Immortal Mine (33 page)

“So you left?” I say, changing the subject,
not wanting to dwell on her story any longer.

“I felt I had no choice,” she answers. “It
had been several years since my failed... attempts. I was
frightened by the knowledge of what I was. I actually only thought
to go away for some time, try to figure things out. At least,
that’s what I told myself. I think deep down I always knew it was
going to be permanent. When my car was stolen and then driven off
the cliff—”

“So that much is true, at least?” I
interrupt.

“Yes, that part is true. It seemed divine
intervention, so I took it. I’ve told you how close I was to
deciding to go home.”

“After you’d been gone a while,” I say,
“didn’t you ever think about going back?”

“Every day,” she says firmly, the conviction
in her voice convincing me of the truth. “But by then I knew about
the Sentinels, knew about other immortals who were dangerous, knew
that I couldn’t bring that home to my daughter. Then she married
and moved here.” The look she gives me is equal parts pleading and
defiance. “She was happy. So was my husband, because he didn’t have
to pretend anymore, could live as a loner without having any
personal relationships other than his daughter, and that was long
distance.”

“He died young,” I say, as if it were
somehow her fault.

“Yes,” she says. “He had a heart attack, and
no one found him until it was too late. I went to his funeral.” I
can feel that my face shows the surprise I feel. “I cried for him,
for his lost soul, and for my daughter who now thought she was an
orphan.” The corners of her mouth turn up slightly as she
remembers. “But she didn’t need to be cried for. I watched her with
her young husband, saw how much they loved one another, saw the way
he looked at her with such love and devotion, with everything I had
always wished for from my own marriage. And I knew then that she
was going to be just fine.”

“Yeah, right, fine other than spending her
entire life searching for her lost mother.”

Jean shakes her head again. “I didn’t know
that was what she was doing. I knew how often she travelled, knew
that she was in the city quite often to leave letters in the tree.
I didn’t know
why
she was doing those things. I just knew
her life afforded her the opportunity to travel, and I was so
grateful for our strange correspondence that I didn’t stop to
question it.”

As much as I want this to be her fault, her
words make sense to me. What I wouldn’t give to suddenly start
receiving letters from my mother now. Besides, I can understand her
unwillingness to bring danger to my mother’s doorstep. I would have
done the same thing.

“Niahm.” Her use of my name brings me out of
my thoughts. “I’m genuinely sorry for the hurt I caused Beth, and
you. I would do anything to not have this curse, to have had a
normal marriage, to have been able to watch my daughter as she
became a woman, a wife, a mother. I would do anything to keep you
safe now.”

Her fervent speech moves me against my
will.

“I’m sorry, too,” I concede. “For having
been so horrible to you since you came. I know my mom would have
wanted me to treat you... differently. I’ve dishonored her by being
such a brat. But—” I lift a finger to stop her when she opens her
mouth, a hopeful expression on her face. “This is all very weird,
and I don’t really know how to deal with it just yet. I need some
time to process, and decide what I’m going to do with what I now
know about... all of you.”

She nods solemnly, but the hopeful look
remains.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks. “Just for
a while, give you some space?”

I consider her offer. It would be nice to be
alone, without anything trying to influence me in any way.
Honestly, though, I won’t be alone. My thoughts won’t leave me be.
Sam and Shane are here and in a small town like this, it would be
impossible to avoid them. And as much as I want to tell Stacy
everything, and let her be my support, I know that’s impossible. If
by some chance she
did
believe me, then I would be
endangering her. That’s one thing I definitely won’t do.

“No,” I say, making up my mind. “I’d rather
you stayed.”

She nods, unable to stop the grin from
splitting her face.

“I’m exhausted,” I say, and I am. Not just
physically, but emotionally. Actually, mostly emotionally. “I think
I’m going to go take a three day nap,” I inform her.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll keep things quiet so
you can rest for
four
days.” I give her a half-hearted
smile. As I head up the stairs, she calls out, “Just don’t forget
you have school in the morning.”

I shudder at her words, the same words my
mother would call to me as I went off to bed, as if I didn’t know,
or didn’t get myself to school on all the days she was gone. If I’d
had any doubt she was my mother’s mother, I no longer did.

School feels surreal after my weekend—almost
pointless to be honest. Why do I need to know what absolute
convergence is or what a demonstrative adjective is when there are
immortals running around the world, and some crazy dudes called
Sentinels hunting them? Not to mention suicidal grandmas. What’s
next? Werewolves and vampires? I think about asking Sam or Jean
about them, but shudder at the thought of what answer they might
give.

“Hey, Niahm,” the double-H call
simultaneously as they round the corner. I take a breath and paste
a smile on my face.

“Hey,” I say back, although not much
enthusiasm accompanies the word. They don’t notice.

“You’ve been M.I.A. a lot lately,” Heather
grins, winking suggestively. “Been wrapped up in a certain
red-head?”

I cringe at her words, not really wanting to
think about a certain red-head until I’ve decided what to do about
him.

“C’mon, Heather, give her a break,” Hillary
says, saving me from responding. “If it were any of us dating him,
we’d have disappeared also.”

Guilt rears up again, amplified when Stacy
comes over to us. She still looks a little angry with me, her face
grim as she greets everyone, mostly ignoring me. Stacy is an
amazing friend who came at my urgent call without a second’s
hesitation, and I then blew her off first thing in the morning to
go and lick my wounds—all without revealing a thing about what was
going on.

“We’re all going to the movie Wednesday
night for a girls-night-out since we have a long weekend,” Heather
says, singing the last two words. “You should come.”

They all look at me doubtfully, as if it’s a
foregone conclusion that I’ll say no. Suddenly, more than anything
I want a girls-night-out at some movie that the rest of the world
saw weeks ago, because that’s
normal
. That’s the way life is
supposed to be, at least here in Goshen.

“Sounds fun,” I say. “Tell me where to be
and when, and I’ll be there.”

They all three narrow their eyes at me.

“You do know it’s a
girls
night out,
right?” Stacy asks, not exactly kindly.

“That means you can’t bring Sam,” Hillary
clarifies, in case I missed Stacy’s point.

“No problem,” is all I say.

“Speaking of Sam,” Heather pipes in, “Where
is he today? Usually wherever you are, he is.”

“Um,” I say, not sure how to answer. I had
actually been thinking the same thing, both relieved and worried
that he wasn’t here. I might have wondered a few days ago, but now,
knowing what I know, my mind begins to go to dark places. Have the
Sentinel’s found him?

“Girls, girls, girls,” Kevin sings, doing a
decent imitation of Mötley Crüe as he and Jon come up to us,
throwing their arms around Hillary and Heather. “No dawdling in the
halls. We don’t want to be late for class, do we?”

He’s doing his not-even-close impression of
Mr. Hale, the science teacher, which usually amuses me with its
ridiculousness. Not today. I’m afraid maybe not ever again. I
glance over at Stacy as the double-H allow their giggling selves to
be led away. The hurt in her eyes tears at my heart.

“Stace—” I begin, hand held out in
supplication. She turns away to follow the others without even
acknowledging me, and I’m left empty handed.



After school—to which Sam never does show—I
catch up to Stacy.

“Stacy, please, wait,” I say, grabbing hold
of her arm and forcing her to stop.

“What?” she demands, impatience in her
voice.

“Stacy, I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a
horrible friend.”

“Ya think?” Her sarcasm burns me as she
turns away and begins walking, though not so fast I can’t keep
up.

“No, I don’t think. I
know
.”

“So, what, you and Sam have broken up so now
you want me back?”

“No.” My denial is immediate, surprising me.
“We haven’t broken up.”

That stops her. She turns back my way.

“You haven’t?” When I shake my head, she
says, “Then what was all of that this weekend? You wouldn’t tell me
what was wrong, so I just assumed...”

“Nothing like that,” I say, thinking she
can’t begin to imagine how far off the mark any of her guesses
would be. “Stacy, what if you... ” I glance around at all the other
students still milling about. “Can I walk home with you?” I ask. “I
don’t want to talk here.”

She seems about to refuse, but then gives a
terse nod. We begin walking away from the school, quickly,
hopefully to discourage any others from joining us.

“What if I what?” she asks when the silence
stretches.

I’m confused for a second, before
remembering what I had begun to ask her earlier.

“What if someone told you something that was
a secret?” At her glance, I clarify. “Not just any secret, like
Hillary saying she wears a padded bra, but a serious secret?”

Stacy grins briefly at my analogy before
turning somber again.

“What kind of secret?” she asks.

I take a breath. “The kind of secret that
could threaten their lives if it were to get out to the wrong
person.”

Now I have her full attention. She stops and
turns so that she’s facing me.

“Then you’d have to keep it to yourself,”
she says firmly.

“Even if it meant not telling your best
friend, and she was so mad at you that she wouldn’t even speak to
you.”

Her mouth tightens, she glances away, arms
crossed, and finally brings her unwavering gaze back to mine. “Yes.
Even then. A secret that big that is entrusted to you should stay
with you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She gives a decisive nod. “But you
said ‘their lives.’ Does that mean this affects more than just
Sam?”

“I never said it concerned Sam at all,” I
say.

“Oh, yeah, I guess you didn’t. I just
assumed again.”

“But yes,” I say. “I guess I can tell you
it’s his secret, and that it does affect more than just him.”

“It must be bad,” she says.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you were a mess the other night. I
haven’t seen you like that since—” She cuts herself off, but I know
what she’d been about to reference.

“It’s bad,” I confirm, the vision of Sam
raising the gun to his chest flooding my mind. I shudder with
horror and shove the image away. “I wish I could tell you, Stace,
because it would help so much to ask someone what I should do. But
I can’t.”

She nods again. Suddenly she reaches out and
pulls me into her arms. I cling to her, relief flooding through me
at her forgiveness, her willingness to accept my words and to
support me even if she has no idea what’s going on. Guilt sluices
through me again at how much I’ve ignored her over the past few
months.

“You want me to come over and we can bake
cookies?” she asks as she releases me.

“I really do.” I smile at her, brushing my
tears away.

“Then let’s go.” She hooks her arm through
mine, and with a lighter step, leads me home.