Fated Hearts (A Paranormal Romance Novella) Page 3

  With feet firmly back on the sidewalk and a pout firmly set in my mouth, I proceeded at a march in the direction of my house a few blocks away. Holden followed a couple of paces behind.

  My ballet slippers slamming against the pavement with me stiff-legging it along was, I'm sure, a ridiculous sight. It felt ridiculous. Besides, stomping like that hurt too, as the edges of the shells in the tabby cement mixture pressed into the slim sole of my shoe.

  Looking over my shoulder, I observed Holden trudging along, eyes downcast to the pavement, his mouth in a morose frown.

  We reached the end of my block. The front door of my house loomed as an escape route a few yards away but I couldn't help stopping. Turning to Holden, I stared at him until his gaze rose to meet mine.

  "Are you supposed to hurt me or something?" I demanded.

  He flinched. "No, of course not."

  "How am I supposed to believe you?"

  He shrugged, shaking his head. "If I wanted to hurt you I could have easily pushed you off the roof earlier tonight. I had at least two chances."

  That was true.

  "But when you were talking to Mrs. Gazardi. What was that about?" My accusation was sharp. I couldn't afford to weaken my guard just because I wanted to melt into a puddle of warm chocolate every time I looked at Holden. His cuteness was dangerous. "Are you helping her take me somewhere?"

  "If Gazadriel was determined to take you, she doesn't need my help," he muttered.

  "What does that mean!" I shouted, throwing up my hands "All you do is talk in riddles."

  "I'm doing my best," he shouted back, his anger was the first I'd seen from Holden this evening. Before, I could get in another word, his whole face scrunched in misery. "I don't know how to do this," he choked out.

  "Do what?" I asked in a whisper. Taking a step closer to him, I placed a hand on his arm. "I don't understand anything. I don't know what to believe about you."

  "If you don't believe anything else..." Holden lifted a hand to place his palm against my face. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. His sincere eyes bored into mine—I couldn't look away. "Believe I wouldn't hurt you. I'd rather be damned for all eternity."

  The intensity of the moment made it impossible to stay. As I backed away from his light touch, my eyes continued locked with his for one, two, three steps, before I turned and ran the rest of the block and up the steps to my porch.

  At the front door, I peeked over my shoulder. Holden was where I'd left him, staring at me.

  Not having my purse meant not having a key, so I knocked. Dad opened the door almost immediately.

  "Honey. What—"

  "Sorry," I pushed past him and into the entranceway. Pressing a kiss on his stubbly cheek, I continued. "Forgot my key." I didn't say where I'd forgotten it but that wasn't lying was it?

  I was halfway up the stairs before he could respond.

  "Didn't Quinn walk you home?" he asked.

  "Quinn was a jerk, so I left him at the dance." I stopped midstride and turned to Dad with a smile.

  "I knew I shouldn't have let you go out with that kid," Dad muttered.

  "I can take care of myself," I said. Great. Now Dad wouldn't let me outta the house with another boy.

  "You should have called. I don't like the idea of you walking home alone at night." Dad had been inclined to be over protective since my mother had left us two years ago. For the first time in a long time I really looked at Dad. Forty-six wasn't that decrepit. He had all his hair. He could pass for that guy on Mad Men. Dad should be dating.

  "Someone else walked me home," I said.

  "Did you have a good time?" He asked.

  "Yeah, Daddy." Good time? That hardly seemed an accurate way to characterize events that felt life changing. I didn't know what to feel about Holden. My instincts told me to trust him. But how could I after the things I'd heard and seen? On the other hand, some of the things I'd seen were so crazy could I really trust my own senses?

  "G'night, Daddy."

  "Night." He gave a little wave and began to walk toward the living room. "Sleep well. SATs tomorrow. You have to be there by 10 a.m."

  My Dad and his never ending quest for me to be college material. He wanted me to go to his alma mater but it wasn't gonna happen...not with my mediocre grades. But how to break it to him?

  "Ummmm, Dad?" I said, stopping him.

  "Yes, honey?"

  "Ummmm. Nothing. See you in the morning." I would tell him then.

  Dad shook his head "I have to go into work early tomorrow." At my groan he continued. "I know. Saturday. But I'll be home in time to catch a movie if you wanna go."

  "Okay," I said. "Tomorrow. After the test."

  * * * * *

  As I turned on the water faucet to rinse out a glass the next morning, I glanced through the window over the sink. Outside, Holden was sitting in a wicker chair on the back courtyard patio. An unaccountable affection I couldn't quell even if I wanted to filled me at the sight of him. He still wore the same navy blue shirt and jeans he had on at the dance. Had he been there all night?

  Opening the back door, I called out to him. "Hey Holden. Why don't you come in?"

  He shook his head. "Your father—"

  "He left for work already. It's okay."

  He rose with a smile and came forward.

  "I'm just finishing breakfast."

  Holden strode inside shutting the door behind him. When he saw the kitchen table, he let out a bark of laughter.

  "What?" I asked. "What's so funny?"

  "That," he said, pointing to the box of cereal next to the milk carton and used bowl on the table. "It's funny because Lucky Charms is my favorite breakfast."

  "Do you want some?" I moved to the cupboard to get a second bowl.

  "Na, I'm...not hungry right now," he said. "But man I loved the Charms. It used to make my mom furious when she'd come downstairs in the morning and find me eating right out of the box."

  "Didn't you use milk?"

  "Yeah. But sometimes I was impatient and I just poured the milk into the plastic bag the cereal comes in."

  "Omigod. You're terrible," I joked.

  "Mom would be like, 'You're ruining the whole box' but I didn't care. It only meant I got to eat the whole thing. An entire box of Lucky Charms and a slice of cold pizza."

  "Eww, what a combination." I crinkled my nose in distaste. "Of course, I already threw my pizza crust in the waste basket this morning. Don't get too close or you'll smell my guilty pizza breath."

  We both laughed.

  "Come here, pizza breath." Holden reached for my shoulders and pulled me to him. Bringing one hand to my chin, he tilted my face up while leaning down to me. "I need to kiss you."

  Okay with me. More than okay.

  His mouth covered mine, his full lips moving to send ripples of pleasure running from my head to my feet. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I eagerly opened them. I was rewarded with my first French kiss.

  Not wanting to break the spell, I nevertheless couldn't help wrapping my arms around his neck and running my fingers up his neck and into his hair. He seemed to enjoy my caresses. Holden groaned and the kiss deepened even more.

  Finally, Holden pulled back and broke our kiss. With his arms still around me he smiled and licked his lips. "Yum. Pepperoni."

  Suppressing a smile, I said, "But in my defense, I did use a bowl for the cereal."

  This renewed his laughter and I joined in.

  "I love that," he said when our laughter had died.

  "The cereal? I thought we just established that."

  "No, the little squeak you have at the end of your laugh. You always have that squeak."

  "What do you mean by always? You said I always squeak."

  A shadow of an expression passed over his face but was gone before I could process exactly what it meant. A grin replaced the shadow. His arms dropped and he walked to the other side of the kitchen table, putting it between us.

  "Every time I've
heard you laugh like you really mean it, you have a little squeak at the end," he explained.

  "I don't know. A squeak makes me sound like a mouse," I said, forcing a chuckle. "Real attractive."

  Holden stared at me. No laughter in his eyes. No smile on his lips. Utter sincerity. "You think your ordinary," he said. "Average. You're not. You're beautiful."

  Suddenly, the pine plank of our kitchen table was the most interesting thing in the world and I traced the line of the grain with my index finger as he continued.

  "You're funny, and compassionate and you care about others," he continued. "Sometimes I think you care too much about others. Sometimes....But anyway. This time, I don't want anything or anyone to stop us from being together."

  "The way you talk, it's like we've know each other—"

  "All our lives?" he inserted.

  "It's all riddles. You seem so familiar. So right. But I don't remember you being in my life before yesterday."

  "Maybe we've known each other in other lifetimes. Ever think of that?"

  Chapter Four

  The SATs were less than an hour and a half away —ready or not. Reluctantly, I suggested we set out. Holden just seemed happy to be with me. He wasn't nervous in the least.

  Clearly, he wasn't scheduled for the big test.

  I wished I didn't have to go, but I didn't know how I could explain missing it to Dad. But I was determined to talk candidly with him that afternoon.

  Holding hands but without speaking, Holden and I walked toward the school. The two of us felt more comfortable than my favorite slippers and more exciting than a roller coaster.

  Past lives?

  I hadn't pressed Holden and he hadn't volunteered anything more.

  Not that I hadn't given some consideration to the concept, but this life had always seemed like more than I could handle, let alone some other ones I couldn't remember.

  The sun shone bright today with the temperature in the 60s, so I wasn't surprised to see a lot of people already milling around the square near the school.

  Despite giving Dad beaucoup grief when he'd announced his work transfer, I had to admit Savannah was growing on me. The buildings had an old-world elegance. No office high-rises or cookie cutter mcmansions. Every building was different and unique. And there was so much green space. My favorite was the live oak trees. With the Spanish moss draped from them, it seemed like the city was always decorated for a holiday.

  Someone I knew was near the square's center, examining the face of a cell phone.

  "There's Lashonda," I exclaimed. "Come on. I want to introduce you two."

  In the distance, the clock in the steeple tower of the corner church tolled nine times.

  A memory of Mrs. Gazardi saying something about a 9:18 a.m. deadline came into my head and then was gone again.

  "Don't be shy," I said.

  "No, Eve." Holden strained against my hold. "I don't—"

  "She'll love you," I said, dragging him by the hand into a run.

  My friend, clad in some pretty stylish jeans and a t-shirt that molded to her figure, swiped at the phone face before tossing it into her purse.

  "Lashonda," I shouted. "Wait up."

  She swiveled at the sound of my voice and waved as she started towards us. I slowed to a walk.

  Birds pecked at the remnants of a muffin on the nearby park bench, so tame they didn't fly away. Our approach didn't ruffle their feathers. The loudspeaker system of the passing tourist trolley blasted us with a snippet of narration from the tour guide about the square.

  "You left your purse at the party, Eve," Lashonda said when we were face-to-face. "I have it at home."

  "Thanks girlfriend," I teased.

  "Don't call me girlfriend," she said immediately, with a laughing glint in her eye.

  "I want you to meet someone." I tugged at the sleeve of a reluctant Holden jerking him forward.

  "Eve," Holden said, "I don't think this is the right time."

  "'Course it is, silly."

  "Who's silly?" Lashonda asked, a quizzical tilt to her head as her eyebrow arched.

  "Holden," I answered with a laugh, a glance and a nod his way. My grin felt so wide it would stretch my chin out of shape. "You told me to go after him and you were right."

  "Him who?" she asked.

  "The Viking," I said, inclining my head in his direction. "Let me introduce you two. I want him to meet my best friend."

  "Oh, sweetie. That's great," Lashonda gushed, taking me by the shoulders and giving me a quick hug. "How about tonight? We can all meet up at the Mall Food Court."

  "Tonight?" I shook my head, confused. "How about now?"

  "Cool." She scanned our surroundings. "Are you meeting him here before the test?"

  My heart suddenly felt like a bird from the bench had flown in my mouth and lodged in my throat with its wings beating.

  Omigod. Lashonda didn't see him. She didn't see Holden standing right there next to me.

  Was he really there? He must not be. I hadn't had an imaginary friend since I was four. I must be crazy. Delusional. Straightjacket and electroshock, here I come.

  The tourists, Lashonda, the birds pecking, the tour bus...Everything and everyone seemed to be in slow motion. My awareness heightened to the point where I could see and hear everything at once.

  "Ummm, yeah." I was finally able to mumble to Lashonda. "Meeting him here."

  "Well, don't wait for him too long. You don't want to be late for the test." With a wave, she turned on her heel and started in the direction of the school.

  "Eve. Listen." Holden reached for me but I evaded his grasp.

  "No," I said. "I can't...This is all..."

  Before I knew it, I was running. I didn't remember when I'd started moving, waking to conscious thought only when already in mid-dash.

  "Stop. Eve."

  Hearing his voice only increased my speed and I dodged between two benches to get away. I registered Lashonda's widened eyes as I passed her before propelling myself out of the square and across the street to the other side. Once there, I stopped on the curb in front of the church and scanned the path I'd taken. I searched for Holden but didn't see him. Some kind of commotion—probably the tourists who clogged the city—blocked my view.

  "Eve." Holden's voice from behind caused me to turn. He stood at the entrance of the church, holding the door half-open. He waved me toward him, a slight smile twisting one side of his lips. Suddenly, I wondered why I'd been so spooked.

  Why was my first instinct always to run away? Shouldn't I start facing things instead of avoiding them?

  Besides, Holden's face was so handsome, so dear to me. I...I loved him. Didn't I?

  I should just go to him, I thought. But when I got closer, Holden turned and entered the church, forcing me to follow. Inside, my eyes easily adjusted to the dim interior after the bright sunshine to see Holden as he passed through a door to the right of the nave. Through that door I found a winding staircase that must lead to the tower steeple.

  Up, I climbed, probably more than two hundred stairs. When I reached the top, Holden was there. He'd apparently opened the window and he was leaning on the sill as he gazed out onto the city landscape.

  A breeze blew through the steeple from the window ruffling my hair and sending a chill through me.

  "What's going on, Holden?" I asked. "Why couldn't Lashonda see you?"

  He didn't leave the window but turned his head to me. "Maybe, the best way is for you to see. Come here."

  Stepping up next to him, I grasped the sill to lean out.

  "Look over there." He pointed down.

  I followed his direction and looked to the street below.

  A trolley tour bus was pulled over, parked at a strange angle on the street in front of the church. A man in a cap designating him as the driver sat on the curb with his head in his hands. The passengers had left the trolley and milled in a cluster at the front bumper.

  "What am I looking at?" I asked.

&nbs
p; Holden didn't answer. Merely shrugging, the sad turn of his lips etched lines around his mouth.

  My gaze returned to the street where I observed Lashonda pushing her way out of the crowd. She stumbled as she mounted the curb. Even from here I could tell she was sobbing.

  "Lashonda," I called to her. What was wrong? "Lashonda. Are you okay?"

  She didn't seem to hear me.

  A man clicking photos with his a long lens camera moved to the right just as the woman next to him moved to the left. The momentary parting in the cluster allowed me to see the focus of their attention.

  Me.

  My body lay still, broken and bloody in the street.

  "Ahhhhhhhh," I screamed, jumping back from the window and whirling away from the scene. Step-by-step I backed up until I bumped into the metal railing of the staircase.

  "You did this." I accused Holden.

  He flinched and his expression turned wide-eyed and stricken.

  My mind raced for answers. "Are you death?"

  "No." Holden strode to me and, despite my cringing from him, he grasped me by the shoulders. "No. I'm life."

  "No," I said. "I'm lying in the street. How can you say that?"

  "Because it's true. I'm your life. Or rather, we are each other's life. We're fated hearts. We were meant to be together."

  He tried to pull me into a hug but I resisted.

  "You said before that we knew each other in a past life." I searched to make sense of this.

  "Yes," he answered. "We were married during one of my five lifetimes."

  "Five lifetimes? I don't understand," I cried, shaking my head.

  To add to the confusion, the sound of footsteps climbing the steps freaked me out. What now?

  Mrs. Gazardi, still wearing the flowing gown of the previous night, emerged to frown first at me and then at Holden. "You still haven't done it, I see."

  "Done what?" My voice was a shrill shout. "Kill me? I think he has since I'm bleeding in the street."

  "No you foolish girl," Mrs. Gazardi said. "He was supposed to educate you." She stalked to the window. "It's almost too late. We have to do it now or never."

  I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.

  How could I feel the moisture of tears when I was dead?

  I must have spoken aloud because Holden answered me.