Coldhearted (9781311888433) (47 page)

She turned toward him and noticed that he’d
reclaimed her hand. Russell was on her other side; his hand kept
brushing against hers, but he (thankfully) refrained from outright
clasping it. Quinn was standing in front of Edie, then Jules, with
Diana and Madelyn close by, scrunched in, and Gunnar, Rory, Amee,
and Bree rounded out the rest. They weren’t afraid of Edie. And
despite the chill that she was giving off, her uncle never let go
of her cold, dead hand.

“
Thank you all for saving
me.”

Quinn advanced and took her free hand,
rubbing her skin, as if he were trying to warm her up. It was a
thoughtful gesture, but it’d never work. However, she let him
continue. It was nice to be comforted and she interlaced her
fingers with his.

He smiled. “So…what’s it like being
dead?”

“
Quinn,” Russell admonished,
and then placed his hand protectively on Edie’s back.

Quinn shrugged. “What? Like we’re not all
curious?”

“
It’s okay,” Edie
said.

She freed her hand from Quinn’s, and then
stepped aside, away from Russell’s restrained touch that begged for
more, despite how cold and dead she was.

Both of them frowned at her as she moved
away. She ignored their glum looks and took up position next to her
uncle, who seemed as if he’d never let her go. It was safe holding
his hand. He was family. She could feel his warmth, as she had with
Quinn and Russell, evidence that they were still alive. But she
couldn’t explain why Tristan was hotter than a thousand suns, or
why she was equally hot to him. She was sure it was a mystery that
she’d never solve.

Edie appraised everyone, and their wide eyes,
waiting to hear what it was like to be dead, minus the corpse
decay, and the ability to walk and talk, as if she were alive. Her
existence was complicated, and not even she could fully explain
it.

Edie smiled. “Why don’t we all go out for
breakfast and I’ll tell you, then?” she suggested.

She wasn’t hungry, but people always felt
better when they had food inside their bellies. And she’d suggested
it because she thought that she’d heard a stomach or two, growl
among the crowd. No one had probably eaten since last night,
staving off hunger to hatch a rescue plan.

Diana furrowed her brow. “You can eat?”

Edie shrugged. “I don’t know, but”—she
grinned—“I’m dying to find out.”

Only Quinn and Jules laughed at Edie’s joke.
Everyone else seemed too nervous to respond.

Edie waved a hand at them. “C’mon, you guys!
Let’s celebrate. It’s not every day your friend dies, and then
comes back as a corporeal ghost.”

“
Oh, speaking of death…”
Madelyn trailed off, and then continued, “Mason’s funeral is
tomorrow. Principal Jennings is giving everyone the day off to
attend, and you know, to mourn.”

Diana spoke up next. “Yeah, the, uh, police
are looking for Tristan,” she said, and then looked up at Lockhart
Manor. “Of course they’ll never find him, right?”

Edie followed Diana’s gaze and discovered
Tristan had vanished from the window. But Edie could still feel
him, staring at her.

“
No,” Edie said. “They
won’t. It’ll be a cold case, unsolved. Of course Tristan is being
punished for his crime. He’s imprisoned in Lockhart Manor, thanks
to Adrian and Arianna.” Edie turned toward Russell. “Adrian said
that you’re buying the place, making sure no one ever goes
in?”

Russell nodded. “As long as I’m alive,
Lockhart Manor will be ‘forbidden to enter.’”

No one voiced concern of what would happen to
Lockhart Manor after Russell had died. Who would watch over it? In
Edie’s mind, she volunteered for the task, knowing that she’d be
the best one to undertake such a responsibility. But she said
nothing, leaving this conversation for another day, far into the
future, when it would need to be discussed. Now was not the time to
be detailing one’s Last Will and Testament. Now was a time to
celebrate, to enjoy being together again.

Tomorrow…well, tomorrow would be a different
story.

Tomorrow would be a time to mourn, to
remember her beloved Mason, who’d died because of her. Yes, Tristan
had been the executioner, but if Edie had died, when Arianna had
wanted her to, Mason would be with her right now, giving Edie that
dimpled smile, while holding her hand and never letting go. Edie
had spoken of forgiveness to Tristan, but she couldn’t forgive
herself.

Even if she were to forgive herself, it
wouldn’t matter. It was Mason’s forgiveness that she needed to
hear. The thought of seeing him, if his spirit were in the school,
was exciting and terrifying at the same time. She longed to see
him, yet she was afraid of what she may hear: would he profess his
love or blame her for his early demise?

The very idea made her never want to go back
to school again. Did she have to now that she was dead? Would
people realize that she was dead? Would she lie or admit the truth?
And how could she ever love again, and be loved in return, when her
heart didn’t beat? She’d never have children. She’d continue on,
stuck at seventeen, while everyone aged around her, and then died.
Would she see them again? Or would they walk past each other,
unseen?

The future was terrifying. She realized that
despite the welcoming crowd around her, she was all alone.

“
So…breakfast?” Quinn
encouraged, playfully tapping Edie’s nose.

He brought her somewhat out of her
depression. She was glad to have him in her life.

She smiled. “Let’s go.”

“
I’m buying,” her uncle
offered, smiling.

There were claps and whoops among the crowd.
Quinn suggested a diner and everyone agreed, then parted ways, as
Gunnar left with one group in his car, and Jules, the rest. Russell
lingered awhile, hesitant to leave Edie. She persuaded him to go,
and he did, driving away in his car.

She and her uncle were the last to leave
Lockhart Manor.

Despite being dead, she strapped on her
seatbelt—safety first—in her car that’d been under a blanket of
snow the entire night; someone had brushed most of it off for her.
She turned over the engine and rolled down her window when she saw
her uncle approach.

“
Uh, Edie, are you sure
about this?” he asked, indicating her position at the
wheel.

She nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m dead, but I
haven’t forgotten how to drive. See?”

She rotated the steering wheel, turned the
headlights on and off, and then the blinkers. One knob she didn’t
turn was the heat. She didn’t need to. She felt perfectly
comfortable in her T-shirt and jeans.

“
Okay,” her uncle said,
realizing that she was a corporal ghost and not a slow-moving
zombie, delirious for brains. “But here,” he continued, offering
his coat. Edie took it just to make him feel better. “You should
wear it,” he suggested. “People will see you, underdressed, and you
know…they might talk.”

“
Oh, yeah,” she said, and
shrugged it on. “I need to blend in, right?”

Her uncle nodded. “Right.” He laid his hand
over hers. “I’m glad to have you back. When I found out what you’d
done...” He trailed off, tears in his eyes, and then continued, “I,
uh, I couldn’t think, except to remember how I’d felt when Cora
died, when Loren died. At the time of their deaths, I’d wanted to
die too, but I knew you needed me. When I was told you were dead,
though, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to save you, and I’d never
thought it’d be possible, but today, I learned there are such
things as miracles.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You did a
very brave thing, Edie, but if you ever do something like that
again, well…”—he playfully tugged on her earlobe—“I’m grounding
you, got it?”

She nodded. “Got it,” she said, and then
smiled. “I love you, Uncle Lan-Lan.”

He chuckled. “I love you too.”

“
Oh, I almost forgot.” Edie
reached into her jeans pocket, where she retrieved the clown nose,
and handed it to him. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“
No problem,” he said, and
then put it on his own nose. “I’m thinking of writing a
sequel.”

“
I can’t wait to read it,”
she said truthfully.

In fact, she was planning on reading every
one of his books. One, because she wanted to, and two, well…now she
had a lot of time on her hands, considering she was going to exist
forever as a corporeal ghost. There were all sorts of stuff she
could do: take up the violin…hike the Himalayas…dive to the bottom
of the Atlantic…

Her uncle kissed her cheek again, bringing
her out of her swirling thoughts. She watched as he got into his
car, turned over the engine, and then drove away, before coming to
stop near the edge of the property, waiting for her. Edie raised
her window, put her car in gear, and followed, but at a snail’s
pace to take another look at Tristan’s window.

He’d come back and his palm was pressed flat
against the pane, telling her “goodbye” again. She stopped the car,
and in return, she pressed her palm against the driver’s window,
mirroring him. They stayed like this for the longest time, in
silence, until she heard a car horn honk. She lowered her hand and
turned to see her uncle. He was still wearing the clown nose, as he
stuck his head out of his window, mouthing the words, “Are you all
right?”

She nodded, giving him a smile, but she
couldn’t leave Lockhart Manor without taking one last look at
Tristan.

He was gone, but his handprint upon the
glass, remained.

Goodbye, Tristan, until we meet again.

###

About the Author

Melanie Matthews has been writing for years, ever
since she read The Lord of the Rings and said, “I can do that!” She
still has yet to write an epic fantasy, but it’s on her to do list.
Coldhearted is her debut novel. She lives in South Carolina. You
can follow her on [email protected]_author.