Phoenix Feather (11 page)

“Yeah,” Bryan said again. “So what are you doing with your day off?”

Trent decided to let it go for now. “I’m picking Aidan up and we’re heading to the Swedish Medical Center. Her friend is having surgery for cancer today.” Aidan had wanted to skip her undergrad lecture hall, but she was scheduled to give a lesson. A lot of planning and prep had gone into it, and Chris made her promise to see it through. She would be there when he got out of surgery, and Trent would be with her.

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah.” Trent had talked with Aidan after the barbecue about her friend, Jenny. She was calm about it, having accepted it and moved on. She seemed to feel more guilt over not being very close with the young woman, that it was somehow her responsibility to honor Jenny’s memory. Now she was facing the same prospect with Chris, that he would become nothing more than a memory to honor. Trent understood that helpless feeling. How many rescues had he attempted, but was unable to complete? How many people had he failed to save when it was his job? He pushed those dark thoughts aside. Dwelling on them wouldn’t help him make better decisions in the future, and it wouldn’t help Aidan.

Trent grabbed his keys. “I’ll talk to you later,” he told Bryan, and hung up. He stopped at a coffee shop on his way to get Aidan. The weather was getting colder, and the day promised to be exhausting.

He pulled into the parking lot and saw Aidan leaning against a bicycle rack. He reached over and opened the passenger door.

“Morning,” she said as she slid inside.

“Hey. I brought you something.” He pointed to the paper cup in the holder closest to her.

She reached for it and took a sip. Her mouth quirked in a satisfied smile. “Thanks.”

“I got one for Phoebe too. Hospital coffee machines aren’t the best.”

“She’ll appreciate it.” Aidan took her gloves off and rubbed her hands in front of the heater.

“How did the lecture go?” he asked as they pulled out of campus.

She smirked. “I didn’t make any converts to the discipline.”

Trent offered a sympathetic, sideways smile. “Their loss.” They drove in silence for a few moments.

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly.

He reached over and grasped her hand.

They arrived at the medical center and found parking, and then navigated their way up to the surgery floor where they found Phoebe sitting in the waiting room. She wore sweatpants and a college sweatshirt, and her hair had been pulled back in a messy bun. She had a textbook open in her lap, but didn’t look as though she was actually reading it.

“Hey.” Aidan reached down to give her a hug.

“Hi, guys.”

Trent handed her the cup of coffee. Her face lit up for a brief moment, but Trent thought it had more to do with the gesture than the offering itself.

“The good stuff,” she said after tasting it. “Thanks.”

Trent glanced at the book in her lap.
The Role of the Father Figure in Adolescent Girls
. “That sounds interesting.”

Phoebe looked down and let out a small laugh. “Honestly, I couldn’t say so one way or the other.”

Trent sat down across from her, and Aidan took the seat next to her. “Yeah well, you both get some slack this week,” he said.

“I can’t wait for the evaluations and the thesis writing to be done.” Phoebe took a swig of her cooling coffee. “I want to put it to use.”

Aidan smiled. “Same here.”

“Chris was going to teach,” Phoebe said sullenly.

“Hey,” Trent said. “Don’t think like that.”

She shrugged. “It’s true.”

“No one knows how long they have on this earth,” he said. “All we can do is be careful how we live and make the most of every opportunity. Chris is being a good example of that. I don’t think he regrets anything.”

Phoebe nodded and stared at her book. Aidan met Trent’s eyes and smiled wanly.

They waited two hours before the doctor came to inform them about the procedure, and two more before Chris was moved from recovery to ICU and they could see him briefly. According to the doctor, the surgery had gone well without any complications. Hospital policy dictated one visitor at a time, so Phoebe went back first and Aidan and Trent waited in the hall.

“Chris told me he arranged for care at a nursing home for the first few weeks after the surgery,” Aidan said. “He doesn’t want the added burden on Phoebe until the term’s over.”

“He’s a level-headed guy,” Trent said. “I bet he’d excel at anything.”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling in a wistful expression. “He and Phoebe have always been very close. To the point where I don’t think either one has felt there was a hole in their lives they needed to fill. But he would make a lucky girl very happy.”

Trent nodded. By getting to know Aidan he had gotten to know her friends as well. That first weekend he had met Chris and Phoebe and seen how Aidan interacted with them, he knew no matter what became of it, he wanted to be that kind of friend in her life. Slowly, he was being drawn into that circle, with all the joy and heartache it offered. He cared about Phoebe and Chris too. They both would make some man and woman very happy.

“So would you,” Aidan said abruptly.

Trent looked up and met her gaze, which was striking beneath the fluorescent lights. She held his eyes a moment longer before smiling sweetly and looking away. Trent felt his desire to be near her escalate ten-fold. He wanted to protect her, care for her—he wanted to love her. He had never felt that way about anyone before, and it both excited and unnerved him. He realized his heart had crossed that threshold without his knowing, and there was no turning back.

Phoebe came out and Aidan went back.

“How’s he look?” Trent asked.

“Tired, but he’s trying to make jokes.”

“How are you?”

Phoebe shook her head, fighting tears. “I don’t know. I’m really glad you’re here for Aidan.”

“Hey.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’m here for all of you.”

She started sniffling, and pulled away to use her sleeve instead of his shirt. He grabbed a box of tissues from the nurse’s station.

“I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you wanted to date her.”

“I’m not one bit sorry.”

Phoebe looked up at him through watery eyes. “You know, I think you mean that.”

Trent gave her a comforting smile. “I’m going to need your help in the future,” he said. “For instance, in finding the perfect Christmas gift for her.”

Phoebe snorted through the tissue. “You’re on top of things. There’s still three and a half weeks till Thanksgiving.”

“Think about it for a bit,” he said.

Aidan returned then. “He’d like to see you,” she said to Trent.

He went through the ICU doors and into the second room on his right. Chris lay in bed, hooked up to several tubes and monitors. His eyes were closed, and Trent thought he might have nodded off from the meds.

“Hey,” Chris croaked.

“Hey. You look pretty good. I might have to organize a dancing night sooner than I thought.”

Chris smiled. Positive was the way to go. Chris had been positive since the beginning, and Trent was not going to let him down.

“The girls smiled.” Chris’s voice came out low and groggy. His eyes closed frequently while he talked, but he always returned to the conversation without losing his place. “But how are they, really?”

“They’re still processing. It’s all happened pretty fast. In a couple weeks when you’re back home and doing better, I think they’ll get better too.”

“I want to ask for your help in the meantime.” Chris sighed heavily and winced. “I can’t keep an eye on them right now. I made Phoebe promise to keep doing stuff, and Aidan promised to hold Phoebe to it. But if you could take them out for fun sometimes. Like the dancing.”

Trent nodded. “Of course. But the dancing we’re saving for when you’re better. I’ll find something else to do with them.”

Chris smiled, and looked genuinely at peace despite his circumstances. “Thanks.”

Trent squeezed Chris’s arm where it was free of tubes and tape. “Get some rest.”

Chris nodded even as he allowed himself to submit to sleep. Trent returned to the girls. He would have to be gentle, yet persistent with them. He wasn’t worried about them falling apart, for they were both strong women. That stubbornness could work against him when it came to continuing with their lives without Chris in the picture, even if it was for a short time. Trent had his suspicions that Chris was trying to prepare them for later. Live now during a short absence, live later during the long one. Trent’s respect for the man grew with every encounter, and he was beginning to feel the deep ache of knowing he, like the others, would lose this friendship in the future.

***

The microwave timer beeped and Aidan removed a plate of leftover spaghetti. Trent had taken her and Phoebe out for food, and though she had tried to eat her entree, her appetite hadn’t been up to par. Now it was close to midnight and she felt hungry, despite wanting to get some sleep. She went into the living room and automatically grabbed the CD case at the top of the rack. She paused before putting it in, staring at the black-and-white picture of the lead opera singer standing on the stage of the Stadt-Theater. After several moments, she put the case back on the rack and turned on NPR radio instead, just to drone out the silence.

She had taken a bold step with Trent, had given herself permission to love him, and let him know it as well. In that moment when she held his gaze, they had exchanged communion. Somehow, it was different from the love she remembered in the past. Ivar had bared his soul to her, and she had relished in it. She had been caught up in the passion of his lifestyle: the theaters and travel, the parties and performances. But had she ever once revealed her soul to him? Aidan couldn’t remember. Perhaps it was the presence of Phoebe and Chris in this life—they had gotten under her defenses and softened her without her knowing, so that when Trent came along, it was only too easy to let him slip in as well. She didn’t feel as though she wore a mask when she was around him.

What did that mean for her? Ivar had been so focused on his career that Aidan hadn’t given a thought to what she would say should he have asked her to marry him. That was one path she had never taken in all her long centuries of torrid affairs. What would she do if it came to that with Trent? She pushed her plate away, her appetite gone again. Trent was devoted and genuine. Despite the current culture, he had an air of chivalry about him, an old-fashioned honor his family had managed to preserve and cultivate. She loved that about him. She was tired of physical relationships; she wanted something deeper and pure. The unification of souls could give her that, but could she marry? She sighed. It was the one thing she did not want to think about right then.

Chapter Ten

The glass shattered upon impact, its fragments glinting in the light of the flames that curled around the sharp edges, coating them in a harsh brown stain. He looked down at his trembling hand.
Such waste.
His hands used to be young and strong. He could have crushed that wine glass in one squeeze instead of hurling it into the fireplace. All the years of his life he had spent in pursuit of a dream he had never caught. All was vanity.

He heard her whimper behind him. He turned around, and she hid her face behind her arm; she was afraid to look at him. He had spent an extra day with her, hoping. Nothing came of it. She hadn’t brought him the peace he was looking for. Her beautiful skin was marred by the burns. She would never be lovely again.

She started to cry. He hated it when they cried. No regal, exquisite creature should cry. Time was up. He grabbed the firebrand without thinking. He was so angry, so full of despair. He hit her, again and again, until he lost control and was screaming at her for not being the one. Even after her body went slack, he continued to beat her, and as quickly as the rage had come it fled, leaving him on his knees, blood spatter on his hands and face, and the ache in his heart ten times worse. It was over. He had failed. He must get rid of the body. Yes, he would clean up and go about the disposal as usual. Think about the work. He rose on shaky legs. He did not like the blood; it was distasteful. He needed to wash and then burn his clothes. Only after everything was done would he consider drinking himself into oblivion.

***

“What’s Trent doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know,” Bryan said.

“You didn’t ask him?”

Why did Jess insist on trying to have conversations with him when they were supposed to be focusing on something else? Such as now, when he was trying to climb down a steep bank without slipping and joining the broken body at the bottom.

“I think he’s working.” Bryan shot out a hand toward a tree to catch himself before his weight propelled him forward too far. This was the quickest way to the crime scene, but he would have preferred going around.

“The firehouse is probably doing something,” she said.