Inevitable (14 page)

I saw the way her eyes appraised me, and I knew she saw in me almost a carbon copy of herself. Her brown hair, the same color as mine, was done up in a loose, stylish bun on top of her head, a few stubborn curls escaping around her petite face. The only thing that gave away her age were the tiny wrinkles starting to show around her blue-green eyes.

“Fine,” I said. “What about you? Bad day?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her baking. “I didn’t sell the big house. But Susan sold the one I showed last week. Looks like someone else gets the giant commission.”

We weren’t lacking for money, but I knew it hurt my mom’s ego not to get the commission. “Hang in there. Maybe you’ll make up for it somewhere.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her back still to me.

I settled in at the kitchen table, helping myself to some warm bread and spreading out my math homework. It wasn’t too late to get going on Monday’s assignments. I checked to make sure my phone wasn’t on silent. “Dad home?”

“No, honey, his flight won’t get in until late tonight, remember?”

“Right.” I nodded, though I never could keep track of my dad’s schedule. His job as a computer consultant often took him away from home for days at a time. I was closer to my dad than my mom...though sometimes I still felt the sting of betrayal when I remembered his reaction when I told him about my Sight. “What time’s dinner? And where’s Beth?”

“Cheerleading practice. Leftover night, help yourself if you’re hungry.”

Oh yeah, Beth was trying out for cheerleading. I hoped she made it. She might as well have some fun in her life before she died. My eyes teared up and I coughed.

“Need help with your math?”

I shook my head, grateful for my mom’s reminder to live in the now. I opened my math book and stared at the equations in front of me. “I’ll do what I can. Maybe Dad can help me later.”

Mom grunted in response, already distracted by her bread dough.

I managed to get the first two equations done without too much trouble, but when it came to the third one, I was stuck. Something about understanding one-sided limits and considering the function of (x)... I cursed Dana for convincing me to sign up for calculus.

The doorbell rang, pulling me out of my diagnostics.

“Oh, Jayne, can you get the door?” my mother asked, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead and leaving flour in her eyebrow.

I stiffened. I hated answering the door. The person on the other side was a complete unknown factor. “Um, yeah, sure.” Trying to ignore the sudden dryness in my throat, I pushed my chair from the table.

I opened the door and came face to face with a box of lollipops. But it wasn’t the lemon lollipop creating the aroma around me.

“Hi, I’m Herold,” a high-pitched child’s voice said. “I’m selling candy to earn money for a trip to Coney Island for my class. Would you like to buy a lollipop?”

“Nothing—Nota—No thank you.” I stumbled over my words in my haste to get the door closed.

“Please!” Herold reached out to grab my arm and in the process lost his box. Lollipops flew everywhere. “Sorry! I’ll pick those up!”

Heaving a sigh, I knelt to help him. “That’s alright. It was an accident.” I reached a hand out, feeling for the box.

“Are you blind?” the boy asked, ducking his head to look up at me.

“No!” I cried.

“
Mommy!” Coughing, sputtering, Herold weaves through a smoke-filled room. The ear-splitting sound of a fire alarm rings through his head. He stops at his parents’ bedroom and presses his hand to the door. Not hot.

“
Herold!”

Herold whirls around at the sound of his little sister. He can’t see the end of the hallway, but he knows she is in her room. “April! Remember how they told us in school? Crawl to me!”

Her whimper is barely audible over the fire alarm.

“
Mommy!” Herold screams again. Why doesn’t she come out of her room?

April’s hysterical sobbing reaches him now. “Herold, I can’t get Kojo! He’s stuck!”

Oh. Her stuffed crocodile. Of course she won’t leave him.

Herold looks toward the stairs leading to the main level, feeling them taunt him. So close to the exit. “Let him go, April!” But he knows she won’t. Herold drops to the ground, trying to find cleaner air. Quickly he moves to April’s bedroom.

Her tiny arms wrap around him when he enters, her little body shaking.

“
I’m here, April.” Mommy. He has to get Mommy.

Another sound fights to be heard over the alarm, a roaring and snapping. Sweat drips from He
rold’s brow and his heart races. Instinctively, he knows time is running out.

“
Come on.” Herold lifts April up, ignoring her cries for the crocodile, and runs for the doorway. He sees it—he’s almost there—and then the floor gives way, dropping the two of them into the fiery abyss below.

The connection broke the moment Herold died, and I jerked away. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, feeling the tears that streamed down my face. It wasn’t too far into the future, either, because I hadn’t seen any other events in Herold’s life. Just his death.

“I’m so sorry,” Herold said. I knew now that he couldn’t be older than nine or ten. “Did I do something?”

“No.” I shook my head. Pulling out my wallet, I handed him several twenties. “Ill take all your lollipops.”
Just go. Go and enjoy Coney Island.

“Really?” I could hear the awe in his voice. “Thank you, lady! I mean, ma’am!”

“Herold?” I paused, my throat aching. How could I warn him? “If you’re ever in a fire, you need to get out of the house. You know that, right?”

He looked at me oddly. “Right.”

I closed my eyes. But the little sister. What could I tell him, to leave her behind? No way would he do that. “That’s all,” I whispered. I waved him off and resumed picking up the spilled lollipops. At least the kid would see Coney Island before he died.

He hurried away with his empty box of candies, and I couldn’t help it; I looked for her.

This time she stood in the middle of the street. I wondered if she ever got tired of wearing the same white dress. I crossed my arms over my chest. “It doesn’t mean anything to me, you know!” I shouted. “Declare. Declare what?”

I turned around and went into the house and straight to my room, ignoring my math homework still laid out on the kitchen table. My hands trembled as I grabbed the matches, fumbling to light my Sweet Pea candle. In a moment, the essence filled the room and I threw myself on my bed, inhaling deeply. Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes and I fought back a sob, images of the last minutes of that little boy’s life invading my mind.

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. What could I do? How could I get these visions to stop? I didn’t want them anymore, I didn’t want to See anymore.

My pocket vibrated, followed quickly by the perky jingle of my cell phone. I took several deep breaths before answering. “Hello?” The smoke and the candle were calming me. I exhaled lightly.

“Hello, Jayne?”

Aaron. I’d know that British accent anywhere. My eyes flashed open. Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair. “Yes?”

“Jayne, it’s Aaron. Don’t hang up, please.” He paused, as if checking to make sure I was still there.

“Okay...” I let the word draw out doubtfully.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come to your house?”

Aaron, at my house. I closed my eyes again and quickly opened them when Herold’s face popped into my head. I needed a distraction. Suddenly I longed for Aaron to be here, to hold me and comfort me. I wanted to lay on my bed with him, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

“Jayne?”

“Yes.” My face grew hot and I fanned myself. “Do you know where I live?”

“No.” The relief was evident in his voice. “What’s your address?”

I rattled the numbers off distractedly while running my fingers around the edge of my candle. The hot, soft wax molded under my fingertip.

“All right. I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Kay.” I tossed the phone on my bed and stared into the flickering flame. What on earth was I getting myself into?

Once I felt good enough to leave my room, I headed downstairs and gathered my homework into a neat pile on the kitchen table. I wasn’t done with it, but my head wasn’t in the right place for mathematical calculations. Mom had left the kitchen and the oven was off, the last loaf of bread cooling on the stove. She was probably sleeping.

I hovered between the kitchen and the living room, anxious for Aaron’s arrival. I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing.

My phone rang at the same time that the doorbell did. I pulled it out. My sister. No, not now. I hit ignore and quickly opened the door.

“Jayne? Are you alright?” Aaron drew his brows together, a frown etching lines into his face.

I realized I was staring at him. At that brown curl on his forehead that would look ridiculous on anyone else, the way his light blue jeans clung tightly to his form. His deep blue eyes, which I could gaze into as long as I wanted now. Now that I already knew how he died. I took a deep breath and shook myself. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. Was just...thinking about something important.”
Like how extremely sexy you are.

The brows lifted. “Have you been crying?”

Oh, drat. I’d almost forgotten. “Come on in, Aaron.” I ducked my head, avoiding his eyes out of habit.

I continued toward the kitchen and stopped when I realized he wasn’t following. I turned around. Aaron still stood in the entry way. “Well? You coming in or not?”

“I want to make sure you know why I’m here.”

I didn’t want to speculate about what brought him to my side of town. Suddenly weary, I waved a hand and rested my head against the kitchen doorway. “Go on.”

He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Well, about that girl you saw me with—”

“That girl?” I echoed. The painful, embarrassing moments at the game on Friday came flashing back to me as clearly as if they had just happened. I jerked my head up. “You mean, Libby? Your girlfriend from England? The one you never bothered mentioning when you canceled our date?” I worked hard not to sound spiteful. But really, I didn’t know why I bothered. I knew what he was going to say. I’d already seen them married.

For a moment he looked more like Clark Kent than Superman, a pathetic and forlorn expression on his face, his dark eyebrows raised over those blue eyes.

I sighed, the fight going out of me. He didn’t have any more say in the matter than I did. Fate would have its way with us. “Just tell your story.”

“Okay.” Aaron nodded. “Libby was my girlfriend in England. I didn’t know she would expect the relationship to continue once I moved.”

I kept my expression impassive. Did he ever break up with her? What else was she to expect? Men. At least I knew better. When Aaron left the States, he also left me.

“It was quite unexpected when she showed up this week. It wasn’t very comfortable. I had to let her know that she isn’t my girlfriend anymore.” He met my eyes on the last sentence, as if this were some big reveal and he wanted me to put the pieces together.

But it wasn’t a big reveal. All of this I’d already known. I’d known everything he was going to say. I didn’t feel the least bit of excitement—just apprehension. This was the beginning of the end.

No.
I wouldn’t let it go that way. I could end this here. If I never became his girlfriend, he couldn’t break up with me just to go back to Libby, marry her and...die. Wow. Happily ever after for both of us. I would not let him shatter my life that way.

“As long as you’re happy, Aaron. I’m glad you two worked something out.” I gestured to the door behind him. “You’ve made yourself clear. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.”

Aaron crossed the foyer to where I stood in the kitchen, his chest touching my shoulder. I caught my breath. I felt his gaze on me but didn’t dare look up. Then he moved past me to the dining room table. “You’re upset, Jayne. I can’t leave you like this. What’s wrong?”

Everything.
My thoughts ran from Aaron, Libby, and my heartbreak, to the last moments of Herold’s life, to the lemon scent enshrouding my sister, to Hannah and the serial killer. Goosebumps popped up on my arms. I rubbed my eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you having a row with your parents?”

I let out a laugh and shook my head.

“Trouble at work?”

“Would you stop?” I stalked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. “I’m fine. Now if you’ll please—”

“Is this your homework?”

I turned around. Aaron stood over the table, looking at my math assignment.

“Looks like you got stuck on number three.” He glanced up and flashed me a grin, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

I slammed my glass down on the counter, unable to tear my eyes away from his disturbingly blue eyes. And that strong jawline. “I’ll get it. Math is my best subject.”