Apparition (27 page)

“Forever?”

That catches me off guard. “Yes. I mean, if possible. I don’t know … I mean, I’m afraid that eventually you may have to go somewhere else. Another world, even. It may not be something either of us can control.”

Hearing myself say that, it sounds so unreal. Then I picture the barn getting destroyed. What effect might that have on Matthew?

“There’s something you should know. Sooner or later, people are going to take this barn down. It could happen any day. Do you know what I mean? I’m just warning you.”

“Who do you love more, me or Kip?”

It’s like he’s not even listening to me. “Matthew, I really don’t have the energy to get into this with you. I’m so exhausted, I feel like I’m going to pass out. But I’m trying to tell you that when the time comes, you may have to move on. You may not have a choice.”

“Why are you so exhausted?”

“Because I’m having trouble sleeping at night. Go figure!”

“Don’t worry. Just rest for a while. I’ll watch over you,” he whispers. “You’re safe.”

I lie back. “I just want you to know that nobody could ever make me forget what you’ve meant to me these last few years. Your friendship saved me from total despair. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably have quit school after grade ten. Or worse. Also, you were the first boy I ever lusted after. There’s never going to be anyone else like you.”

“You say that like it’s all in the past.”

I look at his face and I don’t know how to respond. In my head I admit I’ve been having doubts.
I’m no longer sure it would have worked out between us, Matthew. Romantically, I mean. We never did see eye to eye, not really. Maybe we were always going to be better as best friends
. But these are thoughts I can’t say out loud.

“Where is everyone else?” I ask. I’m slumping, half lying down on the straw platform, propping up my head in my hand.

“Around. They’re around. Don’t worry about them. You’re tired, have a nap. I’ll watch over you.”

I guess five minutes can’t hurt. I lie back in the straw, remembering Matthew in history class. I close my eyes, just for a minute, and picture his face as he answers a question, hopeful and confident. I remember the two of us sitting at the back of the library after school, giggling and bickering, me elbowing him when he teased me. I remember getting disapproving looks from a teacher when we laughed too loudly. I remember searching for him across a crowded school assembly, sharing a smile like there was no one else around.

I feel the gentle sensation of a cool wave wash over me. I’m slightly dizzy, like the barn is spinning slowly and I’m floating, breeze in my hair. There is movement all around me, something fluttering over me. The straw gets softer and softer, and I sink deeper into it. From the corner of my eye, I see the end of the rope slithering like
a snake, uncoiling in the middle of the barn floor and gliding softly toward the platform. Then it’s gone. When it reappears, it’s on the platform, moving through the straw. Where is Matthew? It’s getting closer and closer, until I can feel it moving against my thigh and wrapping tightly around my legs. In a spasm of kicking and screaming I wake up, scrambling to my hands and knees in a panic. I gasp for air, a sharp pain in my chest.

“Matthew!”

He’s standing on the platform, looking down at me, four dark holes across his stomach, his shirt drenched in dark red blood. There’s blood dripping from his nose and the side of his mouth; his face is as white as milk. I scream and scramble to the edge of the platform and over, falling hard onto the ground five feet below. When I look up at him again, the wounds are gone. The blood is gone. His hands are raised, palms toward me, like he’s trying to calm me down.

“Oh jeez, Amelia. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened there.”

“I … I have to get out of here,” I say, my voice shaking. I’m holding my shoulder, pulling myself up to my feet, feeling pain in my hip from where I fell. “It’s not your fault, Matthew.” I don’t know what else to say.

I limp as quickly as I can for the door. But before I reach it, he appears in front of me again.

“Jeez, Matthew, are you trying to scare me on purpose?”

“Amelia, no. Don’t be afraid of me. Please. Think about it. You’ll probably be seeing ghosts your whole life. I can be useful to you. I can see ghosts now too.”

“I hear you, Matthew. But right now, I just need to get out of here.”

“I love you, Amelia,” I hear him say as I run outside and head for the road.

I
don’t know how much of that was a dream and how much was a waking nightmare. But I do know I’ve been having nightmares ever since. It’s not like I can tell Morris what happened. And Kip? Forget it. I’m aching to see him, though. I’ve phoned and left messages for him twice. Why won’t he call? I’ve never felt so torn up inside.

Joyce is chopping red and green bell peppers for the Christmas Eve pizza—a tradition in our family. My mom started it when we were really young, and we won’t let Joyce kill it. The pizza toppings have to be arranged in the shape of a tree, although Joyce always manages to make the star at the top look more like a crab or a lobster.

I have to hand it to her, though—she’s really getting into the Christmas spirit this year. She even brought home a fresh-cut spruce and set it up in the front window of the living room. I’m putting handfuls of silver tinsel on the boughs, thinking about how it’s been a while since I’ve felt any magic at Christmastime.

But when I see Kip through the branches, turning up the driveway in Morris’s car, it feels like a Christmas miracle. My heart leaps and I literally run to the door, too excited to control myself. Talk about a mood change. I couldn’t be more grateful.

He comes inside to admire the tree, says hi to Ethan and gets introduced to Jack, whom he hasn’t met before. Then he pulls a wrapped Christmas present from one of the big pockets of his coat, holding it out for me to open. It’s a CD of Bob Marley’s greatest hits, the words
One Love
written across the cover. He kisses me on the forehead. “Merry Christmas.” Damn, I wish I had something for him.

Kip says that after dinner tomorrow Morris is going to drive him down to Buffalo, where he’ll catch the train to Chicago to have Christmas with his mom and stepdad. On Boxing Day he’s catching a plane. Heading south for a week with friends, he says. Somewhere in Mexico. I don’t register where. Which friends? I don’t ask.

I pull on my coat and boots and we walk out back to see the horses. Glancing at his watch, Kip says he doesn’t have much time. He needs to get back to have dinner with Morris. Not much time? Suddenly I can’t think of what I want to say. I’m trying not to imagine him on a beach surrounded by girls in bikinis. Instead, I focus on the cool hat he’s wearing. It’s wine-coloured and made of wool, a cap with long flaps going down the sides, the kind they make in Peru. It suits his cheekbones. His shaggy gold hair is peeking out around it, and there’s a shadow of a beard on his face. His eyes are so blue it hurts to look at them.

“I like your hat,” I say.

“Morris has got a venison roast in the oven,” he says. “Venison is his idea of a Grey County Christmas. In honour of all the deer in the manger.”

“Yeah, right. We’re doing the traditional turkey thing tomorrow. In honour of the turkeys.”

“You know only two of the four Gospels mention Jesus’s birth?”

“Let’s not start that,” I suggest.

“Yeah, and they’re quite different.”

“How’s your rope burn?” I push down on his coat collar, leaning in for a quick peek at his neck. I touch the skin lightly, impulsively. “It looks pretty good,” I say. Understatement.

He smiles at me. “One has shepherds and angels, the other has three kings.” But then he looks down and the smile fades from his face. He leans against the paddock fence and Marley and Ponyboy saunter over to listen in. He stands there watching them. I have the feeling something’s on his mind—he wants to say something—and I brace myself.

He clears his throat. “Actually, I came by to tell you that my mom’s been bugging me to get back to school. Stop slacking off, as she puts it. So I’ve decided to register for a few winter-term classes. Back home.” He turns away and starts stroking Ponyboy’s nose.

“Classes? When?”

“January.”

“Really?”
Oh my God
. “That’s … soon.”

“Yeah.” He’s still not looking at me. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

I’m reeling. “So you’re … you’re moving back to Chicago? Like, right away? You’re not coming back to Owen Sound after Christmas?”

He shakes his head, just barely. Wow. I feel crushed.
Are you just going to disappear?

I feel like I’m going to cry, but I’m fighting it. “So soon Grey County will be a distant memory.” I’ve got to stay cool.
Am I ever going to see you again?

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You underestimate the impact Grey County has had on me.” And he touches his fingers to his lip, like it’s still sore.

I think about that kiss. “I was hoping that was a memory you’d forget.”
But I won’t
. Then it slips out. “Is Serena going to Mexico too?”

Argh!
I can’t believe I said that out loud. What a jerk I am! As if I have a right to be jealous. He looks genuinely surprised. Confused, even. He’s trying to form a word but nothing’s coming out.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I honestly don’t know why I said that. I’m just feeling very, very … stupid today. I don’t even know who Serena is.” Okay, that just made it worse. “And I don’t want to know either. It’s absolutely none of my business.” He looks close to saying something now, so I rush on. “Okay, okay. I admit it.” I’ve got to explain. “I googled your name once and some Facebook pictures came up. That’s all. Nothing more. I always knew you must have a girlfriend on the hook. Or two or three or whatever.” Could this get more awkward? “So I really hope you have a good time. Wear sunscreen and a hat. Stay clear of sharks … and tap water. At least, that’s what I hear. I’ve never been.” He’s looking at me with a sad smile. “But I’m … I’m sorry about the punch.”
More than you know, Kip
. “I hope the girls in Chicago are less aggressive. I mean, I hope you find happiness.” Oh God, I really
am
about to start crying. I can’t believe how jealous I feel. Even the horses are gawking at me like they’re watching a train wreck.

He reaches for my hand and I give it to him, surprised and grateful that he doesn’t seem offended. He holds it for a moment, then lets go.

“No, I deserved the punch. In fact, I strongly recommend that’s how you deal with
every
guy who tries to kiss you from now on. Promise?”

It’s hard not to be amused at that, and for a moment we smile at each other. But then he looks away again. I have to say something.
Anything
.

“But what … what about your job?”

“I gave notice yesterday. I was going to take the next two weeks off anyway.” He looks at his watch again and says he really should be on his way. We start walking toward the front of the house. I don’t know what else to say. My thoughts are racing.

“Kip, this all feels so sudden. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He stops, looking down at the ground, then shakes his head. “Is it because of what happened in the barn last week?”

I look into his face, searching. I see him swallow, see his eyes narrow. “No. That just makes this harder,” he finally says.

“But is it something I did? Are you angry? At me?”

He shakes his head. “Look, I just think I’d better get back to school, that’s all. Really, these last few months have been an experience I won’t forget.”

“But what about Morris? What does he say?”

“Believe me, Dad thinks it’s for the best.” He sounds a touch bitter.

“He does?”
What does that mean?
“I don’t get it.”

“It’s not important.”

We stop in the driveway. Standing side by side in silence, we stare out across 12th Line at the white fields and winter sunset. I’m trying to hold myself together. Then Kip turns and faces me. “Look, Amelia.” He takes me by the arms, holding tight, and bends forward slightly to look at me at eye level. “Believe what you want about me, but I want you to remember one thing: you can count on me. If you ever need anything. A friend. A third brother. A sparring partner.” He makes circles with his fists at me in a pretend boxing pose. One fist lands lightly on my chin and he gives it a little nudge. “Whatever.
You’re the boss. If you ever need me, just call. Ten years from now, even. Okay?” My eyes are on his boots. They half turn away from me, then gently kick at the snow. “I care about what happens to you.”

A third brother? Are you serious?
I keep my head down so he can’t see my face.
Ten years? You’ll have a wife and kids by then!
A tear breaks free and trickles down the side of my nose, and I brush it away. And then it really hits me.
What a fool I am! I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Kip. How did it get this bad?

He reaches down and takes hold of my hand again, but this time he brings it up to his lips, holding his mouth to my knuckles in a hard kiss. I realize the closest I’ll ever come to Kip Dyson is that moment just before I punched him in the mouth. Then he lets me go again.

“I’ve gotta run,” he mumbles, turning toward the car. “Be careful, Amelia,” he says, looking beyond me, his eyes shiny and unfocused. I hold my breath. The pain builds in my throat, and before I can stop myself it overwhelms me and a tiny sob escapes, muffled by the sound of the car door slamming shut. The engine starts and the headlights cut into the dusk. He backs out onto 12th Line. I catch a small flicker of his hand at the car window and I lift mine, too late. He drives off. He’s gone. He only came to say goodbye.

I walk back toward the paddock, straight up to the fence, where Marley stretches his head forward to console me.
Marley
. I’ve never thought about it before. I figured Joyce had named him after the ghost in
A Christmas Carol
. I wrap my arms around his huge neck and bury my face in his mane, crying into his warm coat.