Timepiece

Chapter 42

Lily’s grandmother was in North Carolina, meeting with an organic coffee supplier. Unhappy about leaving Lily alone, she’d insisted that Lily lock the doors and stay inside.

“I don’t think she understands that locks don’t keep someone like Jack out.” Still, she secured all three and leaned back against the door. Then she reached out to hook a finger into the collar of my shirt. “Why are you all the way over there?”

I let myself sink into her warmth and the taste of her lips. Her kiss told me I didn’t have to explain anything. That she already knew the question, and she had the answer.

“Let me help,” she whispered, with her mouth still on mine.

I pulled back slightly. “I can’t.”

“I told you once that you aren’t like Jack.” Frustration. “I was right, but I was also wrong.”

Now I stepped back a full foot. “How were you wrong?”

“Let me explain why I was right first.” Taking my hand, she led me to the couch. “You don’t take advantage of people and use what they have to benefit yourself.”

“You say that knowing I need your help to find Jack. Putting you in danger, going against your grandmother’s rules. That’s taking advantage.”

“Not to benefit you,” she said, disagreeing. “To benefit people that you love. I know that’s your desire, and that’s the thing that comes first. You don’t have to ask me, Kaleb. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”

“But your grandmother, and the men and the fact that they could be watching-”

“Focus,” she said. “I have a point to make.”

I kissed her on the forehead, breathing in the citrus scent of her hair. “I’m focusing.”

“On what I’m saying.” She pushed back and took my hands in hers. “As for how you were wrong… I think, in trying so hard to be different from him, you missed some really important similarities. In doing that, you’ve missed some answers.”

“Explain.”

“I’ve been thinking about this since the night we talked in Memphis. Jack takes memories hostage. You take terrible emotions and keep them away from the people they hurt. How tied are emotions and memories?”

I stared at her.

“You can’t separate the two. Jack keeps telling you killing him would be a mistake, that the two of you are alike. He’s telling you the truth. If you kill Jack, you kill your mother’s memories with him, and now your father’s. If he goes, so do they.”

“Are you saying he’s the key to restoring my parents?”

“No. I’m saying you are.”

“How?”

“The memories Jack took were the ones that were most important to your mother.” Lily spoke slowly. “Her love for your father and you, all the personal moments that tied you together. If those memories aren’t tied in emotion, I don’t know what is.”

“Finding their memories, their emotions, inside him? Taking them back, and then transferring them over?” I shook my head. “It’s impossible. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s why you’re going to practice on me.”

I followed her to her bedroom. It was on the small side, with clean white walls and photographs everywhere. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall, crammed full of every kind of book and organized by color. It looked like a perfect rainbow. She sat down on the edge of her double bed, leaned back on the red duvet cover, and held out her foot. I stared at it, and then looked at her.

“Knee boots?” She grinned. “Can you help me out?”

“Oh yeah.” I pulled the right boot off while I was facing her, but for the left, I turned around to give her a view of my backside.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, laughing.

“I enjoy yours all the time. I just figured I’d give you a chance to enjoy mine.” I gave a little wiggle before I faced her again. “What’s with the socks?”

They were lime green with pink stripes.

“I think what a girl wears under her clothes is just as important as the clothes themselves. And I like a little spice underneath.” She looked directly at me as she peeled off the socks in a striptease fashion, swung them around in a circle, and threw them over her shoulder. One landed on the bookcase, the other in a corner.

“You’re trying to kill me. No, correction, you are going to kill me. And how can you make me laugh like this in the middle of all hell breaking loose?”

“It’s a gift.” Lily scooted to the middle of the bed and sat cross-legged. “I’m ready when you are.”

“I told Abi I wouldn’t let you put yourself at risk, and I meant it. Don’t act like what your grandmother wants doesn’t matter when it does.” Still, I sat down across from her.

“Looking for memories isn’t a risk. It’s my memory,” Lily argued. “If we can do this, you can figure out exactly what to look for with your parents. It should be even easier with them, because the three of you shared most of those emotions and memories.”

I sighed, and then put my hands on her hips and slid her toward me. The movement threw her off balance. She gasped and grabbed my forearms to keep from toppling over. I stared down at her fingers on my skin for a second before meeting her eyes, and then leaned forward to touch my lips to hers.

Our combined heat gathered in my chest and radiated out through my skin. She put her arms around my neck and pulled me closer.

“This isn’t why we came in here,” I whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back. “But it’s a nice side benefit.”

“Are you procrastinating? Changing your mind about letting me inside your soul?”

“No.”

“It’s intense for me when I take emotion. I know it’s not going to be easy on you to give it.” I frowned. “And it’s going to be even more intense this time, because I’ll be concentrating on the memories that go with the emotion, too. What if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.” She touched my cheek. “I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you.”

This time, I put my hands on her knees instead of her hips.

“Before you do anything, I think the memory you look for needs to be significant.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

She nodded.

“What do you want me to take?”

“The day I left Cuba.”

“Lily. No. What if I can’t give that back to you? And do you really want to relive it, twice more? Because if I take it and give it back, I’m pretty sure you will.”

“I want to relive it.” She bit her lip. “I’ve pushed the memory away for so long. But I think I could do with some remembering. What do I need to do?”

“I guess… focus on that day, the way you felt, anything you can remember about it. I know you were young, but even one specific detail would be good, what you were wearing, the weather, something like that.”

She took a deep breath. “It was sunny, after about a solid week of rain. My mom was always super protective of me, but this day… I was so happy to be outside, free. She was hanging clothes on the line. I stretched out on the grass for a minute, just to feel it against the backs of my legs. Everything after that gets kind of…”

“That’s enough.” I could see the day on her emotional time line. It was a big one. “Promise me you’re sure.”

“Yes.”

I leaned forward, took her face in my hands, and looked into her eyes.

Emotion flooded through my system almost the second I touched her. Visuals I didn’t understand made her feel trapped, and then there was pain. Happiness and a swing set. White clouds and flapping sheets. Worry, anxiety. Shiny black car, feet, the ground. So much fear.

Hope. Hope and a red crayon, a lined piece of paper. Crude drawings and… pain.

A doll with black yarn for hair.

Then everything clicked into sharp focus, but it all moved in slow motion.

Brake lights.

A woman who looked like Lily, but rounder, with brown eyes instead of hazel. Whispers. Love, forgiveness.

Words. I knew they were said in Spanish.

The pain of the memory was jagged around the edges, grief like broken glass, and I was dragging Lily through it, slicing open fresh wounds. I heard her sobbing, felt her cries in my chest, in my bones.

The sharp focus faded and everything began to move quickly again.

Then there was only emptiness.

I knew I was falling backward, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Blackness.

Silence.