Waking the Dead (19 page)
Nick’s mug of tea, empty except for the dregs now, felt very heavy in his hand. He reached over and set it on the bedside table. “I’m not sure I want to think about it. Where they went, I mean.” He was pretty sure he didn’t believe in hell -- or at least that was what he told himself -- even though he knew it was possible to be trapped in between life and death, an idea that scared him so deeply that it made him feel like being sick. Or possibly catatonic.
“They went wherever they were meant to,” John said, in what was probably supposed to be a comforting tone. Trying to be charitable, Nick told himself that nothing would have been comforting right then.
“Nick?” Josh sounded like he knew he shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help himself.
“What?”
Josh swallowed. “I know -- it’s probably not fair to ask this, but --”
“Yes,” Nick said. “I will. I promise. I’d never leave you like that.” He’d never leave anyone, not if he could help it.
There was a little smile playing at the corners of Josh’s mouth. “Now who’s the one that can read minds?”
“You think you’re the first person who’s asked me that?” Nick smiled back and leaned against the headboard, grateful for its support. “Okay,
almost
asked me.”
Caitrin stood and began to gather the mugs and put them on the tray, her movements jerky and her mouth twisted as if she was about to cry. Delayed reaction, and the conversation probably wasn’t helping.
Nick cleared his throat. “Josh? Why don’t you give Caitrin a hand with those? No need to wash up, just put them in the kitchen. I think I’m going to doze off again.”
Josh nodded and went over to the tray, picking it up over Caitrin’s halfhearted protest that it wasn’t heavy and she could manage. The two of them went downstairs, the sound of their conversation floating back until a door was closed and a relative silence fell.
“He’s a good lad,” John said. “I don’t think you really need to worry about him.”
Nick nodded and slid down in the bed, curling onto his side facing John. “Need isn’t really the right word to use, when you’re talking about worrying. I’ll worry anyway. I’d worry even if he wasn’t…you know. Unique.”
“Aye, he’s that, all right.” John’s hand stroked Nick’s hair; it felt good, and Nick’s eyes slipped closed despite himself. “Just like his brother.”
“I just --” A yawn cut him off, and he turned his face into the pillow to hide it. “Just want to know he’s safe.”
“He is. You made sure of that tonight.”
“But I couldn’t save everyone.” It was a thought that left him feeling empty and aching, and he discovered that he had a handful of John’s T-shirt curled up in his fist. God, it
hurt
, knowing that he’d failed.
“One dead.” John sighed. “It could have been more. God, Nick, if you hadn’t stopped them, we could have had the whole town grieving. As it is, well, I didn’t know Fred, but for all I wish you could have saved him, he was dead the moment both of them went inside him. I mean no disrespect to Fred when I say he wasn’t strong enough to hold on, because, you and Josh aside, I doubt anyone would be. Those brothers had one hell of a lot of anger fueling them.”
“You would have kicked their asses out,” Nick said with a sleepy certainty. “Told them to go away…”
John gave a soft chuckle and Nick felt a kiss press against his temple. “Maybe. I don’t like pushy folk. I’m glad I never had to find out, though, and that was down to you protecting me in the cave.”
“Always will.” The words were hard to speak now; like leaves dropped into a stream, they were whirling away before he could catch them, shape them, make them come out right. “Always.”
“I know.” John’s words were part of the darkness rocking Nick gently. “Me, too, Nick. Always.”
Chapter Sixteen
“This is probably all a lot to take in,” Josh said, wishing it had come out sounding less like an apology.
Caitrin was at the sink washing dishes, or at least pretending to. Her hands were in the soapy water, but her shoulders were tense, and Josh was pretty sure -- even without cheating -- that she was still trying not to cry. “Well, it’s not as if I didn’t already know about Uncle Nick.”
“You just never got to see an example of it before?”
She nodded. “It was a bit of a shock, I’ll admit that. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Rory leaves Traighshee as soon as he can get his things together. He’s had enough.”
“What about you?” Josh asked.
“Me? I’d had enough long before today, hadn’t I. Long before I saw you with your eyes wild, and that tourist Fred lying dead on the ground.” Caitrin’s voice broke, and Josh went to her, turning her around and pulling her into a hug.
“Hey. It’s okay to be freaked out.”
“Is it? Well, I’m glad I have your permission.” Caitrin’s hands were wet, and he could feel the water soaking into the back of his T-shirt; despite her words, she clung to him.
There didn’t seem to be much to say that would help so Josh, with vague memories from a dozen movies swirling in his head, settled for kissing the side of Caitrin’s face and then, when her head tilted slightly, just enough, her mouth.
The kiss was better than the ones in the cave; less fire and urgency to it, maybe, with a deeper sweetness and trust. They’d gone through too much, too soon, but it didn’t feel as if it’d put a barrier between them.
He made sure to stay out of her thoughts, and really, when he knew that they’d be identical to what her lips were telling him as they moved against his, he didn’t need to look.
A gust of air brushed over him, and he registered it vaguely as coming from an open door, but Caitrin had chosen that moment to slide her tongue into his mouth in a slow, liquid caress that made Josh feel as if every part of his body but one was melting down.
“Well, I see I needn’t have rushed over here without so much as taking my coat off,” Janet said. “You’re fine, the both of you.”
Shit. Josh let go of Caitrin and stepped back a single, guilty pace. “Janet! Uh, I mean, Mrs. Gordon.”
“Janet will do, as you’re family and too old to call me ‘aunt.’” Janet gave them both a look that blended asperity with concern. “I got off the ferry, my arms twice the length from the weight of my shopping bags, wanting nothing more than to get home and have a nice cup of tea, and the whole town’s in an uproar. Dead tourists, car crashes, ghosts -- and you two in the middle of it. Now, I can see for myself that neither of you is hurt, but would you mind telling me what in the name of God is going on?”
Josh tried to frame a reply that wouldn’t involve actual lies, but he didn’t get a chance to say any of it. With a choked sob, Caitrin threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh, Mam, it was awful; you don’t know what it was like. Mam, I was so scared!”
“Shush now, lovely,” Janet murmured, her arms enfolding Caitrin. “I’ve got you, hen.”
Over Caitrin’s head, her eyes met Josh’s, and she jerked her head in an unmistakable signal for him to leave, still reciting a litany of reassurance, her hand patting Caitrin’s back.
He was smart enough to take a hint when it was more like an order and retreated to the living room. It was impossible to shut out the conversation the two were having entirely, though, and he was relieved when he heard the creak of John’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Is that Janet, then?” John asked.
“Yeah.” Josh put his hands into his pockets. “Cait was pretty upset. I mean, I thought she was doing okay, but then her mom came in, and she kind of lost it.”
“Aye, well, mothers have a tendency to bring that out in their children, I’ve found.” John sighed and sat down on the back of the couch, which didn’t look like a very comfortable seat.
“Is Nick asleep?”
John nodded. “He’ll be tired for days after that. It takes it out of him and tonight, well, it wasn’t the way it usually goes.”
“It was pretty spectacular, what he did,” Josh said. “Seeing him walking toward us with those ghosts behind him like a -- like an army of the dead; I’ll never forget it.”
“I hope some of the people there will,” John said. “I don’t fancy explaining it and discussing it from now until Christmas, I can tell you.”
“I don’t think everyone saw it as clearly as we did,” Josh assured him. “We knew what was going on and they didn’t. It makes a difference.”
John didn’t look entirely convinced, but he shrugged. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
“John! Get in here!” Janet’s voice rang out, and John flinched, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Wish me luck,” he said to Josh, and then squared his shoulders and walked into the kitchen to face the wrath of his sister.
Chapter Seventeen
“He was pretty green,” Caitrin observed, turning toward John again. The bathroom door with the little cartoon man on it had just swung closed behind Nick, who’d made a sudden and desperate dash for it after they’d walked through a cloud of perfume at the terminal.
“Aye, well, he survived the ferry trips without being sick. I suppose we should be impressed he lasted this long.” John sighed and wondered if he ought to go after Nick. He decided to give him two minutes on his own.
“I’m the one who ought to be sick,” Caitrin said. “An actual airplane!”
“It’s a wonder you’ve survived to the advanced age of eighteen without flying,” John told her.
She gave him an irritated look. “What’s a wonder is that Mam let you and Uncle Nick bring me rather than insisting on taking me herself. She’d have sobbed all over me; I’m sure I’d have died of embarrassment. Dad, now, he just hugged me and told me he’d miss me.”
John hid a smile by turning to look toward the gate they’d been headed for when Nick had suddenly felt ill; there’d been no dearth of tears when Janet and Caitrin had said their good-byes back on Traighshee, and Caitrin had spent the first ferry journey dabbing at her eyes with tissues. “I’m going after him,” he said, and took a step toward the bathroom at the same time the door swung open and Nick came out.
“Sorry,” Nick said. He was a bit pale, but otherwise looked better than he had.
“It was enough to turn anyone’s stomach,” John said, not entirely just out of loyalty. He smiled at Caitrin. “You take after me, lass. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be fine,” she echoed before scrunching up her face in a way John was fairly sure she knew looked cute. “Suppose Josh isn’t there to meet me?”
John snorted. The months since Josh had left had been filled with e-mails and phone calls between the two teenagers, culminating in Caitrin’s acceptance as an exchange student at the college Josh had chosen, her expenses paid by the Stevenson estate. The scholarship paid for a graduate course anywhere in the world, with a generous allowance included, and when Caitrin’s essay had been chosen by the trustees as that year’s winner, Janet had walked around beaming proudly for days.
John had been proud, too, his pride tempered by a wry amusement that with the right incentive, Caitrin was only too happy to use the brains she’d been born with, after years of declaring that only losers with no lives wanted to bury themselves in a school in search of a degree.
“If he’s not waiting when you walk through customs, call me and I’ll eat my fishing hat, flies and all.”
Caitrin rolled her eyes, a move she’d perfected at least six years before. “That’s a mental image I’d have preferred to live without, thank you very much.”
“I’m with you,” Nick said. At John’s look, he added, “Well, think about it. Eating fishing flies is a very, very bad idea.”
“Isn’t the point that I wouldn’t need to? Josh will be there.”
“He will.” Nick smiled at Caitrin reassuringly. “You know he will. He hasn’t talked about anything for else for weeks.”
She blushed and looked down, fiddling with the strap of her carry-on bag.
“You’ll call us when you get there?” John said as the three of them resumed their journey toward the gate. “Promise?”
“I will, you know I will.”
They got to the security gate and Caitrin turned. “I go through there, right?”
“Yeah, and don’t spend too much in the duty free shops,” Nick teased her. “They’ll announce your flight; you just go to the gate, up to the desk --”
“Your passport,” John said. “Now, you’re sure you’ve got it?”
“Yes! You checked it in the car, remember?” Caitrin got the passport out anyway and brandished it under John’s nose. “See?”
“Then give your uncle a hug and be on your way,” John said gruffly. He got a rib-cracking squeeze, a kiss planted on his cheek, and a whispered “thank you,” and he supposed Nick had the same a moment later, but he was staring at the ground, his throat constricted. She seemed so damn young to be flying halfway around the world on her own.
They waved until she’d vanished from sight and then turned to each other.
“Well,” John said. “That’s that.”
“I hope she’s okay on the plane.” Nick seemed reluctant to leave.
“She’ll be fine. She’s a grand girl going off on the adventure of a lifetime, isn’t she?” John touched Nick’s hand lightly, tugging at his fingers to get him moving, and they started to walk back the way they’d come. “And we’ll be doing the same in a few months, remember? I’m looking forward to a long holiday with you somewhere tropical.”
“It’s funny,” Nick said. “That she’s so anxious to leave Traighshee, when I feel like I was waiting my whole life to find it. And you.”
John put his arm around Nick’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug as they walked. Sometimes Nick said things that made him feel breathless, struck by just how much he loved him and the never-failing wonder of being loved back.
“I wanted to leave at her age, too,” he said. “I thought I had to go because what I wanted wasn’t on the island -- and I was right; it wasn’t. But it was on its way, though I didn’t know it and, you --” He paused and, ignoring the people around them, cupped Nick’s face in his hands. “You were worth waiting for.”
He waited for Nick to smile and then brushed his thumb lightly across Nick’s lips. “Later,” he said and didn’t make it a question but a promise.
Epilogue
“Finally,” Nick said as he shoved open the door to Rossneath.
They’d spent the previous two weeks -- two wonderful, incredibly romantic weeks -- in