Indelible (44 page)

“Really?” Vovó glanced up, looking over her spectacles at me. “Why did you think that?”

I dusted off the tip of my finger. “The water called to me and I thought it was death.”

Vovó shook some more of the blend into the capsule. “But now you know it was your element calling to you.”

“I know, but then Mr. Pendrell was killed and we almost died in the fire. It’s like death is still breathing down my neck.”

My grandma gave me a sad smile. “Yara, it follows everyone, but especially one of the Returned.”

“I know, but now the barrier is down. I have no idea what that will do in terms of the Clutch. Mr. Crosby is out there doing who knows what and he probably has the journals. I hope they were burned in the fire. But what if they weren’t? I don’t even want to guess what other sort of evils he could learn from them.”

My grandma squeezed me hand. “Yara, it will all be okay. I had a dream and I knew we had to take down the barrier. I don’t know why, but it was time for it to be destroyed.”

I wasn’t about to doubt my grandma. She seemed to always end up being right.

“Ilma,” my mom said, entering the room. Her hand was wrapped in a wet dishtowel. “I’ve burned myself on the stove. Do you have anything for it?”

“
Claro
!” Vovó said. She put down the paper filled with the herbs and shifted in her chair so she could look through her bottles. Her room was filled with jars of herbs, vials of essential oils, books on natural healing and her Waker journals. In her little room she had cures for everything from depression to protecting your spirit from evil ones and of course, for burns.

“What would you suggest?” she asked me.

“Lavender oil.” A weird feeling swirled through me at knowing the right answer and knowing it would help my mom.

Vovó beamed at me. “Exactly.” She handed my mom a bottle of lavender. “Put a few drops of this on. It will help right away.”

“Thank you,” mom said, taking the bottle in her uninjured hand and leaving the room.

It only took a few minutes before my mom came back, informing us her hand felt much better, and gave my Vovó a kiss on top of her head. I rested my chin on my hand, my elbow on her table, and really looked at Vovó as my mom left. She had so much knowledge that could help so many, if they took her seriously. And even when people who didn’t believe in her asked for help, she willingly gave it to them. She believed it was her calling to help ease suffering for everyone. I was proud of her. A feeling that reminded me of how I felt when I had helped Sophia slithered through me, and I was hit with a startling realization. I wanted to feel this way all of the time. This, being a Waker, is what I wanted to do.

I wanted to be like my grandma. A feeling of harmony settled deep inside me even as I acknowledged there wouldn’t be time to really be a Waker while I was studying journalism at Columbia or working at a paper after college. And that was okay. Because I suddenly knew I wasn’t meant to be a reporter, I was meant to go into the family business. I squeezed my grandma’s hand. “I think you’re amazing.”

She dropped the capsule she had been holding, the contents sprinkling across the table. She grabbed a Kleenex and wiped her eyes that had suddenly filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I know I push you hard.” She blew her nose. “It’s just I want you to be prepared.” I slid out of my chair and moved until I was beside her, kneeling down. “I love you and I am proud you,” she said.

It felt like I had swallowed a jawbreaker whole and it had wedged itself in my throat. She was proud of me? There was no way I could talk now; instead, I enjoyed the serenity I found in her arms and her words that had been a balm to my spirit. I knew I was making the right choice.

v

The next week I sat across from Cherie who was holding a letter from Stanford. With shaking hands, she opened the envelope and then shouted for joy. “I got in!” We both let out whoops of joy and I reached across the table and hugged her.

“I’m so happy for you!” I decided now was the time to bring up the conversation I’d been dreading. I tore my dinner roll in half. “I’ve been thinking about college.”

“And. . .” Cherie prompted, her smile still movie-star bright.

“I’m not going.”

“But you got into Columbia.” She lowered her acceptance letter, which she had been re-reading. “That’s your dream. Your parents said you could go.”

I met her blue eyes. “My dream changed.”

“Into what?” Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to be a Waker.”

“Newsflash: you are a Waker.” The corners of her lips turned into a smile.

“I know. I know. But I really want to do this and I have a lot to learn. Vovó has suggested I study to become a holistic nurse. I’ll be able to blend that with the concoctions, poultices and brews we learn to make as Wakers to help patients.” I wiped the condensation away from my cup of ice-water. “My grandma says I’d be a Waker of a new generation. I’d have my abilities and credentials as a holistic nurse. People would listen to me because I have the degree to back up everything I’ve been taught. You know, bridge holistic healing and western medicine. I’ll be in Brazil with my grandma, studying both.”

“Wow,” Cherie said nodding.

I cleared my throat. “What do you think?”

“You could help people get better as well as help the dead to make peace and pass on. I can see why you’d want that.” She tapped her fork against the table thinking. “I think that would be perfect, actually.”

I’d already made up my mind but Cherie’s opinion meant a lot. “Really?”

“Yes, but are you sure this is what you want?” She frowned. “You’ve been railing against this your whole life. This isn’t your grandma pressuring you?”

“It’s what I want.” It felt good to say it out loud. “My dad and even my mom agreed it sounds perfect.”

“Your parents are very supportive.” She grimaced. “Unlike mine, who are dead set on me becoming a lawyer even if the law bores me. You’re lucky.”

“I know.” I really was. My parents had given me the freedom to be who I wanted to be.

That night I found a note shoved under the door of my dorm room.

Yara,

You broke your promise.

You’ll be hearing from us.

K

I took a deep breath. I knew it was from Kalina. I hadn’t thought about her and the warning, or even considered the Waker Council since the barrier came down. I might have been misreading the letter, but it sounded like a threat to me.

v

Our graduation would have been boring if Steve and Cherie hadn’t hijacked the stage and done some complicated dance to Pomp and Circumstance. I had one week before I left for Brazil and I planned on spending all of it that I could with my friends and family.

My nursing school was close to my grandmother’s home, and as nervous as I was, I was excited too. I hoped studying the different herbs would allow me to find the three unidentified herbs that they had discovered in the cure.

DJ had disappeared after the fire, but his name had been read during the ceremony so he must have graduated. I hadn’t seen him since he handed over the proof against us. Mr. Crosby still didn’t appear to be a suspect in Bryan Pendrell’s murder. I hadn’t seen him and I hoped it stayed that way.

Steve was riding high on the infamy of his senior prank. Before the barrier had come down his plan to draw out and paint and feather the faculty had worked perfectly. The freak lighting burst and earthquake of the barrier falling only added to the prank. Then with the storm and the fire, the prank had risen so high in school legend that no other class would be able to one-up it for years to come.

That night Cherie and I sat alone in our room.

“I can’t believe we won’t even be in the same country,” Cherie said. “I’m going to miss you.”

It hit me then with a resounding thud how much our lives were going to change. My eyes threatened to fill with tears. “I’m going to miss you too.

Our trunks and suitcases were packed, our posters were down and it hit me that we were really leaving and not coming back. Next year, I wouldn’t have Cherie. She would have a new roommate, a new person to be part of her crazy adventures. She wouldn’t be helping me solve any ghost problems or making sure my shoes went with my outfit and that I had heard her favorite song from the new band she had found.

We’d e-mail, call and talk online but we wouldn’t really be a fixture in each other’s lives. We’d have to find other people to fill that role. She’d replace me. I knew this was how it was meant to be but it didn’t make it hurt less. I hugged her as she slipped out to go visit Steve. My heart panged with loss and my eyes burned with unshed tears. I had never thought about graduation as an end really, only as a beginning. And while the beginning was exciting, the ending part sucked.

Brent texted me that night to meet him in the groves. I found him lying on a blanket in a clearing, where the trees had been untouched by the fire.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, stretching out beside him.

He immediately drew me close and I rested my head on his chest. “About the future.”

My tongue felt like I had just swallowed a mouth full of peanut butter. “Are you looking forward to Yale?”

He lifted his head so he could see me. “I’ve decided not to go”

“What?” That threw me. Yale had been his dream and with me not going to Columbia it was the path I thought he had picked. “What are you doing instead?”

Brent’s lips pursed. “I only have a few years left. I don’t have a future. I don’t want to waste what time I have left in a classroom.”

He dropped his head back and stared up at the stars.

“Don’t talk like that,” I snapped. It wasn’t really anger that made me surly, but fear. He had to keep hoping. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to have it for both of us, and I needed it. More than anything.

“It’s the truth.” His voice was soft. He pressed his lips against my temple. “I’m dying, Yara.”

“You are not.” I focused on the stars above me, wishing on all of them for strength I wasn’t sure a human could posses. “I’m going to fix this. The cure exists. We just have to figure it out. I owe this to you. I can’t just watch you die.”

“Thank you. If there is a recipe for this cure out there, I know you’ll find it.”

His faith meant the world to me. I couldn’t fail him. I wouldn’t.

Brent leaned his forehead against mine. Our eyes were locked on each other’s, and like an emotional transference, I felt the depth of his pain, his stark fear, his love for me. They all soaked into me and my throat tightened. It was too much, like he was handing the immensity of his soul, laying it bare.

He took my hand in his. “You’re a part of me, Yara. But. . .”

The way he said ‘but’ had me on edge. I shook my head. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

“If you find someone else while you’re gone, you should date them. I love you so much that I want you to be happy. If you find—”

I covered his mouth with my hand. “Brent, stop. Just stop. We are not going to have a stupid conversation about letting each other go. I refuse to have it.”

His lush eyelashes brushed his face as he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Yara, I want you to find someone else so you won’t be alone when I’m gone.”

My fingers dug into my palms. “No. I’m not going to allow you to get your life in order and say your good-byes so you can check out. You aren’t dying.”

“No matter how many times you deny it, it doesn’t change the facts. I am dying. I have the treatment to hold it off, but it will only last so long. A few years at most. It’s not stopping what Thomas did to me, just postponing it.” The back of his hand trailed along my cheek. “And when I go . . . I need to know that you’re okay. That you’re loved.”

“And I will be, by you.” I kissed him, it was a desperate kiss that tasted of tears and of goodbyes I couldn’t face. I pressed myself against him trying to lose all the panic, grief, and sorrow I tried to ignore, to keep it from overwhelming me. He ended the kiss and brought his lips to my ear.

“I just don’t want you to be alone.”

I took a deep breath and sat up. “I know we’re young. I’m only eighteen, but I know what love is. I love you, Brent, and that isn’t going to change. And I won’t be alone, I’ll be with you.”

Brent sighed as he sat up, too. “I love you too. You have no idea how hard that was to say, how much I didn’t want to.”

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not an idiot. It isn’t what I want. I just don’t want my illness to stand in your way of becoming the person you’re meant to be.” He took a deep breath. “I should break up with you, to make my death easier on you.”

“That won’t make it any easier. I’d rather suffer after you’re gone than live without you while you’re still alive. It would the worst kind of pain to know you were alive and not loving me, not mine.”

“That was beautiful.” He rubbed his palm against my hands. He put his arm around my shoulder, his fingers combing through my hair. We sat for a few seconds before he confessed, “But I don’t want you to see me grow weak.”

“I don’t think that—”

He interrupted me with a kiss. It was sweet and I drank it in, letting it temporarily fill all the hollow places his illness was carving into me. We kissed until my lips were swollen, my breath was unsteady and my heart was full.

“So where does this leave us?” I finally asked. “In love and apart?”

I snuggled into his chest, hating that we’d soon be saying goodbye for a long time. “So what do we do now?”

“Enjoy the time we have left together.”

He took my hand in his and kissed each of my fingers and his ring that I still wore. He lay back down and I cuddled close to him as we watched the stars and talked about everything, except how much our lives would change in a week and how much we were going to miss each other, trying to hold onto this one perfect moment, knowing we may never have another like it.

“Yara, since you dismissed my ‘breaking up with you to save you future pain’ idea, will you listen to my other one?”

“Okay, but it better be good because the last one blew.”

My head jostled as he laughed. “What would you think of my going to Brazil with you next week.”