It takes Nathan eighteen hours to get us back to New Orleans, mainly because we couldn't just get on the road and go. First, he drove me quickly back to the hotel, where I spent ten minutes grabbing my shit before we peeled out. In the panhandle, at around one in the morning, he pulled into a rest stop to crash for a few hours, power-napping.
I'd like to say I was helpful during the drive, or at least coherent. Instead, I was sitting in a state of shock, sleeping some of the time, staring blankly out the window the rest. I ate when Nathan passed me a cheeseburger, and I drank from a straw, but that was it.
About an hour outside New Orleans, Nathan pulls into another rest stop, and shuts off the engine. “Jackson, we need to talk.”
“About what?” I ask listlessly. I just saw the woman that I wanted to make a future with catch a bullet to the brain, and now you want to talk? What the fuck is your problem?
“About what we're going to do when we get back to New Orleans. I was thinking... I'd like to drop you off at Katrina's place for a few days. I know it's going to have painful memories, but you don’t need to be at the plantation right now.”
“Why not?” I ask, turning my dead eyes to Nathan. “I just need five minutes. Go in, you lend me your 1911, and I put five rounds in Peter. Last one in the brain, just like he had the shooter do to Katrina. Balances out.”
Nathan shakes his head slowly and clears his throat. “Do that, and you'll be dead before you even reach the front door. You know I'm not the only person working security at the house, and I am sure that he's got someone else watching his back now at all times.”
“Who gives a fuck?” I protest, anger at least somewhat burning the lethargy of the past hours away. “She got her fucking brains blown out, Nathan. He deserves to die simply because of that.”
“Is that what she'd want you to do?” Nathan asks quietly. “She was willing to die, I know that. But did she want you to die, too? Or did she do everything she could to make sure that you stayed safe and protected as well? I know what I saw, even if it was from a distance.”
I think about it and shake my head. “It doesn't matter. She deserves justice.”
“That may be, but I'm going to say something else, and you may not like it, but I'm doing this because I've come to respect you, Jackson,” Nathan says quietly. “Katrina trained for what, nearly a decade, and she was still caught dead by Peter's men and money? You're pissed off and untrained. You need time to let this soak in, and to plan what to do next.”
I think about it, and nod. “Fine. Take me to the loft. But keep me up to date with what's happening at the house. If things calm down, or if I think I can tolerate it, I'll come back for a bit.”
Nathan nods, and gets back on the interstate. “I'll pitch Peter a bullshit story, although I guess not completely. You're angry, upset, and are taking some time off to live on your own. He'll probably be happy, and it'll give you space as well.”
We get to the loft, and Nathan leads me upstairs, carrying my backpack for me. He has to jimmy the lock, but it doesn't take him long. He looks around, nodding in appreciation. “Not a lot, but I've lived in worse. You gonna be okay?”
“I'll live,” I reply, going over to Katrina's bed and lying down. “Maybe later...maybe I'll give you a call.”
“I'll be in touch. And don't worry about the landlord, I'm sure we can work something out with him, too,” Nathan tells me. He leaves, shutting the door behind him. I can smell her on the pillow underneath my head, and as I fall asleep again, I cling to her essence, treasuring it.
“Jackson...”
I sit up, hearing her voice, surprised. “Katrina?”
She comes in from out of the darkness, a little smile on her face and wearing her skirt, but without her sandals, her bare feet whispering on the wood flooring of the loft. “Yes, it's me. How'd you sleep?”
“I had the most horrible dream,” I say, getting off the bed and moving over to hug her. “You wouldn't believe how terrible it was.”
“Well, that doesn't matter now. So are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” I ask, confused. Katrina laughs softly and ruffles my hair, smiling.
“For our big day tomorrow, silly,” she says, holding up her finger with the glittering diamond ring on it. “You know, we're getting married?”
I feel a stupid grin break out on my face, and I shake my head. “I must have slept harder than I thought. Or maybe I'm still sleeping.”
Katrina laughs and kisses me, her lips so soft and perfect. “Don't worry, I'll always be with you.”
I step back, and look into Katrina's eyes. “I love you, Katrina. From the time I was twelve, you’ve been the one. I want...”
A knock at the door interrupts me, and Katrina steps back, fading into the darkness of the loft. I want to follow her, but for some reason, my feet won't move. Just before the shadows swallow her, she raises her hand, palm up to me. “I'll always be with you...”
“Katrina, don't go!”