Sojourner (11 page)

“Nope,” she replies, patting my hand.  “Only a guy could do it, and I’m quite sure his explanation would make no sense.  I still don’t even know what a carburetor does.”  She shrugs.  “Any particular guy?”

“Your brother?”  I level a frustrated gaze at her.

“My brother?”  She belts out a laugh I don’t expect from someone as tiny as she is, and her hand drifts to her stomach while she tries to control the sudden outburst.

“What’s so funny?” I mutter.

After a moment she is finally able to answer.  “Lev is Lev, Lizzie.  What’s to explain?” 

I shrug, unsure once again how to proceed but know that if I don’t say something, I’m going to go nuts.  “Do you ever dream about guys?”

“Good dreams or bad ones?”  Her expression turns thoughtful.

“Both.”

“About the same guy?”  Her eyebrows arch inquisitively.  “I didn’t think that was possible.”  She shakes her head as though she’s still trying to wrap her thoughts around that one.

“It’s complicated.”  I push the button on the bedrail to raise my head.

“What’s complicated?” we hear. 

Both of us turn to the doorway, expecting that Lev will have returned.  No such luck.  Instead, Griffin enters, carrying a bouquet of a dozen red roses in a delicate vase.  His gaze focuses intently on my face.

“How the human body works, of course,” Celia says, shooting me a conspiratory grin.  Then she turns her attention to the flowers in his hand.  “Lovely roses, Griffin.  You can set them next to the daisies Lev brought her earlier.”  She points to a basket overflowing with simpler flowers that I immediately adore.

“Yeah.”  Griffin’s clipped tone and sudden dark frown tell me exactly how he feels about those daisies.  As much as I enjoy them, he would dearly love to throw them out the window, which makes them all the more beautiful in my eyes.

“Celia, would you mind if I had a word with Lizzie?”  He edges closer to the bed, and I want to ask if anyone has a crucifix handy.

“Sure, go right ahead.  Have several if you want.”  She shifts in the chair and then looks at her nails, pretending to pay no attention to him.

“I meant alone.”  His tone drips acid, and he gives her a surly scowl, not that she’s really paying attention.

“Ohhh, well that might be a problem.  You see, I promised her father that I would sit with her in his absence.  That I wouldn’t leave.  So there you have it.  Sorry.”  She shrugs her shoulders as though she feels badly then goes back to filing her nails.  “But feel free to converse as if I wasn’t even here.”

“I’m sure her father wouldn’t mind a moment alone.”

“Oh, you don’t know my father.”  I grab Celia’s tie-dyed pheasant blouse and keep her close.  “When he told Celia to stay, he really, really meant it so whatever you’d like to say, you’re just going to have to say it in front of her.”  It’s taking everything I have to keep the giggles rising up inside of me from exploding into laughter.

Disgustedly, he sets the vase next to the basket then looks from me to Celia and back again.  “Well, I was going to ask if you’d go out with me once you get out of here since you can’t really make lunch.”

“There’s no telling how long she’s going to be in here, Griffin.  Or even how long she’s going to be sick.”  Celia pats my hand.  “Perhaps you should think about that after she gets back to school.  I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to have lunch with you when she gets back.”

“I thought I wasn’t even supposed to know you were here,” he growled, turning a baleful glare her direction.  “It would be easier to do that if you’d be quiet.”

“Silly me,” she said, winking at me.  “I just have a stupid habit of prattling on and on when I shouldn’t.  Go ahead with asking Lizzie out, if you want.”  She leaned back in the chair.  “I won’t say another word.”

“Well?” Griffin asked carefully, edging even closer so I can smell his expensive sandalwood cologne.

“I think Celia’s got a good point.  We should wait.”

“It doesn’t hurt to talk about-“

The loud static of the television interrupts him and we both look at Celia who is flipping channels.  As she feels both our gazes, she mouths the word, “Sorry” and then continues to flip, not even bothering to adjust the volume.

“Forget it!” Griffin says, giving her one last dirty look before he storms out, leaving us giggling.  Celia waits about two minutes after his abrupt departure to turn the television off, probably to make sure he is good and gone.

“That worked like a charm,” she says, smiling wickedly.  Her curls bounced as she broke into another wave of laughter.  “That might keep him at bay at least until you get back to school.”

“Yeah, until he wants me to make good on my lunch promise.”  Inwardly I groan, already dreading it.

 “I never said you had to eat with him alone,” she says, patting my hand.  “Lev could come.  Or even better, I’ll be glad to attend.  It will drive him absolutely bonkers and I will cherish every moment.”  Another fit of laughter sweeps over us, and I wait until it dies down before I turn back to her, a serious question on my mind.

“Celia, how does Lev feel about me?”

She releases my hand and sits against the seat, her grin quickly changing to a more thoughtful expression, and I can tell that she’s trying to figure out how to say something difficult.

“It’s all right.” I quickly look away, suddenly wishing the noise of the television would fill the room and take away the uncomfortable silence.  Finally she looks at me.

“Lizzie, I’m really glad you moved here.  But it’s not my place to tell you how Lev feels.  He has a lot to say to you, and I have no doubt one day, when he’s ready, he will.  You have to be patient.”

For an instant, I see Lev standing in the doorway, ready to come in until he hears us talking.  Then his shoulders sag and he turns away, another confirmation that although I might be crazy about him, he’s lukewarm at best over me.

Chapter Seven

The doctor releases me the next day, but I spend three more in bed, my body craving all the sleep I’ve denied it.  More than once, I think of those vivid nightmares when my life ended with a bullet and Lev had been there.  Since the trip to the hospital, however, something has shifted. 

The soldiers still come and go in my nightmares, and Lev always shows.  Now, he stands in front of me, arms raised, as the soldiers pass.  I still hear others scream, but I survive, and little by little I see things about the dream Lev that make me even more sure he is the same as the Lev in my waking world.  I just don’t know how my mind discovered him in the dreams before I’d moved to Hauser’s Landing.

 Today will be my first day back at school, and I’m dreading it, standing before this mirror, in jeans and a red sweater.  I’ve changed so many times there’s a pile of clean clothes almost as tall as I am lying on the bed.  In fact, most of my closet is there.  Outfit number thirty, and I’m still not satisfied.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze, my gaze halting on the red sweater I don’t much like.  Had Jimmie forgotten his keys?  I descend the stairs two at a time and hurry to the door.  I find Lev on the porch, leaning against the railing.  He’s wearing that brown jacket I’ve come to know so well; the color only accentuates the gold in his hair all the more.

“What are you doing here?”  I open the screen door and step out onto the cold concrete despite my bare feet.

“Thought I’d see if you wanted a ride.”  He stands upright and fiddles with his keys, his eyes avoiding mine.

“I’d like that, but I’m not ready.”

“I’ll wait.”  He glances at his watch.  “We’ve got a few minutes.”

“Come in.”  I hold the door and he follows me to the living room.  I point to the sofa.  “Why don’t you have a seat?  I’ll be out soon.”

“All right.”  Glancing sidelong at me, he skulks to the sofa and sits, his posture rigidly uncomfortable as he perches on sofa.

Not wanting to delay, I slip on some socks and my boots and grab my handbag.  I head downstairs and find Lev exactly in the same position, his gaze distant and preoccupied.

“I’m ready,” I call, grabbing my book bag from the kitchen counter.  By the time I get to the coat closet, he’s already there, waiting.  I grab my coat, but he plucks it from my fingers.

“Let me help you with that.”  He nods at my arms.

“Thanks.”  I slide into the sleeves and then zip it up.  One of his hands lingers at the small of my back, his fingers gently stroking, a feeling that steals my breath.

“Let’s go,” I say, pushing open the screen door.  He slips out after and tugs the door shut, twisting the knob to see it’s locked and then ambles around to the passenger side of his truck to let me in.

On the way, Lev again seems contemplative.  His fingers grip the wheel, twisting the leather cover back and forth distractedly.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”  He doesn’t look at me.

“You seem somewhere else.”

“Just lots of homework.  It’s that time of year.”  Even his tone is distant.

The answer is simple enough, but wrong.  Again I try to reconcile the Lev of my dreams with this Lev, the Lev stuck in homework, and the two don’t mix.  Come to think of it, the dream Lev may look seventeen like me, but there is also something timeless about him, too; he has a much older soul, I think.  Lev’s not about to talk over whatever’s bothering him.  He doesn’t talk much, not to me.  Celia maybe, but no one else.

“Thanks for coming to get me.  It’s really thoughtful.”

He shrugs.  “It’s the least I can do considering my sloth was the reason you went off the bridge in the first place.”

“Sloth?”

“Laziness.”  He flips his turn signal and turns into the school parking lot, carefully avoiding the kids scrambling toward the building and lingering by their cars, hanging out until the bell.  The wind snaps at the girls’ hair and reddens their faces.

Lev parks and turns to me.  “We need to talk.”

“Sure.”  I glance at the clock and realize we have more than enough time.  Besides, my head is already swimming just being next to him.  Maybe he’ll tell me what’s bugging him.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything, but could you do me a favor and stay away from Griffin, at least as much as you can?”

“I’ve tried,” I reply, stifling a laugh.  I’ve been trying.   “Why?  Are you jealous?” 

He shakes his head and looks away.  “No--it’s just…something else, okay?”  His voice is different, edgy.

I lean closer so only inches separate us.  “Could you be a little more specific?”  I’m waiting for his answer, and suddenly he looks at me, and my breath catches.  Neither of us can seem to look away, and all I can hear is my heartbeat thundering in my temples.  His face dips closer and closer until his lips brush mine, feather-light.  I am drawn to the heat of it until he slowly pulls away, and I hold my breath.  He leans in again but this time stops short, his fingers drifting across my cheek.

“You’re beautiful, Elizabeth.  And you deserve better.”  His eyebrows tug downward in a frown and his lips part as though I’ve snapped a candid shot of him taking a deep breath.

“So have I been good enough to deserve you?”  I reach to touch his face but he catches my hand, his fingers softly closing over mine.