Second Sight (Sojourner Series Book 3)

  “What time was he supposed to be home?” I edge one eye open, and see Griffin check his watch.

  “He should have been home hours ago.”

  “Then I guess we should go downstairs and wait.” Scott stands.

  “You really think she’s going to be okay?” Griffin looks at me, and I snap my eyes shut, hoping he doesn’t see.

  “Yeah.”

  I hear them step away when Scott grabs the knob to close the door, I open my eyes. Even in the darkness, I know he sees me. His lips part, and his blue eyes seem sad.

  “Good night, Lizzie.” He closes the door and leaves me in the darkness where I belong. I don’t want to think about what is going to happen when Jimmie finally does get home any more than I want to think about where he is or what’s keeping him busy. I don’t want to think, period. So I close my eyes and drift.

  The sunlight seeping around my curtains wakes me, not Jimmie. For a moment, I just lie there, watching dapples of it dance in from among the branches outside my window, teased into motion by a soft breeze. Even now, I don’t want to move. That will mean the day will go forward, and I will have to go downstairs and explain why I conned Griffin into driving me to Knoxville. At least there were no guns involved this time. Then again, I doubt Jimmie will see the bright side. Shrink city, here I come.

  I close my eyes, wishing I could just fall back asleep. As a kid, I used to look forward to growing up and falling in love; now I wish I could go back to being five and thinking I had all the answers. Or Jimmie did. Somehow we both lost them along the way, and that scares the hell out of me.

  Or maybe we do have the answers. Maybe the reality is just a lot grimmer than the fantasy.

  I force myself to sit up, dreading seeing Griffin again. The anger is gone, at least for now, but in its place there is a weight of distrust I can’t lift. I know he never promised he’d take my side in everything, but it’s like he’s okay with whatever Scott or Jimmie says or does. I hate Scott; I don’t care if he is an angel. Who knows? Maybe I hate him more for that—so smug and so right. So perfect. Still, if that’s perfect, the rest of us should do just fine.

  I keep hearing his words about Lev making a choice, words that steal my breath and shove me under, threatening to drown me. Frantic to get those thoughts out of my head, I push my legs over the edge and stand. Five minutes later, I’ve dressed and tugged a brush through my hair. I could stay up here all day, but that’s probably not going to get me out of talking to Jimmie. In fact, I can’t think of anything that’s going to accomplish that. His time, his way.

  I scan the room and take in all the destruction I left last night. It’s not going to clean itself, I know. I start collecting all the broken picture frames and shattered glass ornaments. Even the mirror on the bureau stands in shards, and if I thought my reflection last night looked skewed, fractured as it is,, makes me look even more haunted. Still, staring at it, I think this one’s more like me, after all. I’ll never be able to pick up all the pieces.

  “Finally awake?”

  Jimmy stands in the doorway, a hand touching either side of the molding. His voice is calm, which should be a clue this might be really bad. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, not clothes meant for working as the security guard for a local bank.

  “Yeah.” I avert my gaze and keep picking up the broken things. One shard jabs my thumb, and I end up looking at the pinprick of blood pooling on my skin. Such a small wound, and yet….

  “We need to talk.” He quietly steps over to the bed and sits. This is definitely not the Jimmie I know and love—is it? “Come sit down.” He nods to the chair beside the bed, the same one Scott sat in last night. Or had that just been a dream? Did yesterday even happen? If it did, I want a refund.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I mutter, plucking the glass from my thumb and throwing it away.

  “Lizzie, I don’t always do things the right way. I don’t always pay attention. But it’s not because I don’t care. I just don’t know what I’m doing—and I wish I did.”

  “Where were you last night?” I ask softly. It’s not really about side-tracking him; I’m just trying to see if he trusts me enough to be as honest with me as he wants me to be with him.

  “Not that it’s important, but I went out with a friend.”

  “Do I know him?”

  He shrugs. “No. I want to talk about you—and what happened yesterday.” He swallows hard and looks down. “Both Scott and Griffin said you think Lev was…an angel.” He frowns, and the wrinkles in his forehead make him look older.

  “It doesn’t matter.” My back stiffens and I wish Jimmie would just get this over with. Funny, he wants me to tell the truth, but he lies to me. But then why would he be any different? Angel. Human. Devil. All the same. I guess the trick is not to care.

  “That’s not good enough, Lizzie.” He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “I’ve tried telling myself lots of things, like you just needed time, that you’d get through it, like you just thought you loved Lev. But none of it’s worked, and I’ve still failed you. So now I have two choices. I can either ignore the fact you need help, or I can get you that help myself.”

  “Fine.” I pick up more glass. There is no end to the jagged pieces. No end.

  He doesn’t hear me right—again. “No, you’re not. I wish you were.” He reaches to take my hand but I duck away.

  “I keep telling you it doesn’t matter. I know you have it all worked out with Scott and Griffin, and I’ll do your stupid appointments. Whatever.” I stand and start to walk out, but he catches me.

  “Don’t be angry, Lizzie. This is for your own good. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Right. You just keep thinking that—and while you’re at it, I’ll try to think of the top ten reasons you keep dragging me to these stupid small towns that are great for you. If you hadn’t dragged me to Hauser’s Landing—”

  I stop talking because I know he’s ignoring me. Crazy girl talking, no one listening. So why bother? Perhaps the old Lizzie would have started screaming at him. Me, I just don’t care. I’m too tired for that. I feel him staring, waiting for more reaction, but I’m done. I’m working hard at shoving my feelings in a box I might actually be able to forget about.

  “Griffin is sleeping on the couch. I told him he could take the extra bedroom while he’s here. It’s the least I can do for all his trouble. I’ve set up an appointment for tomorrow so he’ll be driving you to Knoxville.”

  “Are you coming home right after work, or are you going out again?” I ask softly.

  He shrugs, and I can tell by the way he averts his eyes he’s hardly comfortable with the question. “Don’t know. I’ll call you.”

  “Right. Whatever. You do that.” I walk out. I guess he thinks Griffin is a great baby-sitter, even with yesterday’s disaster. Maybe he’s just happy I got all weepy. Maybe he thinks that’s the answer, but there are no answers.

  Gritting my teeth, I head into the kitchen and pull down a glass. I grab the juice pitcher from the refrigerator and pour a glassful, thankful wherever Jimmie is, at least he’s not here, demanding I eat. Maybe this way he’ll at least be distracted enough for me to breathe.

  “Lizzie.”

  Without turning, I know Griffin is standing there. I don’t want to face him, so I don’t. I grab the pitcher and shove it in the fridge before I take the glass and walk out, heading to the back patio. I can tell from the angle of the sun it’s mid-morning, and already it’s hot. Got to love August and all its glory. In the distance, I hear birds warbling amid the thick stand of trees nearby.

  “Avoiding me isn’t going to make this go away,” Griffin says, hovering a few feet behind me.

  “Acknowledging it isn’t going to make it right,” I counter, sitting in the deck chair, ready to close my eyes and take in the warmth of the sun.

  “I’m trying to help, to do whatever is best for you.” He walks closer and sits in the chair next to mine. It’s clear by his fre
sh pair of khaki dock shorts and white polo style shirt he’s already had a shower. His gold watch gleams in the sun.

  “And how would you know what’s best for me?” I’m trying to stay neutral, but the anger and hurt are like rising waters pouring from a funnel into my stomach, and when I get full, there will be no room to breathe, so I close my eyes, and try to focus on the sun.

  “Whatever will keep you from self-destructing is best in my book—or don’t you get that?” He pauses for a moment, probably wanting me to look at him, but I won’t. “Lizzie, I wouldn’t care if you believed Lev was an angel so long as you didn’t get hurt. But the lengths you’re willing to go to get Lev back scare me. Please look at me.” His tone is soft and pleading, leaving me no choice.

  I open my eyes and see him frowning, but deeper than that is fear. He swallows hard, and the slightest pool of tears shimmers at the corners of his eyes before he blinks them away. He reaches for my hand and his fingers skim the back of it.

  “I know you trusted me, and you think I let you down. You don’t think you can believe in me, but you can. You think nobody understands the depth of the pain you feel, but I do. Losing my mom wasn’t the same thing, but the way it feels is, and if you think for one second I’m about to risk letting you hurt yourself for Lev or anyone else, you’re wrong.” He closes his eyes and takes a ragged breath. “I can’t risk losing you, because if I do, I won’t bounce back. You’re like a sister to me.”

  A lump forms in my throat, and I tell myself just to focus on breathing. I don’t know what he wants me to say. Right now, no words come. I sit up to take a drink of the juice, but he’s watching me. I feel the pain in his gaze, and I wish I could drive it away, but I can’t even do that for myself.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. Every day I wish I had been quicker in getting to Maguire. Every day I blame myself for Lev dying, but that doesn’t bring him back. Nothing will bring him back. The only thing I can do is take care of you and hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

  He’s looking at the ground, not at me, but his voice has been destroyed by a guilt I never knew was eating him alive. Here I thought Lev’s death was my fault; I blamed myself without realizing that Griffin fostered his own guilt. Now, for the first time, I wonder if maybe nobody was to blame. Is there such a thing as a no-fault death—just bad luck, bad timing, and bad circumstance? No, not no-fault. Maguire pulled the trigger. But then, he’d been after me, not Griffin, not Lev. That brings it all back to me again.

  “You did your best,” I whisper. “That’s all Lev asked of anyone.” Although his arms aren’t expecting me, I slip into them. At first, he just sits there like a stone. Then he embraces me so fiercely it takes my breath away. Part of me wants to let all the tears come and wash away this pain, but I know that won’t solve anything. Crying never does. All it does is make me weak, and there will be more tears. There’s no end to them, and right now I can’t afford to soften. It hurts too much. I slowly disentangle myself and sit back down.

  “I hear you have an appointment tomorrow,” Griffin says, taking a cleansing breath. Now he can face me, but the weight lingers in his eyes. “Looks like I’ll be driving you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I think about revealing Jimmie’s newest hobby, but I can’t seem to bring myself to it. As long as I can remember, it’s been just me and Jimmie; now there’s someone in the middle. Maybe there isn’t anything wrong with her. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t know either way—I’ve not spent any time with her. But just knowing there’s someone waiting in the wings is a threat in itself, especially now.

  Maybe Jimmie loves me, but what if he falls in love with this woman and she doesn’t like me? Jimmie has never so much as dated before. It’s never even been an issue until now, and now is not a good time, considering how my behavior must seem to him.

  “Lizzie?” Griffin leans toward me and waves his hand in front of my face. “Earth to Lizzie.”

  “Yeah, what?” I blink and shift, trying to drive away the uncomfortable thoughts rattling in my head.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” It’s not exactly a lie, I tell myself. It’s something to hope for. I just don’t see it happening any time soon.

  “Don’t be angry at Scott. He means well.”

  “Yeah?” Immediately my hands touch the places on my arms where he grabbed me. “Why don’t I believe that? Do you have any idea what it felt like to be pinned like that? Do you?”

  “No. I just know what it felt like to watch you hold a knife against your wrist and draw blood.” The color drains from his face. “He didn’t have any choice. I would have done it, but he was closer and faster. We both know that.”

  “I wasn’t going to hurt myself.” My voice is quiet, so quiet. I don’t have the strength for this.

  “Maybe not,” he concedes. “But given all you’ve been through in the last six months, how could we really know your intentions? Or should we have just let the chips fall where they would? Everyone gets tired, Lizzie, and everybody has a breaking point.”

  “It was just a ploy,” I say. “Not that it worked.” I keep thinking back to Scott telling me Lev was gone, and half of me wonders if he said that as an angel or just the cop trying to diffuse the situation. I guess I’ll never know.

  Chapter Seven

  “What are you thinking?” That’s the question that Griffin has been wanting to ask the whole ride to Knoxville and my “therapeutic intervention,” and up into the last mile, he’s tried to curb his curiosity. I guess my silence has seemed too great a temptation. Is that a male thing, to need to understand silence? Or am I just lucky?

  “Nothing. Just getting ready to be shrink-wrapped.” I toy with Lev’s bracelet. I could tell him Jimmie came home late again last night, and although he tried to talk to me, I could see the distraction in his eyes, which really creeped me out. This isn’t like Jimmie. Still, I guess I shouldn’t gripe. Wasn’t I the one who wanted him to forget about me?

  “I know you’re not thrilled with this.” He can’t look at me as much as he usually would because we’re in the middle of traffic and he’s trying to find the address.

  “And tell me you’d want to talk to some stranger about your mom and what it’s been like to lose her.”

  He stiffens, not expecting me to have taken that course. “It’s not the same thing, Lizzie.”

  “No, not at all. I mean, you aren’t seeing angels or anything, right?”

  “Come on, Lizzie, don’t.” His tone is soft. Then, as if he can’t believe how lucky he has gotten, he sees the sign for Riley’s Youth Center just ahead. His shoulders sink in gratitude, and mine stiffen in anticipation. Without realizing it, my fingers cinch the seat, and I wish I could run away, but that would only result in Griffin chasing me down.

  So I just keep focusing on my breathing, hating Knoxville more and more by the minute as Griffin veers into the parking lot and slips into the first open space. All too quickly, he plucks the keys from the ignition and nods to me. “You ready?”

  “Sure.” I open my door and get out, realizing as I scan the lot, how out of place Griffin’s expensive car is here. Griffin places his hand on my back and guides me toward the red brick building ahead. As the structure looks different from those around it—weathered and forlorn—I’m guessing it’s been here a while. And that sure doesn’t make me want to go in there any quicker. But then again, Griffin’s not about to move his hand or let me change my mind. He’s even opening the door for me. What a swell guy.

  The minute we step inside, two things become very clear: Scott is here, and I’m not the only one he bullies. Although I only catch a glimpse of his profile as he stands, hands on hips, in front of a girl probably about my age, I’d recognize his golden hair anywhere. Too, he’s at least a foot taller than she is, and, okay, well, I know she’s wearing a black goth outfit and her make-up seems a little heavier than it should be, but that doesn’t mean he should be giving her such an intimidating look. What is he going to do? Put her
in a choke hold? For what?

  He’s wearing his navy police uniform, and I see the black grip of his gun, which creeps me out so much I stop walking. I hate guns. I hated them even before Maguire tried to kill me; that just gave me a good reason.

  “Look, Sarah, I know this is hard. But you’re not listening.”

  “Bullshit!” She folds her arms across her chest and looks away. “You don’t even know Colin.”

  “He’s bad news.” He reaches toward her, but she jerks away and rushes past me toward the door.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Scott whirls, intending to go after her, but instead comes face to face with me.

  “Why don’t you leave her alone!” I snap, purposely blocking his path. He tries to get around me two or three times before giving up. “She’s got enough going on without you adding to it.”

  “Lizzie,” Griffin warns, trying to move me out of the way. “Let him pass.”

  “Why? So he can harass her the same way he harassed me? Is he going to throw her down, too?”

  Scott stiffens and takes a deep breath. “Still angry, I take it.” He takes off his hat, runs his fingers through his hair, and then sets it back on his head. “You don’t even have a clue what’s going on with Sarah.” He levels those blue eyes at me.

  “Let me guess. She’s gotten herself in the middle of a drive-by? Almost got herself killed?”

  “No.” He takes one step closer, and I take one back. “Gangs aren’t really her style. But that doesn’t mean she’s not headed for danger if someone doesn’t change her course.”

  Griffin makes a big show of looking at his watch. “Hate to break this friendly conversation up and all, but Lizzie is supposed to meet Emily.”

  Scott points to the hallway to the left of the open gym area where we’re standing. For the first time, I notice a few guys shooting hoops half the court away. The thud of the balls against the court unnerves me, probably because I’m standing so close to Scott and that damned gun of his, so when Griffin just sort of ushers me along, I don’t fight too hard.