sure of it. He had called
it his “man cave”. Mom rolled her eyes about it, but she never
said anything when he added another piece of technology. We
had a sixty-inch flat screen down here, BlueRay, surround
sound, a pool table, even air hockey. We literally had hun-
dreds of movies. We could keep ourselves entertained for
hours down here. Brady looked around and let out a low
whistle.

“Nice! You weren’t kidding, Laney! Is that a real Michael

Jordan jersey?” He gestured to the wall, where a real Michael

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Jordan number twenty-three jersey from his time with the
Chicago Bulls was hanging framed on the wall. I nodded and
then shook my head. The ability to get excited about all things
sports-related must be an inborn genetic male trait. I didn’t
understand it.

I showed him to the tall cabinet that held the movie col-

lection and left him with the task of choosing one while Laney
and I went back upstairs to get some sodas. She looked at me
strangely—there was a mini-fridge fully stocked with sodas
and water at the wet-bar—and she knew it. I didn’t care. I
wanted to get her alone for a minute.

“You aren’t planning anything, are you?” I asked her sus-

piciously as I loaded her arms with icy cokes from the fridge.

“Of course not!” She pasted an innocent look on her

lovely face. “What would I possibly be planning?” I almost felt
dizzy from anxiety. I had to consciously calm myself down.
There was nothing to be nervous about; he was a boy and I
was a girl and we were going to watch a movie. Period.

“Laney, I’m serious. Let’s just watch the movie, okay?

No crazy ideas. And don’t leave me!” I pleaded. I grabbed a
big bowl and dumped some pretzels in it. We had just eaten,
but it seemed like boys were always hungry. I decided that
taking some snacks would be a safe bet.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I have no idea what you are

talking about, anyway. I won’t leave you. I promise.” Un-
fortunately, it was too late to say anything more because we
had already traveled down the length of the stairs. Anything
else we said would over-heard by Brady. I could only pray

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that she was true to her word.

Brady had chosen a movie, a comedy, and had already

started it, pausing it at the beginning so that it was ready
when we appeared. I appraised the situation. He was sitting
on the long end of the sectional. There was clearly room next
to him for me. Or I could sit on the short end by myself, or in
a recliner, which was across the room from him. Laney
quickly took that option off the table by choosing it for her-
self. I could feel her gloating with her eyes, but I ignored it.

“Here, Whit,” Brady patted the seat next to him, “I hope

this movie is okay?”

I stifled my nerves and sat next to him. Of course I

should sit next to him. Sitting on the other end of the sofa
would be weird. And I wasn’t weird. But I was nervous. I sat
the pretzels on the big ottoman in front of us and settled into
the couch next to him. He un-paused the movie and propped
his legs up, getting comfortable.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
Without waiting for my response, he pulled a soft che-

nille blanket from off the back of the couch. He had guessed
right; it was like the Arctic Circle down here and I always got
cold. He quickly wrapped it around me and then leaned back
next to me. He laid his arm along the back and I sank back
into his arm. It was so comfortable that I could have sighed.
He smelled the same as he did the other day: masculine. My
heart skipped a beat. Everything about him screamed testos-
terone and masculinity. I decided that must be what was what
was wreaking havoc on my nerve endings. That…and the

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memory of that dang dream.

I suddenly remembered Samuel and wondered if he was

here, watching. I didn’t feel his presence. But then I felt silly,
because of course he was here. His job was to watch me.
Maybe he was across the room or something. Maybe he gave
me a little more space when it was clear that the situation
might get personal. I made yet another mental note to discuss
with him how he handles the whole observation thing when
things get private. For instance, I didn’t want to feel like
Samuel was hovering right over us with Brady’s arm wrapped
around me or if he held my hand. I didn’t want to be any
more self-conscious than I already was.

I eased even further back into Brady’s arm. His fingers

lightly brushed against my shoulder. I would think about it
later. I was enjoying right now too much to worry about fu-
ture issues. I glanced over at Brady.

His pale yellow t-shirt was stretched tightly across his

chest. I could easily see the prominent muscles that existed in
bulk there. In fact, I could practically identify the individual
striations. The heady feeling of being so close to him was in-
toxicating enough to make my head spin. I quickly decided
that I needed to return my attention to the movie before I hy-
perventilated. I focused on the screen. It was the same today
as it had been the other six times I had seen it, funny and
lighthearted. Perfect for today. I let myself become absorbed.

Halfway through, Laney jumped up and announced she

was going upstairs to the bathroom.

“Can you pause it? I don’t want to use the one down

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here… I don’t want you to listen to me pee!” She darted off
toward the staircase. As if we wanted to listen to her pee! We
looked at each other and started laughing.

“She’s…something.” He smiled. He reached over with

his free hand and grabbed mine, drawing little circles with his
thumb on the back of my hand. It should have been soothing,
but instead it just made it difficult for me to concentrate. I
shook my head to clear it.

“Um, yeah. She is; she’s always been that way, too. Ever

since I can remember.”

I smiled back and hesitated as I noticed that his brilliant

blue eyes were fixated on my mouth. I was silent and so was
he. And then he gently dipped his head to brush his mouth
against mine. I stopped breathing.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you for the first

time. Was that okay?” He was staring into my eyes now,
which I only discovered when I opened them. It was almost
exactly what he had said in my dream. I froze for a minute be-
fore relaxing again. Coincidence. It had to be.

“It was nice,” I whispered, as I wrapped my arms around

his neck and drew him closer to me. It was so nice that I
wanted to do it again.

Once again, his lips met mine. Warm and perfect, with

just the right amount of gentle pressure against my own. My
heart pounded in my chest as he gently caressed my back. My
first kiss was perfect. I couldn’t wait to tell Delaney. She had
been teasing me for a long because I hadn’t kissed anyone yet,
notwithstanding stupid party games, which didn’t count. She

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even called me Sister Whitney sometimes. But I couldn’t help
it. There was no one that I had wanted to kiss. Until now.

Our lips came apart and I moved back to stare at his face.

He was watching me with a gentle, sweet expression. He
tasted like spearmint. I was just about to jokingly tell him that
I liked his gum, when Delaney’s terrified scream pierced the
air.

Startled, I jumped up, getting tangled in the blanket cov-

ering me. Brady steadied my arm as we untangled the blanket
and my legs. I lunged up the stairs two at a time with Brady
right behind me, finding Laney and my mom facing each other
in her bathroom. Mom had blood dripping down her fore-
arms.

“What the…” I rushed over and grabbed my mom, hold-

ing her away from me to do a quick head to toe appraisal.

She had long angry scratches on her arms, deep enough

to bleed. There were no other signs of trauma. Everything
else seemed intact, except that there were bloody M’s drawn
everywhere around us...on the floor, counter and mirrors.
Brady lingered in the doorway, quietly taking the situation in.

“Laney, what happened?” I tried to keep my voice calm,

but it was proving to be difficult, especially with Ellie stand-
ing fearfully in the doorway peering around Brady’s waist.

“Ellie, it’s okay. You can go back to your room. I’ll take

care of this. It’s all right.” She backed quietly away without
argument.

“Whitney, I don’t know what happened. I was just com-

ing out of your bathroom when your mom came up to me and

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grabbed me. She wouldn’t answer me when I talked to her
and just kept pushing me until we got in here. Then blood
started dripping down her arms…” Delaney’s voice broke
and her wide green eyes flew from Mom’s injured arms to my
face.

“Mom?” I looked at her quizzically. “What happened?”
She calmly looked around the room before she answered.

“I don’t know, Whitney.” And honestly, it didn’t seem like
she cared. Delaney’s startled eyes waited for my reaction.
Brady was watching me intently, too.

“Okay. It doesn’t look too bad; I mean, I don’t think I

need to take her to the doctor. I’m going to clean up her
scratches and get a better look to make sure, then I think I
should probably call my grandma.”

“Grandma Ava? Oh, tell her hello from me, will you,

Whitney?” Mom asked in a sing-song voice while she played
in the blood on her arm. She was drawing M’s again. Good
Lord. Had I crossed over into another dimension and not real-
ized it?

“Whit?” Delaney’s voice was hesitant. “I know you don’t

like him, but maybe you should call Mr. Blaine. Maybe he’ll
know what to do.” Yeah, that was what I was afraid of. He
would know exactly what to do. He would start calling peo-
ple and before I knew it, Mom would be in padded restraints
in a mental facility and Ellie and I would be in foster care or
something. Definitely not; it was out of the question.

“Um, I don’t think so. My grandma Ava said to call her if

it didn’t get better and they would come right away. They’ll

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know what to do.” My voice was deceptively confident as I
steered my mom to the sink. There was blood all over the
front of her nightgown where she had wiped her arms. Be-
sides the fact that it was going to be ruined, it also made her
look like an assault victim.

“Whitney, how long has she been like this?” Brady spoke

from the door, his voice low and serious. I watched in horror
as blood began to trickle around her ankles, as well. Her
nightgown was starting to stick to her as big reddish-pink
splotches bled through the fabric. She had scratched her legs,
too.

“Um… Since the day after my dad died, but it wasn’t this

bad. She’s gotten worse.” I pushed up her nightgown to assess
the wounds on her legs, as Brady discreetly looked the other
direction. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. I didn’t
want to see the judgment that I knew I would find. Yes, my
mom was crazy. I knew that. But I didn’t want to see that re-
alization in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Delaney was gathering up the

bloody towels that I had just used as she watched me douse
the scratches with anti-bacterial spray and bandage my mother
as best that I could. My mom didn’t even flinch from the sting
of the spray.

“I was afraid you would tell your mom and she would call

someone. I kept thinking that she would get better any min-
ute. I still keep thinking that. I don’t know what is normal,
what isn’t…”

“Whit, this isn’t normal.” Her voice was affirming while

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her eyes scanned the bathroom. There was blood all over the
sinks and even the walls. It looked like Mom had done the
scratching in here. The counters were smudged with her
blood. Even the mirrors had fingerprints and M’s on them.
She was clearly obsessed with her name.

“I know.” I acknowledged softly as I finished bandaging

her up. I helped her into her room, sat her into her chair and
handed her a magazine. I doubted she would even look at it.
Right now, she was staring listlessly out the window.

“I’m going to call my grandma right now. They’ll come.”
“Do you want me to call my mom?” Laney’s voice was

gentle, but I definitely didn’t want her to call her mother. I
had the feeling that the more people that knew, the worse it
would become—like a snowball rolling down a hill. It was al-
ready bad enough as it was.

“Thanks, anyway—but I think we’ll be fine. I’m sure my

grandparents will come right away. Probably tomorrow.” De-
laney seemed uncertain. “Really, Laney. Please don’t call
your mom. I’ve got so much stress right now, I can’t take one
more thing. I promise it will be fine.”

“Okay. I won’t. But you have to promise to call me if

something else happens and you need me. I mean if

anything

happens. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this.” Her voice
sounded hurt, and I did feel a little guilty. I hadn’t kept a sin-
gle thing from Delaney since we were in the first grade—we
both had a crush on the same boy. I didn’t tell her for the
longest time that I had a crush on him, too. When I finally
told her, she didn’t talk to me for a week. Not because of the

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crush, but because I had kept it from her.

“Deal.” I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Lane. You really

are the best… And you got blood on my shirt.” She rolled her
eyes at me.

“How about…I go change my shirt and then I’ll keep an

eye on your mom while you call your grandma?” I nodded and
she flitted from the room like a red-headed sparrow.

I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I mustered the courage

to look at Brady. He was watching me intently. He stepped
forward and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Have you been dealing with this alone?” he asked softly.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded. He pulled me to his
chest and I could feel his breath on my hair.

“Whit, why didn’t you tell someone? This is so much for

you to deal with by yourself!” There wasn’t any judgment in
his voice as I had feared. There was just sympathy. He
brushed the back of my neck softly with his fingers.

“Do you know what my dad does?” he asked with a slight

amount of hesitation in his voice.

“No.” I had even more hesitation in mine. What did his

dad have to do with anything?

“He’s a psychiatrist. I think we should call him. I promise

you that it will be okay.” His voice was still low and soothing,
but I backed away, startled. I felt like a cornered animal. I had
no idea that his dad was a shrink. I knew full well that my
mom needed one, but I couldn’t control the instant over-
whelming sense of panic that I felt. I didn’t want him to call
his dad. I was afraid of what would happen.

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“They’ll take us away,” I whispered. I couldn’t stand the

thought of Ellie being separated from me. We were together;
we were on the same team. I took care of her. The thought of
her in a different household with strangers left me breathless.

“They won’t. I promise. I give you my word that I’ll beg

my dad to think of something else.” His voice was solemn and
protective. I trusted him.

“Okay,” I softly agreed. I knew he was right. My mom

needed help on a scale much larger than I could offer her.

“But I want to call my grandma first.” I pulled out my

phone and dialed her number with shaking fingers. I quickly
recounted the events of the past few days, ending with this
latest bloody incident. I then silently listened abashedly while
my grandma railed at me for not calling sooner. She was go-
ing to check with the airlines and call me back.

Brady nodded at me and then pulled out his phone. I left

to find Ellie. I found her quietly playing with the dolls in her
room. She was busy being a normal, mentally-healthy
Mommy to her plastic babies. Something her own mother
was currently not. My throat constricted. I walked softly in
and sat on the edge of her bed. The image of her face, para-
lyzed with fear as she took in the bloody scene from the
doorway earlier, ran through my mind like it was on a loop.

“Ellie, I don’t want you to worry about Mom, okay?

She’s going to be fine. She’s just under a lot of stress and
her brain has kind of gone into hibernation to protect it-
self.” That was the best way I could think of to explain it to
a six-year-old. She knew what hibernation meant; they had

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learned about bears in school.

She looked up from her dolls. “Is she ever going to get

better?”

“Of course she is! One of these days, she’ll be back to her

normal self.” I gripped the footboard of her bed for support. I
felt faint as I lied. It was a lie, because I had no way of know-
ing if it was the truth.

“Do you promise?” Big brown eyes stared at me expec-

tantly.

“Of course I do,” I uttered without hesitation. And my

voice did not betray my uncertainty. My white knuckles, on
the other hand, did.

“Whitney. You can’t promise that. You’re not a doctor.”

The little monster had set a trap for me. She wanted to see if I
would lie to make her feel better. She was too smart for her
own good. And of course I would lie. I didn’t want her to feel
what I was feeling right now…uncertain, confused…and
scared. But since she was such a perceptive little thing, she
was probably feeling those things anyway. She didn’t miss a
thing.

“I can too promise that. I’ve never lied to you before and

I’m not going to start now. Mom loves us, and because of
that, she’ll be back to herself as soon as she can. Okay? Brady
thinks his dad can help—he’s a doctor—and he’s calling him
right now.”

Ellie nodded, looking at her doll instead of me. I hugged her

and then turned for the door. Before I had taken three steps, she
jumped up and threw her skinny arms around my waist.

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“Thank you, Whitney!”
“For what, Monster?”
“For taking care of everything.”
I gulped hard. I hadn’t done a very good job. The crim-

son scratches on Mom’s body could attest to that. The emo-
tional scars that were sure to be imprinted permanently on
Ellie’s psyche probably could, too. But I obligingly said,
“You’re welcome, Ellie-Bellie.” And left her to her dolls. I
left her door cracked, just in case I needed to hear anything. I
was paranoid now. I was anxiously waiting for the phone to
ring, and so I was startled to hear the doorbell ring instead.

I peered through the door to find an older version of

Brady on my front porch. It had to be his dad, Dr. Parker. He
wasn’t wearing a white coat or anything, though. In fact, he
was wearing shorts, a polo, and brown loafers. Very normal
looking and Dad-like. Not how I pictured a shrink.

I opened the door.
“Hello…Dr. Parker?” My voice was a question. Of

course it had to be him; I just couldn’t imagine how he had
gotten here so fast.

“Hi, Whitney. My son Brady just called and said that you

needed me here, that it was an emergency. Luckily, I have the
day off today.” That explained the speedy response and the
casual attire. I swung the door open wider.

“Please come in. Thank you for coming. I’m not even

sure what to tell you we need.” My voice cracked and I know
he heard it. Behind me, I felt Brady approach from the hall.
His footsteps were heavier than Laney or Ellie’s.

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“I just called my grandma. They’ll be on the next avail-

able flight.” I could feel Dr. Parker appraising me as I spoke. I
flinched as I realized what he would see. My shirt was
smeared with my mother’s blood.

“Whitney, I think it was an excellent first step to have

called your grandma. But calling me was the perfect second
step. I’ll need to assess whether this situation is safe for eve-
ryone involved. I don’t just mean you… I mean your mother,
too.”

Realization sunk in as he spoke. It had never, not even

once, occurred to me that my mother might hurt herself. I
mean, seriously hurt herself—with purpose. I had no idea
what the scratches were all about. I gestured for him to come
in.

“Please, come into the dining room. We can talk there.

Mom is upstairs with Delaney and my sister is playing in her
room. Can I get you some water or tea?”

“Tea would be wonderful, thank you.” He followed me

into the dining room and I knew that he was examining our
house as we walked, looking for any signs of disarray or dis-
order. He would be disappointed if that is what he wanted to
find; our house was spotless. Other than the blood on my
shirt and the bloody bathroom upstairs, no one would be able
to tell that anything was out of the ordinary in our household.

“Brady? Why don’t you go help Delaney.” Dr. Parker’s

voice was not a request. It was a quiet directive. He wanted
to speak with me alone. I seated him and went to put the tea
pot on the stove. I brought him Mom’s basket of assorted tea

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bags and sat down beside him as we waited for the water to
boil.

“Dr. Parker, she hasn’t been really bad until just a few

days ago.” That was only a slight underestimate. “I kept think-
ing that she would get better, but she hasn’t yet. It’s hard to
describe, but it’s like she’s not really here anymore. I’m not a
doctor, but it seems to me that she’s trying to protect herself
from her own grief. She and my dad were best friends.”

I didn’t want to confide in him and I grew more afraid

with every word that I had to speak, but I knew that I had to
do it. He had the ability to pick up the phone and call peo-
ple—of the State affiliated kind—who could make a drastic
difference in my life…for the worse.

“I think you’re very astute, Whitney.” His blue eyes, just

like Brady’s, examined me.

“And I think you are probably correct. Your mother is

more than likely attempting to shield herself from the grief
that she feels. She has created a safe cocoon for herself, an al-
ternate reality, if you will.” He continued to observe me and I
realized that he was trying to gauge my own mental health, to
see what kind of impact this whole thing was having on me.
He was definitely a psychiatrist.

“Everything that I have heard from you and Brady leads

me to believe that she is aware that he is gone. Her mind has
been cushioning the impact of his passing, though, by not al-
lowing herself to dwell on it. To do that, it seems that she has
withdrawn from life in general. Your mom needs counseling,
Whitney. I think she is beginning to acknowledge the pain to

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herself. Sometimes, people manage extreme emotional pain
by creating physical pain for themselves…to sort of help dis-
tract them from the pain they feel inside. I’m wondering if
that is why she scratched herself in such a way. I’m sure that
she will be completely fine, with time. But she might need
medication. Her recovery will definitely require therapy.”

I knew he would say that. And I knew that he was right.

My ears rang as I pondered my new reality. Mom was going
to have to go to a hospital. Of course, maybe she wouldn’t
have to stay there. Maybe there was another option.

“Will she need to sleep in a hospital, Dr. Parker? I’m go-

ing to have my license this week. I could drive her to therapy
every day, instead.”

“Whitney, first of all, call me Joe.” He smiled warmly.

“With your mom trying to injure herself, I’m guessing that
she will need inpatient therapy. I can’t say for sure yet, since I
haven’t actually examined her, but I think it’s a pretty safe
bet. But I also want to assure you—I feel pretty confident that
your mom’s depression is situational, which means that with
the right amount of medication and therapy, she can over-
come it.” His voice was encouraging.

“Further, everything is strictly confidential with me. I

don’t speak about my work at home.” He had astutely guessed
that I would be nervous about that. I didn’t want Brady to
think my family was even crazier than he already did.

It was a relief that I felt for exactly three seconds until

Ellie started screaming.

Dr. Parker and I both rocketed from our seats and ran

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for the source of Ellie’s distress. She was standing in the front
doorway, with the door standing wide open. I followed her
horrified gaze to find Mom skipping up and down the bricks
of our driveway like a child in gym class.

She was still in her blood-stained nightgown. And there

were exotic, saltwater fish scattered around her on the
ground, flopping clumsily while their gills heaved open and
closed as they desperately tried to breathe. As I stood aghast, I
realized that a couple of the happy orange and white clownfish
had stopped struggling; they were dead on the hot bricks al-
ready. I guess our fish had something to be afraid of after all.
Mom had a big fish net in her hands.

I ran out, yanked the fish net from her hand and started

scooping up the fish that were still moving, running back in-
side with them to drop them back in the tank. Mom had
pushed the large leather ottoman up to the tank so that she
was tall enough to reach into it to dip the fish out. I couldn’t
imagine what had made her do such a thing.

I made three trips as fast as I could and was able to rescue

eleven fish, including Ellie’s favorite yellow and blue Tang.
When I came out the fourth time, the remaining fish were all
dead, including the Chrysrus Angel that Dad had shipped
from Africa. I noted numbly that it didn’t look nearly as ma-
jestic out of water—it’s black and white stripes looked dingy
in the sunlight.

Brady and Laney appeared on the porch. Both of them

looked shaken.

“Whit, I’m so sorry!” The words tumbled out of Laney’s

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mouth. “We were trying to clean the bathroom up for you.
We thought she had fallen asleep.” Of course I wasn’t mad at
them. They were just trying to help. Brady walked quickly to
me, standing comfortingly close to me. I couldn’t believe that
he even wanted anything to do with me still. My mom had
just murdered a tank of fish for no reason at all.

Dr. Parker led my mother up to the porch swing where

he was talking to her softly. I couldn’t hear what he was say-
ing, but he was patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.
Why in the world would

she

need comforting? She caused

this!

I quickly got a trash bag from the garden shed and began

scooping up the dead fish, dropping them one by one into the
bag. Ellie came out of the house and sat on the porch steps,
watching me silently.

“Whittie, I’m sorry that I didn’t see her earlier.” She

sounded miserable as she sat hugging her knees with her tiny
little arms. I couldn’t imagine how she could possibly feel that
any of this was her fault.

I scooped up the last fish and dumped the bag in the

dumpster on the side of the house, coming back around to sit
beside Ellie. I put my arm around her bony little shoulders.

“Ellie, there’s no way that you could have known what

she was doing. None of us could! It’s not your fault. It’s no
one’s fault.”

“It’s Mom’s fault,” she whispered.
“It’s not Mom’s fault, either. She’s sick, and we’re going

to get her some help now. Okay?” She nodded pitifully and I

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suddenly felt an urgent repressed anger toward my mother
beginning to emerge. How could she let herself get so out of
control? Ellie and I had lost our dad the same day that she lost
her husband. You didn’t see us losing our minds!

My phone rang and interrupted my shameful thoughts.

My grandma. I filled her in on what had just happened and
explained that Dr. Parker was here. She had me put him on
and they talked for a good ten minutes. When they hung up, I
eyed him expectantly.

“Your grandparents will be arriving here tomorrow eve-

ning. In the meantime, she wants you and Ellie to stay the
night at Delaney’s. I’m going to take your mom to my clinic
for a consult and observation and then decide what steps need
to be taken. She’ll need to stay at least overnight, but it’s
likely that it will be longer.

“It’s going to be all right, girls, really. I’ve seen this type

of depression before. I’m confident that your mother will be
fine.” He looked at us both. Ellie clutched my hand and we
walked back into the house to pack our overnight bags. De-
laney and Brady stayed outdoors. I was guessing that they
wanted to make sure Mom didn’t do anything else.

The first thing I saw when I entered my room was Sam-

uel, standing by the windows. He turned to face me with a
sympathetic expression on his normally impassive face.

“I’m sorry, Whitney.” His aquamarine eyes shimmered.
“Where have you been?” I demanded. “Did you know

what was going on here?”

“Of course I knew. You know I can’t interfere, though.”

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He gazed at me apologetically.

“They’re going to put Mom in a hospital,” I murmured as

I quickly shoved some clothes in a bag.

“I know. Your mom needs help, though, Whitney.

You’ve tried very hard, but there are some things that you
can’t fix.”

“I know.” I sighed. “Will you be with me tonight at De-

laney’s?”

“Of course. I’m always with you while you sleep. Night-

time is the most dangerous.” As if that made me feel better.
He seemed to forget that even though he didn’t, earthly be-
ings felt a healthy amount of fear. I shook my head and rushed
into Mom’s room to pack a bag for her. So much for my life
returning to normal.

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Chapter7

Reflections Inpatient Unit

“Whitney? Are you all right?” Brady’s husky, comforting

voice filtered through my phone into my ear. Warmth spread
through my body. He cared. And he wasn’t running away.

And I didn’t know if I was all right. I still felt numb. I

looked around me. I was sitting on Delaney’s screened sun-
porch, watching her and Ellie jump on the trampoline. I
couldn’t bring myself to participate in something fun; I just
wanted to sit immersed in thought. As I watched my little sis-
ter laugh as she kicked her legs out in mid-air, I felt an enor-
mous sense of gratitude to Laney for trying to distract her.

I also felt thankful to Ginny, Delaney’s Mom, for not car-

ing if we stayed here tonight. She had gathered us in like a
mother hen, which was not her usual demeanor. The attorney
attitude that she usually wore came across as a little removed,
not very maternal. She didn’t get warm and fuzzy. But I knew
that she cared about Ellie and me; she had known us since we
were babies. Laney’s Dad was out of town on business this

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week, so Ginny made it sound like we were doing them a fa-
vor by keeping them company tonight.

“I think so,” I murmured.
I didn’t want to admit how upset I was. How unsure,

scared, unsettled, horrified…the adjectives for my current
state of emotional health could go on all night. And I didn’t
want him to know that.

“It’s going to be all right. I promise.” He sounded so sure

of himself.

He sounded exactly like I had earlier when I had lied to

Ellie. I wondered if he was lying to me now in the same way.
I couldn’t believe that someone who I was really just getting
to know was sticking with me throughout this craziness. It
was mind-boggling. I thought he would run in the opposite
direction.

“My Dad wanted me to tell you that he’ll be calling you

tonight. He just didn’t want you to think he forgot. He hasn’t
come home from the clinic yet.”

Oh. He had been with my mom this whole time? That

couldn’t be good. Maybe she was having a hard time. Or
maybe she was freaking out in the strange environment. I felt
the urge to go there, to try to help, but I knew I couldn’t.

“Thanks. For everything. Really, thank you for calling

your Dad. I don’t know why I didn’t call someone a long time
ago.”

“It’s okay. Really.” He copied my phrase and laughed.

“Whitney, I really want you to know that I understand, about
your Mom. My Mom wasn’t in such a good place herself after

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my brother died. But she got better, and I know yours will
too. I don’t want you to feel weird about it.”

Too late. I was getting ready to reply when I suddenly

felt Samuel’s presence. I glanced up and he was sitting in the
chair across from me. Would I ever get used to his sudden
appearances? We were definitely going to have to lay some
ground rules…maybe make a code word that he could utter
when he was getting ready to appear. But then again, hearing
a voice coming from nowhere might be just as startling.

“How about breakfast tomorrow? I’ll take you and Ellie

to grab something to eat and then go with you to my dad’s
clinic so you can see your mom.” Brady’s voice brought me
back from my rambling thoughts.

“Um…you don’t have to do that.” I really didn’t want

him to keep witnessing my mom’s meltdowns. It was humili-
ating.

“I know. But I want to. How about I come by Delaney’s

at eight?”

“Okay,” I agreed softly. My need for his presence over-

came my need to hide my mom’s craziness. Besides, his dad
was a shrink. Surely he had been exposed to all kinds of crazy,
right?

“Sleep well, Whit. I’ll see you in the morning.” His

husky, masculine voice caressed my ear. I found myself wish-
ing that he was here with me instead of just in my phone. I
found myself loving the way he said my name.

“Thanks, you too.” I clicked my phone shut and stared at

Samuel. He was observing me silently, his spine ramrod

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straight in the chair. Did he ever relax? I glanced out the win-
dow. Ellie and Laney were still jumping. It appeared that they
were trying to do flips. I decided to address Samuel’s habit of
sudden appearances.

“Can you try not to startle me when you appear?”
“I’ll try.” His voice had a smile in it. I looked at him and

found that the smile was pasted on his face, too, so no won-
der.

“My grandparents are coming tomorrow.”
“I know.” Samuel’s voice was quiet. It seemed like he

was reflective, like he was thinking of other things that I had
no knowledge of. I knew that it was perfectly plausible that
this was exactly the case.

“What do you think is going to happen?” I searched his

face for any sign of an answer, because I knew before I asked
that he couldn’t give me one.

“I don’t know. Your immediate plan is unrolling, but I

can’t speculate on the outcome.”

“Why can’t you? At least speculate, I mean?”
“Because I don’t know yet how your plan will unfold. He

will show it to me when the time is right.” I assumed that
“He” meant God.

“You know I’m tired of hearing about ‘my plan’, right?” I

stared at the beadboard that covered the sun porch’s walls.
The second hand ticked loudly on the palm tree clock that
hung close to my chair. It cheerfully read: It’s five o’clock
somewhere. A fly was buzzing angrily against the window,
ticked off that it couldn’t get back outside.

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“I know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But it doesn’t

mean that it doesn’t exist. You have a plan and it is being exe-
cuted as we speak. But I’m proud of you, Whitney. You have
behaved with grace and your life has been difficult lately.”

Really? I wondered what had given him that idea…the

fact that my dad was dead and my mother was a committed
mental patient? I stared at him hotly. And then I felt ashamed.
Even my thoughts were getting sarcastic. I needed to rein that
in. And none of it was his fault, anyway.

“Samuel, why can’t you tell me what is going to happen?

Do you know? Can you give me a small hint?” My voice was
pleading, like a kid begging her parents for clues at Christmas.
I felt weak and spent. I didn’t know that I had enough energy
to keep going, to keep my strength up for my mom and to
keep up the charade that everything was fine. It was frustrat-
ing that he knew things that were happening and things that
were probably going to happen and he couldn’t tell me.

“No. I can’t tell you what I know. And there are some

things I don’t know—like exactly how everything is going to
play out. But I can tell you this. You are stronger than you
think you are. You have never been weak. I want you to re-
member that. I’m here to protect you, but you are strong
enough to act alone, too. Trust your instincts. You have good
ones.” His voice was earnest, even as his face was characteris-
tically impassive. I was reminded once again of how strong he
was. Infallible, unflappable. Unafraid. I wished I could be
more like him.

Which reminded me…

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“What did you do this morning during my driver’s test? I

know it was something.”

He smiled. “I stopped the fencing from hitting your

windshield. I thought that might unnerve you. I deflected it
over the top of your car instead.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t even really take the credit for

keeping my head…he was right. I would have freaked out if it
had hit my windshield instead.

“Whitney? Who are you talking to?” Delaney’s mom

came through the door, holding two icy glasses of fresh lem-
onade. I loved how she always put mint leaves and lemon
wedges in the glass. It seemed so southern.

“What? Oh, no one. Just myself. I guess I’m crazy too.” I

sighed as I took the glass she offered to me. She sat down in
the chair that Samuel had instantly vacated upon her arrival. I
glanced around to see where he had gone, but he was no-
where visible.

“Whitney. Your mom isn’t crazy. She’s extremely de-

pressed. That depression is just manifesting itself in strange
ways. She’s going to be fine. She just needs some time and
some medication to help her along. I want you to know some-
thing—you can trust me. You could’ve come to me with
this.” I looked at her as she sat curled up in the chair. Her red
hair was in a neat ponytail, her no-nonsense fingernails
grasped her glass, and her thin, pale legs were curled beneath
her.

“I’m sorry. I was just afraid that you would have to call

someone…and that they would have to call someone…and

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then eventually they would put Mom away in a loony bin and
Ellie and I would be separated in foster care.” It was the first
time I had actually verbalized the words “foster care”. I
cringed just saying the words out loud.

“Whitney, if you had come to me, I could have assured

you that you wouldn’t end up in foster care. I’m a lawyer. I
have seen situations where kids get taken out of homes. Yours
is not like that. Your grandma is coming to stay with you
while your mom gets the medical attention that she needs.
There is no need to remove you from your home when you
have family members that can be with you.”

Her green eyes looked at me with sympathy. She was

warmer tonight than she had ever been. I knew that she was
coming out of her comfort zone to assure me. She preferred
to stay in the no-nonsense world of laws and regulations, of
black and white legality. The gray areas of emotion made her
feel uncomfortable. She had always been that way. The only
emotion that she was comfortable revealing was her temper,
which served her well in the courtroom. I had always won-
dered where Delaney had inherited her dramatics from.

“And your mom’s situation is temporary. I can tell you

that your mom is one of the strongest women that I’ve ever
met. She will beat this, and your life will get back to normal.
Or a new normal, anyway.” Her last statement acknowledged
that my life wasn’t going to be the same, because my dad was
gone. She didn’t have to point that out because clearly I al-
ready knew that. I had been trying to make myself forget it
and it wasn’t working.

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My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I didn’t recognize

the number that flashed onto the screen. I pushed the “talk”
button and Dr. Parker’s voice drifted from the receiver.

“Whitney? I just wanted to call and let you know that

your mom is resting comfortably. I have done my evaluation
and as I suspected, she is going to need medication and fur-
ther therapy, but I do feel confident that she will recover.
She’s had a horrible shock to her system, just like you, and
her body handled it differently. Everything will be okay.”

“Thank you.” I felt relief that he was able to get her to

rest. I didn’t care if it was medically induced or not. Some-
how, I just felt that if she could sleep more, it would defi-
nitely help.

“Could you do me a favor, though? Your mom was very

bothered that she didn’t have your dad’s gray sweater. I think
she will rest better if she has it. Can I send Brady over to
meet you at your house? If you could find it and send it back
with Brady, I think it will make your mom feel more com-
fortable here.”

She had been wearing that sweater the other morning

when I found her sleeping on dad’s desk. I didn’t know off-
hand where she had put it, but it had to be in her room
somewhere.

“Sure, I’ll run down there right now.” I hung up the

phone and explained to Ginny.

“I’ll just be a little while; I’m not sure exactly where it’s

at, but I think it’s probably in her bedroom. Could I possibly
leave Ellie here? She’s having fun playing with Laney.” And I

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didn’t want to take her back to the house tonight. I didn’t
want to remind her of our current reality if I didn’t have to.

“Of course you can. See you in a little bit.” Ginny carried

our drinks back into the house and I slipped out the side gate
without drawing Ellie’s attention. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel
Samuel with me. I absently wondered where he was, but got
distracted when I remembered that I would be seeing Brady
again in a couple of minutes. I picked up the pace so I could
reach the other end of the street faster. I bounded up my
steps, unlocked our door and walked in.

I stood in the foyer and glanced around. Our house was

eerily dark and quiet. Even though our mom had been men-
tally absent for the past several weeks, I suddenly realized that
her physical presence had still been comforting. Just having
her there filled a void and provided a slight sense of normalcy.
With her gone, the house was empty…and it felt wrong. It
was a glaring reminder that my life was coming apart at the
seams.

I walked up the stairs to her room. Glancing around, I

couldn’t see any signs of the sweater. I looked under the bed,
in the hamper and on the bathroom floor. Nowhere. Great.
The one thing that could provide her with some semblance of
comfort and I couldn’t find it. I went into my bathroom—not
there. Not in Ellie’s room, either, but I had known that was a
long shot.

The hairs suddenly stood up on the back of my neck, and

I felt a chill. Goosebumps formed on my arms and then trav-
eled down the rest of my body. I slowly turned around.

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“Samuel?” I whispered. He didn’t appear. I really didn’t

think he would. His presence didn’t cause me to feel chilled.
His presence was warm and safe. And I didn’t feel that any-
where around me. The dark, empty house was getting to me.
It seemed to yawn at me, to mock me. The floor creaked in
the hallway as I stepped on it, and it startled me, even though
I had heard that creak a thousand times before.

I protect you from bumps in the night, the bumps that

you can’t see, but that I can.

Samuel’s words came back to me

in a rush. What things could he see that I couldn’t? I suddenly
felt as though those things were near, although I couldn’t
prove it because I couldn’t see them. The only tangible proof
I had were the goose-bumps on my arms and the hair standing
up on my neck.

Trust your instincts.

Which instincts? The incorrect ones that told me to slam

on the brakes this morning or the ones that were screaming at
me right now that something was wrong here? And how was I
supposed to know what was an instinct and what was just me
getting spooked in a dark, empty house?

I stared down the long hallway. It was empty. No sign of

Samuel anywhere. Of all the times for him to choose to be ab-
sent! He was supposed to be protecting me. But there were
only shadows around me now. I took a deep breath. I was be-
ing silly. If there was really something here, something dan-
gerous, I knew that I would feel Samuel here. It was his job.
Besides, how many times before had I freaked myself out-
thinking I had heard noises, only to see that it was nothing?

I instantly argued with myself regarding that logic. The

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logic itself was valid, but that was before I learned that there
were really things out there that I couldn’t see. Maybe I had
been right all along,

all

of those other times. Maybe there ac-

tually had been something there; I just couldn’t see it.

I shuddered slightly and looked behind me. It felt like

something was following me, something invisible. I felt the
need to hurry and leave the house. I had truly freaked myself
out. The silence around me was tomb-like, so quiet that it
making my ears ring. I started flipping on every light switch
that I came across. I wanted to surround myself with light.
Light was good. Light was revealing. Except for the things
that I wasn’t able to see. I felt chilled again.

Another sound registered with me, rising out of the

darkness. A floorboard creaking—and not the one under-
neath me. It had come from downstairs…from the floor in
my dad’s study. The sound was distinctive. I had heard it
many times before as I walked past Dad’s massive desk. The
startling realization occurred to me. I wasn’t alone.

I crept down the hallway, keeping close to the wall as I

descended the stairs. Realization settled upon me—I had to
pass in front of the study to get to an exit. No matter who
was in there, I had to pass them to get to safety. Cold fingers
of dread clamped onto me. I urged my feet woodenly for-
ward, even though my heart was telling me to retreat. But I
couldn’t—I had to get out. My instincts were telling me it
wasn’t safe here. And Samuel said that I have good ones.

I took the final step, pushing myself into the doorway,

prepared to run. A black figure in the shadows moved slight-

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ly—startled by my appearance. A big shadow took a step into
the light that flooded in from the hall. Brady’s face was illu-
minated, visibly showing his relief when he saw me. I felt that
same relief flood through me as I registered who he was. I
wasn’t going to be attacked. There was no intruder. I was an
idiot. My knees felt weak again, like they normally got around
Brady, but this time for a different reason. Overwhelming re-
lief. He smiled and quickly crossed the room to get to me.

“Whit, thank goodness! Your house was freaking me out

for some reason.” Yeah, him and me both. “I let myself in so
that I wouldn’t startle you with the doorbell—I didn’t think
you would mind—but then I got turned around. Your house
is enormous.” Relief allowed me to find that funny. Our
house

was

enormous. An architectural monstrosity. I laughed

softly, my relief clearly evident in my voice.

“Thank you for being here. I was freaking myself out,

too. It’s so nice to see your face.” I felt self-conscious for a
brief second after the words left my lips, but only for a sec-
ond. He was reaching for me, pulling me to him with his
strong arms and suddenly that was all I could think about. I
discovered that his broad chest was the most comfortable
place in the world.

“Did you find the sweater? Apparently, your mom really

wants it.”

“I haven’t yet. I looked practically everyplace upstairs.”
“Well…could it be in the basement? Does she ever go

down there? Maybe it’s down here somewhere.” He started
to move towards my dad’s desk. “Hey, wasn’t it gray?”

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He circled around the desk and picked up the large, gray

sweater from Dad’s chair, holding it up for me to see. “Is this
it?”

I nodded silently. I should have thought to look in here in

the first place. She slept down here half of the time, for Pete’s
sake. Plus, it was the last place I had seen her wearing it.
Once again, I felt foolish.

“Okay, well, I’ll get this to her, then. I think it will make

her sleep better tonight.” He walked with me toward the
door, pausing to turn to me.

“Are we still on for breakfast?” I inhaled his masculine

scent and nodded again. I wasn’t very good with words to-
night, apparently. He smiled and my knees felt weak again,
this time from his close proximity.

“Good. I can’t wait to see you again.” He lightly put his

hand on my elbow, just like he had the other day and guided
me to the front door. It felt even more protective tonight in
the dark than it had that day in the daylight. He pulled me
gently to him on the porch, kissing me lightly on the fore-
head.

“Good night, Whit.” I didn’t think I would ever get tired

of hearing his voice.

“Good night,” I replied softly. Out of the corner of my

eye, I noticed Samuel sitting on the porch swing, motionlessly
observing our exchange. I was really going to have to talk to
him about that. There had to be such a thing as privacy. Brady
bounded down the steps, heading in the opposite direction of
Laney’s house. When I turned back to face Samuel, he was

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gone. Drat. I would have to do it later.

* * * *

Eight a.m. could not arrive quickly enough. I had tossed

and turned all night in Delaney’s guest room with Ellie, until
she had woken me up at five a.m. with a nightmare. She was
screaming. I woke her up to calm her and she couldn’t re-
member her dream. But her face was still unnerved. She fi-
nally drifted back to sleep and I woke her up again at seven,
letting her splash around in Ginny’s big bathtub for half an
hour. Her nightmare was apparently all but forgotten.

Ellie’s screams hadn’t disturbed anyone else. Both De-

laney and her mom slept like the dead. Ginny had been assur-
ing me all morning that she enjoyed having a child in the
house again. That might actually be true; I knew that she and
Delaney’s dad had tried to have another child after Laney, but
it had never happened.

The doorbell rang promptly at eight. After assuring

Laney that I didn’t need her to go with us, I opened the door
and greeted Brady. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a but-
ton up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
His blond hair glinted in the sun and his blue eyes appraised
my face as he smiled his brilliant Hollywood smile at me.
How had I gotten so lucky?

He walked toward a black Jeep Grand Cherokee and

moved ahead of me to open the passenger door for me.

“Yours?” I asked. I hadn’t seen it around town.
“Yep. It was a present from my parents. A sort of ‘thank

you for passing Driver’s Ed ’gift.” He smiled. I slid into the

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seat and then he opened the back passenger door for Ellie. She
smiled up at him and he helped her into the backseat. He had
definitely won her over, too.

“I don’t have a car seat. Do you think she is okay just

buckled in? We’re not going far—just down to your house to
get yours.” Amazing—how did he even think of that? I smiled
at him gratefully as he carefully buckled Ellie in, making sure
that the clasp clicked.

“Okay, young lady, I want you to keep your hands and

legs inside the moving vehicle at all times, you hear? Don’t be
pulling any shenanigans.” He grinned and she grinned back
her sincere impish little smile that I hadn’t seen for awhile.

“I’ll try.” She promised.
We stopped by the house for just a minute to get Ellie’s

car seat out of mom’s car. The house looked just as empty as
it did last night. Even in daylight, the dark windows looked
creepy. I put the thought out of my mind as I got Ellie situ-
ated in the backseat and then climbed back in the front.

“This is really nice,” I commented as I looked around the

cab. Leather seats, wooden inlay on the dashboard. Brand
new—definitely top of the line. His parents had spared no
expense. This was quite a gift.

“Well…ever since Bryant died, my parents have spoiled

me a little bit. I’m not ashamed to admit it.” He glanced at
me. “I don’t take advantage of it or anything; it just seems like
it makes them happy to do it.”

I had never assumed that he took advantage of it. That

just didn’t seem like something he would do. I shook my head

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dismissively. The ride to the clinic was extremely short, only
ten minutes. I tried to memorize the way there so that I could
drive it myself. Ginny was going to take Laney and me to get
our licenses this afternoon, so I would be able to drive my
grandparents to the clinic tomorrow.

As we unloaded outside the clinic, I had to admit that it

didn’t look like a loony bin. The sign out front elegantly
stated

Reflections Inpatient Unit

. It also had a silhouette of a

long legged bird standing in water. It looked like a heron or
something. The outside of the building looked more like a spa
than a clinic. As we walked through the front doors, I realized
that the inside did, too. Soothing nautical blue walls envel-
oped me. A soft perfumey scent wafted in front of my nose,
definitely not that normal clinical smell. Soft music was piped
in and a professional looking secretary was sitting at the re-
ception desk.

“Brady!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw us. “It’s been

months since you’ve been in here!” She stood up to give him a
hug. “Are these new friends?”

“Eleanor, these are Maricel Lane’s daughters: Whitney

and Ellie.” She briskly walked closer and held her hand out. I
shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you, girls. Your mom is resting com-

fortably. I think she might like it here.”

Looking around, I could see why. Every piece of furni-

ture was upscale. The floors were marble. The atmosphere
was far from the usual sterility that you generally encountered
in clinics; instead, it felt refreshing and soothing. Like a spa.

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Mom would love that. I wondered off-hand if she could get a
massage in here. That might bring her back to us quicker than
anything. I shook my head back to reality.

“Can we see her?” I asked Eleanor.
“Of course. Brady, do you want to take them back? Or

would you rather I do it?” she asked me.

“No, Brady can. If you want?” I turned to him hopefully.

I would definitely prefer that he stayed with us.

“Sure, right this way, ladies.” He held out his elbows to

us like he was going to escort us into a formal dinner, so we
each took one as we walked with him down the hall.

We didn’t have to go far. Down a short carpeted hall-

way, we stopped at a door on the right. I peered in and Mom
was sleeping soundly, curled up in a ball. The walls were a
soft bamboo color, with several framed prints of the ocean
hanging on them. The morning light flooded in through one
window, making the room seem cozy and warm. All in all,
the room provided a very serene atmosphere, nothing like a
typical hospital room. But she was oblivious to it; she was still
sound asleep. My dad’s sweater was covering her like a quilt;
she had it grasped tightly in her hands under her chin. She
looked comfortable. I was a little surprised to see an IV bag
was dripping into a tube, connected to a needle in her arm.

Dr. Parker’s voice startled me from behind. I turned

around to look at him as he spoke.

“I started an IV to give her some fluids. She was pretty

dehydrated last night. I’m also giving her a mild sedative to
keep her calm and help her sleep.” I knew that she was proba-

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bly a little, or a lot, dehydrated. She hadn’t wanted to eat or
drink for weeks. I wondered how much difference some flu-
ids would make. Maybe even the fact that she had been dehy-
drated had contributed to her present state of deterioration. I
asked him about it.

“Yes, I would imagine that it contributed, at least some-

what. Once our electrolytes get out of whack, it can cause us
to do all sorts of strange things. She might have even ended
up in the hospital eventually.” I gulped. I felt even guiltier
about not calling someone sooner. But I was also encouraged.
This was another puzzle piece to her strange behavior. And
we had a remedy for this piece. Maybe she really would start
to recover soon.

Ellie walked past me into the room and stood at Mom’s

side, looking down. She put her little hand on Mom’s arm.
“You’re going to be all right, Mom,” she whispered. And then
she leaned down and kissed her nose. I felt a lump form in my
throat. I pushed myself forward and wrapped my arms around
Ellie.

“She is, you know,” I murmured to her. “She’s going to

get better and she’ll come home.” I stared down at Mom’s
motionless form. She hadn’t moved a muscle. The sedatives
were doing their job. Her face was pale against her light blue
pillowcase. They used designer sheets, too. Nice. They had
spared no expense in this clinic. Ellie twisted around and
hugged me, burying her face in my waist. Brady looked from
her to me.

“Do you want to go get that breakfast, now?” he asked.

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We had thought it best to come straight here instead of stop-
ping for breakfast. My stomach was rumbling though, and I
was sure that he heard it.

“Are you hungry, El?” She nodded, so I turned to Brady.
“Sure. I have to be back at Laney’s by noon though.

We’re going to get our licenses.”

We turned to walk out. I turned back around once, and

mom was still the same; she hadn’t moved. We quietly
walked out of the room and down the hallway.

* * * *

Brady dropped us back off at Delaney’s with plenty of

time to spare. We found Ginny and Laney lounging on the
sun-porch, drinking hot tea. Laney stood up and hugged me;
she could probably see on my face that I was spent already. It
was one of the benefits of having a life-long best friend; she
knew me.

“Hey, Whit… Laney was telling me that Ellie is sup-

posed to have swimming lessons today,” Ginny mentioned. I
remembered with a jolt. It had completely slipped my mind.
“Why don’t we drop her off on the way to the BMV, and then
we’ll swing back by and pick her up when we’re finished?”

“Thank you, Ginny. I totally forgot, with everything go-

ing on. Yes, that would be great. I don’t want her to miss
those lessons.” I squeezed Ellie’s skinny shoulder.

“I already ran down to your house and got a swimsuit for

her,” Laney informed me with a mischievous smile. “See? I
always knew it would come in handy for me to know where
you keep your extra key!”

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“You just wanted to be able to run in and get my clothes

whenever you need to!” I teased. “But that’s okay. I don’t
mind. And thanks for getting the suit!” I loved her. Really. I
had lucked out in the friend department, too. I guess Samuel
was right. My instincts were good. I had gravitated toward
Delaney when we were just little kids. I had known, even
back then, that she would be good for me.

We piled into Ginny’s silver BMW. For such a nice car,

the back seat was surprisingly small. Luckily, it didn’t take
long to reach the Aquatic Center in Traverse City. Delaney
and her mom waited in the car, bickering between themselves
about Delaney’s future car while I took Ellie in. I could see on
her face that she was nervous.

“Don’t be nervous, Ellie-Bellie. You’re going to love it!”

I didn’t emphasize how important it was that she learned to
swim. I was sure she already knew it, with all things consid-
ered.

We entered the steamy pool area, looking around for

Miranda. The air changed the instant we stepped into the
room. The humidity from the pool drifted upward and
formed condensation on the observation windows. The thick
smell of chlorine flooded my nose.

There was a lifeguard walking around the pool like a sol-

dier doing rounds. He had an orange life preserver slung onto
his back like a rifle and was wearing extremely short swim
trunks; they actually bordered on indecent. I knew that if he
actually had to rescue someone, he would end up showing
everyone his business. That was definitely not something that

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I personally wanted to see.

A group of kids were already in the pool, but I still didn’t

see Miranda. We found an empty bench by the wall and put
down Ellie’s bag. I helped her pull off her shorts and was just
taking off her shirt when a voice approached me from behind.

“Excuse me, Miss?” I turned around. The voice belonged

to Carter Kelly, the dark-haired stranger that I had met the
other day. I could tell from the expression on his face that he
hadn’t recognized me from my backside. “Oh. It’s you.”

Well, he obviously recognized me now. His resigned

tone of voice was almost humorous.

“You can’t wear your street shoes in here on deck. You

have to either take them off or bring unworn shoes to wear in
here.” I couldn’t tell from his face if he was annoyed with me
or what. He definitely wasn’t happy to see me. And I couldn’t
figure out for the life of me why. I had never done anything to
offend this guy. I was sure of it.

His dark eyebrows were knitted together though, and he

looked as though he could barely bring himself to address me.
What the heck was wrong with him?

“Um, this is my sister Ellie. She’s here for swim lessons.

Do you know where Miranda is?” I forced myself to remain
pleasant, but it was difficult. It’s hard to be nice to someone
whom you can tell is struggling to be civil to you.

“Yes, she’s not here. But I am. I teach the beginner’s

swimming classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He knelt
down to look at Ellie. “Ellie, I’m Carter. I’m going to be
your swim instructor. Can you swim at all? Doggie paddle?”

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She nodded at doggie paddle.

“Perfect!” He smiled. I hadn’t even realized that he was

capable. All he had done until now was scowl at me. But he
actually had a nice smile. And it disappeared abruptly when he
glanced back at me.

“Do you see that group of swimmers way down there?”

He pointed to one of the three groups in the pool. “You can
go down there and join them, okay?” She nodded and looked
quickly at me.

“It’s okay, El. I’ll be back before your class is over,

okay?” She nodded again and left to join her designated group.
I watched as she slipped into the pool and waded over to
stand with the group.

“An hour, right?” I turned to ask Carter, but I found that

I was talking to the heavily chlorinated air. He was already
gone, walking around the pool to the other side. He hadn’t
said a word to me. Nice.

I was still fuming as I dropped back into Ginny’s BMW

and slammed the door.

“What?” Delaney turned around to demand.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Except that Ellie’s swim instructor is

this new guy, Carter Kelley, and I’m pretty sure he hates me
but I can’t figure out why. I haven’t done anything to him.” I
had totally lost her though, with the words “new guy”.

“What new guy? When did you meet him? You didn’t

mention anything.” Her face was comical, like she had sud-
denly discovered that I had withheld the ability to create fire
with my fingertips from her.

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“It didn’t seem important, and then I forgot about it. I

bumped into him and Miranda Eli at the store awhile back. I
barely talked to him,” I reassured her. He was definitely still
uncharted territory for her to explore.

“You know,” Ginny pondered, “that name is familiar to

me for same reason. But I can’t remember why. It’s nothing
bad,” she assured me. “He’s not a client or anything. I can’t
think of where I know him from. Or maybe I know his par-
ents? I don’t know. When I remember, I’ll let you know,” she
promised.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care,” I said petulantly. “I

don’t want anything to do with him. I find his whole attitude
annoying.” We pulled into the License Bureau at just that
moment, though, and my attention was diverted by the proc-
ess of getting photographed and having my license handed to
me. It turned out that I was a little bit excited after all.

Delaney made them retake her picture three times before

she was satisfied. I thought that the lady behind the counter
was more than patient with her. I had always heard horror
stories about how rude BMV workers were. But this lady was
exceedingly nice. She didn’t kill Delaney, anyway, which was
something. Thirty minutes later, we were on our way back to
pick up Ellie with our freshly printed licenses in our pockets.
We were now licensed drivers.

“Whitney, can you drive to the airport to pick up your

grandparents this evening? I think their flight arrives at seven-
thirty. Do you feel comfortable driving there, or should I do
it? I have a teleconference, but I can cancel it if you need me.”

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Ginny looked at me. I actually felt confident. The route to the
airport wasn’t confusing.

“No, it’s okay. Not a problem. I’ve got it,” I assured her.
“Do you want me to come?” Delaney asked.
“No, it’s all right. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. But I am going with you to pick up Ellie… I want

to see this new guy!” I rolled my eyes, but waited for her as
she climbed out of the car.

“I’ll wait for you here, girls!” Ginny had already pulled

out a stack of legal documents and had them stacked on her
lap as she ruffled through them. She was truly a workaholic.
We always teased her because she was always reading con-
tracts at stoplights and was attached to her Blackberry. She
didn’t waste a minute of unscheduled free time. We hurried
away toward the building. I had visions in my head of Ellie’s
practice ending early and her being distraught about where I
was at.

There was no need to worry. When we entered the pool

room, with our shoes in our hands, she was still in the pool.
Carter now stood on the side of the pool in only his swim
trunks and a whistle, calling instructions to the kids. He was
soaking wet, so he had clearly been in the pool recently him-
self. Delaney let out a low whistle, not unlike what a guy
would do for a curvaceous, hot girl.

“Holy cow, Whit! You didn’t mention that he was gor-

geous.” Her eyes hadn’t left his body.

“That’s because I didn’t notice.” Until now. But she was

right. He was gorgeous. In a sulking, starving artist, com-

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pletely opposite of Brady kind of way. He was lean and mus-
cular, as opposed to Brady’s slightly bulkier football player’s
frame. His legs were long and tan; you could tell he spent a
lot of time in the sun. I briefly wondered if he sailed. And
then I noticed that his dark eyes were staring a hole through
me. Again.

“Yikes, you were right. He does look ticked at you! What

in the world did you do to him?” Laney’s face was puzzled.

“I told you! I’m not imagining things; he hates me. And I

didn’t do anything!” I felt his dark stare piercing me as I made
my way toward Ellie’s little pile of clothing. I felt him ap-
proach before I even saw it, from the palpable heat of his
stare.

“Whitney, I don’t know if Miranda told you or not, but it

would be very helpful for Ellie if she had some goggles and a
swim cap.” His tone was accusing, as if he thought that
Miranda had told me and I had irresponsibly chosen to ignore
it. Wrong.

“Um, no, I didn’t know that. But it’s not a problem. I’ll

make sure she has them next time.”

I didn’t like the tension in the air between us. I have

never been a person that likes conflict or discord. And when I
didn’t even know what I had done, there was no way I could
diffuse the situation to get rid of the tension. Before I had
even thought them through, the words had tumbled out.

“Have I offended you somehow, Carter?” My voice was

slightly defensive, but still inquisitive.

He spun back around to look at me. The look of surprise

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was clearly evident on his face for a moment before he
masked it again with an impassive expression. How could he
be surprised by the question? He had done everything but
burn something in effigy in my honor.

“Offended me? Of course not. You’ve only just now met

me.” His tone was matter of fact, but he stared at me as if I
was an idiot.

“You just seem…angry with me. I was wondering why.”

Now I just sounded pathetic. Why had I even opened my
mouth? I swear, I never think before I speak.

“Maybe you are just a little sensitive,” Carter suggested,

before he turned to walk away. “See you Tuesday.” He didn’t
look back.

I was speechless and for once, so was Delaney. We

looked at each other, before she started giggling. “You’re an
idiot!” She laughed.

“Oh, wow, thanks!” I pushed her jokingly away from me.
“Seriously, have you ever considered the benefits of just

being mysterious? You could have just gone on about your
business and left him to wonder why you didn’t care that he
clearly hates you. Men always want what they can’t have.”
She nodded knowingly. My best friend, the sage.

“I don’t want him to want me.” I was positive about that

fact.

“Well, I would take him,” Delaney stated firmly. We both

watched him kneel down to help a little swimmer out of the
pool. The muscles on his back rippled like a wave. “And I have
the added advantage that…well, he doesn’t seem to hate me.”

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Chapter 8

Realization is Cold

I didn’t realize how much I had missed the familiar com-

fort of my grandparents until they stepped off the plane and I
could see their smiling faces. They exited the terminal and
rushed to us, gathering both Ellie and me up in their arms in
bear hugs. One thing about Venezuelans…they don’t shirk
away from affection. Grandma was kissing Ellie all over her
face, while Grandpa held me out away from him so he could
get a better look. His white panama hat shaded his face from
the fluorescent lights above us.

“Whitney Diane, I think you have grown four inches

since I saw you last!” Grandpa finally announced. He wasn’t
too far off the mark. I had a growth spurt last summer, grow-
ing a couple of inches. He probably hadn’t noticed when they
were here for Dad’s funeral.

“And just look at her, Vin…she’s so beautiful!” My

grandma cried. “And you, mija,” she said and hugged Ellie
again. “You look enough like Whitney to be her little twin!”

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Ellie laughed happily. She loved it when people pointed that
out.

“How’s your mom, Whitney?” Grandma’s face was sud-

denly no-nonsense and all business, searching mine for tell-
tale signs that something had changed or gotten worse.

“She’s the same, Grandma. She has been sleeping a lot at

the clinic, but I think that’s because she is so sleep-deprived.
They’ve been giving her sedatives, too. She needs the rest.”

“Has she spoken to you since she was admitted?”
“No. She’s mostly just slept. She hasn’t been awake when

we’ve been there. Maybe when we go there tomorrow.” I
was hopeful. I wanted to see some glimmer of my mom’s
normal self. Just a glimpse would tide me over until she re-
covered.

Grandma clucked about that and we headed to pick up

their luggage. Everything at home was already prepared for
them. I had spent the afternoon putting fresh linens on their
bed, cleaning the guest bedroom and cutting fresh flowers to
put on their nightstand. Grandma loved fresh flowers as much
as my mom and I did.

I had driven Dad’s silver Land Rover to pick them up. I

heard grandma’s sharp intake of breath as she recognized it.
She didn’t say anything though, and we quickly loaded their
luggage into the back and got on our way. It was just as
strange for me to drive my dad’s car as it was for her to ride
in it. It was his. But it seemed wasteful to let it sit in the ga-
rage; it was only a year old and it felt like my dad. It actually
made me smile to drive it, not cry like I would have several

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weeks ago. I must be making progress.

It was still light enough to see when we pulled back into

the driveway at home. Grandpa made the idle observation
that the bushes needed trimming. He decided that he would
do it the next morning. My grandpa was the kind of person
that needed to stay busy all of the time. He needed to have a
purpose. I knew that he would be puttering around the house,
weeding, trimming and fixing things the entire time they
were here. It was a familiarity that I welcomed. It made me
happy that some things didn’t change, no matter what else
did.

They hadn’t eaten yet, so I made them some sandwiches

as they got settled into their room. Ellie helped me by putting
mayonnaise on the bread slices and layering the tomatoes and
lettuce after I sliced them. I was just setting their plates down
at the table when my cell phone rang. I glanced at it, saw
Brady’s number, and walked quickly into the privacy of the
empty family room.

“How are you doing? Are your grandparents there yet?”

Just the sound of his voice was soothing. I almost sighed out
loud.

“I’m fine. And they’re here. They’re just getting ready to

eat something.” I stared at the aquarium. It looked empty
with so many fish absent. The rest of the fish, though, had ral-
lied from their trip to the driveway. They appeared to be back
to normal. And of course they had forgotten about their near-
death incident. They had a memory of three seconds. I knew
that would come in handy sometime.

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“I was thinking…maybe I could come over? Would you

like some company?” Even though I wanted him to, I hesi-
tated.

“Or do you need to focus on your grandparents tonight?”

he quickly added. “I hope I’m not being rude. I just can’t stop
thinking about you.”

“I want to see you, too.” I murmured. “I really do; you

have no idea. But I’m probably going to be tied up with my
grandparents tonight. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“Perfect!” he quickly agreed. I loved that he was so un-

derstanding. He never tried to make me feel badly for having
to put other things or people first. I had yet to find a fault in
him. I would have to keep looking though; no one was per-
fect.

Grandma walked in just as I was putting my phone back

into my pocket. She eyed me curiously.

“Hi, Grandma. Are your sandwiches okay?”
“Of course. You learned to cook from your mother, who

learned to cook from me. They’re perfect,” she assured me.

Her words were as confident as her appearance.

Grandma always looked perfect. I guess that’s where my
mom got it from. This morning she was dressed in a tan pant-
suit and tan leather sling-backs. She even had a pink silk scarf
tied in the European fashion around her neck. Not a strand of
her silver-white hair was out of place; it was smoothed into a
sophisticated bob. She always smelled the same, like “White
Diamonds” and she always had mints in her purse. I smiled.

“Were you talking to someone, sweetie?”

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“Just a boy. Brady.” Only the most beautiful boy on the

face of the planet. “His dad is Mom’s psychiatrist.” Grandma
looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t worry; you’ll like him. He’s nice. You’ll meet

him tomorrow; he’s coming over.”

Her face was unreadable as she said that she couldn’t wait

to meet him. I followed her back to the kitchen to wash up
their handful of dishes and then climbed the stairs wearily to
my bedroom. It had been a long day today.

I had gotten Ellie into bed and had just changed into my

own pajamas when my phone beeped. I had a new text. I
flipped it open to find, “I think I am falling for you.” I smiled
and clutched my phone to my chest. My heart thumped
wildly. I was pretty sure I was falling for him, too.

* * * *

Sunlight washed over my face the next morning, waking

me from a sound, satisfying sleep. I squinted and looked at the
clock. Holy cow, it was nine a.m. I hadn’t slept this long in
quite a while. The other side of my bed was empty. Ellie was al-
ready up. I quickly walked into the bathroom and took a shower
in record time, taking pains to keep my hair dry. I didn’t want
to take the time to wash and dry it. When I had dried off, I
pulled it back into a ponytail and pulled on a pair of khaki capri’s
and a t-shirt. I applied my typical light mascara and lip gloss be-
fore setting out to find the rest of the family. As I walked back
into my bedroom, Samuel was sitting beside my bed.

I didn’t feel startled this time. Maybe I was getting used

to it.

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“Good morning, Samuel.” I smiled at him. His aquama-

rine eyes shimmered in the morning sun.

“Good morning, Whitney. You slept well last night,” he

said.

The average person would have formed that phrase as a

question, asking, “How did you sleep last night?” Samuel
didn’t have to. He already knew. I wondered if it was weird
that I wasn’t creeped out by that. I had gotten accustomed to
him quicker than I would have thought.

I smiled at him again. “I know. I feel…better this morn-

ing than a long time. I don’t know why.”

He cocked his head and looked at me. “You don’t? Do

you think it has more to do with your grandparents’ arrival or
with Brady Parker?”

I felt my face flush. I didn’t know why I was embar-

rassed. Obviously, I knew that he had seen us together. It just
felt strange to have Samuel bring it up. It wasn’t like we could
gossip and whisper back and forth. Samuel never gave me any
advice; he always said that he was unqualified to offer it. I was
guessing that it was against another angel rule.

“Does it matter?” I asked lightly. “It’s probably a little bit

of both. I’m just so happy to be…happy for once. It’s been
awhile.” He nodded expressionlessly.

“I can understand that.”
“It feels good to have my grandma here to worry about

things instead of me. And it feels good to think about Brady-
like a normal girl.” He was regarding me silently, without
saying anything.

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“And speaking of Brady... I have a question. What do you

do during…um, private moments?” I felt my cheeks redden
even more. I had to ask. It had been bugging me.

“You mean like when you and Brady were watching a

movie in the basement the other day?” He looked slightly
amused.

“Yeah, like that.”
“Whitney, I already explained…things like that don’t af-

fect me the same way they affect you. For me, observing your
‘private moments’ is just like watching any other human in-
teraction, the same as if you were driving, talking or walk-
ing.” That couldn’t be right. I was hesitant to believe that.

“So, you don’t see that type of situation any differ-

ently…at all?” My voice reflected my hesitation.

“Well, I understand that it has significance to you. But

I’m not lurking over your shoulder observing your every
move during those moments. Is that what you are worried
about?” I detected even more amusement in his voice. I forced
myself to nod. I had started this conversation; I might as well
finish it.

“Whitney, intimate moments are nothing to me. They

aren’t intimate to me; they are just human interactions. You
have no need to feel self-conscious. Trust me, I don’t sit be-
side you to get a better look.” Even if he didn’t mean to, he
was making me feel like a complete idiot, so I decided to
change the subject again.

“Okay. New question. I keep forgetting to ask. Why do

your eyes move like they sometimes do? It’s like they ripple

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or something…” I watched his face. I kept waiting for one of
my questions to offend him, to get too personal, but he never
seemed to mind.

“My eyes shimmer sometimes because they aren’t really

mine. It’s just how my real eyes react when I take human
form.”

Hmm. Well, that explained it. I tried to think back and

remember if I had ever seen anyone else’s eyes do anything
weird before. If I had ever caught a glimpse of it, I had proba-
bly just thought it was a trick of the light or they had an eye
disease or something. I wondered how many times I had
come into contact with an angel in human form and hadn’t
even known it.

“Is it easy for you…to be human?”
“Well, you have to understand that I’m not really human.

I am just in human form; I only look like a human. I don’t
have to worry about the…shortcomings of being human, like
being ruled by your hormones or emotions, because I still
keep my own traits. My appearance just changes. Now, it’s
different for fallen angels. They have their own rules—it
makes it easier for them to manipulate humans.” I could hear
the acidic derision in his voice.

“I can’t imagine why any angel would choose to fall. Not

knowing for a fact that Heaven and God are real.” I was ex-
tremely bewildered about that, actually. Why would they
choose such a dark path, one that they had to know was going
to end really badly for them?

“It is hard to imagine,” he agreed. “But it happens for dif-

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ferent reasons. Remember me telling you that angels are obe-
dient, always? No matter what the order is, we follow it. We
have to. Well, some of my kind chafe at that kind of restric-
tion. They grow tired of it and long to make their own deci-
sions. And then there are the ones who want to procreate.”

Now that caught my attention.
“What do you mean…they procreate? I thought you

don’t have those urges!”

“I don’t. We aren’t like humans.” He scoffed at the no-

tion, like I should have known it was ridiculous. “When they
fell, though, they gained a few human traits, although they
don’t procreate for pleasure’s sake.” I stared at him, waiting,
still slightly confused.

“They do it to increase their number. Most of the evil on

earth is created by Helel’s legion—well, you call him Satan,
Lucifer or the devil—and it is comprised mainly of fallen an-
gels and demons—and there is a difference between the two.
Some humans don’t understand that. Angels were created by
God. There are a specific number of us in existence—our
number won’t change. The only way for Helel to increase the
size of his army is to create something different.”

“Why do you call him Helel? I’ve never heard that

name.”

“That’s what we’ve always called him. Lucifer is how

humans translated his name into Latin…from Helel.” I
couldn’t stop wondering how much of the supernatural world
I didn’t know about—and it had been under my nose the
whole time. I just hadn’t realized it.

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“It is important to Helel to increase his legion. The more

he has in numbers, the more souls that he can reach here on
earth.”

“And how…” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t sure that I

wanted to know, but at the same time, I was pretty sure I
needed to know.

I also had the strange feeling that Samuel was leading me

down a path; we were having a conversation that he wanted
to be having, even though I had initiated it. I could hear it in
his voice. He was extremely willing, almost eager even, to
share this information.

“I’m getting to that. A demon is the product of the cou-

pling of a human and a fallen angel. While they live, they are
part of the Rephaim. They are half angel and half human. But
their physical bodies are mortal—they die. Their spirits con-
tinue though, so they need to find a body to inhabit when they
walk on the earth. After a Rephaim’s body dies, it becomes a
demon, a minion of Helel and fallen angels. This is how he in-
creases his number.”

I stared at him, aghast, with my mouth literally open. I

realized it and snapped it closed. I had never known any of
this. I had never in my wildest dreams would have thought
that an angel could procreate with a human. I guessed I had
never understood anything at all. Samuel had been right.
There was so much around me that I couldn’t comprehend
and had never even imagined. I hated to think about what
there was still left to learn.

“Fallen angels are incredibly dangerous because they have

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no code to live by. They aren’t bound by decency or good-
ness. One of Helel’s Generals, Azazel, leads them. To give
you an idea of his moral fiber…he was the one who intro-
duced the art of warfare and adultery to humans.”

“So he was a nice guy, then?” I raised an eyebrow. We

could attribute WWII and the current divorce rate to him.

“You mean

is.

He’s still alive and well, and wreaking

havoc on the human race, unfortunately. One of the gifts that
they acquired when they fell was a heightened ability to se-
duce human women.” Samuel shook his head regretfully.

“Okay. So, just to recap…fallen angels and Helel try to

make their army bigger by having babies with humans. Their
babies grow up to be half-immortal, but when they die, they
become demons?” Samuel nodded. “And the demons need
bodies if they want to be on the earth…so demon possession
is real?”

I was hesitant about that last part. I so did not want to be-

lieve it. Scenes from the

Exorcist

were going to haunt me

from now on, I could tell.

“Of course it is. And part of the problem is that in this

day and age, people don’t believe in it as they used to. Be-
cause of that disbelief, it makes it easier for demons to infil-
trate humans and take them over.” I could feel my shoulders
literally slumping. Body snatching demons. This wasn’t good.

I stared at the sunlight reflecting off my pink walls. I felt

so safe in here in my bright, cheerful room, sitting next to
Samuel, that such a hideous thing didn’t seem possible.

“How do they do it? I mean, how do they take over a

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person’s body?” I sensed that this would be very good infor-
mation to have.

“Well, when they are in Hell, they have no need of a

body. It is when they need to accomplish something here on
earth that they have to find one. So, they wait…in the dark-
ness and shadows until a human is vulnerable, weak or over-
whelmed. They always act when the human’s defenses are
down.” Like my mother. My heart seemed to stop beating.

Realization dawned on me abruptly—like a ton of bricks

dumped on my head. I felt cold and shook my head slowly
from side to side, trying to grasp what my brain was telling
me. My mind worked quickly, grasping at anything to come
to a different conclusion.

I felt Samuel’s gaze upon me. I looked up and met it, his

aquamarine eyes holding mine with all the strength of steel. I
suddenly knew that this was what he had been leading me to-
ward.

“Samuel…how do you know when someone has been

possessed?” I couldn’t breathe. My ribs were constricted, just
as if an anaconda was wrapped around my torso squeezing my
air out.

“Well, I’m able to tell right away from the scent. Hu-

mans though…it’s much harder for you to make that deter-
mination, even after your mind has opened to the possibility.
You would have to watch for strange behavior. Becoming vio-
lent, hurting animals, mood changes, changes in hygiene…
There are a lot of different indicators. But mainly, you would
watch for a drastic change in behavior. Sometimes it is mis-

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taken for seizures and multiple personality disorders and so
forth.”

Or extreme depression? My breath exhaled in a rush.

How common was this, with humans just thinking that a pos-
sessed person was crazy? Like my mother. Chills ran down
my spine. I couldn’t move.

“Samuel. Is my mother possessed?” The words came out

haltingly, stilted.

I almost couldn’t form them with my tongue, which had

suddenly become dead and wooden in my mouth. I couldn’t
feel anything. It felt like the ocean was roaring in my ears. I
waited for what seemed like an eternity, watching Samuel’s
blank face.

Finally, he nodded once.
Pictures flashed through my head like a movie reel. My

mother listlessly wandering through the house, never sleep-
ing, never bathing…my mother killing all of dad’s fish… My
mother staring maliciously at me while I slept…my mom
scratching herself. My heart felt like a lump of ice in my
chest.

“Is she still in there?” I whispered. What happened to a

person’s own soul when their body was possessed? Was my
mother gone?

Samuel nodded. “Yes, she’s still there. But the demonic

force suppresses her human one. It’s too difficult for her to
overcome it. If the demon is displaced, your mom will re-
emerge. She won’t remember anything.”

“You knew this? The whole time!” My tone was accusing.

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192

My glare flashed upon his face like thunder. He actually
winced away from it.

“I’m sorry, Whitney. I don’t like it. I don’t enjoy any-

thing about it. But I can’t interfere. Your mom’s guardian
couldn’t stop her from allowing herself to become vulner-
able. She became so depressed. We can’t control the emo-
tions of the ones we protect.” He shook his head slightly and I
knew he was thinking of the shortcomings of humans. It
didn’t ease my fury.

“You have allowed me to believe that she was just ex-

tremely depressed…that an inpatient clinic would help her!”
My voice trailed off. I couldn’t even think of anything else to
say. I knew that he wasn’t at fault, but he had allowed me to
remain misinformed. He was guilty by omission.

“Whitney, I couldn’t say anything. You know that I have

to let these things unfold the way they will.

I am not allowed

to interfere!”

His voice thundered with his own agitation,

loud enough that my bedroom windows vibrated, as though
he was offended that I thought so little of him. Finally a reac-
tion from him that I could accept. I had found what would of-
fend him, but I didn’t care anymore.

“How do I get it out?” My voice was shrill and shaky. I

knew he knew the answer. But he was gone.

Ellie burst through my door, her face panicked.
“Whittie, what’s wrong? Why are you yelling?” She was

shaking as she stood next to me, waiting for an answer, her
eyes searching my room for someone else or an explanation.
She didn’t find one, of course. He was already gone.

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Chapter9

Revelations and Then Some

I was still unnerved as I ate breakfast with my grandpar-

ents and Ellie. I had tried to convince Ellie that my radio had
been turned all the way up when I turned it on, rattling the
windows, which startled me and I screamed. The explanation
didn’t even sound plausible to me, so I wasn’t surprised when
she stared at me dubiously.

She didn’t probe any further, however. She simply

passed on the message that breakfast was on the table and then
grabbed my hand to lead me out of the room. I looked back
over my shoulder and Samuel was standing by my windows.
His expression wasn’t angry anymore. Apparently, angels
could quickly get themselves under control. His face actually
looked more apologetic than anything. I didn’t know why; I
wasn’t offended. I was actually glad to see a flash of temper. It
was nice to know that he really was capable of emotion.

After we ate, my grandma insisted on cleaning the

kitchen up herself, so I took advantage of the few minutes of

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free time that I had until we needed to leave to go to the
clinic. It was nice to be off of cooking and cleaning detail for
once. I ducked into Dad’s study and booted up his computer.
I kept glancing around, expecting Samuel to appear next to
me, but he didn’t.

I typed in “demon possession” into a search engine. More

links that I could even count popped up. I started sifting
through them. I skipped the sections that detailed how to de-
termine if someone was possessed, and just searched for how
to get one out. The problem was that I couldn’t determine
which websites were accurate and which were only specula-
tive. All of them, however, stated that exorcising a demon
was dangerous. As if I needed to be told that.

I really needed Samuel’s input right now. I looked

around me again. He was still nowhere near. He was probably
avoiding me, knowing that I would have another hundred
questions for him. I returned my attention to the search en-
gine and typed in “Rephaim.”

It turned out that there are lots of different theories con-

cerning Rephaim, but a few of the websites had the gist of the
truth. I knew that I had the truth; I had gotten it straight from
the mouth of an angel. As I sifted through the mountains of
information online regarding this strange species of half-angel
and half-human, I wondered how it was that I had never even
heard of such a being before. How could so much information
exist about something and I had been entirely oblivious to its
existence?

I guess humans truly are oblivious to our surroundings.

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196

As I gazed absently at the icons on the bottom of the

screen, the email icon came into focus…which reminded me
of my email to Josef Amir. With all of these other distrac-
tions, I had completely forgotten about it. I pulled up my
dad’s email and searched through the new mail for one from
Mr. Amir. There wasn’t one, but there was one from a Shirav
Lotan, with Josef Amir’s name as the Subject. My breath sped
up and I opened the message.

Dear Ms. Lane,

I hope that all is well with you today and that

your family is in the best of health. First, I would
like to pass on my deepest regret about the death of
your father. He was a kind, wonderful man who
will be missed by everyone who knew him.

Second, I need to pass on the regretful news

that my employer, your father’s colleague and
friend, Josef Amir has passed away also. He had an
accident in the Magdala dig site that your father and
he had been working in. The accident was tragic and
I am sorry to bear the bad news to you.

Last, I am unsure what to do with the box of

relics that you referenced in your email. Someone
will be replacing Mr. Amir, but we are unsure at
the present who that will be. If you could kindly
keep the box with you until I get that information, I
will let you know as soon as possible.

Thank you so much for your email and your

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concern about these important artifacts.
Best regards,
Shirav Lotan, Executive Assistant to the late Josef
Amir

I sat in stunned silence as I finished reading. Josef Amir

was dead, too. I felt a strange sense of loss. I didn’t even
know this man, but he had been a close friend of my father’s.
He had been a tie to him and now that tie was broken before I
could even connect with him.

My phone suddenly vibrated on the desk, rattling loudly

against the wood. I stared at it motionlessly for a moment be-
fore I picked it up.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I smiled. Somehow, even

with all this new craziness, Brady’s voice washed over me like
warm milk, soothing me. His voice was deep and calm, like a
balm for my stress.

“Good morning.” I didn’t know what else to say.
I wanted to tell him to come to me. Right now. I wanted

to tell him everything and have him say that everything was
going to be all right. But I couldn’t. He would think I was in-
sane. I couldn’t even tell Delaney, the person who knew me
best in the world, because she would, too. I mean, how could
they not? The average human doesn’t believe in demonic pos-
session and angels. I didn’t either, until I had come face to
face with all of this stuff. I didn’t know what my next steps
should be.

“Hey, are you going to the clinic today?” Brady’s voice

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198

brought me back to earth.

“Yes, we’re leaving here shortly. My grandparents ha-

ven’t seen my mom yet.”

I found that I didn’t even want to go; now that I knew

the truth about what was wrong with my mother. But on the
other hand, Samuel had said that she was in there too, deep
down. Maybe she could still hear my voice. I needed her to
know that she wasn’t alone, that I was going to try and help
her.

“Do you want me to meet you there?” His voice sounded

hopeful. Why not? I decided that the clinic was as good a
place as any for him to meet my grandparents. It would seem
normal that he was there anyway; it was his dad’s clinic.

“Sure. That would be great. I think we’re leaving in just a

few minutes.” I could hear my grandpa telling Ellie to get her
shoes on. That meant we probably had around five minutes-
until Ellie actually found them.

“Great. I’ll be there shortly, too.” I could hear the smile

in his voice. I pictured his face in my mind and sighed. My
memory never did it justice.

I clicked my phone shut, but first noticed two missed

calls from Laney this morning. What the heck was the deal
with that? My phone didn’t ring. There must be something
wrong with it. I decided to call her on the way to the clinic
and then put it out of my mind as I searched for my sandals.

On the way out the door, Grandpa announced that he

would drive. I guess he had decided we had enough excite-
ment in our lives without adding more with me being their

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chauffeur. I decided not to point out that I’m a pretty good
driver already. A few months ago, I might have been of-
fended. Now, I didn’t care. I stared absently out the window.
Children played on the sidewalk. The sun shone down on
them happily. Old people sat on porch swings. No one was
aware of all the darkness that surrounded us. They just went
about their lives in oblivion. I fervently wished I was one of
them again.

My phone buzzed in my lap. Delaney. Crap, I had forgot-

ten to call her.

For the remainder of the drive to the clinic, I listened to

her chatter pointlessly about things I would normally have
taken an interest in. She bumped into Courtney at Target and
had “accidentally” rammed her with her grocery cart. Her
mom had bought a box of apricot squares from the bakery for
Laney to give to my grandparents. Oh, and her dad was going
to take the “No Problem” out to the docks for me tonight. I
found it all slightly interesting, but my mind was still numb
with the information that I had been presented with earlier
today.

Somehow, the knowledge that your mom was possessed

by a demon kind of trumped everything else. I desperately
wished that I could share all of this with Laney…all about
Samuel, my mom… But I couldn’t.

For the first time in my life, I couldn’t discuss something

vitally important with her. She would think that I had just
gotten overwhelmed with all of the stress surrounding me.
She would call Dr. Parker herself and I would end up in a

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clinic bed, too. Poor Mom. I felt sick to my stomach. She had
done nothing to deserve this. None of us had.

We pulled up to the clinic and Brady’s Cherokee was al-

ready there, shining in the sunlight. It looked like it had just
been washed, the chrome wheels glittered brightly. I hung up
with Delaney, promising to call her later and jumped out of
the car. I grabbed Ellie’s hand and led the way down the hall-
way that led to my mom’s room. I didn’t see Brady any-
where, but didn’t worry about it. He was here somewhere
and I knew he would find me.

I paused at Mom’s door and peeked in. She was sound

asleep. The sedatives were doing their job. It actually made
me feel more comfortable this way. If her body was sleeping,
then maybe mom wasn’t aware of what was going on. I
couldn’t bear the thought of her distress. She had already
been through so much.

My grandparents nudged past me and pushed into the

room. Grandma stood speechless at the foot of the bed with
her hand over her mouth, staring down at her listless daugh-
ter. My grandpa wrapped his arm around her.

“It’s okay, Ava. She’ll be fine. She’s strong, like you,” he

murmured into her silvery hair. Yeah, right. I had thought
that myself the other day. I looked away.

Grandma Ava and Ellie pulled up chairs next to her,

holding her hands and talking softly to her. I sat in the chair
by the window, watching the hummingbirds eat from their
birdfeeder. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. I didn’t want
to get that close to a demon. I instantly felt horrible. Regard-

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less of anything else, she was still my mother, too. I gulped.

Brady tapped on the door softly before he quietly walked

in. I felt my face light up as he entered. Pathetic. Maybe
Laney was right, maybe a little mystery would be good. But I
had enough mystery around me. I didn’t want to play dating
games, too.

I felt myself melt into his hug, closer to him than was ap-

propriate with my grandparents in the room. He looked at
me quizzically, but rubbed my back for a minute before he
backed up. He looked concerned as he introduced himself to
my grandparents.

He shook Grandpa’s hand and then chatted with

Grandma. I felt her examine him, taking his measure, she
would say. She smiled at him, so I guessed he measured up.

“Have you spoken with my father yet?” he asked her. She

shook her head.

“No, we just got here a few minutes ago.” Her gaze had

returned to my mother’s motionless face.

“Well, he’s in his office. He’s been waiting to see you.

Would you like for me to take you to him?” She nodded and
Brady left to show them the way.

He was so considerate. I think he must have sensed that

they wanted to speak with his dad away from Ellie’s nervous
ears, and maybe even away from my own. I almost laughed
humorlessly. They had no idea that Dr. Parker couldn’t help
us now. It then suddenly occurred to me that I had a rare op-
portunity to speak to my mother alone.

“Ellie, can you do me a favor? Could you go ask Eleanor

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for some ice chips? I think Mom would like them, if she
wakes up while we’re here.” The lie rolled off my tongue so
much easier than I would have liked. Ellie didn’t detect the
deception at all…she was just happy to be able to help and
eagerly left to find Eleanor.

I hesitantly approached the bed and stood by my mom’s

elbow. As I stared down at her, she looked so peaceful while
she slept. Maybe Samuel was wrong. Yeah, that was unlikely.
Or maybe she had no idea what was happening to her. I hoped
for that one.

“Mom… I know you’re in there somewhere,” I said gen-

tly. “If you can hear me…I’m sorry. I don’t know why this is
happening to you, but I’m trying to figure it out. I’m going to
help you, I promise.” I hoped she could still hear me even if
she couldn’t respond. I glanced at the clock on her wall. My
grandparents had been gone for a couple of minutes already.
They would be coming back any minute.

I returned my attention to Mom and was startled to find

her eyes wide open and staring expressionlessly at me. Her
blue eyes were not warm and sparkling as they usually were.
They were the wide open, unblinking eyes of a dead fish.

“Mom?” I whispered, my heart icy with dread.
“Mom?” She mimicked in a raspy, imitating voice.
It wasn’t my mother. The expression on her face turned

to malevolence…the same expression that had been on her
face when I had woken up and found her watching me sleep.
She sat up somewhat in her bed, but her arms remained mo-
tionless at her sides. I instinctively backed up.

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“Whitney,” she rasped in a guttural whisper. “Do you

really think you can help your mother?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” I couldn’t help but

watch her face in horrified fascination. My mom’s mouth was
moving and speaking, but it wasn’t her. I had never witnessed
such a terrifying thing in my entire life. My stomach rolled
with revulsion.

“Who am I… Who am I…” The voice taunted me again.

It didn’t even sound like my mother now. It was evil.

Samuel was suddenly on the other side of the bed, staring

down at my mother with the all the contained fury of an an-
gel. He was in his terrifying true form, his enormous muscles
taut as he gripped the bedrails and his wings opening so that
they filled the entire other side of the room. His black eyes
stared hard at my mother’s face. I closed my own.

“What is it you want, Malphas?” he demanded.
Malphas.

. The picture of my mother, kneeling down

on an anthill with her nightgown dragging in the dirt, ex-
ploded into my mind. Her finger had drawn a shaky “M” in
the sand. Bloody M’s all over the bathroom…M for Malphas.
Not Maricel as I had thought. Had she been trying to tell me?
My mind whirled. I opened my eyes.

“What do you

think

I want, Angel?” my mother’s mouth

asked Samuel.

The evil was exuding from my mother’s body with such

unmistakable force that I took another step backward. I
needed to get away from her. She terrified me now.

“I want

her

.” My mother’s eyes were staring at me again.

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But my mother wasn’t behind the stare. The demon, Mal-
phas, was using my mom’s eyes in a way that she had never.
He was glaring at me with unrestrained malice and hatred.

“You know you’re not going to get her, Malphas,” Sam-

uel confidently stated.

“Won’t I?” my mother rasped. She had leaned slightly

upward to speak. “I think I will. It will be out of your hands.
Whitney loves her mother.” The voice snaked out of her
mouth like a viper swaying upwards out of a basket.

“What does that mean?” I blurted, frightened. Samuel

shook his head at me; clearly he didn’t want me to engage
with the demon. What did my love for my mother have to do
anything? For that matter, what did

have to do with any-

thing? Why did he want

“You love your mother, Whitney. That’s all I mean. You

wouldn’t want me to stay here forever, would you? You can
help her.” His raspy voice sent chills down my back.

It was absolute evil. There was no mistake. I had never

heard such a terrifying sound in my life. This was the evil I
had imagined in my head when I jumped into bed without my
feet hitting the floor. This was the evil that I couldn’t picture
but felt like it was outside my bedroom door. I wondered
now if it had been.

“You also love your sister. More than anything. Foolish

humans!” I could hear the contempt in his rasping voice. “If
you give me what I want, I’ll leave your mother. If you give
me what I want, I won’t be forced to take it from your sis-
ter.”

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The threat hung in the air, so real I could practically

reach out and touch it with a shaking finger.

“What do you mean, my sister?

What do you want

?” I

cried. But my mother’s body slumped back against the bed
limply, her eyes closing abruptly, her head rolling to the side.
Samuel disappeared.

Brady walked back into the room, carrying two cokes.

He handed one to me and I took it with shaking hands.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes flashed from my shaking

hands, to my face and down to my mother in alarm, logically
thinking that Mom had woken up and distressed me some-
how. Her eyes had opened all right, but she wasn’t the one
who had distressed me.

His free hand rubbed a circle on my back and I leaned my

head on his shoulder. I desperately wanted to share this with
him. I didn’t know how much longer I could bear it alone. I
had to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. I had Samuel, and I
could feel him near me right now. I glanced up, but of course
I couldn’t see him.

“Nothing. It just upset me more than I thought it would

to see my mom like this.” I was disturbed by how easily the
lies rolled off my tongue these days. I had never been a great
liar and now, it seemed as though I had perfected the art. I
didn’t like it.

Brady looked at me sympathetically. “It’s going to be all

right,” he murmured, just as Ellie came bounding back.

“Sorry it took so long, Whit! I couldn’t find Eleanor and

then she wanted to give me some Jolly Ranchers…” She

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looked at me to see if I was upset. I smiled weakly to show
that I wasn’t.

“It’s all right, Monster. Did she give you any lemon

ones?”

Lemon was my favorite kind. I didn’t really want any

candy, but I wanted to distract her from the heaviness in the
room. She had remembered and proudly handed me two
pieces of lemon. Malphas’ threats toward my sister echoed in
my mind. I couldn’t shake them. I didn’t know how to pro-
tect her from him. She was so tiny.

And I couldn’t protect her if I didn’t know what he

wanted. And for the time being, I couldn’t find out. For this
afternoon, I had to pretend…that I was a normal teenager
who wasn’t aware of the presence of angels and demons. I had
to pretend that the worst thing on my mind was a depressed
mother. I so longed for the days when that was really the
case. I hadn’t realized how good I had it back then.

Grandma and Grandpa returned with Dr. Parker. I now

looked at him sympathetically. He really still believed that he
could fix my mother with happy pills and therapy. He talked
with me in medical jargon about decreasing her sedatives to
bring her out of her sedation and I nodded like I was encour-
aged. But I wasn’t. She wasn’t coming back to us anytime
soon. Not until I figured out what Malphas wanted. And even
then, who knew? How did I know he would keep his word? It
only seemed like common sense not to trust a demon.

Grandma settled into a chair and read to my mom. She

had it in her head that Mom was in a coma-like state and she

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had read that coma patients could still hear voices sometimes.
So she wanted mom to hear her voice. I had the sudden com-
pulsion to hand my grandma a Bible and tell her that Mom
would love to hear some scripture, but I thought the better of
it. It was probably best not to antagonize a demon.

Ellie was getting restless cooped up in the small room, so

Brady suggested that we take her outside to the duck pond to
feed the ducks. We made a quick stop at Eleanor’s desk to get
some crackers and headed out back to feed them.

The back of the clinic was tranquil, like an entirely dif-

ferent world. It was surrounded by a perimeter of trees and
contained a huge pond with a gazebo. Brady helped Ellie feed
the ducks, while I sat in the shade of the gazebo. Even the
tranquility of this nature reserve couldn’t calm my nerves.
My legs were still weak from my encounter with Malphas. It
felt good to sit down. As Brady and Ellie worked their way
around the other side of the serene pond to the reach a larger
group of ducks, I felt the presence that I now recognized to be
Samuel surround me.

“I know you’re here,” I whispered.
He appeared next to me, hidden from the view of Brady

and Ellie by one of the side-beams of the gazebo. I wasn’t
hidden though, so I tried to speak discreetly. I did

not

want

Brady to witness me talking to myself. We were already at
the clinic, so it wouldn’t take much for him to lead me inside
and have his dad hook me up to an IV.

“Can you explain?” I tried to sound as assertive and de-

manding as I could with my quiet whisper. He got the point.

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“I wish I could tell you. I’ve been trying to discover what

Malphas is doing here. It’s significant that Malphas himself has
emerged on earth,” he explained. But then he seemed to re-
member that I was not of his realm; I still belonged to the
earth, too and so had no idea what he was talking about.

“Malphas is…a leader of sorts among demons. I guess

you could call him the equivalent of an earthly prince. He’s
important to them. He doesn’t usually get involved with
earthly issues. Most of the time, he’s the liaison between the
lower demons and Helel or other fallen angels. That’s what
makes this so puzzling.” The truth was reflected on Samuel’s
face. He honestly didn’t know what the demon wanted.

“I’ve never seen him possess a human before.” The trou-

bled tone of Samuel’s voice didn’t reassure me. I gazed across
the pond, watching Brady and Ellie laughing together, as Ellie
chased a couple of the ducks.

“Samuel, I don’t understand how this happened. How

can they just take over a person? How does that happen? How
can we prevent it from happening? Are we just helpless…at
their mercy?” I didn’t want to believe that, because it seemed
highly unlikely that they even had mercy.

“No, you’re never helpless and at their mercy. Don’t you

realize? Everything is always in your own hands. You always
have a choice. The key is to maintain your strength. Once you
allow yourselves to grow emotionally overwhelmed or too
wrapped up in depression, you give them an opening. They
thrive in darkness and despair; they are attracted to it. When
a human becomes oppressed by sadness or depression, they

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stop focusing on the goodness in life. That is when they be-
come vulnerable.” He was earnest now; this was something
he felt strongly about.

“So, the key is to keep ourselves healthy, then?”
“Spiritually healthy, yes.” He nodded, pleased that I had

understood him. I wasn’t sure that I actually did; it seemed
too simple to be the real answer, but I let it drop.

“Samuel, he threatened Ellie. I have to find out what he

wants. How do I do that?” My voice was pleading. I couldn’t
handle any BS about not being able to counsel me or him not
knowing. He stared at me seriously, contemplating his an-
swer.

“Whitney, the only thing you can do is wait. I’ve already

met with other angels. We have surveillance in place to better
observe everything that is going on around here. When one of
them moves, we will know it.”

“When one of who moves?” He might not know what

Malphas wanted, but he knew something else. I could tell.

“I can’t say any more than I already have. I just want you

to promise that you won’t try to speak with Malphas again
alone. You have no idea how dangerous that can be.” His
words were chilling, but I actually did have a pretty good
idea. All of the websites about demons that I had found had
strongly warned against trying to interact with one. I didn’t
want to imagine the consequences.

“You’re not alone, Whitney. I’m here. There are so

many of us involved, trying to figure this out, that you don’t
need to worry about it right now. You just concentrate on

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keeping calm and taking care of Ellie. Okay?” He wanted me
to agree. And to mean it.

But I couldn’t. I had found myself lying a lot lately, but I

didn’t want to lie to Samuel. There wasn’t really a point in it
anyway; he would see right through me. He knew my face.
So, instead, I just shook my head and rose to meet Brady and
Ellie as they returned from feeding the ducks. I could hear
Samuel sigh as I walked away from him.

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Chapter10

Recognition

I couldn’t see. The water I was in was icy cold and I lifted

a shaking hand out of it to push my wet hair out of my face.
Water was pouring in on me. My eyes adjusted to the dark-
ness and I saw that I was in a half-submerged room with no
ceiling. The night sky enveloped me. I was tilted at an angle
and it was hard to stand without slipping. My head was throb-
bing. I lifted my hand to my temple and it came back covered
in blood. I moved to push my way to the door and kicked
something with my foot. I tentatively poked my foot at it. A
small hand floated to the surface of the water in front of me.

My own screams woke me up.
I was twisted in my sheets again, my comforter kicked to

the bottom of the bed. Ellie was peacefully sleeping next to
me. Maybe I had only thought I screamed or maybe I had been
screaming in my dream. My hair was wet with sweat. This
dream was just like the other…devastatingly real. I stared at
Ellie. The size of the small hand was exactly the size of hers.

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I jumped up and ran to the bathroom, threw the toilet lid

back and started heaving. I vomited over and over until there
was nothing left in my stomach and then I slumped to the cool
tile floor. The tiles felt good against my flushed cheek. Out of
nowhere, a large hand handed me a towel. I took it and sat
up, wiping my mouth. Samuel was leaning on the counter,
watching me. There was no concern there; he already knew I
was fine. But there was sympathy. I stared at him pensively.

“Why am I having that dream? Does it mean something?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. One of our shortfalls lies in

not being omniscient. I can only see the future if He deigns it
to be pertinent. He hasn’t shown me anything yet.” I once
again figured that God was the “He” that he was referring to. I
was probably going to lose my mind soon. Normal people
didn’t have these conversations. And especially, normal peo-
ple didn’t sit on their bathroom floors in the middle of the
night having any kind of coherent conversation with a heav-
enly creature.

“Samuel… I’m afraid.” My voice was child-like. “I

dreamed that Ellie was dead, and it was so real.” It didn’t
matter to me that I had obviously been in danger too. My
head had been dripping with blood, but all I could see in my
head was an image of her small white hand floating in the wa-
ter. I shuddered so hard that my teeth snapped together.

“I’m sorry, Whitney. I really am. Don’t be afraid. Every-

thing will work out, exactly the way it is meant to. You can
have faith in that.” He sounded so completely sure of it, so
unaffected that I shook my head. Maybe that was what I was

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afraid of, too. Maybe I wasn’t going to like the way it was
meant to work out. My dad’s drowning hadn’t turned out so
well for me, after all.

I brushed my teeth and tried to force any and all unpleas-

ant thoughts from my mind. I just needed a short break from
trying to analyze everything. My mind needed a rest. It was
weary…and so was I. I returned to bed, untangling the covers
from around Ellie. The kid was tiny, but she was a cover-hog.
She always stole the covers and wrapped them around her
body, like she was trying to keep me from getting them back.
And they were my covers in the first place. I smiled in spite of
myself in the dark.

I curled up on my side next to her, willing my whirling

thoughts to still. I just needed some rest. Even a little would
help. If only I could turn my mind off and relax. It was some-
thing I wasn’t that great at even when my life was normal.
Suddenly, I felt Samuel’s presence surrounding me again. And
then he was right behind me, with one giant wing wrapped
under me and the other tucked over the top, covering me and
Ellie both. Peace descended upon me like a favorite blanket. I
had felt this feeling before. I just hadn’t known back then that
it was him. And I had been mistaken…his wings were soft,
after all. I felt like I was enveloped in goose-down pillows. He
didn’t say a word; he simply offered a silent haven from my
troubles. I was hidden inside the shelter of his wings. And I
had never felt so protected in my life. My eyes fluttered
closed. Sleep came quickly.

* * * *

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The next morning, everyone was gone when I woke up,

including Samuel. There was a note on the table from my
Grandma.

Whitney,

You were sound asleep and I couldn’t stand to

wake you up. We’re going to the clinic, but we’ll
be back by dinnertime.
Love you,
Grandma

I was still standing at the table with the note in my hand

when the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock in surprise and
was even more surprised to find that it was ten a.m. I guess it
wasn’t too early for visitors after all. I had slept in.

I opened the door, with my disheveled hair and pajamas

still on, to find Laney waiting impatiently on the porch. She
stared at my appearance for a second before she giggled. I
rubbed at my sleep-blurred eyes and glared at her. As much
as I loved her, finding her on my doorstep before I’d had any
caffeine did not make me ecstatic.

“What are you doing here so early? And what’s with the

doorbell?” Usually, she just walked right in.

“Well, with your grandparents here, I didn’t want to

startle anyone by walking in like I owned the place.” She
pushed past me into the house and headed for the kitchen.

“Please, come in,” I muttered grumpily, which she hap-

pily ignored.

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“I’ve come to give you a distraction. You’re welcome.” I

hadn’t said thank you, but I let that slide. “You need some
sun. Plus your grandma called me. She’s worried about you
and wanted you to do something today besides sit at the
clinic.”

She stopped in front of the fridge and took out a cold

soda. “Let’s go sailing. Your boat is already at the lake. I
know you’re dying to get out there.” She took another ap-
praising look at me, then cracked open the coke and handed it
to me instead of drinking it. Apparently, she thought I needed
it more than she did. I set it on the counter.

“I don’t think so, Laney. I’m not in the mood today.” For

anything. Except maybe moping around the house feeling
sorry for myself.

“You’re not in the mood for your boat, the lake, and sun?

Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
She stared at me incredulously. If I hadn’t been currently im-
mersed in the situation that I was in, that comment might
have made me smile. As it was, any comment about someone
not being who they should be was so un-funny that it was
crazy.

“I just don’t want to go, okay? In case you haven’t no-

ticed, my life is not a party right now!” I snapped, slamming
the fridge door closed as she was getting ready to reach inside
of it again. Her face froze as she stared at me in surprise. I
very seldom snapped at her. In fact, I couldn’t even remem-
ber the last time. I instantly wished I could take it back.

“I’m sorry, Whit. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to im-

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ply…never mind. I’m sorry.” I registered the hurt on her
lovely face and was ashamed. Nothing about my shambles of a
life was her fault. She had gotten up early to make me feel
better. I felt as though I had just stepped on a butterfly.

“No, I’m sorry, Lane. I am. I’m stressed. And you know

what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe a couple of hours on the
lake would be good for me.” Her answering smile made me
feel better, as I handed her the untouched coke I had just
abandoned. I jogged up to my room to throw some clothes on
and run a brush through my hair. Ten minutes later, we were
walking toward the harbor.

True to Laney’s word, my little boat was bobbing gently

in her slip. The tiny mother-of-pearl chips in her white hull
glittered in the sun. She was spotless. It looked like Delaney’s
dad, Mark, must have washed her, before he lugged her down
here to the marina. I would have to remember to thank him. I
already knew exactly what he was going to say. He was going
to grin and say that it was “No Problem.” He was super-
corny, but a really nice guy.

Maybe Delaney had been right after all, because I felt

better just walking down the wooden planks of the pier. The
smell of the lake was around me in the air and I felt at home.
My boat brought back happy memories. Delaney swung her
leg into the boat and wedged a small thermal lunchbox beside
her. The one downfall of sunfish boats was that they were ex-
tremely cramped. I was just lucky that my boat was a two
person boat; many only held one.

“I brought us some sandwiches. I know how grumpy you

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get when you’re hungry.” Or when my best friend tries to
cheer me up, I thought guiltily, but I didn’t apologize again.
She already knew. That was the kind of friend she was.

I situated myself on the other side and loosened the sails,

then tightened them on the boom. Then I released the lines
that kept us anchored to the pier. I steered the rudder to
guide us out of the harbor and inhaled a big, appreciative
breath when we were in open water. The wind picked up and
we gained some speed, taking us further from shore…further
from the clinic and further from the craziness that surrounded
my life.

I pushed my sunglasses up on my nose and sat back, look-

ing around me in pleased satisfaction. The water was sapphire
blue today, perfectly motionless. The sky was blue, the
clouds were white and my best friend was unusually silent,
giving me time to just relax on the water. To top it all off, the
sun shone gently down and warmed my shoulders. I watched
as a jet-skier threw plumes of water behind him, making a
wide arc around our boat. The colorful sail snapped in the
wind and I inhaled contentedly, as I trailed my fingers lightly
in the cold water.

“Thank you for making me come,” I said and sighed to

Laney. “This feels good.”

“I know. I knew you needed it.” Her voice was quiet as

she watched me pensively.

“What?”
“I’ve just been worried about you. That’s all. You’re not

yourself.” She quickly added, “But you have good reason.” She

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didn’t know the half of it. But I desperately wanted to tell
her. I had never kept anything from her and the secrets that I
was carrying seemed like they were trying to scratch their
way out. Maybe she could help keep me sane. I contemplated
that for a moment, trying to choose my words carefully.

“Lane… I’m sorry that I’ve been so grumpy lately. Noth-

ing that is going on in my life is your fault.”

“I know, Whit. And you don’t need to apologize. You’ve

put up with me a million times over the last sixteen years. I’m
usually the grumpy one!”

“You’ve got that right!” I smiled at her. “But seriously.

You deserve better. You’re the best friend anyone could ask
for.” I couldn’t help myself. Now that I had ingested my
morning dose of caffeine and had fully woken up, I felt over-
whelmed with appreciation for her. Out of all of the crazy,
scary things in my life, Delaney was one of the only sane,
comfortable constants.

“What’s with all of this…sentimental stuff?” She re-

garded me suspiciously. “Are your grandparents making you
move back with them?”

“No, of course not! Why would you even say that?” I was

startled by the idea. Surely that hadn’t crossed my grandpar-
ents’ minds, had it? Had they spoken to Ginny without my
knowledge?

“I don’t know. It’s just…you’ve been so distracted and

with the situation with your mom and everything… I thought
maybe your grandparents had decided that it would be best to
pack all three of you up and take you back with them. No?”

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219

“No! Absolutely not. Our life is here. And besides, my

mom isn’t licensed to practice medicine in Venezuela. We
have to stay here.” And hopefully someday Mom would be
herself again and would be able to practice medicine here in
the practice she had worked so hard to build.

“Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been worried about that.” I

could literally see the relief on Laney’s sun-flushed face. Ap-
parently she had been stressing pretty hard, herself.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I queried. It wasn’t

like her at all to hold something inside without just blurting it
out.

“I didn’t want to give you anything else to stress about.

Forget I mentioned it. If your grandparents were thinking
along those lines, I’m sure they would have said something by
now.”

Well, you would think. But I still felt the need to clarify

that with my grandma when I got back home. But now for the
hard stuff. I crossed my fingers that Laney wouldn’t think I
had gone insane and just decided to jump in before I could
change my mind.

“Delaney…” I wasn’t really even sure where to start.

“Um, what do you think happens to us after we die?”

She looked at me studiously, like she was trying to de-

termine why I was asking and where I was going with it. “I’m
not sure. I’ve thought about it, especially after your dad…and
I don’t know. I want to believe that there’s a Heaven. And
that it is perfect. And that God is a really kind being who al-
lows us all to see each other again.”

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220

“But?” I knew there was a “but” coming. I could sense it

in her voice.

“Well…” She was hesitant, like she didn’t want her re-

luctance to embrace the idea to hamper any feelings of hope
that I had.

“It’s all right,” I reassured her. “I want to know.”
“Well, I guess I just have a hard time believing that God

created us in the first place. Why would he create a race of
people that are so self-destructive? If there was a God, why
wouldn’t he step in and stop all of the horrible things that
happen? Remember that story on the news awhile back about
the foster kids who were stored in cages in a basement for
months before they died?” I nodded silently.

“If there was a God, I would think that he would’ve been

furious about that…that he wouldn’t have allowed it to hap-
pen in the first place. Those poor kids didn’t deserve that.
They didn’t even ask to be brought into this world, let alone
thrown aside like garbage!” Her cheeks were even more
flushed now and I knew that it wasn’t because of the sun. And
she had a good point. I’d wondered about that type of thing
myself.

“Well, maybe God

was

furious about it,” I supposed.

Knowing everything that I did made it easier for me to play
devil’s advocate than it was for her.

“Really? Then why didn’t he do something about it?

And why does he let bad things happen to good peo-
ple…like your dad?” She added the last part hesitantly,
unsure of how I would react. It was okay; it wasn’t any-

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thing that I hadn’t already thought myself.

“You know what I think? I think that everyone has a

plan.” I was sure that Samuel was probably ready to explode
with ironic laughter right now as he listened. “And everyone’s
plans work together for the good of everyone as a whole.”

“But what about the individual parts?” Her voice was de-

fiant. “Why should some people’s individual plans be more
painful or tragic than someone else’s just to help with the
good of the whole? Why should some plans involve cages and
basements?” She had a point. I knew she had a point. And I
didn’t have a good answer for that.

“Well, maybe that’s just the way it has to be. And maybe

we aren’t able to understand everything that happens. Maybe
as soon as the more unfortunate people die, they realize that
it was all worth it, that Heaven is the most beautiful thing that
they’ve ever seen and they don’t even remember their pain
anymore.” Okay. I was sure now that Samuel would be
speechless. I had railed against him when he had said this ex-
act same thing.

“Well, that would be nice. And I try to believe that. It’s

just hard sometimes.” Her voice was apologetic and still
doubtful.

“I know. Trust me. But it’s what I believe, because I have

to.” Because I have a gigantic angel walking around with me
day in and day out. But obviously I left that last part out. I was
trying to decide how to word my next statement, that I knew
for a fact that everything was real, when she interrupted my
train of thought.

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“Not to change the subject, but isn’t that the new guy,

Carter?” I followed her gesturing finger.

Sure enough, there he was, windsurfing a short ways

away from us. His strong arms held tightly to the bar on the
rig, as he leaned away from it to maintain his balance. I
watched as he lightly stepped across the board in his foot-
straps, maintaining his stability in the rolling waves.

He was good. I would definitely give him that. He rose

and fell with the waves effortlessly. His lean biceps bulged
and I could tell that it took effort. I had never windsurfed,
myself. But it looked like it took some strength to remain up-
right for any significant amount of time. He wore a pair of
dark sunglasses and blue swim trunks. His chest was bare ex-
cept for his harness. I found that I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“Wow,” Delaney murmured. She could say that again.

He was so graceful as he skimmed on top of the water that he
made it seem like art.

“Hey, Carter!!” she yelled suddenly, waving at him and

smiling. I wanted to duck, but there was no place to duck
down to. Sunfish boats were cramped. Dang it, I had no idea
she was going to yell at him. I was perfectly happy just watch-
ing him. I didn’t want to deal with his heat-filled glare today.

“Laney!” I hissed.
But she didn’t pay any attention, instead yelling his name

again. This time, he heard her and turned his head to locate
her voice, pushing his sunglasses onto his head to get a better
view. When his eyes registered our boat with her shouting,
the look of surprise was blaringly evident on his face as he

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recognized ours. He curiously waved back and continued to
stare in our direction. For once, his gaze didn’t burn me.

Unfortunately, a wave chose that exact moment to crash

into his translucent sail. With his attention diverted, he lost
his balance and tumbled into the lake. We couldn’t help but
laugh as he plunged sideways into the water. The wave hadn’t
been overwhelmingly large, so we knew he was fine. A little
dunking would be good for him; he was a teench arrogant, a
little too sure of himself. I knew it would annoy him that he
had fallen because we had distracted him. I smiled to myself.

His head bobbed to the surface a second later, and he spit

out lake water. Now he was glaring. I guessed that it had
more to do with his damaged ego than any effect from his fall.
I continued to smile widely as I watched him float beside to
his windsurf board. He leaned his head back to re-wet his hair
and then shook it like a dog. Then he floated aimlessly on his
back with his face tilted up toward the sun, pointedly ignoring
us and apparently enjoying his cool dip in the lake. As I
watched his dark head bobbing up and down in the water, a
heavy feeling of apprehension started to rise from my stom-
ach, making its way to lodge directly in my throat.

I suddenly remembered with absolute clarity another day

when a dark head had bobbed up and down with the waves. A
dark head that looked just like this one. My hand gripped the
side of my boat hard enough to turn my knuckles white. He
was the same. The heavy, sick feeling in my chest shouted the
truth loud enough for me to listen. He was the boy who had
killed my dad. My ears roared and all of a sudden I could only

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see crimson closing in from the corner of my eyes like spilled
ink, spreading inward. Then nothing at all.

* * * *

“Are you all right? Whitney! Are you okay? Wake up!”

An assertive male voice was persistently asking me questions
and demanding that I wake up. Was I asleep? I did a quick as-
sessment. I didn’t think so- I was wet and cold. And I wasn’t
sure if I was okay. I didn’t know what had happened.

It occurred to me that I was weightless, my shirt clinging

to my ribcage like a wet towel. I opened my eyes. I was in the
water next to my boat. Carter was floating with me, support-
ing my weight with his arms, his strong hands gripping my
sides tightly. I must have passed out and fallen into the water.
I took a moment to get my bearings, looking up onto the boat
into Delaney’s pale, scared face and then back at Carter. And
I remembered. Rage rushed into me with all the velocity of a
charging bull.

“You!” I spit out with as much hatred as I could muster,

twisting out of his arms so I could hold onto the boat myself.

I didn’t want a single finger of either of his hands touch-

ing me. I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my body
and it made me sick. My stomach rolled.

He looked confused. Delaney’s expression was shocked

as she watched my face turn into something venomous and
hateful-something she had never witnessed before. I
couldn’t help it. More contempt than I had ever felt before
in my life- more malice, more venom, more ha-
tred…bubbled up in my chest until I felt as though I would

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burst from all of the negativity congealed there.

“You. Killed. My. Dad.” Short, stilted words shot from

my mouth like daggers aimed at Carter’s head. He had the
grace to look ashamed. He dropped his gaze abashedly, hiding
it behind his wet dark lashes. Delaney’s mouth formed a per-
fect O. She clasped her hand over her mouth and looked
quickly back at Carter.

“Whitney... I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.” His words

were quiet, very nearly drowned out by the lapping of the
water against the boat. He still wasn’t looking at me. All of
the arrogance was gone from him now. I took a little satisfac-
tion in that.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” His voice was tired. As if

I cared. He had ruined my life. And then he had entered it,
without even acknowledging who he

was.

He had the nerve

to act angry- as though I had offended

him

somehow

I had ac-

tually wasted my time wondering what I had done to offend
him

Well, he offended me now just by breathing. It should

have been

him

. All I could do was stare wordlessly at him,

shaking my head angrily. I should have felt badly for my vin-
dictive thoughts, but I didn’t. Maybe I would later, but for
now I couldn’t see past my anger. And it was ugly.

“Do you think that matters?” My voice was incredulous and

hateful at the same time. I didn’t like the sound of it, but I didn’t
change it. It was beyond my ability. “My dad saved you. You’re
only alive because of him.” My words were a simple statement
of truth. He knew it and I knew it. “And you killed him. Your

stupidity

killed him.” We both knew that, too.

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Chapter 11

Like He Had Pulled the Trigger

“Whitney, I’m so sorry. That’s exactly who he is. I

couldn’t recall it other day, but I wracked my brain, trying to
remember where I had heard his name. It was from the news-
paper. There was a story right after your dad died—about
how he saved a sixteen-year-old boy…named Carter Kelly.”
Ginny’s voice was sympathetic and apologetic at the same
time.

She handed me a glass of her special lemonade and sat

down on the sun porch beside me. I found myself wishing that
she had spiked it. I had never even tasted an alcoholic bever-
age before, but if ever there was a time for a drink, this was
it.

Knowing that my grandparents would still be at the

clinic, Delaney had rushed me to her house as soon as we had
docked the boat and had settled me onto a chaise lounge on
her sun-porch. I had scared her with my shaking. I had shaken
so hard, just like I was frozen to the bone. It felt like my heart

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had frostbite. I was pretty sure that it was a side-effect of
shock. Anyone would have been shocked; I had just come face
to face with my dad’s killer. And that’s exactly what he was.
A killer.

The shaking episode aside, I was proud of myself. I had

simply twisted away from him and climbed back onto my boat
without another word…turning it towards shore, completely
ignoring Carter’s pleadings for me to listen. There was noth-
ing that he could say that would quell the rage in my chest. I
couldn’t even listen to the sound of his voice. I couldn’t look
at his penetrating dark eyes as he implored me to hear him.
The last thing I saw was him bobbing in the water watching us
sail away from him. His gaze had scorched my back as I fled. I
shuddered. There was something intense about that guy,
completely separate from the fact that he had killed my dad.

Delaney sat next to me, as close as Velcro. She had

wrapped a blanket around me even after I insisted that I
wasn’t cold. She sat with her arm around me, rubbing my
arm as if to warm me up. I didn’t bother telling her again that
my temperature was fine, that cold wasn’t the problem.

“When did you recognize him, Whit?” Her voice was cu-

rious even as her face was lined with worry.

“I’m not sure exactly. I was watching him float in the wa-

ter and all of a sudden, I just knew.”

She shook her head in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Whitney.”
“Laney, it’s not your fault. It’s his.”
Ginny’s concerned face hovered next to mine. “Whitney,

I know you’re upset, and of course you have every right to

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be. But your dad’s drowning was an accident. I’m sure that
Carter didn’t want it to happen. He almost drowned himself
that day.” Her voice was gentle.

She wasn’t reprimanding me or even lecturing me. She

was just trying to offer an objective view, a sensible opinion
of someone who wasn’t immersed in emotion. And I knew
what she was saying was true. But it didn’t help.

“Ginny… I know.” My voiced was resigned. “I’m not up-

set because he was in that situation. Well, maybe a little—
there was a red flag up and he went out anyway! But really,
what I’m most upset is that he fought against my dad so hard.
My dad was out there for so long, exhausting himself, because
Carter wouldn’t stop fighting him. He wouldn’t let my dad
help—and that’s why my dad died. That’s how Carter killed
him.”

Delaney and her mother were both silent, thinking about

what I said. I couldn’t tell if they understood or if they just
thought that I was emotional. And I didn’t care. It didn’t
really matter if I was right or wrong; it was how I felt and I
couldn’t change that. Grief has a strange way of making you
lose reason- of making you feel an urgent need to point anger
or blame at someone.

I couldn’t let myself get angry at my dad for endangering

himself in order to save a stranger. I couldn’t let myself go to
the strange and desolate place of resenting my father. He had
been my hero since I was able to walk. So instead, I needed to
hate Carter. I needed to hate him so that I wouldn’t hate my
dad for leaving me. It wasn’t rational, but I wasn’t trying to

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be. I was just trying to outwit my own emotions and I would
do what I had to do.

Ginny stood up, squeezed my shoulder gently and went

inside, leaving Delaney and me alone. Well, almost alone. I
could feel Samuel nearby.

“You think I’m wrong, don’t you?” I asked Laney softly.
“No. Feelings are never wrong. People can’t help how

they feel; they can only help how they react.” Her voice was
gentle. And wise beyond her sixteen years. Maybe she really
was a sage.

“Wow, Lane, that’s so…insightful. Did you come up

with that on your own?” I couldn’t take the sympathetic tones
much longer; I had to bring some levity in to help clear the
air. She took my cue.

“No, I got it off Dr. Phil. But he’s never wrong!” She

laughed and then looked at me again contemplatively, as
though she were dissecting my thoughts with her eyes.

“Seriously, Whit. I have to say this. I saw Carter’s face. I

could tell that’s it’s killing him. I barely even know him and I
could see that.” I nodded wordlessly, watching the beads of
condensation run silently down my glass and pool on the ta-
ble. I knew she was right. But I knew with just as much cer-
tainty that it didn’t matter to me right now. I needed to be-
lieve that Carter Kelly had killed my dad just the same as if he
had pointed a gun at him and pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t fair and I knew that. And how could I explain

something so illogical to Laney? I couldn’t. She wasn’t in my
shoes. She couldn’t understand. There were a lot of things

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that she couldn’t understand, but then again, I hadn’t tried to
explain, either. Maybe I should at least try.

“Laney, I’ve got to finish was I was saying on the boat…”
She waited expectantly, our conversation already a sim-

ple memory for her, overshadowed by my revelations about
Carter’s identity. I couldn’t blame her; she didn’t know the
significance of what I had been trying to say. She didn’t know
why I had brought it up in the first place.

“Delaney, I know that God is real. I never did before, but

I do now, because I feel Him all around me.” I decided not to
jump off the deep end and explain in detail about Samuel. Or
about my mom, either, but I wanted her to hear the truth,
even if she chose to not believe it. If God wanted to reveal her
guardian to her, He would do that. It wasn’t my place.

“I don’t know why He lets bad things happen, or why our

plans seem all screwed up sometimes, but I do know that He
is out there somewhere.”

She stared at me silently, probably questioning my sanity

or at the very least, my reasoning. “Okay, Whitney. Thank
you for…sharing. I honestly do try to believe that, too.”

My phone beeped. I pulled it from my pocket and flipped

it open to find a text from Brady.

R U home?

Laney watched me with one eyebrow practically raised

into her hairline. It looked as though she had been at it again
with the tweezers. I ignored her stare and answered his text.

No. Why?

I miss U. I thought I might come over?

Yes. Please. I al-

most exhaled with a relief that I hadn’t realized I felt. I had

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missed him too without even realizing it. It was strange how
quickly I had come to feel close to him, to rely on him to lift
me up. I texted him back.

Please do. I’m at Laney’s- will b home in a bit.

I stood up. Laney watched me silently, wanting to ask

questions, but for once in her life refrained from vocalizing
them. I handed her my empty glass and then bent down to
hug her quickly.

“Thanks, Lane. I love you; you’re the best. Call you

later?” She nodded and I ducked out the door, walking in a
clipped pace toward home. I would have run if it wouldn’t
have made me feel desperate.

I caught a glimpse of a black t-shirt sitting on my porch

steps as I approached. I smiled- he had beaten me here. I prac-
tically bounded the rest of the way, anticipation building
within me, and then pulled up short when I realized it wasn’t
him.

Carter was waiting for me. He had changed from his

swim trunks into khaki shorts, a t-shirt and black flip-flops.
His dark hair was dry now, but the expression on his darkly
handsome face was still the same. Apologetic. I shook my
head. I needed more than that.

“What are you doing here?” My words stabbed through

the air like icicles.

“Waiting for you.” His words were as soft as mine were

sharp.

“I can see that. Why?”
“Because I need to say something to you. Will you

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please listen, just for a minute?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to turn around and walk

away, but there was a pleading in his voice that I couldn’t ig-
nore. My attitude toward him was iniquitous, completely un-
fair. I knew that. Laney’s voice rang in my memory…

People

can’t help how they feel- they can only help how they react

. I

truly didn’t want to be a bitter person. Carter’s voice was
sincere. His expression was remorseful. I stopped moving.

“I’m listening.” I couldn’t quite get the ice out of my

voice, but at least I was standing there. He couldn’t expect
much more than that.

“Okay.” He suddenly seemed flustered as though he

didn’t know where to start, as if he hadn’t been expecting me
to listen.

This didn’t fit with the image of him that I kept in my

head: the cocky, arrogant Carter. The Carter with the dark
hair slanted down over his eye and the heat-filled glare. This
wasn’t him. This was contradictory.

“Okay. I want you to know that if I could change every-

thing, I would.” His voice was low and husky. “I hate what
happened. I don’t know how it happened, and this will
probably make you mad, but I don’t even remember much.
The details are gone; it seems like a blur to me. I’m an excel-
lent swimmer. It shouldn’t have happened.”

He rubbed his forehead with long fingers, as though he

had a tension headache. “I couldn’t even bring myself to go
into the lake again for weeks, not until today, in fact. I can’t
tell you how sorry I am. There aren’t words.”

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He studied me with his intense dark eyes and I found that

I couldn’t find it within me to continue hating him. This
Carter was completely different than the one I thought I
knew. This Carter was vulnerable, sorry and so…human. His
face was tortured as he spoke and his voice split a couple of
times from the weight of his words. It was obvious that he
lived with what had happened on a daily basis. He hadn’t just
put it out of his mind like I had assumed.

It had been so traumatic for him that he had blocked it

from his memory, just like I had blocked his face from mine.
That had to mean something, right?

I took a step closer, just a small one.
“Okay.” I murmured. “I know it was an accident.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “I

can’t forgive myself. It shouldn’t have happened. Period. I’m
a swimmer, a good one. I shouldn’t have been in distress and I
shouldn’t have fought against your dad when he tried to help.
I know better than that. I wish I could remember what was
going through my mind, but I just can’t.”

Pity flooded through me in a warm wave. He was hurt-

ing, too. I couldn’t imagine living with the guilt of knowing
that someone was dead because of something that I had done.

“My dad died to save you. That means something, something

big. You have to forgive yourself and move on, and then make
your life something great so that it was all worth something.” That
seemed important. My dad couldn’t have died for nothing. Carter
needed to make sure of that. He watched me carefully speak
every word as he stared up at me from my top step.

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He flashed a brief smile, which disappeared as quickly as

it emerged. He had a cleft in his chin that I had not noticed
before.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” His dark eyes as-

sessed my face, searching for any sign of acquiesce.

I tried to nod, but found that I still couldn’t.
“I’ll try. I will. I don’t want to carry this anymore.”
I sat weakly down on the step next to my dad’s killer. I

would have to stop thinking of him like that because that cer-
tainly wasn’t going to help with the process.

“If you can, I’ll be impressed.” He studied me carefully.

“When my mom died, I was furious at the entire world for at
least a year. I was a punk; I made it even harder for my dad
than it already was. But I was just so mad at everything…and
everyone.”

Surprise filtered through me. “Your mom died? I didn’t

know that. Miranda said that you and your family had moved
here from Chicago, so I just assumed that she meant your

whole

family.”

He nodded slowly. “What’s left of my family moved here.

My dad, my sister and I. I think my sister, Mia, will be in your
class next year. My mom died a year ago from cervical cancer.
She was sick for quite a while; she fought really hard. Dad wanted
to move away and get a clean start, away from everything that
reminded him of sad things. He took it as some sort of weird sign
that I had almost drowned here, but didn’t. So he started thinking
that this was the place where we should get a new start. I was
against it, though. I didn’t want to run into

you.

”

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“How did you even know about me? You were out of it

that day.”

“I saw you waiting on the beach while the paramedics

were with me. I saw your face and your little sister’s. And I
never wanted to have to face you and let you look at me like
you looked at me earlier.” His voice cracked, but he stared at
me steadily.

“I read the article in the paper about your dad and how he

had saved me. I remembered your name, but I didn’t need it.
I have never been able to get your face out of my memory.
I’ve even dreamed about it. Then when we actually moved
here… I guess I just wanted you to hate me. I felt like I de-
served it.”

“Carter, I…”
Brady’s cheerful voice interrupted my statement and my

train of thought. He confidently strode up to the porch and
stood still at the bottom of the steps, his gaze fixed upon
Carter.

“Hey, Whitney,” he greeted me, his eyes still on Carter.
“Hi,” I answered softly, not sure how to handle the situa-

tion. Brady looked curious, but not worried. Carter seemed
hesitant as though he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go. I had
a feeling that he wasn’t finished talking yet, that he had more
to say.

“What’s going on?” Brady asked.
I guess he could feel the uncertainty in the air, too. His

electric blue eyes searched my face for an answer. I wasn’t
sure what explanation to give him.

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“Um, Carter wanted to talk to me about something. He

knew my dad.”

It was the truth, sort of. He had been with my dad for a

few minutes, even though I couldn’t say that they had actually
formerly met.

“Really?” Brady turned to Carter with interest. “You

were lucky. I wish I could have met him. The world needs
more people like Peter Lane. It was incredible how he risked
his own life to save a kid that he didn’t even know.”

For a reason that I couldn’t explain, I got the impression

that this was said for my benefit, maybe to make me feel
good. But I didn’t care. It was the truth. The world definitely
needed more people like my dad, then it would be a better
place.

And in that moment, I realized that I couldn’t be angry

with him for dying, even if I wasn’t angry at Carter either.
The idea that I didn’t have to be angry with anyone just
clicked into place as though it had been there the whole time
and I had overlooked it.

My dad died doing something honorable; he didn’t

choose to die and he didn’t choose the situation. But the situa-
tion had been presented to him and he had chosen to react the
way he did. He chose to save Carter’s life. Like Samuel had
said…we all have a choice. Dad had made an honorable
choice. I was proud of him.

“Oh, I know,” Carter answered, bringing me back to the

present. His voice wasn’t cocky or arrogant. It was just softly
matter of fact. “I was that kid.”

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“What the—” Brady moved quickly, shoving him angrily

up against the side of my porch. “And you have the nerve to
be here, to stand in front of Whitney, to breathe the same air?
Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her?”

His voice was instantly furious, his hands wrapped in

Carter’s t-shirt. Carter stood several inches taller, but Brady
definitely outweighed him. They scowled into each other’s
faces like angry pit bulls and I froze in alarm.

“Stop, please. It’s okay.” I moved closer to try and tear

them apart, to push myself in between them, but I couldn’t
wedge myself in.

“It’s

okay

?” Brady turned backward to look at me in-

credulously, his hands still grasping Carter. “Your dad would
still be alive if it wasn’t for this punk!”

It registered with me that he had used the same name to

describe Carter as Carter himself had used. I wondered how
he would feel about that, if he knew that Carter was sick
about everything, that he was angrier at himself than I could
ever be…but I didn’t think it would matter.

“Get your hands off me!” Carter’s voice was steely as he

shoved Brady’s hands away and wrenched clear from his
grasp.

Brady didn’t appear to have noticed; his attention was

still on me. His anger had shifted to me, as though he couldn’t
believe that I would side with Carter when he was just trying
to act in my best interest in the first place. He looked be-
trayed.

“It’s not okay that my dad is dead, but Carter didn’t pur-

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posely do it. It’s not like he held him under water until he
drowned.” I flinched at my own words. “My dad meant to
save him and he did. The fact that he didn’t come back isn’t
Carter’s fault.” I was just as incredulous at what I was saying
as Brady looked to be. He stared at me in amazement.

“Are you being serious right now?” He continued to stare

at me in shock and I realized that I had finally found his imper-
fection. He had a temper. I should have felt good that it had
flared up in my defense, but for some reason I didn’t. All I
felt was sudden weariness.

“Please. Just stop. He came here to apologize. I don’t

want to talk about this anymore.”

I tugged on his arm and he took a step away from Carter,

as Carter backed further down the stairs. His intense eyes
burned a hole in Brady. Brady obviously didn’t care. He
stepped closer to me and wrapped his arm protectively
around my shoulders.

“You should leave. You don’t belong here.” His words

immediately irked me.

Why did he think he had the right to dismiss someone on

my behalf? Even as I thought the words, I felt a tinge of guilt.
He was just trying to help me, like Delaney. Everyone was
trying to help me. But something about Brady’s attitude had
put my back up. I was entirely capable of deciding who I
spoke with and when. But I didn’t want to make an issue out
of it at the moment. His show of temper had annoyed me and
I just wanted to get away from it. All of it. Including Brady,
for awhile.

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“Actually, I’m tired. Can we take a rain-check, too?” He

looked at me in surprise. I shrugged out of his arm and in-
stantly felt the absence of warmth. What the heck was I do-
ing? But I didn’t take it back. I needed some time alone.

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” He seemed a little hurt,

but I couldn’t think about that. Carter looked inter-
ested…and then satisfied. He was watching me.

“Get some rest, Whitney. I’m sorry about earlier, too.” I

decided he must be referencing when I fell out of the boat af-
ter I recognized him.

“Thanks for helping me. I’m sorry I wasn’t more gracious

about it.”

“You’re welcome, anytime.” He smiled quickly and

walked away. He didn’t look back.

“Are you sure, Whit? I can stay if you like, until your

grandparents get back. Or I can go with you to the clinic?”
Brady was gently persistent. He apparently thought it was a
bad idea to leave me alone. I was just as persistent, though. I
wanted to be alone. Or as alone as I could be with Samuel
around.

“No, I’m fine, really. I think I’ll take a quick nap before

everyone gets back.” Well, everyone but my mom, because
she was stuck in a hospital bed with a demon in her body.

My words seem to soothe him. He nodded understand-

ingly, the anger he had shown earlier completely dissipated, as
though it had never even happened. Well, even though he had a
temper, at least it was just a quick flash. It was like a brief sum-
mer storm, quick and fierce, but over with in a blink.

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He gave me a quick hug. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
I nodded and watched his broad back as he walked down

my driveway. I felt a strange feeling of relief that he was
gone. What was wrong with me? I felt as though I had just
pushed away from the Mad Hatter’s tea table. Nothing was
making sense.

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Chapter 12

Complete Confusion

“Mija?” My grandma’s soft voice interrupted my concen-

tration.

I looked up from where I was curled up with a book to

find her standing in the door of the family room. I smiled at
her endearment—which meant “my girl” or “my daughter” in
Spanish. It was comfortingly familiar; my mom used to use it,
too. She smiled back, but the expression on her face was
marred with concern. Her normally perfectly smooth face
was lined with worry.

“We’re back from the clinic. Ellie and Grandpa are eating

ice cream on the porch. Your grandpa’s worried about you.”

I smiled again, because Grandma always did this. She

never, ever expressed her own concern. It was always
“grandpa” who was worried. She liked to appear that she was
unflappable and collected all of the time. She had no idea that
we all saw right through her.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. What is he worried about?” I tried

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to conceal my smile. She crossed the room and sat lightly on
the end of the chaise lounge where I was sitting. She tucked
her legs elegantly by her side and patted my leg.

“Well, sweetheart, he’s concerned because you’re not

yourself. You haven’t relaxed since we got here, and he wants
you to know that we’re here now. We’re going to take care
of everything. You don’t need to worry.”

I lost all trace of the humor that I had been feeling. They

had no idea what we were dealing with. They couldn’t take
care of it. It wasn’t possible. I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I just…can’t help worrying about

her. It’s been hard lately and…” My voice broke without my
permission.

I sat in silence as I tried to collect myself. I was not going

to cry. I repeated that phrase to myself silently, like a mantra.
Grandma leaned over and took me in her arms, stroking my
hair lightly.

“Sweet girl, you’ve been amazing, so strong! The way

you’ve taken care of everything. Your dad would be so proud
of you! I’m proud of you, too. But you can rest now. We’re
here and you don’t need to worry about anything else.”

Right. Except for one powerful, malicious demon that

had taken residence in my mother’s body, something that I
wasn’t really at liberty to share with anyone. Yeah, I guess I
didn’t have anything to worry about except for that. Her
hands were still stroking my hair, comforting me in the way
that only a grandmother could. I breathed in the scent of
White Diamonds and lay perfectly still in her lap.

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“Grandma, do you believe in Heaven?”
“Of course, mija!” Her tone was surprised at the turn in

our conversation, as though she was alarmed that I would ask
such an elementary question.

“Why do you think that God lets bad things happen?”
“Are you really asking why God allowed your dad to

die?” She was understanding now, her tone gentle, her gaze
soft. She continued to stroke my hair softly and methodically.

“I guess.” Along with wondering why He allowed my

mom to be possessed.

“Sweetheart, God doesn’t ‘allow’ things to happen. He

gives us all free will. He lets us all make our own choices and
then He makes the best out of the consequences.”

“But what about…our plans? Don’t you think that we all

have a plan?” I couldn’t tell her, but I knew for a fact that we
did.

“Yes, I believe that we do. Because I believe that God

knows, even before we are born, what we will do during our
lives, what choices we will make. Because of that, I think he
forms a plan to handle all of our choices, what impact those
choices will make and what good He can arrange to come of
them.”

That actually made sense to me. I would have to ask

Samuel about that later to see if it was accurate. The idea
that God didn’t choose the bad things that happened, that
he only worked to make them count for something
seemed right to me. And it hadn’t even come from the
mouth of my angel; it had come from my grandma. A hu-

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man. I guess humans could be pretty smart, after all.

The house phone broke through my contemplation. I re-

luctantly got up to answer it.

“Whit? You left your phone here. How was Brady?” De-

laney’s excited voice came through the phone so loud and
clear that Grandma heard her perfectly and smiled.

She elegantly walked from the room, apparently satisfied

that I was going to be busy with a normal teenaged activity:
chatting on the phone with my best friend. I hoped that it as-
suaged her worry enough for now.

“Thanks, Laney. I must have set it down right before I

left.”

“Not a problem. I can bring it down. Is your grandma

making dinner tonight?” The hope in her voice was apparent.
Everyone loved my grandma’s cooking.

“Delaney, I just had a great idea. Why don’t you join us

for dinner?” I grinned.

“Wow, that is a great idea. I wish I had thought of it.” I

could hear her smiling, too. She was so transparent. “Be down
in a few.” And she was gone. I anticipated her estimated time
of arrival to be around five minutes, exactly the amount of
time it would take for her to find a pair of flip-flops and in-
form her mother.

I walked into the kitchen to tell Grandma that we’d have

one more for dinner. She looked up from where she was
chopping an onion and smiled gently. “So, Delaney is joining
us for dinner?” She had been listening. I nodded.

“She loves your cooking, like everyone else.” The tanta-

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lizing scent of green chiles wafted over me. “What are you
cooking?”

“Tamales. Does that sound good?” My grandma made

everything from scratch. She knew that her homemade tama-
les baked in cornhusks was my favorite thing on the face of
the planet. She must really want to cheer me up. I gave her a
tight hug.

“It sounds delicious. Thanks for talking to me, Grandma.

You made me feel better.”

“Well, that’s my job, mija. I’m glad it helped.” And it

really did help. She had no idea how much.

I heard the front door swing open. I had been right; it

had taken her almost five minutes exactly. Delaney’s nose led
her directly to the kitchen. She burst through the door and
stopped beside me, her dark red hair tied back in a loose po-
nytail.

“Tamales!” She ran to my grandma and squeezed her.

“My favorite! You’re a Goddess, Grandma Ava!” Grandma
smiled and shooed us out of the kitchen good-naturedly.

“If you girls want to eat at a decent time, I need to get to

work. Why don’t you go for a walk or something? Dinner
will be ready in a couple of hours.”

As we walked across the front porch, we found Grandpa

and Ellie on the porch swing where they were fast asleep.
Ellie was sprawled against Grandpa’s chest, his big wrinkled
hand curved protectively around her back. It was so good to
have them here. It was nice having one less thing to worry
about; Grandpa watched over Ellie like a giant Venezuelan

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hawk. We tiptoed quietly past and down the stairs.

As we continued our stroll across town, Delaney contin-

ued drilling me about Brady and I filled her in on the run-in
between Brady and Carter.

“Holy crap, Brady grabbed Carter? Like, he literally got

into his face?” I wondered briefly as opposed to what figura-
tively, before I nodded. I could tell that she was impressed.

“Wow. He’s really into you.”
“I know. But it actually made me feel weird. I didn’t like

it. He seemed… different.” There was going to be no way I
could describe to her how quickly his anger had appeared and
then disappeared, like a flash grease fire. Like a switch turning
on and then off.

She contemplated that. “You know, it might be that he

was just being protective. He knows better than a lot of peo-
ple what you are going through. He probably just put himself
into your place and tried to imagine what you were feeling
like…and then it just ticked him off.”

Maybe she was right. But I still couldn’t help being an-

noyed by it.

“What do you think about Carter? That was pretty brave

of him, to wait for you at your house like that. I wouldn’t
have had the guts, not with the way you were screaming at
him out on the lake.” She was right about that. I definitely had
to give him credit for that.

“I’m not sure what I think about him right now. When he

was here, I saw a side of him that I hadn’t seen before; it sort
of changed my opinion. He seemed a little bit like a hurt little

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boy. I didn’t expect that and I didn’t know that his mom died.
Maybe he’s the one who understands what I feel like better
than anyone.”

I didn’t have to explain to Delaney that I was comparing

him to Brady. She was nodding already.

His face flashed back into my memory: the expression

that he had when he mentioned his mother. I knew that he
knew what I felt like. It had been blatantly apparent, that dev-
astating ache. He hadn’t tried to convince me, it was just
there...on his face, in his voice. And when I thought about
him now, I didn’t get angry.

I felt sympathy. Empathy. Understanding. And the over-

whelming urge to try to help soothe the sadness that I knew
lurked within him. I knew it because it was inside me, too. I
just wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him that
everything would be okay. Even though I knew it probably
wouldn’t be. That phrase “Time heals all wounds” wasn’t
proving to be true so far.

“You know what, Whit? So much has happened lately.

You don’t really need to sort it all out right this second. You
can just let it ride and see what happens.”

She was right. She had been right a lot lately, but I wasn’t

going to tell her that. She would hold it over my head for the
rest of eternity. I had to admit though, that her effervescent
personality actually cloaked a very intuitive person.

All around us, the town was bustling with normal sum-

mertime activity. As we strolled past the harbor, I glanced
down the beach which was littered with brightly colored

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beach towels and sunbathers. Didn’t they get the memo that
it was unhealthy to bake in the sun? They were all going to
look like saddlebags someday.

The glistening water next to them was quiet and still to-

day. It gently lapped against the tall weathered legs of the pier
as we crossed over the boardwalk. Today was definitely not a
red-flag day for the beach. It was safe for anyone who wanted
to swim. All around us, sunburned tourists were swarming in
and out of the local shops that lined the sidewalk, carrying
souvenir bags and ice cream cones.

I was just smiling at a little boy with a huge stick of cot-

ton candy that was bigger than he was when I noticed Carter
sitting at a table at the Sandwich Hut. I started to lift my hand
to wave, when I noticed that Courtney and Brandy were sit-
ting across from him. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly,
drawing the air in over my teeth in a long pull.

I opened them again and they were still there. My eyes

had not been deceiving me. I realized that I had been hoping
that they were. A pit began to form in my stomach. I had
been wrong about him. Anyone who could enjoy the Mean
Queens’ company was not someone that I wanted to know.

Delaney followed my stare and I heard her gasp.
“Whitney, what do you think they’re doing? Maybe it’s

not what it looks like.”

“How can it not be what it looks like? It is what it is.

Carter’s having dinner with Courtney and Brandy. He
doesn’t look like he is being held there against his will. I
don’t see any handcuffs.” My voice was derisive as I

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watched him talking with Brandy.

We weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying,

but I could see Courtney tossing her hair over her shoulder as
she laughed. Gross. I’d seen enough. I made that determina-
tion just as his intense dark eyes met mine.

I turned away abruptly and began walking in the other di-

rection as quickly as I could without plowing down the tour-
ists. I would not let him see that it had upset me. I actually
felt a little foolish that I cared, but I couldn’t help it. It had
been such an error in judgment. I really had thought that he
was decent. Delaney was keeping pace with me, for once not
saying anything. She didn’t have to; she knew what I was flee-
ing from.

“Whitney!” A strong hand clutched my elbow. I turned

to find Carter staring at me in confusion. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?” I decided to play

dumb. I couldn’t quite make my tone match my nonchalant
question, though. The acid that it contained made him raise
his eyebrows.

“What did I do? I thought we were on the way to being

okay…” He trailed off as he tried to make heads or tails of my
glacially cold expression.

“Um, I think it just threw Whitney off because you were

eating with Courtney and Brandy. We don’t usually hang out
with the same circle of friends as they do.” Delaney knew I
was floundering and tried to come to the rescue. Unfortu-
nately, I had wanted him to think that I didn’t care.

“Delaney, Carter’s free to choose his own friends. It’s

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none of my business who he hangs around with. If he wants to
slither around with snakes, that’s his prerogative, even if he

will

get bitten. Snakes have fangs.”

He was staring at me now with a look of barely concealed

amusement. In my agitation, I was trying hard not to notice
how well he filled out his black t-shirt. He wasn’t bulky like
Brady; instead he was leanly muscled and tall. Wide shoul-
ders, chiseled jawbone, straight nose, smoldering eyes. His
eyes got me every time. And now, as I looked into them
again, I found them filled with humor. He stepped closer to
me.

“Whitney… Are you jealous?” His voice was low, husky

and incredulous. I had not noticed before how sexy the huski-
ness of his voice was. It was difficult to ignore.

“Of course not!” I snapped. “I don’t care what you do!” I

sounded too much like a petulant child for my taste, but I
couldn’t recall the words. They were already out there-
lingering in the air between us.

“Because…” And he stepped even closer. “It sounds like

you are.”

Over his shoulder, Courtney and Brandy were watching

us with unconcealed malice. They would gladly dance on my
grave after running me over in cold blood if the opportunity
presented itself to them.

“Carter, seriously, I wouldn’t waste my time on anyone

who swims with sharks.”

“I thought they were snakes?” His eyes twinkled quickly

before he turned serious.

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“Whitney, I honestly don’t even know them. I’m new

here, remember? I was sitting at that table eating alone and
they walked up and introduced themselves and sat down. I
didn’t invite them.”

I studied his face. With an inward sigh of relief, I decided

he was probably telling the truth. Courtney had a radar for
testosterone, and she would definitely gravitate to a good-
looking new guy. Carter grasped my elbow as I was consider-
ing this. I glanced at Delaney. I could tell from her face that
she believed him, too.

“Whi—” His words were cut short as what felt like a

semi-truck plowed into us.

I flew backwards, landing on my back onto the planks of

the boardwalk. Luckily, I had enough time for my hands to
break my fall so that I didn’t slam my head into the ground.
Brady had appeared out of nowhere.

The jolt of falling had dazed me for a second and I shook

my head to clear my vision. Brady and Carter were shoving
each other down the length of the pier. The look of rage on
Brady’s face was startling and completely disproportionate
with the situation. A bad temper was definitely his flaw.

“What did you not understand?” He yelled directly into

Carter’s face. “Keep your hands off of her!”

A vein in his temple popped out, making the sneer on his

face even uglier. At the moment, he reminded me of Justin
Graber. Obnoxious, arrogant and…ugly. Not physically, but
he definitely had an ugly side to his personality that I had not
guessed was there. Maybe there was a reason why he and

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Justin were friends after all.

Laney chased after them, yelling for them to stop. I

jumped up and followed her.

“Please, Brady… Stop! This doesn’t make sense. Leave

him alone!” I caught up to him and pulled at his arm, but it
was like trying to force a beam of steel to bend. It wasn’t go-
ing to happen. I was about as effective as a mosquito buzzing
around him. He shook me off and I grabbed him again.

“Brady, leave him alone! He didn’t do anything!”
Carter shoved him back and I could see his muscles flex,

but it was ineffective against Brady’s bulk. He lost another
few inches backward. He was now only a foot or so away
from the edge of the pier.

Brady grabbed his shirt and yanked him close enough to

literally spit words into his face.

“If you ever lay even one finger on her again, I will rip it

off for you.” And he shoved Carter away from him as he ut-
tered the last word.

Carter went flying backward off the edge of the pier,

dropping the twenty-odd feet to splash into the lake below.
Delaney and I both screamed and rushed to peer over the
edge. Within a couple of seconds, he emerged, sputtering,
through the surface.

I spun around and started racing back down the pier, un-

til Brady grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Whitney, he’s not worth it.” His face was calm and back

to normal already, the flash fury of his temper already dissi-
pated. It was incredible to witness, like a brief summer storm

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which had contained a tornado. I shook him off.

“Don’t touch me right now. What is wrong with you?”

His blue eyes stared back at me in confusion, like I was the
one who was wrong, like I wasn’t seeing the situation clearly.

I didn’t wait for his answer. At the moment, I didn’t care

what it was. I rushed down to the water where Carter was
surrounded by a group of by-standers on the beach. I pushed
through and knelt beside him. He seemed to be fine, just
really wet.

“Are you okay?” My shaking voice betrayed how unset-

tled I was.

He nodded. “I’m fine. What is with that guy? Is he on

drugs?” His t-shirt was clinging to him now; his flip-flops
were gone, probably floating in the waves.

“I don’t know what his problem is. I’m so sorry…” I

glanced back up at the pier, and Brady was gone.

Laney skidded to a halt next to me, leaning over to catch

her breath. She had sprinted from the end of the pier.

“Carter,” she huffed. “Do you need a doctor? Dr. John-

son is eating at the Sandwich Hut if you want me to get him.”

He shook his head and then shook his wet hair out of his

face. “Thanks, anyway, Delaney, but I’m fine. All I hit was
water. I’m good.”

He stretched out his legs gingerly before he leaped to his

feet. Delaney started back up toward the pier, presumably to
inform the doctor that his services weren’t required. The
throng of people crowded around us began to break up as
they realized that the drama was over.

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Carter stayed in place, staring at me inquisitively.
“What is with that guy…really?”
“I honestly don’t know. I think he just has a temper.” A

really bad one. “I’m sorry that you were on the receiving end
of it today.” As I spoke, I noticed a red bump forming along
his cheek bone. I reached up to touch it and he flinched as my
fingers grazed the skin there.

“Does that hurt? I thought you only hit water.” I raised

my eyebrows.

“I thought I did. Maybe there was a stick in the water or

something? I don’t know.”

I could literally see the bump swelling as we spoke.
“You need some ice. My house is close; why don’t you

come with me and get an ice pack?” He nodded quietly and
we began walking up to the boardwalk, where we ran into
Delaney. She glanced at him, his bare feet, and then at me cu-
riously.

“Carter’s coming back to my house to get some ice,” I

explained. She nodded and fell silently into step with us. Her
silence lasted a record-breaking twenty-four seconds.

“Whitney, I thought you were exaggerating when you

told me about Brady this afternoon. He

does

have a temper.

What is his issue with Carter? He wasn’t even doing any-
thing!”

“I was with Whitney. I think that was the issue. The guy

is jealous. And he has a temper. A bad combination.” Carter
shook his head.

“But there isn’t anything to be jealous of,” I protested.

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“We weren’t doing anything.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Carter answered in an off-hand

tone. “All he knows is that two times in one day, he showed
up and I was with you. He must have jumped to conclusions.
But he needs to learn to control himself.”

He was right about that. So much for thinking that Brady

was perfect. That illusion had been crumpled up and tossed
away like scribbled-on paper today. We lapsed into a silence
that lasted until we reached my house. We climbed the stairs
and weren’t even halfway across the porch when Ellie rushed
out to meet us.

“Dinner’s ready, Whit! It’s time to eat!” Her eyes were

sparkling. She loved Grandma’s tamales as much as I did. I
turned to Carter.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? Apparently, it’s time

to eat.”

He sniffed the air appreciatively. “I think I’d better. I

could be in shock from hitting my head; food would probably
help.”

He smiled widely and I could tell that fear of shock was

the last thing on his mind.

“Plus, it smells delicious. My dinner was…interrupted a

little bit ago.” He smiled again and held the door open for us
as we walked inside. Grandma glanced at us and didn’t miss a
beat; she just headed back into the kitchen to get another
place setting. She was like my mother in that way; she was a
social bug who loved people. The more the merrier; and she
always made enough food to feed a small army anyway.

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We slid into dining room chairs, Delaney and Carter

each on one side of me. Grandpa Vin stared silently from the
head of the table, before he raised halfway up and stuck his
hand out toward Carter.

“I’m Vincent, young man. And you’ve got a nasty lump

there.”

I had forgotten already. I could see a bluish outline form-

ing around it. It was going to be black and blue soon. I
jumped up to get an ice pack from the kitchen while Carter
and Delaney attempted to explain Carter’s run-in with Brady.

As I was filling a baggie with ice, my phone buzzed in my

pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from Brady.

I’m sorry. Are you mad?

I flipped it closed. It would be

best not to respond right this second. He might not like the
answer.

It buzzed again.

I just couldn’t stand seeing his hand on you. I’m sorry.

I’m protective.

Then again.

Forgive me. Please.

Why did he feel the need to be protective? Carter wasn’t

hurting me. He wasn’t threatening me. He was just touching
me. Jealousy was the word of the day, after all. Carter had
been right. I closed my phone. I didn’t want to deal with him.
I might feel differently tomorrow after sleeping on it, but
right now, I couldn’t deal with the drama. Not today. Even if
he was beautiful. Really, really beautiful.

I carried the ice pack to Carter and listened to Grandpa

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continue his story of how men behaved when he was young.
Being Venezuelan, he apparently applauded the passion that
Brady exhibited, while he also was impressed with Carter’s
tenacity.

“Son, just by being here after two run-ins with this other

guy shows me that you have what it takes to be with my
Whitney.” Grandpa took a drink of lemon tea while I froze at
his words.

“We’re not together, Grandpa.” I felt the need to clarify.

“We’re friends.”

I quickly glanced over at Carter and he had the same

amused look on his face that he had earlier. Delaney was hid-
ing her face in her coke glass. Grandpa stared at me studi-
ously.

“Whitney, never close doors in life. Wait until they close

on their own. Until that time, life is full of opportunity.” Oh
great. Now my grandpa was speaking in riddles. My favorite.
I stared at him in exasperation and a tiny bit of embarrass-
ment. Grandma smiled gently and patted his hand.

“Leave her alone, Vin. She can make her own decisions.”

I stared at her gratefully as she gracefully changed the subject
and we finished eating.

An hour later, I found myself alone on the porch with

Carter. Delaney had reluctantly excused herself to return
home. I knew she was dying to stay, but her mom was ex-
pecting her. I looked up from watching her walk down the
sidewalk to find Carter studying me.

My lips pressed together cautiously. “What?” I mur-

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mured. “Why are you staring?”

He thought for a second, seeming to choose his words

carefully.

“I just find you fascinating. The way that you hold your-

self together and take care of everyone. Trust me, I know
how hard it is.”

“You’ve been talking to Delaney, haven’t you?”
There was no way he could have known about my mom

otherwise, and I could tell from his tone that he knew.

“She mentioned some things earlier, while you were

helping your grandma with the dishes. She’s very protective
of you, you know.”

“I know. We’ve been friends a long time.”
We fell into silence. The air was heavy tonight; the hu-

midity clung to my skin like invisible wet clothing. It was so
heavy in the air that it was almost smothering. I lifted my hair
off my neck to let the breeze blow across my damp skin.

“How’s that forgiveness thing coming along?” His words

were soft, like velvet, the husky edge to his voice ever-
present.

I pondered that for a minute.
“I’ve come to the realization that I had already forgiven

you. I just didn’t know it.”

He stared at me for a long moment before he slowly

nodded. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to
me.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you and tell you that I can forget it.

Because I can’t. Every single detail of that day is frozen in my

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head. But I’m trying to move past it. I don’t hold you respon-
sible, I can honestly say that.”

“So…where do we go from here?” His eyes were bot-

tomless dark pools that I felt like I might tumble into.

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t.

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Chapter 13

Shadows

The doorbell startled me from sleep. My eyes fluttered

open to find Samuel standing guard by my bed, as usual. I
grabbed my robe and clattered down the stairs—my body
hadn’t fully woken up yet. I had lain in bed for quite awhile
the night before, trying to figure everything out—how I felt
about Brady…how I felt about Carter…worrying about my
mother. My topics to choose from were endless and I touched
upon all of them last night. It had taken a while.

I threw open the door without even looking and Brady

was suddenly in front of me. His shirt was the same exact
shade of his eyes: a brilliant, breathtaking blue. He was smil-
ing and holding an iced-coffee. A trick out of my own book: if
you wake someone up, take gifts of the caffeinated nature. I
held my hand out wordlessly for the coffee and he handed it
to me, never losing his smile. I was surprisingly unconcerned
that my hair hadn’t been combed and I hadn’t brushed my
teeth yet.

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“I’ve been texting you. You’ve been ignoring me.” His

smile was still unwavering. He was trying to unnerve me with
his charm, I could tell. Normally, it might work. Not today.

“Yes. I didn’t know what I wanted to say.”
“Do you now?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No.”
His brow wrinkled briefly in agitation, but smoothed al-

most immediately back out. His eyes were understanding.

“I can understand that. I’m sorry that I blew the situation

out of proportion, Whitney. It’s just… I was burned really
badly by a girl in California and I guess I haven’t forgotten it.
I’ll try to be better.”

I studied him. His face showed no sign of dishonesty. I

suppose that being burned by someone would be enough to
instill a sense of suspicion. But that didn’t really explain the
temper.

“Brady, your temper…” My voice trailed off softly.
“I know. I take after my dad, believe it or not. He can get

quite angry too. I’m working on it.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do.
“Are you coming to the clinic to visit your mom today?”
I nodded again. “I think my grandparents are already

gone. I’ll take a shower and get around and then go myself.”

“I’ll probably see you there. My dad has me cleaning up

brush out behind the clinic.” He wrinkled his nose slightly
with distaste.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you there. Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” He flashed his brilliant grin at me and

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I sucked a deep breath in. Yep, he was still gorgeous, temper
or no temper.

I closed the door behind me and wandered into the

kitchen. Sure enough, there was a note from my grandma—
they had gone to the clinic after breakfast. I jogged upstairs to
take a shower. I knew Samuel would be waiting for me and he
didn’t disappoint. He was standing by the windows in my
room, staring down at the yard.

“What do you think about Brady? I know you were there

last night.”

“Of course I was; how do you think you kept from hitting

your head?” He snorted before he turned serious. “I can’t of-
fer you advice, Whitney. I don’t want you to think that it is
based on any true knowledge. I don’t know how anything will
turn out at this point.”

“That’s fine, I’m not asking you to foresee the future. I

just want to know what your impression is. You’re millions of
years old, right? You’ve been around a lot of humans.”

He nodded wryly. “Yes, I have. And they, you, never

cease to surprise me. I don’t know how to advise you about
Brady. It’s clear that he has a temper. You should use caution,
just as you should in every situation.”

Well, that was a vague, unhelpful answer if I ever heard

one.

“Okay, thanks,” I murmured as I started searching

through dresser drawers.

It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t all-knowing. But it sure

would have come in handy right about now. I pulled out a

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pair of shorts and a coral pink top and went into the bathroom
to get dressed. I emerged two minutes later ready to go. I
guess sometimes it was helpful to not be a diva-like model.
Lip gloss and mascara didn’t take long to apply.

My grandparents had taken my dad’s Land Rover, so I

grabbed my mom’s keys off of a hook in the kitchen. She had
chosen her little convertible because she thought it seemed
happy. Bright yellow always seemed happy to me and her lit-
tle yellow car was no exception. It also screamed “Look at
me!” which was in keeping with Mom’s Type A personality.

As I drove down our street, I noticed several of our

neighbors quickly turn to stare, presumably to see if my
mother had come out of the house finally. Apparently no one
knew yet that Mom was in the clinic. If Courtney or Brandy
caught wind of it, it would be around town in two minutes
flat.

I continued idling slowly down the street, remembering

how to drive a manual transmission smoothly. It was like rid-
ing a bike; you didn’t really forget. I put the top down and
turned the radio up, letting the sun shine on my shoulders and
my hair blow in the wind. I could see why my mom liked this
car. Driving it really did make you happy, at least temporar-
ily.

All too quickly, I turned onto the road that led to the

clinic. I had to be honest and admit that I wasn’t looking for-
ward to going. I had been avoiding it for a couple of days
now. It seemed kind of pointless to visit my mom when she
wasn’t even aware that I was there. Plus, being in the same

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room with Malphas completely freaked me out. But I could
tell that my grandparents were starting to wonder why I
wasn’t visiting her.

While I was thinking about that, a large, black, almost

transparent shape drifted quickly across the street right in
front of my car. It didn’t run, walk or crawl. It flitted, like a
shadow. My reflexes caused me to slam on the brakes and I
stared breathlessly as the diaphanous black form slithered into
the ditch next to the road and hovered directly above the
ground as it disappeared behind Dr Parker’s clinic, dragging
its tail behind it.

My breathing quickly sped up and I found myself trying

not to hyperventilate as I leaned over the wheel. What the
hell was that? It wasn’t a person or an animal. It was literally
as though a shadow had lifted itself off of a wall and become
mobile.

I suddenly realized that the engine was quiet. I had killed

the car when I slammed on the brake, because I had forgotten
to push in the clutch at the same time. As I sat trying to col-
lect myself, willing my breathing to slow to a somewhat nor-
mal pace, my door was suddenly wrenched open. I gasped
and tried to scramble to the other side of the car, away from
whatever was trying to get in.

Brady’s face leaned in, filled with concern.
“Whitney? Are you okay?”
I breathed slowly, sucking the air in and out as evenly as I

could make myself, while my heart thudded wildly out of
control. I nodded. Cleansing breath in, cleansing breath out. I

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gave up; that was never going to work. He looked at my face
in shock and then pulled me out of the car, drawing me to
him. As he held me against his chest, I allowed myself to relax
as I inhaled his cologne. His chest was solid as a rock. He
wouldn’t let anything get to me.

After a second, I backed up a step. “Were you behind the

clinic just now?”

He nodded, confused by my question.
“Did you see anything strange?”
He looked even more confused as he shook his head.

“No. Was there something to see?”

Okay. He hadn’t seen it. But I knew that I had. My hands

were shaking and I could feel my body tremble. I felt the be-
ginnings of hysteria welling up and I did my best to tamp it
back down. There was no reason to freak out now. It was al-
ready over with. Whatever it had been, it was gone now.

“Whitney, what happened? What can I do?” He seemed

desperate to fix the situation for me as he stroked my back
with his hand, trying to soothe me.

“I’m sorry, it was nothing. I thought I saw something,

but I guess I didn’t.”

“What’s wrong with your car?” He was looking at it

questioningly.

“I killed it.”
He stopped looking for the source of a mechanical prob-

lem and grinned widely.

“Remember me saying that I wouldn’t believe everything

I heard about women drivers? I take that back.”

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I shook my head and rolled my eyes, letting that one

slide. How could I say anything? I had killed it, definitely a
rookie mistake. Granted, many people would have done the
same thing in my position, but I couldn’t elaborate on that for
Brady. He hadn’t seen what I had.

“Want me to park it for you?” He didn’t wait for me to

answer, instead just slipping into the driver’s seat. The car
roared right to life as he turned the ignition. I watched him
slide the car easily into a parking space as my eyes darted sus-
piciously toward the pond behind the clinic. There was still
nothing there.

“Nice car!” he mentioned as he tossed me the keys. I

couldn’t help but smile a little. Guys were all the same.
Sports, cars, and girls. If they had at least two out of the
three, they were happy.

We walked into the clinic together. Ellie was sitting at a

little table just inside the door, working on a puzzle with El-
eanor. She was curled over it in extreme concentration. Like
everything else, she was taking it seriously. She glanced up
when she heard the door click shut.

“Whitney!” Her eyes sparkled as she jumped up and ran

to hug me. “We didn’t want to wake you up. Grandma said
you haven’t been sleeping well.” I hadn’t realized that anyone
else had noticed.

“It’s okay, monster. How’s Mom?” Still possessed by a

demon?

“She’s still asleep. Dr. Parker said that she needs to rest,

but that he’ll start wanting her to wake up soon.”

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“Are Grandma and Grandpa in with Mom?”
She nodded before she skipped back to her chair to con-

tinue working on her puzzle.

Eleanor smiled gently at me as I walked past. Great. I

could see it coming already. Apparently, I was no longer
“Whitney Lane, the girl whose dad died in the drowning acci-
dent.” Now I was “Whitney Lane, the girl whose Dad died in
the drowning accident and then her mother was committed.”
Perfect. I shrugged it off. There wasn’t a thing I could do
about it.

I poked my head in my mom’s room, as Brady waited

behind me. Grandpa was dozing in his chair already and
Grandma was reading

The New England Medical Journal

Mom. I guess she wanted Mom to keep up with breaking
news in the medical world. She stood up to hug me as I
walked through the door.

“Mija! I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to wake you

when we left. Your mom is still resting comfortably.”

My gaze shifted to my mom; she was motionless with a

blue blanket pulled up to her waist and a needle still stuck in
her arm with fluid dripping through it. Her hair was braided
now, so Grandma had apparently been combing her hair. I
shuddered to think of Grandma in such close proximity with
Malphas, but what could I do? I couldn’t say anything. No one
would believe me.

It was the shortest visit on the record books, I am sure. I

stayed for the smallest amount of time as I could get away
with without raising my grandparents suspicions. I wasn’t

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there an hour before I started pleading off.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I still didn’t sleep well last night

and I have a headache. I’m going to go back home and take a
nap, I think.”

Her face was instantly concerned. She put her hand on

my forehead.

“Do you feel okay, Whitney? Or are you just tired? You

look a little pale.”

“No, I feel fine. I’m just exhausted.”
“Okay, sweet girl. Go get some rest. We should be back

home by dinner time, okay?”

I nodded as I bent to kiss my grandpa’s cheek. He was

still asleep in his chair. I could see from the window that
Brady was out back, pulling dead shrubbery out of the land-
scaping and putting it into a big pile.

As I walked through the lobby, I bent down by my sister.

“Ellie, I’m going to go take a nap. Do you want to stay here
with Grandma and Grandpa or come home with me?”

She thought for a second. “I’ll stay here and finish my

puzzle. Is that okay?”

“Of course, monster. I just thought I would ask. I’ll see

you in a bit!” She nodded and I continued out the door. I qui-
etly closed my car door so that Brady wouldn’t hear me leave.
For some reason, I just wanted to be alone again.

* * * *

When I woke up from my nap three hours later, the

house was still quiet. My grandparents weren’t home yet.
They were certainly having a long visit with my mom today.

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Samuel was nowhere around, either. I yawned and stretched
out in the sun on my bed. I glanced at my phone on the night-
stand. I didn’t even bother to check and see if anyone had
called. I was reveling in my solitude.

Which, of course, was short-lived. Samuel was sitting on

the edge of my bed three minutes later. He sat stiffly, his
slender fingers folded on his lap.

“How are you?” he questioned, his aquamarine eyes tak-

ing in my mood.

“Great. How else?” I shrugged my shoulders and tried to

put off an aura of nonchalance. Apparently it didn’t work. He
looked at me doubtfully.

“Where have you been, anyway?” I asked him. I hadn’t

felt him at the clinic, which was unusual.

“Reconnaissance.” I could tell from his expression that I

wasn’t going to get more than that, so I didn’t push it. In-
stead, I just sighed and stood up. I knew that I must look like
a mess, so I grabbed a brush and ponytail holder from my
dresser.

“Samuel…how did everything get to be such a huge

mess?” I practically sighed the question. It was all so…con-
suming.

“I’m sorry, Whitney. I know this is hard for you. It’s

confusing, frustrating, frightening...”

“Yeah, all of which you don’t feel yourself. Ever.” Which

was unbelievably unfair. “Where have you been lately?
You’ve been gone so much; today at the clinic, I saw some-
thing really strange. And I fell out of the boat on the lake the

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other day. I didn’t feel you there, either. That’s unlike you.”

“I was with you today; I just wasn’t in your car. And I

was out there on the water with you, too. You were never in
any danger. I held you up until Carter got to you. That kid
can really swim!” Yeah. Except for one significant day.

He observed my expression. “Remember what I told

you, Whitney. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

“What does that mean? Why do you always speak in rid-

dles?” Today was so not the day for this. Even though I was
well-rested from a perfect nap, I wasn’t in the mood to deci-
pher cryptic angel puzzles. Frustration over my current situa-
tion seemed to be my constant companion these days.

“Because I’m not always able to tell you what I want to.

Sometimes, I just pray that you’ll figure it out.”

“Well, I’m not that smart, okay?”
My voice broke and I collapsed on my bed, hugging my

pillow as hot tears ran down my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized
how on the edge I was. My frustration won out and I just
couldn’t take it. Not one more thing. I hadn’t asked for this, I
didn’t want this, and I was done trying to figure it out. Ex-
cept…a vision of Ellie’s little hand floating on the water
emerged into my head. Oh Lord. I couldn’t be done. Some-
one had to figure it out in order to keep her safe. My tears
kept streaming.

I felt Samuel’s hand patting my shoulder, like someone

reassuring a scared dog. Since he didn’t have some of my
emotions, he was a little awkward around me when I ex-
pressed them. I brushed his hand away.

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“It’s okay. I’m fine. Just a moment of weakness.” I sat up

and smoothed my hair back, then grabbed a tissue from my
nightstand as I pulled myself together. I glanced at the clock.

“I don’t know what is taking my grandparents so long!

It’ll be dinner time soon.” I pondered for a second and then
decided that maybe I should go back to the clinic and meet
them. Poor little Ellie would be completely stir-crazy by
now, closed up all day. The thought of her so close to Mal-
phas made me shiver.

I grabbed my cell phone to call them. No signal. I stared

at it. That was strange; I had always had a clear signal in my
room before.

“It’s me.” I glanced at Samuel to find that he was gestur-

ing to my phone. “When I’m in human form, I block your cell
reception for some reason. I don’t know why.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. It would have been nice if he

had mentioned that little tidbit before. But at least it cleared
that little mystery up. There wasn’t anything wrong with my
phone. The reason it hadn’t rung all of those times was be-
cause he had been with me.

Samuel’s demeanor suddenly changed completely. He

visibly stiffened as he stood by my bed.

“Your plan is unfolding.” His statement was as firm and

quiet as it was sudden. But he didn’t have to repeat it.

“What do you mean?” I was startled and searched his

calm face. “How is it unfolding? Can you tell me? You can see
more now, can’t you?”

He nodded silently and then bounded over my bed so fast

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that I didn’t even see him moving. He was suddenly next to
the door. “You need to go back to the clinic. Now.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I jumped up, grabbed

my cell phone and keys, and fled for the door. I threw open
my mom’s car door and flung myself into the seat. As I
rammed the keys into the ignition, my cell phone beeped. I
had a signal now.

An ominous feeling that I couldn’t explain filled my heart

and I was overcome with the knowledge that I needed to pick
it up and look at it. The message on the screen told me that I
had four new texts. I pushed the “read” button with shaking
hands. And then gasped. All four texts were from my
mother’s phone and said the same thing. “I have your sister.”

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Chapter 14

A Knife in the Back

“Slow down!” Samuel commanded me, as I gunned my

mom’s little car and flew down my street. Thank God my dad
had made sure that I knew how to drive a stick shift. I thought
it was a useless skill at the time, that I would never need it. I
was wrong. I rammed the gears into place, one after the other
as the needle on the RPM gauge bounced into the red.

“Slow down!” he repeated, more insistent this time as the

car lurched through a dip in the road. “You aren’t going to
help anyone if you have a wreck or blow the engine. It will
just slow us down.” His voice was calm. He was entirely in
control of himself.

“How can you be so relaxed?” I shrilled. My voice had an

element of hysteria in it. “Malphas has my sister. I know you
said that dying is not something to dread, but I know now that
there are things worse than that.”

Like being possessed by an evil presence. My mom’s

eyes, filled with evil, flooded my memory. I stomped on the

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accelerator. The engine roared in reaction and the little car
raced toward the clinic.

“Whitney, I’m calm because I can see your plan now.

However it turns out, it will be for the good. Don’t you un-
derstand? They can’t win. Not in the end.”

The end wasn’t what I was concerned about. I was con-

cerned with the

now.

I was concerned with making sure my

sister wasn’t possessed or killed by a malevolent demon
prince.

We drove the rest of the short way in charged silence as I

tried to envision the nightmare that might wait for me when
we arrived.

The little car shrieked into the clinic’s parking lot, lung-

ing into a parking spot. I leaped out, racing through the
doors. And stopped. Everything around me was completely
still. Not a sound. No music, no shuffling of footsteps, no
beeps from machines, no Eleanor rustling papers at her desk.
Nothing. The nothingness filled me with apprehension so
thick that I could taste it in my mouth. Three hours earlier,
this clinic had been bustling with life. I felt Samuel with me as
I raced toward my mom’s room.

Her bed was empty and unmade. The IV lines hung

limply, no longer attached to anything, but the pump hadn’t
been turned off. The clear liquid dripped drop by drop onto
the floor. No one else was in the room. I whirled around and
sprinted toward Dr. Parker’s office. I hoped against hope that
Malphas hadn’t hurt anyone. The door was standing partially
open and there was no noise coming from within. I was a lit-

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tle hesitant to enter, afraid of what I would find. But as I
shoved through the door, I saw that his office was empty, as
well.

I had half expected to find it torn apart. It just seemed

like something an angry demon might do, but it wasn’t. It did
look as though the doctor had left in a hurry, though. His
chair was pushed far back away from his desk and his trash can
was knocked over. Maybe he had needed to run. My feeling
of apprehension grew. Perhaps Malphas had taken everyone
with him, not just Ellie. Maybe everyone was in danger. I felt
dizzy.

As I gazed around me, I noticed a pile of crumpled boxes

spilling from the overturned wastebasket. Out of curiosity, I
took a step closer, bending down to pick one up. It was a con-
tact lens box. Blue tinted. Confusion clouded my thoughts.
Why had Dr. Parker needed so many pairs?

“Why do people wear colored contacts, Whitney?” Sam-

uel was suddenly murmuring into my ear, his strong hand
gripping my elbow.

“To change the color of their eyes,” I whispered. That

was a stupid question.

“Or?” He waited for my human mind to find an alternate

answer.

“Or to hide them?” I whispered, as icy cold fingers of

dread began to curl around my stomach in cold realization.

As I turned to stare in horror at Samuel, he stared back

pointedly, his aquamarine eyes shimmering. His words rushed
through my mind.

My eyes shimmer sometimes because they

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aren’t really mine. It’s just how my real eyes react when I
take human form.

The cold fingers tightened their grip

around my stomach and worked their way up to my throat
until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

They needed to hide their eyes.
I rapidly scanned my memory for more and remembered

what Samuel had said about fallen angels. They could manipu-
late humans, confuse them, seduce them. Their rules were
different. The realization that was slowly forming grew even
colder as it solidified into a conscious fact. My heart was beat-
ing so fast that it felt like a continuous fluttering of wings.

The phone on the desk rang loudly, ripping through the

deafening silence and interrupting my thoughts. Every cell in
my body was screaming that it was meant for me. Without
questioning how I knew, my feet guided me numbly and I
picked up the receiver. I didn’t say anything; I just raised it to
my ear. Brady’s voice, stone-cold and disdainful, filtered
through the wire, confirming what my heart already knew.

“Hello, Whitney.” Goose-bumps formed on every sur-

face of my body as his icy voice chilled me to the core. “I see
you got our message.” As he spoke, I felt like someone kicked
me in the stomach, knocking the air out of me.

“That you have my sister? Yes, I got it, all four times.” I

tried to make my voice as cold as his, as icily confident, but
that was impossible. He was a fallen angel. Corruption
coursed through his veins. It was nothing to him that he had
manipulated me, that he had played with my emotions, which
had been fragile in the first place. It meant nothing to him be-

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cause he didn’t have those same emotions himself.

The Brady that I knew didn’t exist. The relationship that

I thought I was forming with a beautiful, almost perfect boy
was a lie. I tried to make my brain accept that incomprehensi-
ble fact. I had meant no more to him than a dead autumn leaf
crunched under his shoe. My stomach was clenched as tightly
as a vise around the knowledge of his betrayal. I felt the im-
pact of it in every centimeter of my body. But even in my
overwhelming shock and anger, my heart reacted with pain. I
couldn’t help it. I was human and my emotions reflected that.

“I thought you were my friend.” I couldn’t keep the

words from coming out. I thought he was much more than
my friend and his deception was too heavy to bear. My words
sounded pitiful, even to my ears. I regretted them immedi-
ately.

“Stupid, stupid humans. It’s almost too easy some-

times…” His hard voice trailed off and I steeled myself.

He wasn’t my friend. He wasn’t who I had thought. It

had all been an ugly lie. But he wasn’t going to beat me. Sam-
uel had already told me—they couldn’t win in the end. And
maybe that was all I had now. Maybe he had beaten me tem-
porarily with his lies, but I could still win in the end.

“You can’t win,” I told him. “You lost the second that

you fell, but you still continue to try. Humans aren’t the stu-
pid ones.”

He paused for only a beat before he laughed derisively,

each note dripping with hatred. It stabbed my heart like a
knife.

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“You have no knowledge of what you speak. Do you

want your sister back alive?” He paused, but didn’t wait for an
answer. The question was rhetorical. “You need to meet us at
the pier tonight at dusk. Step aboard the boat in slip number
twelve. We’ll be there with your sister. You need to bring us
a boat-warming gift. Ask your angel what you should bring.”
The phone went dead.

I remained stunned and unmoving; the phone hanging

from my fingertips. Once again, I had a new reality tumbling
down around me. I struggled to make my brain accept it. My
boyfriend was a fallen angel who had taken my baby sister
hostage. He was working with a demon that had possessed my
mother. It seemed like a script from a supernatural thriller,
but it was real. And it was all because of me; I had allowed
him into our lives... I had given them an opening, just like
Samuel said they needed.

They attack when you are vulnerable. I had felt vulner-

able and alone. Brady had dropped into my life and smoothly
used my tangled up emotions against me. My mother had felt
vulnerable and alone and her depression had quickly escalated
until she wasn’t strong enough to care about anything. They
had used us both.

And now Ellie was vulnerable and alone. I couldn’t imag-

ine her fear and confusion. But I wasn’t going to let them use
it against her. My eyes flashed up to meet Samuel’s black
ones. He took the receiver from my hand and replaced it,
then stood motionlessly at my side, in full guardian angel
splendor and strength. His enormous bronzed muscular frame

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gleamed in the light. He was made for this. It was what he
was created for.

“What do I need to do?” My question was simple.

* * * *

There was an hour remaining until dusk. We quickly

found my grandparents lying in separate beds in the clinic,
hooked up to dripping IVs. Samuel sniffed at the IV bags and
confirmed that they were a harmless mixture of saline and
sedatives. I started to yank the needles from their arms, but
then left them where they were. They would be safer in the
empty clinic in blissful oblivion than they would be anywhere
else for the time being. I didn’t want them to be in danger,
too.

Samuel scooped me up in his arms and before I realized

it, we were standing on my porch. Apparently, angels fly
faster than humans can even blink. We simply disappeared
from one place and then reappeared in another. No wonder
he hadn’t left footprints at the beach. If I lived, I knew I
would find that fascinating later.

For now, though, Samuel had a lot of explaining to do. It

turned out that he had been withholding quite a few details
because of those vague angel rules that I didn’t quite under-
stand. As he spoke now, the intricacies of the plan surround-
ing me,

plan, kept me enthralled.

My dad had been focused on a dig in Israel for the past

two years which was a fact that I was already aware of. It just
never really interested me before. He and Josef had found
quite a few important artifacts throughout those two years,

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but apparently, they had found one of real interest- and they
didn’t even realize the true significance. It held seven demons
captive inside of it. I realized now why I had felt so unsettled
when I had held it in my hands.

My dad had not been an overly religious man and he

wasn’t superstitious either. So, when Josef began coming to
him with strange tales about things that had been happening
around the dig, Dad had brushed them off as local supersti-
tion. Josef hadn’t. He was both religious and superstitious.
Eventually, he narrowed everything down to one common
denominator. The ugly marble disc. Of course, because he
was extremely religious, he knew something that my dad had
not.

It was written in the Bible that Mary Magdalene herself

had been possessed by demons, specifically, seven of them.
The son of God had cast them out. The Bible did not men-
tion, however, what had happened to them afterward.

“Josef came to believe that the seven demons cast from

Mary had been displaced into the disc. The fact that they
found the disc in Magdala, which was where Mary was from,
in combination with the unexplained strange events that kept
happening at the dig site, made it seem plausible to him. Josef
felt an evil presence whenever he was around it, which was
what finally convinced him. And he was right,” Samuel ex-
plained. As he spoke, I shivered. I knew the feeling. I had ex-
perienced it myself when I had held it in my hands.

“Humans should learn to trust their instincts,” he lightly

admonished as he stared at me. I looked away. I didn’t blame

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Josef for taking so long to listen to his gut. I knew from per-
sonal experience that it was hard to tell the difference be-
tween your instincts and pure craziness.

“Josef had several near-misses and started to believe that

his life was in danger. He sent the disc, along with several
other artifacts to your father, because he felt that the disc
needed to be kept from dangerous hands.” He had been right
about that too.

“The next day, he was convinced that he was being

chased by shadows, like the one you saw on the way to the
clinic. And he was. He tried to run, but tripped and fell into a
deep dig.” Samuel was staring past me, as though he was actu-
ally watching it all play out in his head. For all I knew, he
was. And Josef’s death hadn’t been an accident.

“Why did they kill him? He had already sent the disc to

my dad. He wasn’t a threat anymore.” That part made no
sense. Did they kill him just because they could?

“Josef didn’t send a note with the artifacts; he knew that

your dad would think he was being ridiculous. He had
planned to call him and somehow make your father under-
stand the importance of the disc. But he died before he had a
chance.” Samuel’s voice was serious.

“They couldn’t let it remain with your father, either. He

would have taken it to the University where it would have
ended up in a museum. They couldn’t have that. They needed
it.”

“So my dad’s drowning wasn’t an accident, either?”

Shock slammed into my chest like a Mack truck.

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Samuel shook his head slowly.
“I don’t understand. I thought that demons, and fallen

angels, can’t physically harm humans. I thought it was against
the rules.” I had heard that in church once. Had that just been
something that humans had made up to feel safe?

“And that’s correct. They cannot directly physically harm

a human. But they can trick them into harming themselves.”

I was more confused than ever.
“They can do things to overwhelm humans…like taunt-

ing them with visions or appearing to them, which is what
happened to Josef. He saw shadows following him along the
wall and thought he might be losing his mind. He was so flus-
tered as he ran that he tripped and fell.”

Poor Josef. I knew exactly what it felt like.
“A group of them can surround someone with their undi-

luted evil presence, which causes the human to feel dazed and
confused. We call it ‘oppression’. It only lasts for a short
while, but sometimes that is enough to manipulate a situation.

“Carter Kelly is a swimmer and a sailor. Don’t you find it

odd that he didn’t know what to do in a rip current?”

I nodded. I was starting to comprehend now. That part

had never made sense to me, how a competitive swimmer
wouldn’t have known. “He was oppressed, wasn’t he?” I
murmured. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Yes. They overwhelmed him with their presence and

he fell out of the raft he was in. He was confused for a few
minutes, during which time your dad was trying to help
him. Carter wasn’t in his right mind yet, though and so he

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fought hard against your dad.”

I was stunned. It really wasn’t Carter’s fault. And Samuel

had basically told me as much. He said that things were not
what they seemed to be. I just hadn’t realized at the time
what he was referring to.

“Whitney, they knew your dad would be there that day.

Because of your dad’s character, they knew that he would not
stand aside and let someone drown. They were also well
aware of what their presence would do to Carter. They
stacked the deck against your dad that day, and it came out in
their favor.”

I was beginning to realize the vast scope of what dark an-

gels could do for Helel. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t
accomplish if we allowed it. The more I thought about it, the
more frightened I got by the way our individual plans and
their dark plots wove together and intersected.

Dad has started his dig in Israel two years ago. Brady had

come to our school two years ago. That couldn’t have been a
coincidence. They had put their whole scheme into action
way back then. It was almost too difficult to comprehend.

“Why did Malphas possess my mother?” I asked Samuel

softly. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Think about it, Whitney. They need the disc. They

couldn’t just walk up and ask for it. They couldn’t just physi-
cally come into your house without your knowledge. I would
have fought them. The only way they could come in was to
trick you into allowing it. I can’t interfere in your free will.
And they know it. They needed to have some sort of leverage

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over you…so they used your mom.

“And they took human form. One became Brady. He se-

duced you in your dreams, which made you feel closer to him
in real life. And dreams are just one way that they manipulate
you. He also tricked you into believing that he knew what you
were going through, that he had been through it himself.”

More realization settled in around me. He had never had

a brother who drowned. The pieces just kept falling together.
“He took what was personal to you and used it to get to you.
Do you see now what they do?”

I nodded. How could I not? The evidence was right in

front of me.

“He wormed his way into your life so that he had access

to the disc. I couldn’t stop him when you had already given
him permission to be around you. And I couldn’t tell you, ei-
ther.”

“The night that I found Brady standing in my dad’s

study…was he searching for the disc?” I had felt an evil pres-
ence that night, and I had thought I was imagining it.

Samuel nodded. “Yes, he was. I know that you thought it

was safe because of the fact that I wasn’t with you, but I
wasn’t with you because I was watching the threat. I was in
the study with Brady.”

I swallowed hard. How was it possible for one person to

get misled so completely?

“What are we supposed to do with the disc?” I murmured

bleakly, my voice shaking.

“Well, we can’t allow them to have it. If they get it, they

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will release the demons which will be catastrophic on many
other levels.”

“Can we destroy it?” I was only slightly hopeful. I knew

that it couldn’t be that easy.

“The only way it can be destroyed is by God himself, His

Son…or Mary Magdalene, since it was she that the demons
had been cast from in the first place.”

So it was hopeless then. Mary Magdalene was long dead.

And I couldn’t see God himself interfering. It was why He
had created an army of angels in the first place, to take care of
issues like this.

“Is that everything? Or do you know more?” I desperately

hoped there was no more. I didn’t know how much more I
could take.

“Well, there are two more things.”
I braced myself.
“Brady has a personal interest in the disc. His son was a

Rephaim and he is one of the demons being held in the disc.
He wants him back.”

“What is Brady’s real name?” I whispered. I couldn’t ex-

plain why I wanted to know, I just did. It was hard to think of
him as anything but Brady. But Brady had been kind and gen-
tle. And Brady didn’t exist.

“His name is Eligor. Dr. Parker’s real name is Procel.

And Eleanor’s real name is Lillith. They all have specialties
that were an asset on this assignment.”

Assignment. Destroying my life was an assignment. I felt

even sicker. I waited expectantly and then raised my eye-

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brows, urging him to continue.

“Eligor’s specialty is appearing as a white knight, a person

that swoops in to take care of everything. He is very good at
appearing that he is kind and understanding. He is adept at
human insight. Procel’s specialty is in hidden or secret
things.”

Like the disc. Okay, both of those things made sense.

And Brady was extremely good at his talents. He had cer-
tainly fooled me. “What is the second thing?” I was afraid to
know.

“They can’t just command the demons to come out of the

disc. They require a human to send them into.”

I stared at him blankly, not comprehending, while he

stared back.

After a minute, he said gently, “That’s what he wants you

for.”

My blood turned to ice.
“But Whitney, I won’t allow it. It won’t happen.” His

voice rang with the confidence of a warrior. I felt dazed and
confused myself, and they were nowhere near me yet. I had
not even begun to imagine the scope of the danger that I was
in.

It suddenly occurred to me that Samuel had left out Lil-

lith a moment ago. “You never said what Lillith’s talents are,”
I said hesitantly. Samuel didn’t even blink.

“Her specialty is in kidnapping and killing children.”
No wonder he hadn’t mentioned her. My breath froze on

my lips.

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Chapter 15

The Fallen

The sun goes down in glory over Lake Michigan. The

golden warmth of the sun dissipates into an explosion of
warm colors—of amber, gold, saffron and orange hues re-
flecting off the water back toward Heaven. The daily occur-
rence almost seems like a gift that God has given to himself. A
beautiful reminder of earthly goodness…of why He created
us in the first place.

I watched it today with trepidation and fear as I clutched

the ugly marble disc to my chest. Today, the dying light sig-
naled something that surely wasn’t going to end well for me.
The weakening rays of the sun gleamed faintly off of the rows
of boats tucked safely into their slips for the night. Sea gulls
screamed above me. I so hated those birds, even now. I gazed
down the pier at slip number twenty-one.

A large white and blue boat with an enclosed upper deck

floated gently next to the pier. It was the largest boat here.
There were no visible signs of life. I could read the words

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“The Crazy Fate” painted on its stern. Well, that was a sick
joke.

I whispered to Samuel. “Are you ready?”
“Always.” I could hear the grim smile in his voice even

though I couldn’t see him.

We quietly walked down the length of the pier and

stopped in front of the “Crazy Fate.” She bobbed gently as the
water lapped against her bow, as innocuous as every other
boat here. But she was anything but harmless. I knew that. I
took a deep, calming breath and climbed aboard.

Nothing happened. I don’t know what I ex-

pected…maybe the boat to burst into flame as I touched it? It
didn’t. Everything remained still and quiet. No one came to
meet us, so I walked around and descended down a small
flight of stairs into the belly of the boat. I felt a strange invisi-
ble compulsion guiding me in that direction. I also felt as
though I was marching to my own crucifixion. It didn’t help
to realize that I probably was. I opened the door at the bot-
tom of the stairs and felt Samuel looming closely behind me.

“Whittie!” Ellie’s voice cried in relief from across the

room.

As soon as my eyes adjusted to the darkness within, I saw

Ellie seated with my mother/Malphas on a small sofa against
the back wall of the cabin. Three angels were perched like
enormous predatory birds along a short banquette of cabinets
along the other wall. They looked similar to Samuel, but the
aura surrounding them did not exude safety and peace as his
did. The atmosphere here felt like fear and dread. My breath

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seemed to leave me in a whoosh. I swallowed hard.

“I’m here. And I have what you want.” My voice did not

shake. I sounded strong and assured. The exact opposite of
what I really was. I prayed that they didn’t know that.

“So you are…and so you do.” Brady’s chilling voice came

from the angel on the left, the one closest to me. He unfolded
himself from his perch and bounded off the banquette to land
a few feet from me, standing at his full height. He was enor-
mous, like Samuel. His hair was dark blond and curly. Like
Samuel, his eyes were deadly black. Soulless.

I shivered as I looked at him. I couldn’t believe that I had

put myself into such close and personal proximity with
this…thing so many times, and had even enjoyed it. It was in-
comprehensible. He was a monster.

I was suddenly aware that the boat was moving. I didn’t

know how it was happening, but the “Crazy Fate” was defi-
nitely gliding smoothly out of the dock by itself and towards
the bay. I was pretty sure that no one was at the helm.

“Are you afraid,

Whittie

?” Brady asked innocently, cir-

cling where I stood.

“Watch yourself, Angel,” Samuel warned. He stepped

forward and placed himself between Brady and me. I couldn’t
seem to make myself remember that his name was Eligor. His
voice was still Brady’s.

“What are you going to do,

Angel

?” Brady sneered, as he

circled around us like a jungle cat observing his next meal.

I did the simple arithmetic. There were three of them

and one of Samuel. I felt dread develop like a sinking anchor

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in my stomach. I had known this wasn’t going to end well.
But the thought of Samuel accompanying me had comforted
me anyway. He was the strongest thing I had ever seen and in
the back of my mind, I had still believed that he could protect
me.

But as I examined the situation now, I realized that it had

been a delusional comfort, a house of cards. Even Samuel
couldn’t win with these odds. These angels had the same
strengths that he did. And he was outnumbered. My heart
sank quickly in my chest. I was going to fail.

Samuel studied me intently. “Whitney. What am I?”
What the heck was he talking about?
“You’re a guardian,” I murmured.
“That’s right.” And he smiled his brilliant, dazzling smile,

which filled the entire cabin with light.

Every recess of the room was now revealed to me, every

corner, every crevice, every crack. Two other gigantic war-
rior angels were hanging from the back corners of the ceiling.
They dropped lightly to their feet and stood shoulder to
shoulder with Samuel. They had moved so quickly that I
didn’t even register it as they crossed the room.

“Your mom and Ellie have them, too.” He grinned at me

and then turned back to Brady. As he faced him, his smile
changed into something deadly. It reflected off the sword that
he was suddenly holding in his hand. I hadn’t noticed a sword
being in my presence prior to this. Of course, I hadn’t no-
ticed two other guardians in my presence, either. I was
oblivious to a lot of things, apparently.

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Brady unexpectedly lunged at Samuel. It was unexpected

to me, anyway. I gasped, but Samuel had been waiting for it.
He blocked Brady’s advance smoothly and easily. Only the
metallic sound of their heavy swords smashing together in
deafening clangs revealed the lethal seriousness of the situa-
tion. Samuel’s face was impassive and calm while Brady’s was
twisted with malice.

They backed out of the room and up the stairs, their

muscles straining as they lunged at each other, back and forth,
as they went. I quickly shifted my gaze to the other two
guardians. Large and ominous, they each squarely faced the
two remaining fallen angels. I smiled. I liked these odds.

They simultaneously charged at each other, crashing to-

gether in mid-air. Two of them flew up through the ceiling,
throwing the top of the boat to the side like it was cardboard.
The boat rocked perilously from side to side in response, wa-
ter beginning to pour in from the rip in the sidewall.

Water pouring in on me.

This was my nightmare.

The sun was completely gone now and the moonlight

cast an eerie blue light onto the hull, just like in my dream.
The bluish light covered everything, the night engulfing me. I
had never liked being on the water at night…the darkness hid
too much. And I hadn’t even known the half of it before. The
lake was black glass around us, the night even darker above
us. Samuel was in the air, his sword ringing as it connected
with Brady’s. I couldn’t even see the other four angels.

Ellie was absorbing everything in horror as my mother’s

hand remained locked around her arm like a steel tentacle,

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holding her firmly in place on the couch. Malphas’ eyes glit-
tered from behind my mother’s. I could see the evil there and
I knew it wasn’t my mother. But Ellie didn’t.

“Ellie, this isn’t Mom. It only looks like her. You have to

trust me.”

I knew that Malphas couldn’t physically hold her there. It

was against the rules. The only way they had gotten Ellie to
go with them was to trick her. If she got up to come to me,
Malphas couldn’t restrain her. But she thought she was with
Mom. My stomach felt sick. If I couldn’t convince her to
abandon Mom and come to me, it was over. I looked around
me; water was flooding the bottom of the boat. It was past
my ankles now.

“Ellie, I don’t know what she means.” My mother’s nor-

mal voice came from her lips, her eyes turned towards Ellie,
maternal and soft. “Your sister is confused. You’ve got to stay
with me. I’ll keep you safe.” I fully understood now what
Samuel had meant when he tried to explain how demons
could manipulate us into hurting ourselves. I felt like some-
one had just poured ice water down my back.

My mother turned her face slowly back toward me and

Malphas’ eyes glinted sadistically in the moonlight. The hair
raised on my neck. I took a step toward them, not knowing
what I was going to do. Until I realized that I was still holding
the disc. It was the only leverage that I had. How could I use
it? My gaze flitted around the vicinity, taking everything in
while I tried to formulate a plan.

“Whittie…” Ellie’s voice was uncertain.

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Of course it was. She was six years old. To her, a

mother’s directive was absolute, unarguable. And a mother
was someone who would never, ever hurt her. She had no
way of comprehending what was going on here. She was not
equipped to understand and frankly, I wasn’t sure that I was,
either.

“Ellie, please, it isn’t safe here. You need to come to me.

You know you can trust me. You know that I protect you.
Whose bed do you sleep in?” I could see on her face that she
was considering what I was saying. She took a hesitant step
toward me, until Malphas drew her back in with my mother’s
sweet voice.

“Ellie, the boat isn’t safe. Look at the water pouring in!

Stay with me. You can’t cross the boat. Any movement might
sink it. I’ll keep you safe.” As he blatantly lied, Malphas
turned his face halfway toward me again, just enough for me
to see my mother’s familiar smile.

I quickly discarded caution and rushed across the boat,

grabbing Ellie’s arm. I tugged her toward me. I knew Malphas
couldn’t stop me; his weapon was manipulation. He could use
no physical force.

“Ellie, we have to go. Now!” She came with me, but

looked over her shoulder at Mom with a look of pitiful de-
spair on her face. I didn’t want to leave Mom here, either.
But I couldn’t get through to her; I couldn’t break Malphas’
hold. My priority had to be saving my sister. I knew Mom
would want that.

The water was above my knees now and getting higher

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by the second. The boat was sinking. I could feel it dropping
in the water. I had a vision of Ellie’s hand floating on top of
the water. No. Not today. Not ever. I plowed through the
water and dug through a cabinet on the side of the room. I
pulled out a life jacket and strapped it on Ellie.

“We’re going to swim. Okay? You can doggie paddle if

you have to, but we have to swim. You can do this, okay?”
She nodded but kept looking past me to where my mom was
standing in water that was almost to her waist. The boat was
tilting as it sank. Just like in my dream. I fought to find trac-
tion as my feet slipped and slid along the smooth, water-
covered floor. Malphas pasted a terrified expression on
Mom’s face.

“Girls, help me!” she cried as the water rushed around

her. She reached out to us with helpless arms. Ellie unhesitat-
ingly lunged out of my arms to get to her, with the uncondi-
tional love of a child. She couldn’t see the evil glint that shone
from Mom’s eyes as Malphas looked at me.

“No!” I screamed, just as the floor beneath me trembled

as Samuel and Brady’s full weight dropped from the sky onto
the hull of the boat. The force of their landing knocked me to
into the side of the boat, slamming my head into the jagged
remainder of a wall. My surroundings blurred for a second as
the impact stunned me. I leaned into the wreckage as I fought
to clear my vision. I could feel warm blood trickling down the
side of my face.

“Whitney, get your sister and swim!” Samuel’s deep

voice commanded my attention. I stared up at him. He and

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Brady were balanced with perfect agility on the slippery fi-
berglass as they faced each other like hungry lions.

Abruptly, Brady turned to me and straightened out of his

predatory crouch. He grinned widely at me, his teeth gleam-
ing in the moonlight, as he very deliberately plunged his
sword into the bow of the boat. As he pulled it out, water
immediately began filling the gaping hole, weighting us down
even more quickly. It poured in and the boat continued to
sink at a faster pace. Samuel knocked him off the boat and
they continued their battle in the water next to us, hovering
just over the surface.

In the chaos, I heard my mother’s voice. “Ellie, take off

your life jacket. It will make it easier for Mommy to help you
swim.” I screamed again in horror as I watched Ellie’s small
fingers obeying Malphas…as they quickly unclasped the
buckle holding her lifejacket in place as the water swirled
around her. I fought my way through the waist-high water to
get to her.

But she was gone. Water was rushing in from every di-

rection and too many things from the cabin were floating all
around me. Cushions, cups, stray life jackets… I couldn’t see
well enough in the dark, so I just started feeling around with
my hands as I struggled to work my way through the wreck-
age. On the fringes of my consciousness, I registered the
sound of a motor, but I couldn’t focus on it. I couldn’t imag-
ine the need for a motor now; the boat was going down. It
wasn’t going to do any good. The only place the “Crazy Fate”
was going was to the bottom of Lake Michigan.

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I began diving down and trying to feel around on the

floor of the boat for Ellie. She was nowhere to be found. As I
sputtered through the surface of the water, I saw my mom
perched on the tip of the bow, watching me helplessly hunt
for her daughter, her face twisted into a sadistic smile.

“Mom!” I screamed. “I know you are in there. Help

me…please!” Malphas smiled maliciously and I knew that I
was alone. His hold on her was too strong. I continued diving,
emerging empty handed time and time again. She was here. I
knew she was here. She couldn’t have drifted too far. I
pushed my way to the back of the boat and my foot kicked
something. I stopped moving. I knew from my dream what
was going to happen next.

A small white hand floated to the surface. I screamed and

grabbed it, yanking Ellie to the surface. Her face was pale, her
eyes were closed. I knew without even checking that she
wasn’t breathing. I pushed her against the side of the boat,
trying to balance her on the edge while I gave her CPR. It
didn’t work well; she kept slipping to the side and I had to
keep hefting her weight back up. I breathed into her little
mouth and gave her five chest compressions, as best I could.
Was it supposed to be ten? I couldn’t think straight.

“Whitney!” A familiar voice broke through my frantic

concentration with a shout. I looked up from my sister’s life-
less form to find Carter steering a boat right up alongside the
wreckage of the “Crazy Fate”. His boat bumped into ours, the
sound of the motor loudly drowning out Malphas’ shrieks of
rage. It was his motor I had heard.

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“Give her to me!” Carter leaned toward me and held out

his arms. I hesitated. Samuel had told me that things weren’t
what they seemed. How could I be certain that Carter wasn’t
a part of this whole thing, too? I hesitated another second.

“Whitney! Give her here! Your boat is sinking! I can help

her better on this one!” I knew he was right. I couldn’t give
her CPR properly on the rail of a sinking boat. If she stayed
with me, she would die for certain. I looked at him. There
wasn’t anything I could do but hand over her limp body to his
waiting arms. He immediately laid her flat on the floor of his
boat and began chest compressions. I scrambled over the rail
and into his boat, kneeling to breathe into her mouth.

“Please, please breathe. Ellie-bellie…please.” I was beg-

ging in between each breath. My panic and fear made my
words practically incoherent. It almost sounded like I was
chanting instead. The blood from my head was smeared on
my arms and dripped down onto Ellie. I gave her another
breath and was startled to hear a small gurgling cough in re-
sponse.

I pulled back quickly as Ellie’s eyes fluttered open. She

spit water out of her mouth as she sat up coughing. Carter
had a hand on her back, helping her sit upright. She turned
her head and abruptly vomited what had to be two gallons of
water. My sister was breathing. Carter wasn’t one of them. I
had been right to trust him. The realization of these things left
my knees weak with relief.

“Get the disc!” Samuel was suddenly directly over my

head. In my desperation to save my sister, I had lost focus on

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the battle raging around me. “Whitney, get the disc and hand
it to Carter. Now!” Brady swung his heavy sword around
once again, and Samuel lunged backward to avoid the impact.

I looked in the direction that Samuel had gestured

to…and found the disc wedged in the broken wall of the
cabin. I jumped overboard and swam toward it, pulling it
loose. It was cold and heavy in my hands, so heavy that it was
difficult to swim with it. I managed to get close enough to
Carter’s boat to thrust it with all my strength over the side. I
heard the heavy thunk that it made as it fell to the floor and
clung to the side of the boat in relief.

He picked it up and stared upwards at Samuel in disbe-

lief, as I climbed in beside him. I could only imagine what he
was thinking as he witnessed firsthand the presence of a heav-
enly creature. Watching enormous angels battling in the sky
above him was quite the initiation. My introduction to their
world had been calm and tranquil compared to this.

“I have it!” he yelled to Samuel. Of course, he had no

idea what “it” was. He stood motionlessly waiting for further
instruction. He seemed to innately understand that Samuel
was to be trusted.

Samuel heaved his sword like a javelin at the side of the

Crazy Fate, which was only just visible under the surface of
the water. It was almost completely sunk; it would only be
a couple more minutes before it drifted quickly toward the
bottom of the lake to join the thousands of other ship-
wrecks that were hidden there. His sword struck its mark
like an arrow in a bull’s eye, the handle standing tall and

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straight through the surface of the water.

“Break it! Use the sword!” Samuel bellowed from high

above us, before he turned to defend himself against Brady
with his bare hands. I inhaled sharply. This wasn’t good. He
was unarmed.

Carter leaned over and extracted the enormous, heavy

sword from the boat with a great deal of effort. I watched his
muscles flex as he wrestled to free it. Malphas was in the lake
now, treading water next to the sinking wreck.

“Samuel,” he rasped loudly. “You can’t destroy it. Only

one person can do that, and she isn’t here!” He cackled loudly
in triumph. My mother’s face was smug and confident as
Malphas’ eyes glinted in the dark.

“You’re right. She isn’t.” Samuel’s voice was loud and

clear, his own expression confident as he stared pointedly at
Carter. “But a member of her bloodline is.”

I looked in shock at Carter, who was standing in confu-

sion, clutching the sword in his hands. He had no idea what
that meant. Or what it meant to me…that the dark plot that
had loomed around my life for the past two years had been in-
tercepted by good. Carter had been placed into my life for a
reason: to protect me from evil. My plan was becoming visi-
ble for me to see.

“Do it now!” Samuel boomed in a voice loud enough to

be heard in Heaven itself.

Carter tossed the disc in the air and as it spun like a heavy

coin, he impaled it with Samuel’s spear, groaning with the ef-
fort. The marble broke into seven separate pieces as light ex-

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ploded all around us. Horrible keening screeches split the
night. I realized with a shudder that the terrifying screams
were coming from the disc pieces.

I watched as they landed one by one in the water, imme-

diately sinking. I envisioned them drifting to the bottom of
the lake floor and settling into the murky caliginous depths.
They were gone.

Carter dropped the sword on the floor of his boat and

limply stood in place, panting from exertion. Samuel landed
abruptly beside me, as Eligor, Procel and Lillith remained
frozen in the air, all wearing expressions of shock.

“This isn’t over,” Eligor growled at Samuel. I found that I

could think of him as Eligor now. Brady was non-existent.
But before I could think anything else, they were gone. All
three of them had vanished into the night.

I immediately located my mother’s floating inert form in

the water. I saw the tip of a slithering black tail disappear into
the water behind her, like a crocodile diving into a river.
Carter dove from the boat, rapidly swimming to reach her.
He hauled her back to safety, his strong hands clasped under
her arms. She offered no resistance; she wasn’t conscious.

Samuel leaned over and lifted her into the boat, laying

her beside Ellie. Ellie grabbed her hand as Samuel looked at
me. “She’ll be fine now.”

I felt the last pieces of my plan click into place.

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Chapter 16

The Best Laid Plans

We took my mother back to the clinic, where Samuel

had assumed the appearance of Dr. Parker, just for awhile.
We tucked her back into her bed and waited while she re-
sumed consciousness. It didn’t take long. She opened her
eyes, gazing around her in confusion. Samuel had been right.
She had no recollection of anything.

“Where am I?” Her soft eyes looked perplexed.
I whispered assurances to her and then squeezed her arm

gently, leaving Dr. Parker to explain that she had been deeply
depressed and had required hospitalization. I couldn’t bring
myself to stay and hear the lies. As guilty as I felt about lying
to her, we had decided that it was better that she didn’t know
the truth: that she had been overcome by a demon and had
almost killed her daughters. Nothing good could come from
that.

I found Carter in the room next to my mother’s, sitting

next to Ellie’s sleeping form. She had fallen asleep on the way

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to the clinic, the trauma of everything she had gone through
sapping every bit of her energy. Carter’s dark eyes met mine
as I softly entered the room.

“Thank you,” I murmured, putting my hand lightly on his

shoulder. “For everything. You saved all of us tonight.”

He smiled lightly. “Well, I had to find some way to make

you forgive me, didn’t I?”

Warmth spread through me, leaving my fingers feeling

tingly. I had been right; he really did have a nice smile. It felt
nice to be on the receiving end of it.

His expression changed to a serious one. “Whitney, I’m

pretty sure that I’m not crazy. Or at least, I didn’t used to
be.”

This time I was the one smiling. I clearly remembered

that feeling: of trying to talk myself into believing that I was
sane. “Can you tell me what the heck happened tonight?”

“I’ll try. But first, can

you

tell me

how you knew that I

needed help?”

I was confused about that part. Apparently, so was he,

because he looked at me bewilderedly.

“Um, because you told me?” He dug into his pocket and

pulled out his phone. He flipped it open and held it out for
me to see. A text from my phone read:

I need help in the bay.

Hurry!”

I knew that the overwhelming shock that I felt was re-

flected on my face.

“You didn’t send it?” His face was even more confused.
I shook my head. I didn’t even have my phone with me.

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It was on the seat in my mom’s car.

“Well, I went flying out there, just in time to see a sixty

foot boat drifting out to open water. I just somehow knew it
was you. I can’t even explain it.”

Yep, I knew that feeling, too.
I felt Samuel’s sudden presence. I turned to face him and

his appearance as Dr. Parker unnerved me, causing me to
take a step backward.

“Can you—” I started, but before I could even finish my

sentence, my normal Samuel was standing in front of us, star-
ing at me with aquamarine eyes. They shimmered once and I
could see Carter doing a double-take. I smiled. It was enter-
taining to watch my reactions on someone else’s face.

“Thanks.”
Samuel flashed a grin at me. “I told you that you had a

plan.”

I rolled my eyes. “And didn’t I tell you that I’m sick of

hearing about it?”

He laughed and once again I felt like everything that was

good in the world was surrounding me. My chest vibrated
with the resonance of his heavenly grace. I couldn’t help but
laugh too. As I glanced over at Carter, he had the most bewil-
dered look on his face as he laughed right along with us. No
one was immune to it, apparently.

“Your mom is asking for you, Whitney,” Samuel said.

“She doesn’t remember a thing.”

I nodded. “Can you…” I glanced at Carter.
“Yes. I’ll explain. What I can, anyway.”

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I rolled my eyes again and left while Samuel started at the

beginning for Carter’s benefit.

My mom was watching the door anxiously. As I walked

in, her face visibly relaxed and she reached for me. I bent
down and hugged her, overwhelmingly grateful that she was
back to herself.

“Honey… I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I let myself

become so depressed. I’m a doctor; I should have recognized
the signs…” Her thin voice trailed off. “Dr. Parker said that
you took care of me like a protective mama bear.” She smiled
gently. “Thank you, Whit. I don’t deserve you.”

I felt another tug of guilt for not sharing the truth. But I

knew that it needed to remain hidden. If she knew every-
thing, it would only make her feel worse.

“Mom, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. Every-

thing is going to be fine now. You’re going to get better. In
fact, Dr. Parker thinks that you can come home tomorrow
morning after you get a good night’s rest.”

Her face brightened and she tugged me down for another

hug. I had my mother back.

“Is your sister okay? Where is she?” My Mom’s voice was

thick with concern. I took a deep breath. I could never tell
my mother that she had tried to kill Ellie.

“She’s fine, Mom. She’s sleeping. I told her that your

mind was hibernating like a bear so that you could get better.”
The relief on Mom’s face was as apparent as her concern. We
had definitely done the right thing in not revealing everything.

“Whitney, you’re so grown up. I couldn’t have hand-

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picked a better daughter. Your dad would be so proud of
you.” She closed her eyes for a minute and I could see the
weariness on her face. I bent down and gave her another hug.

“Okay, Mom, you’ve got to get some sleep and then to-

morrow you can go home!”

She smiled and nodded, already curling up onto ball. I

pulled her covers up and crept out, relief beginning to sink in.
It was really over. I had won.

I walked into Ellie’s room just in time to hear Carter ask,

“So I’m really a descendent of Mary Magdalene?” His voice
was full of wonder and Samuel nodded.

“When did you know, anyway?” I asked as I moved to

stand next to them.

“I knew as soon as I saw him on the beach that day.”
“The day my dad drowned?” And he nodded again. I

gulped. It was mind-boggling. He had known way back
then…he just hadn’t known how it would all fit together. He
had absolute faith that it would somehow fit together with all
of the other pieces of my plan. The quiet dignity and faith of
an angel presented itself to me again for perusal. I envied him
for having that calm sense that everything would, in the end,
work together for good.

Suddenly a thought entered my mind as clearly as if some-

one had dropped it there. If my dad had not saved Carter, then
Carter would not have been able to save my family tonight. He
would have drowned that day instead. And apparently, Carter
was one of the only people on the face of planet that was able to
destroy that disc. And that had saved us all.

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“Samuel? My dad had a plan, too, didn’t he?” My voice

was breathless. “Part of his plan was to save his family…by
saving Carter.” It wasn’t really a question; I knew it was true.
I just wanted a confirmation.

Samuel nodded. I could see the satisfaction on his face

that I had put that together.

“Whitney, everyone has a plan. Every single soul alive on

earth right now has a plan. Your dad’s plan, the final parts of
it, were put into motion the second that they unearthed that
disc. Yes, he died so that you can live. But don’t mourn that.
It wasn’t a sacrifice.

“Your dad knowingly went into the water to save a per-

fect stranger, because that is just the kind of man that your fa-
ther was. If he had known that he needed to perform that one
act in order to save his family, he would have been there wait-
ing at the break of dawn to make sure he wasn’t late. You,
your mom, and Ellie were everything to him.” As I listened to
Samuel’s deep voice, I knew he was right.

Strangely, I didn’t feel sad. My dad was more of a hero

than anyone would ever know. The way the pieces of our in-
dividual plans had all worked together was confounding. I
could hardly wrap my mind around the intricacy of it all. It
was like someone had simply braided separate strands of a
tapestry together and everything had come together perfectly.

And there was a reason for my dad’s death. That was in-

finitely comforting. For weeks after it happened, I had railed
against fate for taking my dad for no good reason. But I could
stop. There had been a reason. And I knew that if he were

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given a choice, my dad would do it again and again and again,
in order to keep us safe.

And then I remembered the text to Carter.
“Samuel, how did Carter get the text to help me? I didn’t

send it; my phone was in the car!” I waited for an answer. But
Samuel was back to his old tricks. He just grinned mysteri-
ously.

I shook my head. “Don’t you think that it’s a small

enough thing to explain?” Angel rules were really going to get
on my nerves.

“I’m just playing with you, Whitney.”
A joke? He couldn’t be serious. He never joked. He

laughed again at my incredulous face.

“Angels have great senses of humor, Whitney,” he an-

nounced, grinning.

Yeah, I bet. I couldn’t help but grin back. I had the feel-

ing that I had lucked out in the angel department.

“The text?” I reminded him.
“I block your cell signal when I’m in human form. I don’t

block it when I am in my natural state.”

“Okay. But how did you send the text?” I stopped speak-

ing when I noticed that he was already shaking his head.

“Just tricks of the trade.”
So, apparently he could manipulate technology from re-

mote locations. I would have to remember to be impressed
about that later…when I wasn’t so tired.

“I don’t understand, though…what about Brady? He called

me all of the time from a cell phone while he was human.”

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Samuel shook his head again, as if he was marveling over

my limited human brain power.

“Whitney, what makes you think that he was human

when he was talking to you?”

And realization suddenly dawned on me again. He was

right. I had only pictured Brady as human because that was
what I had expected him to be, but obviously I had been talk-
ing and texting with a fallen angel. I shivered and a cold chill
ran down my back.

Carter noticed, and walked to my side, putting his arm

around my shoulders. His warmth soothed me, even though I
hadn’t been cold. I felt comfortable there, in the crook of his
arm. I smiled at the turn of events. Yesterday Brady had been
a near-perfect wonderful guy who I was content to spend
every waking minute with. Today, I knew that Carter had
been the one all along, the one who was meant to be in my
life. The one who was meant to save it. It was astonishing.
And it felt so completely right in the way that only things that
are meant to be do.

“What about my grandparents?”
“Take Ellie and run along back home. After your mother

goes to sleep, I’ll move them into her room and then ‘Dr.
Parker’ will wake them up. They’ll think that they just fell
asleep while they were sitting with your mom.”

I knew that he was right; it was a family joke at how easily

both of them could fall asleep. They had both been known to drift
off in the middle of conversations. Grandma always just laughed
and said that getting old wasn’t for the fainthearted.

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“And Ellie?” My eyes were sharply inquisitive.
“I promise you that when Ellie wakes up tomorrow, she

won’t remember much of anything about tonight. If she re-
members anything at all, she will just attribute it to a night-
mare.”

I knew that he was right about that, too. She was accus-

tomed to nightmares.

Carter helped me load Ellie into my mom’s little car and

then he rode with me to my house. He carried her up to my
room for me and stood in the doorway as I tucked her into
my bed. There was no way I was putting her into her own
room tonight. It was just as much for me as it was for her. I
needed to feel her warm, safe body near me.

I felt Carter’s intense gaze sear into my back. But I didn’t

turn around. I wouldn’t have been able to put my thoughts
into words even if I had tried. There was just so…much. I
tucked the covers in around her and stood watching her sleep
for a minute. Her little fingers were clutched into loose fists.
I found myself praying that Samuel could somehow purge her
memory entirely. You never know; it was entirely possible
that he had that ability. He was full of surprises.

I joined Carter in the doorway and then led the way

downstairs to my porch swing. I could smell rain in the
air…it was going to storm. Nothing was better than a good
storm while you slept. I smiled. Tonight just kept getting bet-
ter.

Carter sat next to me in silence. The quiet wasn’t tense;

it was as comfortable as an old pair of jeans. I knew that he

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was going over everything in his head, so I didn’t interrupt. I
just listened to the crickets chirp from the side of the porch
and enjoyed the soft breeze lifting my hair back from my face
as the wind from the impending storm kicked up. I studied
the stars twinkling in the sky.

“Your mom is still there, you know,” I murmured to him

as I gazed above us. “I don’t know where Heaven is, but I
know that it

there…somewhere. And your mom…and my

dad…they’re both there right now.” The overwhelming sad-
ness that I had felt for weeks was gone and I wanted to share
that peace with Carter. He looked at me with his dark gaze,
nodding.

“I know. I feel it, too. Whitney, am I crazy to say that I

was meant to meet you? That it feels like all of this was meant
to happen?”

I shook my head. “I know that it was. Everything that

happened tonight was in my plan. And your plan. Our plans
were connected.” And tonight they had collided.

“Before I met you, I was so angry. I was angry at my

mom, I was angry at my dad for letting her die, I was angry at
God…and I was angry with myself.” Carter’s voice trembled
and I gripped his arm gently. I definitely knew how that felt.
“But that’s gone now. I can see that everything happens for a
reason. I couldn’t see it before.”

There was a sense of peacefulness on my porch that I

couldn’t explain. We were just two souls who had been
shown a small glimpse of the truth. We had been able to take
a peek at the mysteries that surrounded the world. And we

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311

were all the better for it. I still had questions—about why
things happened the way they did…and I felt pretty sure that
my questions would remain unanswered. There were some
things that we were meant to accept with blind faith. I would
just have to accept that. But it was easier to do now.

I missed my dad. I knew that was never going to change.

But I could bear it now—because my way of thinking about it

had

changed. I knew that he existed somewhere, right this

second. And I knew that every day I spent without him was
one day closer to the day that I would see him again. Some-
day, Samuel would carry me to Heaven and I would meet
God…and my dad would be there. It was a fact. I knew it
with the same certainty that I knew my heart was beating in
my chest. He would probably smile and ask me what had
taken me so long. My dad could joke about anything.

Carter put his arm around my shoulders again, pulling

me closer to him. I loved the feeling that he knew everything,
too. He made me feel safe and I rested my head on his shoul-
der. There was definitely chemistry here and I couldn’t wait
to see how it would turn out. I smiled to myself as I inhaled
deeply. I felt Samuel’s sudden invisible presence and I knew
that no matter what, everything was going to be all right. My
plan would continue to unfold and pieces would continue to
click into place…just like they were meant to do. Everything
would be for the good.

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Epilogue

His pale doughy hands formed a tent on the table, as he

waited for the waitress to bring the check. He was impa-
tient. He was going to be late and they wouldn’t like that.
She finally arrived and he threw some bills on the table,
stirring the scent of stale Old Spice and body odor as he
moved. She looked at him in distaste as she walked away.
He wasn’t bothered. He was used to it. His human form
wasn’t appealing, but he wasn’t concerned with that. It was
meaningless.

He rushed into the dark night, feeling unpleasantly full.

Why humans enjoyed eating so much was something he
would never understand. He passed through the shadowed al-
ley and crossed the street into a heavily wooded area. He
scanned the entire area around him before descending into a
large hollow in the ground.

Three dark figures waited for him there, perched in the

darkness. They didn’t like to be kept waiting. He fought the
urge to apologize. He knew it wouldn’t help.

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313

A low voice rasped, “Do you understand that the plan has

changed?”

He nodded curtly. Of course he understood.
“Good. Go.” The harsh voice was dismissive, but he

didn’t pause to feel annoyance. He just turned and left with-
out a word. The entire exchange had taken less than a minute
and he was happy for that.

He walked quietly across town, stopping only to buy a

newspaper from a machine. He rolled it up and put it under
his arm, whistling tunelessly as he continued the remainder of
the way to his house. Thomas Blaine glanced up and down his
quiet street before stiffly walking up the steps and closing the
door behind him.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Courtney Cole is a young(ish) YA author who loves

thunderstorms, cake batter and standing with her toes in Lake
Michigan. She graduated from Indiana Wesleyan University
with a Bachelor’s degree in Business, but she was never quite
able to make marketing as fun as writing, so she threw up her
hands and wrote her first novel and hasn’t looked back since.
She is happily married with three kids and a small domestic
zoo in suburban Indiana.

To learn more about Courtney, visit her website at:

www.courtneycolewrites.com

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invite you to visit our web

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