Reluctant Guardian (32 page)

Raphael sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. He seems much too calm for a moment like this. The moment of my sentencing.

“I am going to tell you something I haven't said to anyone in a very long time.”

I watch him, waiting, holding my breath... figuratively.

He takes my hand and stares into my eyes with an intensity that quickly begins to alarm me. This is going to be bad. Really bad. This is it, and my nonexistent heart pounds in my chest. I can already feel the hot, sticky tar of Soul Prison sucking me down.

“I'm giving you a choice,” he says, his stoic expression never changing.

Wait? What? “A choice?”

He turns slightly and exhales through his nose, staring out of the windows that cause the room to glow with glaring brightness.

My heart races faster. I place my hand on his arm, leaning forward. “A choice?” I repeat.

“I think you have earned it.”

I stare into his eyes, not daring to hope, and yet, that is all I can do. “You mean?”

“You have proven your worth,” he says.

A surge of love washes over me like an ocean wave, pounding into my quaking soul. All the fear and reluctance for my future washes away in those few words.

“You can choose to rest in Elysium with your grandmother and your friend, Natty... or, you can go back to Earth. To be a guardian again.”

I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Are you serious?” This is too good to be true, and just as I am about to throw my arms around his neck, he stops me.

“Not for Brecken, Alisa. For someone else. Someone just as deserving.”

I pull back just enough to study his face, and the significance of his words. How can I go back, and not be with Brecken? For a moment I sit there, immobile, my mind racing to solve this dilemma, and oh, the exquisite pain that pierces my heart, like a dull dagger, ripping and tearing instead of leaving a clean cut. “But why?”

Raphael cocks his head as though confused by my question. “Because he has certain requirements he must meet, Alisa. Without any interference.”

“What does he have to do that I can't be a part of?” I'm torn in half. I'm ready to fall down on my knees and start begging. They can't do this to us. There has to be a rule or something.

Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, he says, “Brecken is required to have a normal human life. To have a family... with a wife and children.”

I'm stricken. I can't talk or even think of a coherent thing to say. When I raise my eyes to meet his, I see he is sincere. This is no lie or prank. “You can't be serious,” I whisper, pleading. “Please tell me you're joking.”

The look on his face says it all. As far as we're all concerned, his verdict is carved in stone. How can I bear this? How could I be a guardian to someone else, all the while knowing Brecken is getting older, getting married, and having children? It's too cruel. To both of us.

“Does he know?” I ask, remembering Brecken's last words, that he'll wait for me—that we'll be together again.

“Not yet,” Raphael answers. “But he will. I'll tell him soon, after he's had... time.”

Gazing out the window, a million thoughts sift through my mind, ways to circumvent this. Could we run away? Escape? However, I know, deep down, that none of it is truly possible.

“Would you deny him this happiness?” Raphael asks quietly. “The gift of a family?”

I can't answer. I know what he wants me to say, but I cannot say it.

Instead, I do what I do best.

I run.

 

I want to give a huge thanks to my rockin' awesome critique group. Without them, this book would be nothing like it is. I love you guys! Renae Mackley, Shannon & Brock Cheney, Richard Johnson and Angela Millsap.

Also, many thanks to the amazing women at Clean Teen Publishing, who took a chance on me. They made this book sparkle, and gave me new hope for a writing career. To Marya Heiman for being so easy to work with on the cover. I was picky, and she bent over backward to give me what I wanted. To Courtney Nuckels, Rebecca Gober, and Dyan Brown for their patient advice and hard work. I love this publishing company!

And last but not least, to my wonderful family, that put up with me patiently while I practiced my craft for the last five years. They've cooked, cleaned, run my errands, and picked up my slack. Bryan, Jacob, Seth, Heidi, Gabriel, and Wyatt. You guys are my life, wholly and completely.

M.E. Cunningham (Also known as Melissa Cunningham) began writing five years ago when she decided, out of the blue, to enter a community writing contest and won first place. From that moment on she had a new love: Writing. Melissa is a member of the League of Utah Writers. Her past publication experience includes a recurring opinion column called Writing Reality, for her local newspaper: The Leader

 

Melissa's first novel: Reluctant Guardian,
was accepted for publication through Clean Teen Publishing in August 2013.

 

When Melissa is not writing you can find her spending time with her husband of eighteen years and her five children. Melissa studied music in college and loves to read all things fiction. Melissa lives in Northern Utah with her family, her horses, cats, dogs and chickens.

 

If you enjoyed Reluctant Guardian we recommend you check out The Eye of Tanub by M.E. Cunningham. Read the first three chapters here!

 

 

It happened a year ago. It was real, and no one can tell me it wasn't. Yeah, it sounds crazy, and if I hadn't experienced it myself, I'd be the first in line to deliver me to the funny farm, which—funny you should ask—happened. But that's a whole other story.

I've learned not to talk about it. Not with my parents, not with my friends, and especially not my therapist, who suggested I write it all down in a book, so that's what I'm doing. Like a journal, but not. It's a story. A
true
story.

The only person I can talk about it with is my younger brother, Zach, which is crazy, because if you'd known us before, you'd think we were mortal enemies. We couldn't stand each other.
Before.

We are only a year apart in age, so you'd think we'd be close. But no way. We are polar opposites, and still are, but we learned things in Terratir… things that changed us forever.

Zach. How do I describe him and not sound like a total snob? Okay. So maybe I am a snob.
Was
a snob. He thinks so, but… well… honestly…
he
was an idiot. A slob. A fat, insecure kid with a savior complex. He would come home from school on a daily basis with a black eye or a bruised-up body because he'd get into a fight that wasn't his, and would duke it out with the school bully. A kid named Devon Taylor who just happened to worship me. But that's a different story.

Zach couldn't stand to watch little kids get caught in Devon's sights. He'd step in, take their beating, and become the hero. I watched a few of those fights, but I never stopped them. I never stopped Devon. When I look back, I don't know why.

At the time, I had other goals. I was going to be a model. I'd worked hard for it, counted every calorie, worked out every day. I had even put together a portfolio, which I'd been ready to submit, because I was almost sixteen, and we all know that's the magic age for modeling.

Anyway, it happened on a Saturday morning. Zach had just polished off at least six gargantuan pancakes, which my mother had said nothing about—as though she wanted to fatten him up—and Zach had gone up to his room. I'd eaten a poached egg and half of a grapefruit, watching my figure and all, and then I'd gone up to my room, opened the door, and found my portfolio… scattered in tiny pieces all over the floor.

Every page ripped. Shredded. Destroyed. Two years of work flushed down the toilet. There was no way to fix it, and no way to describe the pain in my heart when I saw it. Most of the pictures had been stored on my old laptop that had died six months before, so I no longer had them, and in that one moment I'd lost everything.

I fell, shrieking, to my knees, tears of horrified surprise bursting in a torrent from my eyes. I scraped together the pictures, pulling them to me, none of them salvageable. Not one. Who could have done it? Who? There was only one person who hated me enough to destroy my dreams.

Zachary
. His name tasted like bile in my mouth.

Racing to his room, I threw open his door, shocked at the force with which it hit the wall. Zach must have been stunned too, because he jerked around in surprise. He'd been sitting at his desk, the guts of his computer exposed, as though he'd been working on it.

“You're dead!” I sobbed, but it came out more like a croak. Humiliating. Especially in front of him. He sat there, staring, his eyes bulging; his jaw working like there wasn't anything intelligent going to come out of that mouth.

And then I lost it. Like a tiger pouncing, I launched myself at him, my claws extended. I was going to rip his throat out. He backpedaled in that stupid chair of his, but he wasn't fast enough. I got to him before he could lumber out of the way. He did manage to shove me back though, and like a rag doll, I fell to the floor, snot running all over my face, mascara-smeared tears streaking my cheeks. “I can't believe you'd do this to me!”

He hopped up, quicker than you'd imagine possible for someone his size, and stood over me. “Lauren, I don't even know what you're talking about.”

“My portfolio. It's ruined. All over my floor!” The heartbreak I felt couldn't even be described, and I didn't even care that Zach saw me crying. There was nothing more anyone could do to hurt me at that point.

Zach stood before me, frozen, in what I can only assume was shock. “First of all, I didn't touch your portfolio. It was probably Dingo. He ruined my science project just last week. And second, you hurt everyone around you, Lauren, and what goes around, comes around.” His eyes were hard, glinting with anger and something else… something I didn't care to figure out back then.

How could he even think that? I didn't hurt anyone. I was nice to everyone and believe me, it was super hard to hold my tongue at times. I knew as well as he did that Dingo was locked up in the back yard, and hadn't done a dang thing to my portfolio. And that was when I noticed it. Tiny red lights dancing on the walls of his room, refracted from… from what? I searched the room and saw it lying on his nightstand by the bed.

A medallion. Gilded, with a giant ruby—like a monster pupil—in the center, staring straight up at the ceiling. And then I knew what I could do to get even for all the pain and heartache my stupid brother had caused. I could snatch that hulking gold necklace and keep it for myself as a consolation prize.

We leaped at the same time, reaching simultaneously, but Zach was a hair closer. Just a hair, and the chain of the medallion rolled, like magic, over his finger. My nails dug into his T-shirt, because I hadn't lost yet, and I tried to pull him back.

And that was when it happened. That was when this story really began, and our lives changed.

Forever.