Beyond the Grave (11 page)

“We're connected?” I was still struggling with the revelation that the thing I had encountered was not a regular, standard Watcher, but some sort of super-Watcher.

Michael stood up. “Excuse me for a minute.”

Over by the pizza line, something was happening. Most of the kids had paired off, but the boy in the baseball cap was hanging behind. His head was down, but it was obvious he was watching the others. It was also obvious that he was holding something in his hand, something he was trying to keep concealed.

Michael wandered over slowly, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted a slice of pizza. He was blocking the boy's view of the others, so the boy tried to walk around. Before he could, Michael put out his arm. His hand brushed against the boy, causing him to look up. Michael said something to him. The boy nodded and handed over the object he had been trying to hide. After a few more seconds of conversation, the
boy walked away and Michael headed back to our table. He tossed the object into a trash can before he sat down.

“What was it?” I asked. “That thing you threw away.”

“Oh, that.” Michael downed the last of his coffee. “The kid had a camera and some very bad intentions. It was a problem that needed to be stopped before it went too far.”

He met my gaze, and again, I was struck by his eyes. I knew those eyes, but I didn't understand
how
I knew them.

“Can you really stop the Watcher?”

He took my hand in his, and I immediately felt calmer. It was like relaxing in a warm bath, a sensation that surrounded me completely.

“I will do everything I can, Charlotte,” he said. “I promise. I will not fail again.”

I was still mulling over the possible meaning of Michael's promise—
I will not fail again
—when I arrived home. Maybe he was referring to the fact that he hadn't been there for us when Mom was attacked, but something about the way he said it made me think that wasn't the case, that there was more to it.

We had chatted a little more before leaving the mall. Michael had narrowed down a list of inmates who had served unusually long sentences at the prison, men who had died behind its cold bars. Finding the Watcher's real name would be like uncovering a weapon: it would not defeat the entity entirely, but it would definitely weaken him.

I walked through the front door of my house and was greeted by the scent of pot roast and the sound of happy voices coming from the kitchen. Dad, Shane and Trisha were gathered near the counter.

“Hey, guys!” I immediately went over to the Crock-Pot. “This smells great.”

“It needs another hour,” Trisha said.

It had been a while since Trisha had come over to make us dinner. “What's the special occasion?” I asked.

My question was answered with an awkward silence. The adults exchanged nervous looks at one another, as if silently asking who was going to say something first. Dad took a deep breath. “Let's go into the dining room.”

This was not good. Something had happened. It had to be Mom. Something had happened to Mom. “No,” I said, gripping the edge of the counter. “Tell me here.”

“Okay.” Shane stood next to Trisha and put one arm around her shoulder. “We have news.”

Trisha nodded. “I spoke with my son Ryan yesterday,” she began. “Both Ryan and Jeff were able to arrange leave at the same time. They're coming home next month.”

I immediately relaxed my grip on the counter. “That's great news!”

“But that's not all.” Trisha nodded at Shane, who cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, since Jeff and Ryan will be here, we've decided to go ahead with the wedding. We're getting married on October 15.”

I stared at Shane, confused. October 15 was only three weeks away. Had there been an update on Mom? Would she be well enough by then? “I don't understand.”

“We all wanted Mom to be there,” Dad said. “But this is wonderful news. It was a major feat for Jeff and Ryan to plan leave together. They won't be able to do it again.”

I couldn't look at the three of them, so I stared at my hands instead. “But Mom is supposed to be there.”

Shane sighed. “I know. And Trisha knows, too, and we came up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Maybe there
was
news. Maybe Michael's healing techniques had been having an effect and Mom would be with us. I felt a surge of hope, like a seed pushing through the dirt.

“We're saving a seat for her.” Shane smiled. “We'll have a framed picture of her right in the front row, next to your dad. And we're videotaping the ceremony, of course, and we can take the video to her room and play it for her.”

It was like someone had stomped on my hope. “That's your plan?”

Shane's face fell. “You don't like it.”

No, I didn't like it. Not at all.

“I don't like you giving up on Mom. I don't like you breaking promises.” My voice was getting louder. “And I don't like you choosing her over us! We're family!”

“Yes, you are.” Shane kept his voice low and steady. “But so is Trisha. And I know your mom would approve. I wouldn't be doing this if I thought she wouldn't.”

“I'm sorry you're hurt by this,” Trisha said, stepping forward. She sounded genuinely apologetic, and her expression was pained. “Please remember that your mother is my friend, and I wouldn't do this if I thought for a second that she would be upset by it.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to trust her words because they made sense. But it was too much.

“When she wakes up, everything will be different,” I said softly.

“No, it won't. Some things will have changed, but change isn't always bad.” She gave me a half smile. “Honestly, I think your mother would be furious if she woke up and discovered that we hadn't moved forward with our lives.”

“Maybe.” But where did that leave Dad? His life consisted of sitting at her bedside, reading books on theology. Deadlines had passed, speaking engagements canceled, projects left abandoned. Would Mom be furious with him, or was it the unspoken deal when you had been married for decades that life stopped when the other person wasn't there?

I retreated to my room, desperately craving some alone time. But Dad followed me upstairs, insisting that we talk.

“Both Shane and Trisha love you. You know that, right?”

I shrugged. Of course I knew. But I also knew that the people who loved you were often the ones who hurt you the most.

“They came to me first,” Dad continued. “They asked for my blessing and said they wouldn't get married if I had a problem with it.”

“So why didn't you tell them you had a problem with it? You could have stopped this.”

Dad frowned. “Stop two people from being happy? Why would I want that, Charlotte? For that matter, why would you?”

Because we're not supposed to be moving on without Mom, I thought. Because Shane and Trisha can't celebrate the happiest day of their lives without her. Because we can't give up yet, and this stupid ceremony feels like we are.

“I don't want to stop anyone's happiness,” I mumbled.

Dad patted my back. “Glad to hear it.” He got up. “This is a good thing, Charlotte. It really is.”

“Okay.” I agreed because it was what he wanted to hear. It was what everyone wanted to hear.

Everyone but me.

 

B
LISS AGREED TO MEET ME
for lunch the next day. I suggested that we go somewhere off campus, but she refused.

“The cafeteria,” she said in a way that did not allow argument. “One way to defeat your panic attacks is to return to a place where they occurred.”

I knew she was right, but I dreaded going back to the crowded room. My stomach twisted all morning as I sat through my classes, barely aware of what my professors were
saying. I tried not to think about returning to the cafeteria. After all, it wasn't the place that triggered the attacks, it was the sound. But I worried that the same thing would occur again. Someone could make a simple, clumsy mistake and I would fall back into the hyperventilating state I was getting much too familiar with.

My classes did not provide the distraction I was hoping for, and I found myself doodling in my notebook and drifting back to my meeting with Michael. It had gone well, I decided. He definitely gave off a big-brother vibe, which I liked. I wondered if it was part of Michael's powers. Maybe he had a way of making sure I felt totally nonthreatened around him. Maybe he was assigned to me because he was not my type and there was no chance of some weird sexual attraction. Or maybe we were connected, as he had said, and that connection was somehow a family thing. Could we be related?

I wanted to determine how I was connected to Michael. It seemed important. But it was a topic that made Michael uncomfortable. I didn't want to push the issue yet, but I needed to know. It could wait, though. There were more important things to resolve first.

By lunchtime, I was a mess. I couldn't remember why I had asked Bliss to have lunch with me. What was I trying to accomplish? Another panic attack? I stood outside the cafeteria entrance, desperately searching for a valid excuse not to go in.

After twenty minutes, Bliss emerged from the cafeteria. “There you are. I've been waiting.” She was dressed in a lavender shirt and dark purple jeans. I focused on the perfectly matched colors.

“I know. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can go in there.”

She took my hand. “I thought this might happen. So we're going to Plan B.”

“What's Plan B?”

“We're going in, but only for a minute. We'll get our food to go, and eat outside. Okay?”

My knotted nerves protested, but I decided to try. It was a compromise, and I could handle compromise. “Five minutes,” I said weakly.

We sailed through the lunch line. I grabbed foam containers without really looking at them, paid at the end of the line, and followed Bliss out of the jam-packed room. I kept my eyes on her purple clothes, and somehow that helped. By the time we got outside, I was breathing hard, but not melting down.

“That wasn't terrible,” I said, surprised.

Bliss sat down in the grass. I sat across from her, happy to be out in the open and away from the noise of the college.

“One step at a time.” Bliss opened a clear plastic container holding her plain salad. I lifted the top of my white foam box and discovered a cheeseburger and fries, which I wasn't really in the mood for. But this was a minicelebration, I decided. I'd made it through the cafeteria without needing to be carried out. A cheeseburger was an appropriate award.

“So,” Bliss said as she speared a leaf of lettuce. “Tell me about the Protector.”

“He's nice.” I munched on some fries and tried to come up with something more specific. “Tall, lanky. Very, you know, protective.”

And familiar, I thought. Something about his brown eyes. It was as if I'd seen them before, but I couldn't place them.

“What did you guys talk about?”

I described our meeting at the mall, and the way Michael had defused two potentially disastrous encounters. Bliss nodded as she sipped her mineral water.

“Sounds like he's the real thing,” she said after I'd finished.

“I think so. It's weird, though.” I ate a bite of my cheeseburger. “I have to trust this stranger with my life, basically.”

“It takes time to build trust,” Bliss said.

I agreed. “That's what Michael said, so we're meeting again tomorrow.”

“Good. Where?”

“We're going to see my mom.” I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but again, Michael hadn't given me a choice. He was in charge. I was supposed to trust him, a guy I barely knew. But it didn't feel as strange as I had thought it would. It was probably some sort of Protector power at work, but I did feel safe with him.

“Have you told anyone about Michael yet?” Bliss asked.

I polished off the last of my fries. “I told Avery and I told you.”

“Two people you don't see every day.”

“So?”

“So maybe it's time to start letting your family know.”

I had considered it, but I wasn't really speaking to Shane or Trisha right now, and I barely saw Dad.

“I guess I could tell my sister.”

“You should. I know you don't want people to freak out, but it'll be worse if you wait too long and something happens.”

Bliss was right. I'd waited too long before, and the mistake had landed my parents in the hospital. I couldn't do that again, even if this situation was different.

“Can I ask you something?” I was done talking about my problems, and there was something I'd always wanted to ask her. “It's kind of personal.”

Bliss smiled. “I think we're at the point where you can ask me kind of personal questions.”

“Every time I see you, you're wearing a single color. Why is that?”

She looked down at her dark purple jeans. “I think it started with the queen of England.”

I couldn't help laughing. “The what?”

“When I was younger, I read that the queen of England always dresses in a single bright color. That way, she's easy to spot in a crowd. When I decided to go into journalism, I thought it was a good idea. I need to stand out, right?”

“That makes sense.”

“You don't think it's odd?”

I sensed her uncertainty, and was determined to boost her confidence. “I think you look great. I wish I was as color coordinated as you. And you're right—you do stand out. In a good way.”

Bliss beamed. “Thanks, Charlotte.”

We collected our trash and stood up. “I'm glad you're going to talk to your sister,” she said as we walked back toward our building. “But promise me you'll consider telling other people, too.”

“I'll think about it, I really will.” We stopped in front of the Yerian Building. Bliss had another class, but I was done for the day. “Thanks for all the advice,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

Bliss looked embarrassed. “That's what friends do. Give advice, share lunch…”

“Save people from public panic attacks,” I finished. “You're a great friend. I mean that.”

She stood straighter. “Well, I'm getting out of here before this conversation becomes unbearably mushy. I don't do mushy. Or sappy.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow, Bliss.”

I walked to the parking lot, happy and determined to talk to Annalise. But when I called her from my parked car, it went straight to voice mail. Instead of hanging up, I left a
brief message asking her to call me when she had a minute. I checked my dashboard clock. Noah had lunch, and there was a chance his phone was turned on, so I called him, too, hoping we could meet after he was done with school for the day. He picked up on the third ring.

“Charlotte? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's great. I just had lunch with Bliss.” I wished he hadn't immediately thought something was wrong. He was worrying about me, and I hadn't even given him something real to worry about. “I was wondering if we could meet after school?”

“Today?”

“Well, yeah. I could pick you up from school.”

“Today doesn't work for me. I'm staying late today. Another video assignment for Morley.”

“Oh.” I was disappointed. My conversation with Bliss had fired me up, and I wanted to follow through before my enthusiasm deflated.

“But we could catch up later. How about after dinner?”

“Sure. That works.”

“Great. I'm kind of in a rush, so I have to go. I'll see you later.”