Chapter ELEVEN
Skye wished she could throw up, but since she didn't have the equipment for it, she could only stand in the cold linoleum hallway and marvel at the war of emotions raging in her empty chest.
He'd done it. Jamison had gotten his mother to come!
She was disappointed he hadn't tagged along, not because she might have gotten a chance for another kiss, so she told herself, but so she could ask him how the miracle had been accomplished.
She was so happy for Kenneth. He'd been mourning more than the loss of his wife for the last five years, he’d been mourning the loss of his entire family. Too bad it had taken cancer to reunite them. And too bad the day he’d want to celebrate had also come on the heels of the worst news possible.
She could tell, the day before, that Kenneth had been expecting the test results to be bad. Even with the excitement of his family returning to Flat Springs, and the hope for his daughter’s forgiveness, he must have been able to tell that his body had been continuing its decline.
Skye had no experience with such things, of course, but she imagined one's mortal body communicated with the mind in some way, letting a person know that something was not functioning as it was designed to.
She'd allowed him some space the day before so he could also communicate with his spirit, and his God. There was nothing more she could have done for him at a time like that, other than urge Jamison to do what Skye could not—push Kenneth’s daughter back into his arms so they could console each other.
Eavesdropping outside Kenneth's room, Skye had heard enough to know that the father and daughter would forgive each other for the past and move on to more urgent matters. She backed away, hoping no one would mention that she'd been there. Tomorrow was soon enough to visit Kenneth again, to let him know she'd been thinking about him and his test and if he chose, to let him share a bit of his happy reunion.
As she hurried past the nurse's station she whispered “don't look up” into the minds of the two women seated before monitors. She had the silly thought that if Jamison wasn't around to see her, she didn't want to be seen by anyone.
She climbed into her car but didn't turn it on. The last person to sit in the passenger seat was Jamison. She relived every detail of her conversation with him, every detail of his lips, every word, every blink. She remembered how high his shoulders hit on the back of the seat, how far he’d leaned down to...
Why hadn't he come? Was he so considerate of his mother that he'd sacrifice a moment with his granddad for her sake? She would have thought he would at least want to see the man after giving the two some time together.
Maybe he waited in his mom's car!
She searched the parking lot and noticed the blue Mazda across the way. Empty.
Maybe he was coming later.
She considered how long she might reasonably stay and watch for him. Did he have a car? Would he welcome a ride? Had he changed his mind about coming and was wishing someone would stop by, maybe in a green Beemer, and ask if he wanted a lift to his local assisted living center?
She was getting used to the way her thoughts skidded and banged around in her head like cars in a demolition derby. One of these days, she wouldn’t remember what she was like before this assignment. But this assignment was nearly over.
When Kenneth finished with his human state, she’d be taking her place in the center of the circle and never see Jamison again. Jamison, who she loved—no, who she liked kissing. Once she entered the circle, of course, all thoughts of kissing would be over in less than a mortal second.
Would she go back to the way she had been? Would she want to? Would she have a choice in the matter? It was a pity that every time she traveled through the veil her memories were affected. On the other side, she remembered all. On the mortal side, she had fragments of past assignments, no more. If she were to be assigned near Marcus again, they would barely remember each other. Jamison, she wouldn’t remember at all.
She should welcome the relief from the emotional storm. She didn’t. She mourned the loss of them and they weren’t even gone yet.
When she got home tonight, would Jonathan be able to read her? Would he know how much time she'd spent thinking about Jamison, missing his nearness at school, wishing he would suddenly stop her in the hall with his hands on her shoulders, slipping them down her arms to link his bare fingers with hers? How much she ached to have felt it all the first time?
Would Jonathan tell Lucas all he sensed? But more still, would Jonathan understand what was happening to her and be able to help her through it? Would he or Lucas be able to restore her peace?
Skye’s hand froze, the key halfway inside the ignition.
What was wrong with peace? Peace was the prize, after all. Wasn’t it?
Without risking another thought down that road, she started her engine and squealed out of the parking lot, headed for home, to run headlong into the peace that awaited her...in her room, where Jonathan wouldn't find her.