LEMNISCATE (7 page)

I rolled my eyes.

The next ten minutes were taken up by intense decision making. Parmesan or parmesan-romano? Crushed peppers or creole powder? Garlic powder? Garlic salt? Garlic flakes? By the time my mom made the earth-shattering choice of what we were all going to shake onto our pizza, I had spaced so severely that I may have even drooled on myself.

Thankfully, the toppings were the last thing on the list. As we were checking out, Mom asked if I wanted a magazine or a candy bar, just like she used to when I was little. After picking out a pack of gum, I noticed she looked a little antsy all of a sudden, like she couldn’t wait to leave. Well, geez, she could’ve felt that way back in the spice aisle.

After paying we walked to the car and she carefully placed the bags in the trunk. I realized that she wasn’t being cautious for the groceries’ sake but for mine as she turned to me and half-whispered “Nate’s asked us to move in with them.”

I stood staring at her like an idiot, unable to move. Really.

“Honey? Well, what do you think?” she was giving me one of her strained smiles. The kind where it’s sort of painted on her face and overly cheerful. But it was starting to crack from the tension.

Without a word I turned, opened the passenger door and got inside, shutting the door on the mess that had just exploded in my face. I didn’t have to look out the window to know that my mom was still standing there, dumbfounded. I could visualize her biting the inside of her cheek, the crease forming deeply on her forehead. I heard her mutter “alrighty then,” and then she got in on her side and we drove home in complete, uncomfortable silence.

S
ilently, we unloaded the groceries and then went our separate ways for the rest of the night. Guilt consumed me as I tried to focus on equations and found myself padding inconspicuously into her bedroom, waiting by the doorframe for her to notice and invite me in.

She looked tired as she peered over the top of the novel she was reading. Again, the guilt pangs hit me hard as I realized something. Our disagreements seemed to wear on her, but when she was with Dr. Dean she looked years younger. When she talked about Dr. Dean she gushed like a teenager, going on and on like a first crush, stopping only when my ears rang painfully and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I shook my head and stepped into her room. She patted the covers next to her and I quietly climbed in beside her, curling up on my side.

“Homework done?”

“No,” I answered, letting that subject drop. I took a deep breath then asked, “Do you really love him?”

She slid her finger between the pages she was reading and let the book rest on her chest. “Can you believe it? I really do.”

“Why?”

She looked away thoughtfully, then sighed and her gaze rested back on me.

“For a long time I’ve been the happiest person in the world,” she smiled.

I was confused. I thought living with me was difficult, but then remembered it’s only been that way recently. “You are my life, Teagan. Losing your father was hard, but it was you who helped me through it. You do realize you saved me? If I didn’t have you, who knows what kind of person I would be right now.”

This wasn’t the first time I had heard this story. How the responsibility of taking care of me had kept her grounded. I was also her one last link to my father. Wasn’t it painful that I reminded her of him? I knew she loved me, but I still couldn’t help feeling guilty. Now I understood my need to reverse the roles . . . why I wanted to take care of her. I’ve been feeling responsible for her well being all along.

“But . . . sorry, that doesn’t really answer my question.”

She cupped her hand beneath my chin and looked at me thoughtfully.

“When I met Nate in the hospital with you, I was so grateful to him . . . but there was something else there. A connection. I know it sounds silly.”

“No it doesn’t, go on,” I urged.

For a fleeting moment I felt like we were two girlfriends, having a sleepover and gossiping about guys.

“When I looked at him to take his card,” she blushed. “I was reminded of how it felt when I met your dad. He makes me feel like me again, and she’s someone I’ve missed for a very long time.”

I smiled up at her. How could I take this away from her? She was so happy with him.

“He’s a good guy, Teagan. He doesn’t have to be your
father.
Just give him a chance to be your friend.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain, Mom. I know he makes you happy. It’s just . . .” I let out a huge sigh. “You know Brynn and I don’t exactly get along, so she gets in the way of my getting to know him better.”

“She’s no cup of tea, that’s for sure. Even Nate has issues with her.”

“Are we moving in with them?” I buried my head beneath her arm, afraid of the answer.

“I’d love to, but no, I’m not going to ask you to move.”

“But . . . then why?” I stammered, bringing my head up to look at her.

“I was just trying to have a heart-to-heart conversation with you, sweetie. Don’t you realize that I’ve missed the way we used to talk to each other?”

I nodded sheepishly, “I miss it too.”

“Do you know how long it would take to list this house and pack all our junk up? This house probably wouldn’t even budge on the market until after your graduation.”

I giggled nervously, realizing my overreaction.

“Did you think we were going to move in this weekend?” she asked.

“If we ever do move in with them, just put me on the opposite side of the house. Better yet, a different floor.”

“She can’t be all that bad.” She smiled, shaking her head.

“Don’t even go there, Mom. She’s evil.”

“Nate thinks it’s the friends she hangs out with, that they’re a bad influence. He’s sort of an expert on all that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, curling up under the covers.

“Oh, he’s a brilliant man. He has all sorts of theories and ideas on humanity and ethics. Why people are the way they are. It’s amazing he chose the medical field. He could have easily gone into philosophy or history. You know, he even has a theory about that funny scar on your hand.”

My ears perked up the moment the words came to her lips and I clutched my right hand tightly beneath the covers. Only a few, select people knew the truth about my scar. It was pure luck that the fire in the woods burned my hand, camouflaging my mark.

“So, what’s his theory?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Just that it looked a little unusual for a scar. He said it actually looks like an ancient brand.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Brand? As in ownership of livestock?”

My mom let out a laugh, “Yeah, I guess so. He said it was similar to a mark of protection he researched years ago, but it’s just coincidence. He said maybe the heavens branded you for protection from the fire, and that’s why you were given the strength to not only survive it yourself, but to save Garreth as well. It’s kind of a nice thought when you think about it. You were both very lucky that night.”

I tried not to think about that night, when I thought Garreth was lost for good. It had seemed his time here on earth, eight amazingly short days, was up. But even though my guardian stayed earthbound, it seemed he was still lost.

Oblivious to my sudden silence, my mother kept on talking about Dr. Dean and his “theories” and how he thought there were answers to everything and everyone; like a blueprint mapped out for everyone since the beginning of time, and how my mom thought he was an amazingly deep man.

“He keeps every theory logged so he can refer back to it if he needs to. He’s so organized,” my mom continued.

“What do you mean ‘logged’?”

“Oh, he writes all his thoughts down in a journal.”

“Sort of like a diary? Isn’t he a little old for that?” I was beginning to yawn and it occurred to me that my homework was still sitting on my desk and it wasn’t getting done by itself.

“It’s more like a record book, with actual dates and times. Real-life accounts for strange phenomena. He’s been keeping the journal forever and it’s kind of battered and old looking. Hey, that’s a great idea for a Christmas present for him. Don’t let me forget that one.”

Bits and pieces of the conversation I had overheard in the bathroom at school came floating back to me and I wondered, could the book Brynn’s friends said she was hunting for be the very same journal my mother was describing? If it was in fact one and the same and Dr. Dean had some crazy notions about my scar, then I certainly would be an entry in that journal. Wouldn’t Brynn just love to get her hands on any information she could use against me? Especially if that information was surreal.

But what would Dr. Dean want with information like that? Was he just a studious adult nerd that liked to keep track of strange subject material? And what were the odds that his step-daughter was Brynn Hanson, of all people. It seemed too strange to be a coincidence.

There was something else, something I had overheard in the bathroom.

Shoot! What was it?

I wracked my brain for it to come back to me. It was just a snippet that didn’t mean anything . . . at least not until now anyway.

Then I remembered.

“
Do you think he put her up to it?”

Who was “
he
”?

As the subject we were just on blended into a new one, I excused myself, responsibly saying I had homework to finish up. But before leaving her room, I lingered in the doorway.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” I asked warily.

A sweet, reflective smile appeared across her face.

“Of course I do, honey.”

I returned her smile and went to my room.

I felt the overwhelming need to talk to Ryan just then. He was the only person right now who I could talk to about this, the only one who understood how Brynn despised me. He knew how twisted and sick she really was, and the lengths she would go to get what she wanted.

My head was dizzy from thinking.

Brynn, Dr. Dean, my mother . . . how did this all connect?

An unsettling feeling washed over me. Whatever this puzzle was, it couldn’t be good.

Oh Garreth, I need you.

He was supposed to protect me but where was he? Suspended for underage drinking during lunch hour. Of all the idiotic things. I felt tight, scalding tears form in the back of my throat. I had no idea what to do about Garreth but if it came down to me helping him again, then yes, I would help him.

I looked at my hand and willed my mark to appear full and strong on my palm. I was so confused. Was I to be the one to save my guardian from here on out? Was I the stronger one now? I didn’t feel very strong. I felt lonely and hurt and confused. Then to make matters worse, let’s just throw Hadrian back into the mix. I was seriously beginning to think he was haunting me, with the feathers and all. I mean, face it. I’m a magnet for chaos. I had my doubts that  had anything to do with Brynn unless she was striving to make me insane. Which, I suppose, did sound like her. No, face it. I was good at attracting the weird and unexplained and keeping it close at hand. Why couldn’t I just be normal?

I tried to cast aside my confusion and paranoia. Right now I had to focus on the task at hand.

Right now I needed to get my hands on that journal.

S
leep had  not come easily.

In fact, it was hours before my body finally melted down and gave up. But even then it wasn’t restful. It was garish and unpleasant, full of strange dreams and even stranger faces. I felt like an unseen ghost, a whisper of someone else’s thoughts traveling through someone else’s nightmare.

Sitting up, I placed my hands over my eyes to filter out the light billowing in through my window. My sensitive eyes blinked painfully as the blinding yellow glow made a beeline for my sleep deprived head. Then I remembered, I needed to talk to Ryan today. But wading through the six hours of school would be torture, not that it wasn’t when I
didn’t
have something important on the threshold. But this, the waiting to talk to him, to tell him about the strange, old book and Dr. Dean’s hobby—this might get us somewhere and the closer we got to stopping whatever Brynn was up to, the better.

I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around whatever Brynn was planning. I honestly thought I had been through it all after dealing with a dark angel last year. It seemed that Brynn and Hadrian had traded places this year. Now I was more concerned about a high-heeled, cheerleading menace than a malicious archangel.

There was no way I could stand waiting until after school to tell Ryan about Brynn and the book or my plan for us to sneak into Dr. Dean’s house tomorrow night and search for it.

Complaining to myself was only making matters worse. I needed to vent. As the overwhelming need to get things off my chest became more unbearable, a thought came to me. A soothing little piece of reassurance. Despite the few minutes left before I needed to get downstairs, I seemed to float effortlessly over to my computer. There was someone who would hear me out and not judge or look at me sideways. Someone who would just plain listen.

I drummed up the nerve before the fleeting moment of inspiration left me. Why not email Claire again? It had made me feel a million times better the other day and besides, who’s going to tap into the closed email account of a dead person?

No one, that’s who.

The deep breath I took filled me with confidence and once again my fingers flew across the keys, my heart and soul pouring out through their tips like never before. I had written to Claire the other night, but it wasn’t like this. Today there seemed to be a silent desperation within me that was lacking in the previous email. Finally, all the emotions I had stored up inside over her absence, her death, seemed to have boiled over, and now there was no stopping it. In my mind, I could picture Claire so clearly, as if she were in the room with me and because of this, the words flowed effortlessly.