Mosaic (24 page)

“It’s like therapy, I guess. When we were back in Fairview, sitting by the shore used to help me clear my head. I just found this place, and at certain times of the day, it feels magical.”

“Magical.” He’d almost said it with me. “I agree.”

I looked around at the dying light and the lamps flickering on and thought how this was one of those times. We were at the Labyrinth, and he went to the large round mosaic. I watched as he slowly followed the pattern, hands still in his pockets.

“So you didn’t really follow me,” I said, remembering I needed to leave now. “You just guessed that I’d be here.”

“No, I followed you.”

Again, that stopped me. “Why?”

He turned to face me. “I needed a guinea pig, and you’re the perfect person for the job.”

I stood at the edge of the huge round monument, and I thought of mice in mazes. “If you’re trying to say something, you’re going to have to stop talking in riddles, because I’ve got to go.”

With slow, measured steps he followed his own path to where I stood, stopping directly in front of me. “I’m leaving the family business. I’m not working with Dad anymore. I might not even stay in New Orleans.”

My mouth had dropped open as he spoke, so I closed it. His brow was creased, but as it all came out, I could see the invisible weight lifting.

“What will you do?”

“I’m going to study medicine.” He waited for me to say anything, but I didn’t. “That doesn’t shock you?”

“Is it supposed to?”

“I expected you to say something about it being random or out of left field or too radical of a shift.” Shaking his head, he pivoted and slowly started the path of the stones again. “I’m prepared for everyone to say that.”

“But…” My mind traveled across the miles and the years to a journal I’d read, his mother’s. He didn’t know what it said, and he didn’t know how much I knew about his family. I couldn’t open that can of worms, so I tried to approach it a different way.

“Why would they think it was random? I mean, sure, your dad’s into development and business, but you have other relatives. Are any of them… doctors?”

He shrugged. “We never see other relatives. Neither of my parents had siblings, Dad’s dad never comes around. I think he was a rancher.”

“Horses.” I nodded, watching his feet pause on the meditative stones.

“How did you know that?”

“Oh!” My bottom lip caught between my teeth.
Think fast.
“You remember that article I did about your dad for the special heritage insert? I found it when I was doing my research.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” He took another step, and I had a brain flash.

“There was more… I’m surprised you don’t know this, but your maternal grandfather was a surgeon. He was kind of a big wig at the hospital in Fairview.”

Jack spun on his heels and faced me. Then he walked to me quickly and caught me by the shoulders. “What did you just say?”

His expression was such a mixture of excitement and relief, my own stomach fluttered. “He was! He even had a wing in the hospital named after him. I can’t believe you don’t know this.”

He pulled me fast into a big hug then just as fast, he released me and walked out to the center of the labyrinth. Once he got there, he turned and headed back, pacing. “Dad never said a word about him. I got the idea they didn’t get along.”

“But you lived with your grandmother. She didn’t have any pictures of him or talk to you about him.”

Blue eyes, relieved and full of hope met mine. His expression was so changed, it was like nothing I’d ever seen as long as I’d known him. He was inspired. “Nobody told us anything!”

They were the forgotten ones. When Meg Weaver died, her little body wrapped around the light pole in a tangle of metal and car parts, she didn’t just take the loving mother out of their house, she took their history. Bill Kyser had completely closed himself off from them, and only now did I realize the extent of the damage.

I walked out into the swirling paths to where he stood and caught his hands. “It’s not random or out of left field. It’s perfectly normal for you to be interested in medicine. It’s in your genes.”

For once, it seemed I’d managed to say the exact right thing at the right time. I saw the change in him in the pale, evening light. He was released, and all the questions were answered, puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“Why didn’t I think to make you my guinea pig before?” He smiled that gorgeous smile that had stopped everything almost two years ago when he’d walked into my English class.

“I think you did. At least, not in a way that was healthy.” Memories of everything he’d said that night after our sushi dinner trickled through my mind.

“We’ll have to put an end to that.” His tone was authoritative. “If I’m going to be a doctor, only healthy choices are allowed.”

I laughed. “You’re going to be a wonderful doctor. I can see patients lining up for miles to see you. Majority females, of course, and most perfectly healthy.”

“Miss Sanders, are you implying my patients would be dishonest?”

“Once the word gets out you’re a doctor, yes. I have a feeling there will be many healthy ladies feeling the need for medical treatment.”

He laughed with me, and I looked down. Night had settled in completely, and I needed to go. “I’m heading home. Thanks for telling me, for trusting me with this.”

“Thanks for telling me what you knew. I don’t feel so much like a freak now.”

“You’re not a freak.”

He walked with me along the wide path that ran through the park, back in the direction of my duplex. His hands were still in his pockets; my arms were crossed over my stomach. I had planned to walk home alone, but I couldn’t think of a way to ditch him. Not after that confession.

“I was so afraid to tell him,” Jack mused. “He’s always made such a big deal about how I would finish school and come back to work with him.”

“Maybe your dad wanted you to feel like you had a place?”

“It didn’t feel that way. It felt like an order. That was what I was going to do. Work with him, work with Will, sit in that box and stare at building plans all day. I was completely trapped, and I didn’t see any way out of it.”

We were on Oak Street, passing neighborhood businesses and restaurants or bars with music filling the background.

“Most people would look at you and think you had everything you ever wanted.”

“Trapped in that house?”

“You’re not trapped.” We’d finally reached my place. “And I predict you’ll be happily surprised by your dad’s response to your change of plans.”

His brow relaxed and he stepped forward to pull me into a grateful hug. My body was tense, but I patted him back, taking a deep breath of his soapy-citrus smell. He was the former boy of my dreams, now making the transition into a man.

“Thank you.” He whispered into my hair.

I stepped back, putting several feet between us. “You’re welcome.” Then I smiled. “Goodnight.”

Anna’s Private Blog: Opportunity of a Lifetime

My head was a whirlwind of different thoughts as I stripped out of my workout clothes and hopped in the shower.

Jack wanted to be a doctor. He was just like Dr. Weaver—Ms. LaSalle had said it to Mr. Kyser last year as we waited through the night after Julian’s accident. She predicted it then, and Mr. Kyser had dismissed her correlation out of hand.

Back then, if anyone had suggested Jack might do anything but follow in his oldest brother’s footsteps, in his father’s footsteps, into the family business, Mr. Kyser would have squashed that notion. Julian had changed all of that.

Julian’s sudden, unexpected fascination with his father’s work had given Mr. Kyser the heir he wanted and had taken Jack off a career path that had never made him happy.

It all made sense—every bit of it. Why he’d acted so strangely toward me, why he’d slowly spiraled into self-destructive behavior year after year he spent in college pursuing a life that would make him miserable.

The creation of Julian might have hurt his siblings in the beginning, but now, it was helping them. He was making life better, for Jack at least.

I wanted to grab my laptop and tell Julian all of these things, but the minute I stepped out of my room dressed, Rachel cut me off. She was working on a mock debate for one of her prelaw classes, and she begged me to be her test jury—just for an hour or two. I glanced at the clock. It would still be early enough to tell Julian everything tonight, after I helped her, so I agreed.

As she paced the floor back and forth in our living room, spelling out the facts of her case, I realized the facts of my own case. My epiphany was courtesy the three journals Mr. Kyser had entrusted me with two Christmases ago. I’d promised him then I wouldn’t tell anyone what they contained, and if I started connecting all the dots now, I’d have to break that promise.

“Anna!” Rachel stopped pacing and was now facing me with both hands on her hips. “You’re not listening. I need your help!”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. I’d sort out how much I
didn’t
care anymore about the ridiculous promises Julian’s parents had used to control me later. “Please continue. I’m all ears.”

“And curls.” She giggled and then cleared her throat. Her voice turned immediately back to professional, firm. “As I was saying…”

Rachel continued working out the kinks in her debate, while I made a dinner of turkey sandwich and funyuns. I’d just flopped down on the couch again when my phone buzzed with a text from Julian.

Where are you?

I smiled, instantly seeing his sweet face.
On the couch. Listening to Rachel pontificating.

Pontificating. College Anna uses v big words.

College Anna is v smart, haven’t you heard?

That’s the rumor.

“Anna! Stop texting with Julian.” Rachel’s hands were back on her hips.

College Rachel is also v bossy. Thinks I know about legal issues.

Should be illegal.

What are the legalities of being forced to listen against my will?

What are the legalities of keeping secrets?

That made my forehead crease. I knew he wasn’t still angry about the kiss… what could he be talking about?

Statute of Limitations might apply.

Not in this case. The crime has just been committed.

Maybe he was talking about something else? His parents?
Counsel needs more information to make an educated decision.

“Seriously, Anna.”

Have to go. College Rachel v demanda. Love you!

More soon.

I couldn’t help a little frown at his strange line of texting and lack of love or kisses at signoff, but Rachel insisted. I temporarily forgot about Julian’s mood and the time as I attempted to give her feedback.

Rachel and I worked until after midnight, and my short texting session with Julian had distracted me from my need to call him. I would do it immediately after class, even though I was completely groggy. Still, my physical exhaustion didn’t stop Summer.

“Hey, Anna. You look tired. Hot Thursday-night party?” She sat in the chair next to mine, fiddling with her camera.

For half a second I almost ignored her altogether, but I didn’t. “Rachel had a debate today. I helped her prep.”
As if it’s any of your business
, I added in my head.

She clearly missed my tone. “Have you ever looked at the houses around campus?”

My brow creased at her random question. “A little. Why?”

“There’s this enormous mansion on St. Charles near Audubon Park. One of them looks like Charlotte’s house in
The Princess and the Frog
, don’t you think?”

“The white one?” I really wasn’t interested in chatting Disney princess films. “I hadn’t thought of it, but they could’ve used it as the model.”

“I was walking around sight-seeing, and then I went into the park. Talk about photo ops! Have you been there? I need to go back with my camera.”

Glad for once she was giving me the heads up. “I’ve walked through it a few times. You should check out the Tree of Life, and the Labyrinth they built after Hurricane Katrina.”

“I will!” She was so excited, but I was sad that my magical little refuge was no longer private.

Oh, well, I sighed internally, it’s not like it ever really was. Dr. Arati entered the room and called me to her desk. I wandered up, my mind distracted by Summer tromping through all my formerly sacred spaces with her stupid camera.

“I’m very pleased with your work on the Algiers project. Your location shots show a real eye for framing. If your writing wasn’t so strong, I’d suggest switching focus.”

Her praise was always so specific, I was almost embarrassed. “Thank you. I guess it’s because of my boyfriend.”

“Ah, yes. The one who met you in the hall.” She nodded. I was about to correct her, but she continued speaking. “I’m afraid you have some bad news for him. Unless he’s an English major. They do have a Shakespeare program abroad…”