The Ghost Runner (14 page)

A
pounding at my door stirs me awake. I sit up and look at my watch. It's only 6:15 a.m., and I wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

I peek out the window, but there's nobody in front of the door. Then I notice a handmade sign posted on the small yard in front of the cottage.

Save Our Land

It looks as if word has gotten around this tiny town, like wildfire. Everybody must know by now what I've done.

Serves me right. I get dressed and retrieve the sign. Inside, I lean it against the wall and stare at it.

I have to change my father's mind.

I head toward his apartment, even though I should be heading to work. I should be doing so many things right now. I can feel my life just slipping away, lost in the chaos all around me.

As I walk through town, I hear noises in the square across from City Hall. When I get closer, I see the signs and recognize everyone, and suddenly I wish I had taken a different route.

Alex is among them, and when they see me they grow quiet. I quicken my pace, but Alex is crossing the street toward me, and I have to stop.

“Kat!”

“I know what you're going to say,” I tell him, “so please don't.”

“Don't what?” he asks. “Blame you for destroying hundreds of acres?”

“Alex, please.”

“If you had only asked me, Kat, I would have helped. I would have done anything. Anything! I know we could have raised the money to pay that tax bill.”

“I had thirty days to raise fifty-three thousand dollars. I don't think so, Alex.”

“You should have come to me.”

“How would that have helped? My father gave me every reason to trust him. I thought we were starting over, and you couldn't have talked me out of it. Look, I know this is all my fault, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to fix it. So if you're just going to keep yelling at me, I'd rather you just go away.”

I start walking again. I can't bear to see Alex's angry eyes any longer.

Soon I'm out of the town center, making my way toward Dad's apartment, trying to focus my mind on what I need to do.

I don't know how, after all I know about my father, I could have let myself be deceived. I tell myself that he was overtaken by temporary insanity. Like the gold obsession he had when I was a child. My dad was always easy to swindle. He once bought a book on how to get rich by working only a few hours a week, and he spent more money trying to hire people to do his work for him than he'd have made if he'd simply gone out and done it himself.

I wonder why my mom loved him. There are brief moments when I can almost understand what she saw in him. He can be charming when he tries. He certainly put on a good show for me these past few weeks. And his good looks are part of the reason he's such a great con artist. He's always had women coming up to him—at least back in the old days, when he was younger and fitter. But the drinking took a toll on his body, and the smoking has dried out his face.

I guess I wanted to cling to the idea that my dad really loves me, that the lying was well intentioned, not malicious. And now I'm trapped. Horribly. Alex hates me. I've even noticed that David, my only other father figure, looks at me differently now.

All because of money, these trees will be cut down with surgical precision. In just a few weeks, acres and acres of trees could disappear. Nature's residents will be forced to move farther into the forest. The birds that had nests in those trees may lose their chicks, not to mention their homes. And the wild creatures that normally wander among the trees every day—the deer, rabbits, foxes, the occasional bears and mountain lions—will meet high fences intended to keep them out. Or, worse, the fences will be low, and the residents will put out poison or turn their dogs on them. The animals, natives here all along, will now so quickly be viewed as foreigners.

How do I stop it?

I can hire Mike and take my father and Ed Jacobs to court. But I have no money for that—and what will happen when they fight back, which they surely will? Will the gunshot story even be believed? I can't imagine Ed Jacobs will take kindly to any legal action. Alex said Jacobs once sued a family into bankruptcy just to get at their home when they refused to move for one of his developments. He won't think twice about coming after me with every weapon he has—and he has many.

In the end, I'd only lose. So I have to find another way.

I could protest with Alex. I could go to the newspapers. But Alex has been doing that for months with little to show for it. I doubt his group would even let me join them at this point; I'm no longer one of them but the enemy. How quickly I've gone from insider to outsider, just as I was when I first arrived in Lithia.

Maybe I could try to convince a few council members to block any development, but Jacobs has too much sway over them. There are many retailers and real estate agents who want more homes here, to bring more people to Lithia. And it's not as if I don't want people to enjoy Lithia as I do—I just want to protect the forests that are left. After all, people come for the trees as much as they do for the theater and the restaurants.

Maybe I could buy the land back. Even though I have no money, the state has a lottery, and I'm desperate. I stop at the mini-mart on the corner and purchase a ticket.

“Good luck,” the man behind the register says.

“You can say that again.”

“Good luck,” he repeats, then winks.

“Thanks.”

I put the lottery ticket in my pocket. For the first time since I've lived in Lithia, I sense that people are avoiding eye contact with me. They see me, recognize me, then look away. A few stare at me, disapprovingly. I find my eyes drifting to the sidewalk so I no longer have to feel the weight of their eyes.

I'm only human, I want to tell them. I trusted my father—who among them wouldn't make the very same mistake? We're raised to trust our parents, to give them the benefit of the doubt. And, for once, I thought my dad deserved that benefit.

I thought wrong.

~

When I get to my father's apartment, I'm reminded of how little money he has. The old Victorian is in a sad state. The door is broken and falls open, so there's no need to use the buzzer, not that it works. Paint is peeling off the walls, and the stairs to Dad's unit are so creaky that I grab the railing, worried my foot might go straight through one of the groaning wooden steps.

Standing at his door, I knock and I wait. No answer. I wait some more, then knock louder. I hear something fall—it sounds like a bottle. Next, some heavy steps. Then the door opens, and I'm greeted by an old familiar face—the face of a hungover, unshaven man. It's a face I know well.

He's drinking again.

“Hey there, Katie.”

I follow him inside.

It's dark and cluttered and smells of beer. I take the only chair in the room. He gets a glass of water from the tiny kitchen and sits on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“You said before that you want to be close to me,” I begin. “You said you wanted to make up for all those years, all those mistakes. Well, now is your opportunity. You can give me back that land.”

He is no longer the father I've been sharing lunches with these past weeks. His face is cold, expressionless—the face I recognize from childhood.

“I can't do that, Katie. I already told you.”

“You mean you
won't
do that. Because everything you've been saying is nothing but a lie.”

“Because I'm solving your problems for you. You'll thank me someday.”

“Are you kidding? You're not solving them, you're creating them. All I wanted was to save this land from development—you knew that.”

“Katie, open your eyes. There's plenty of land all around us. What's a few hundred acres of trees when we're surrounded by
millions
of acres of trees?”

“I'm not letting you get away with it. I'll go to the police.”

“And tell them what exactly?” His face darkens.

“That I was a victim of fraud.”

“You were?” He smirks. “I told you that I'd take care of the tax bill, and this is how I'm doing it. That's not fraud; that's saving your land for you.”

“You tricked me.”

“I told you what you needed to hear. I'm still your father, and I still know what's best.”

I try another approach. “Ed Jacobs is using you, Dad. You're playing right into his hands.”

Dad laughs. “You think? With what Ed is paying for this land,
I'm
the one using
him
. Not only that, I'm negotiating a percentage of every house that he sells. If that's what you call being used, fine with me. I'm laughing all the way to the bank.”

“I'll take Jacobs to court. I'll take both of you.”

“You don't want to do that, Katie. He's got a stable full of lawyers.”

“He lied to me,” I say. “He pretended he was some land trust official. That's fraud. I'll tell everyone. And they'll put you on the stand as well.”

“You don't want to do that. I'd be forced to lie.”

“You'd
lie?
” After all that's happened, I'm not sure why I'm so shocked, but I am. “You'd protect Jacobs instead of me?”

“You don't understand.”

“I understand that you would rather destroy the earth than make an honest living. And I understand that I have no choice but to take all this to the police.”

He gets up to refill his water glass, then leans against the wall, watching me. He doesn't look at all concerned about my threats. “I can't stop you, Katie, but I can tell you it won't end well. Not for you, anyway. So think about that. Think hard before you act.”

He's staring at me with dark eyes, and I am stunned into silence. I realize that I hate this man. Now more than ever. How did he change so quickly? How did he revert at the flip of a switch to that evil man I shared a house with for so many years? Or maybe all of this was only an illusion. And I played right along, a stupid girl desperate for her father's attention.

I get up quietly and walk out. As I head back toward town, I hear Isabella's voice in my head, a line of hers that has now become mine, and, in regard to my father, all too painfully true.

Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.

I keep walking, continuously walking, until the late afternoon sun casts shadows through the trees. I don't know what else to do but walk, hoping for some idea to hit me, some magical solution to my dilemma. But all I've accomplished so far today is to buy a lottery ticket.

Which reminds me to check my watch. The drawing has just happened. So I backtrack to the convenience store and look up at the monitor.

“Are those today's numbers?” I ask.

“That's right,” he says. “Just posted. How'd you do?”

I look down and unfold my ticket slowly. Not one number matches. 

“I lost,” I say.

He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Maybe next time,” he says.

But I head back down the street knowing there won't be a next time. 

I have no options left. Nothing left but to suffer the ongoing pain of knowing I hurt this town—this town that has given me so much—and that the pain will reverberate for years to come.

I'm standing in front of Lithia Runners, and it's only now that I realize I missed work today and forgot to call David.

It isn't until David pokes his head out the door and motions to me that I realize I've been staring at the shoes through the window in a daze. I've been thinking about how I stopped at this store when I first arrived at Lithia a year ago, homeless and hungry. And how everything good that has happened to me began right here.

“You coming inside?” David asks.

I follow him in. “I'm so sorry. I should have called this morning. I should have been here for you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You've done so much already,” I say tearfully. “You're like family to me, David—a real family. I never should have listened to my dad. I was just trying to get back this idea of family. I should have known better. It all ended when my mother died.”

I'm trying hard not to make a scene, but I can hear my voice becoming more shrill. There are a few customers by the shoe wall, and David needs to attend to them.

“I'm sorry. I'll get out of here.” I start for the door, but David grabs my arms.

“For what it's worth, I
am
your family. I'll always be your family,” David says. “You won't lose me.”

Then I'm crying all over his
Staff
T-shirt as he hugs me close to him. He is so kind, so good—and I wish I could retrace my steps and take a different path. I wish I knew a way out of this black hole I have fallen into.

D
avid has given me the day off work today, telling me to rest. And I have, briefly—but now my anxious mind won't let me sleep any longer, so I'm getting ready to go to the college. I have class today—and rehearsal. Books to read and lines to memorize.

Yet I can't bring myself to focus. On any of it.

So I lace up my running shoes and head up to the Lost Mine Trail again.

I feel that the answer is up there, somewhere, though I have no reason to think this. Yet ever since I saw that ghost, I feel that there's a reason for everything that's been happening.

There has to be. I need to know that this whole awful mess will someday make sense. That it's all part of something that will, in the end, turn out okay.

Maybe I'm only deluding myself. But at least up in the forest I won't have to face the angry eyes of Lithia.

And maybe I won't keep seeing Roman's face either. Ever since that dreamlike image I saw when the tree nearly fell on me, I still can't shake the feeling that it was Roman who'd pushed me out of the way.

I have to admit that I wish Roman were here right now. I'd been hating him for something he hadn't even done, and I wish I could make it up to him. It's just one more thing to feel guilty about.

Roman has always understood me better than anyone—he's someone who knows what I'm thinking almost before I think it myself. It's more than the supernatural vampire thing; even Alex and I don't have the same connection that Roman and I do. And I know that if I could talk to Roman, he would listen, silently, without judging.

And I don't like to admit, even to myself, that I long for Roman's bloodthirsty side right now. That I want him to take care of Ed Jacobs in a way that only Roman can. Alex wouldn't hurt a fly, and while I love him for that, I know Roman wouldn't hesitate to seek justice—and somehow, I love him for that, too.

Most of all, I want to be in his arms. I want to be up in his castle in the hills, hidden from everything and everyone. In Roman's house, it would be easy to pretend that we lived in another country, even another era. I could escape my life and everything that I've done.

But no—I am stuck in the here and now. Alone.

I run until I reach the overturned tree. Yesterday, I contacted Doug in the parks department to let him know about it; I'd hate for a mountain biker to come around the bend at high speed and run into this obstacle—the tree would clearly win that battle. But Doug sounded overwhelmed, and I'm guessing, because the tree is still here, that this trail is outside of the territory he maintains.

I take a seat on the tree trunk and soak in the peace and quiet. I reach into the tiny side pocket of my running shorts and remove my lucky rock, polishing it with my fingers. Fool's gold. That's me—a fool. Maybe that's why I still carry this rock around; it fits who I am. It's brought me nothing but bad luck, but I keep hoping that things will change, and for some reason I cling to this little piece of metal, as if it has the power to help me.

Pathetic, I know. Me waiting blindly for my luck to change. Sitting here hoping the ghost runner will show up and offer me her wisdom. But I'm desperate, and I don't know where else to turn. I may have failed nature with my bad decisions, but nature has yet to fail me.

And so I cling to hope.

An hour passes, and I am all too aware of this thanks to the watch my father gave me. I've been tempted to throw it away; I want to be rid of him completely. Yet it's a beautiful watch, and I need one. I like its little light, which, even though it's midday, emits a noticeable glow.

Another hour passes. I stand and pace back and forth. “Hello?” I say out loud. There is no response.

I raise my voice. “Where are you?”

“I'm right behind you.”

It is a familiar voice, a man's voice. I spin around.

Roman. “Hello, Katherine.”

I blink, thinking my eyes are playing a trick on me, that this is another dream. I close my eyes and open them slowly, expecting him to be gone.

But he's still here, standing right in front of me. As if he had never left. His face is warmer than I remember it, less pale, and his lips curve ever so slightly, as if he's actually smiling.

But still—it's Roman. I'd know him anywhere, if not by his face then by the shivery feeling that runs through my entire body when he's close.

I try to act nonchalant. “Are you real,” I ask, “or am I seeing things?”

“I believe I am real.”

“It's been a long time,” I say, looking him over, still shocked to see him.

“You look good.”

“So do you.”

He glances down at my legs. “I'm sorry about the scratches.”

“So it was you,” I say. “It was you who saved me from the tree.”

He nods.

“Why didn't you stay?”

“I was keeping my promise not to bother you again. At least until you asked me to return. When I heard you calling out just now, I took the liberty of assuming it was me you were calling for. I hope I was correct.”

“Maybe,” I say. I'm not sure I want to go into detail about the ghost runner, at least not yet. All I want to do right now is go to Roman and put my arms around him, raise my face to his. I want to feel his lips on mine, to surrender to what I've been trying to ignore for so very long.

But first, I need to say what I've been hoping I'd have a chance to tell him. “I'm so sorry,” I say. “I know now that it was Alex, not you.”

“Don't be sorry,” he says. “Nobody is innocent.”

“Why didn't you just tell me? You didn't have to leave.”

“I did have to leave,” he says. “Isn't it obvious?”

I shake my head, confused.

“I couldn't stand seeing you and not being able to talk to you, to reach out and touch you. That's why I sent you the tickets. That's why I sat next to you that night. I hoped I could win you back, the only way I knew how. And when I failed, I knew there would be only one other way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vampires live a life of suspended animation,” he says. “For us, there is no beginning, and there is no end. There is no arc of life we must follow because death is not on our horizon. Humans think they want immortality, yet it can be a tedious existence.”

“I don't understand.”

“You asked me to change my diet. And it may seem trivial to you, but for me, it was tantamount to killing a part of myself.”

“Are you saying—” I don't dare to hope for what I think he's saying.

“Old habits are hard to break,” he says. “Especially after many lifetimes. Especially after so many years of living the same way.”

“What are you saying, Roman?”

“I've given up my old ways.”

“You mean to tell me that you've giving up on killing people?”

“I've given up on killing
any
mammal.”

I can't believe it. “How long has it been?”

“Five weeks.”

I remember Alex telling me how hard it was to make the transition. “How are you holding up?”

He grimaces slightly. “Fairly well.”

I don't know what to say. “Roman, I'm so happy. I'm so proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“But I hope you're not doing this just for me. You have to change for your own reasons.”

“Initially,” he says, “it was all about you, Katherine. How could it not be? But I came to realize, after I began this journey, that as difficult as it was to change, I was met with an equally powerful sense of relief. I no longer carried the guilt. I no longer felt the fear of somebody discovering me. I no longer harbored this anger toward the world and what I'd become. I did believe that I was made a certain way and that I could never change. And yet I was wrong.”

I'm amazed to hear these words coming out of his mouth. To know that he and I have something in common now. To know how badly he wanted to be with me. And how badly I want to be with him right now. I can feel my body being drawn to his. I take a step toward him.

“I've missed you,” he says. “More than you know.”

He takes a step closer. A few inches separate us, and I'm waiting, helpless to take one more step. But then reality surges back into my mind, the reality of my father and everything that's happened, and just as Roman reaches out for me, I take a step back.

“What's wrong?” he asks.

“Since you've been gone, I've made a mess of things here.”

“Tell me,” he says.

I explain everything—my father, the land, Ed Jacobs, my lawyer, and how the town is just one protest march away from chasing me away from Lithia for good.

“I can handle your father.”

“No,” I say. “I'm tempted, trust me, but I don't want any violence. Besides, look how far you've come. It's not worth it.”

Roman's eyes have reddened, and I see that carnivorous glow.

“Roman,” I warn, “don't even think about it. He's my father. And even though I hate him like the devil right now, nobody deserves that fate. There has to be another way.”

“Which is?”

“I haven't figured it out yet. That's why I'm up here. Trying to clear my head, I suppose.”

“I'll help you,” Roman says, and I'm so touched and so relieved by his simple promise that tears spring to my eyes.

I wipe my eyes and quickly change the subject. “How long have you been back in Lithia?”

“A few days. I wanted to find the right place, the right time, to see you. Not in front of everyone. I'm not exactly well liked by the locals these days.”

“Welcome to the club. Are you back in Victor's house?”

“No. Victor and I had a falling out.”

“Really? Why?”

“For the same reason I was so upset with Alex when he turned vegan.”

“But it's your decision, isn't it? Your body.”

“Victor made me who I am. He feels a sense of ownership.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means—for now at least—that I'm without an address.”

“Homeless.”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then where do you sleep at night?”

“In the park.”

“I've got news for you, Roman. That's the definition of homeless.”

“What are you smiling at?”

I catch myself. “I'm sorry,” I say. “It's just that the tables have really turned between us. When I first met you, I'd been the one living on the street, and now it's you.”

“Leave it to you, Katherine, to find the irony in things.”

Roman cracks his rare but gorgeous smile, and I feel my heart going weak again. “I've saved up a little money,” I say. “I'll put you up at the Lithia Springs Hotel.”

“I couldn't ask that of you.”

“You don't have to ask. I insist.”

There is an awkward moment of silence between us. Something has changed, and it's not just him. I've grown, too, I realize. I'm here smiling with him, paying for his hotel room. For the first time in my life I feel like an adult.

“Are you going to get your job back?” I ask.

“I will try. As you know, I didn't leave on the best of terms.”

“They'll want you back.”

“They may want me, but they may not take me.”

“So what will you do?”

“Well, I suppose, if all else fails, I'll beg.”

“You? Beg for your job?”

“Yes. You see, I realized something about myself recently. I realized that I need the theater more than it needs me. I realized something else as well.”

He looks deep into my eyes, and I feel him about to say what I've long wanted him to say but have also dreaded. It scares me, so I cut him off.

“Hold that thought,” I say.

“Katherine.”

“It's getting late. I've got school. Rehearsal.”

He relents with a sigh, and we begin to walk down the trail, toward town. It's a blazingly hot day, and I'm parched and ready for a long drink of water.

I also find that I'm ready for civilization. Thanks to Roman, I feel as though I can face the world again.

Roman reaches out for my hand, and I notice I'm still holding the rock. I look down at it. My lucky rock. Perhaps it really is lucky after all.

“What's that?” Roman asks.

“Oh, nothing,” I say. “Just something I found. Fool's gold.”

“It doesn't look like fool's gold to me.”

“I was told it was.”

Roman shakes his head. “I don't think so. I'd get a second opinion.”

“Maybe I will.”

We continue down the hill, hand in hand. Knowing Roman is here, on my side, I feel optimistic that I can right the wrongs I've caused. That the answers will come. I just have to be patient.