Arcadia's Gift Part 19

"If you need anything, I'm only a phone call away."

With that he crossed the room and drew the door closed behind him.

I flopped down on my bed, drawing the spare pillow to my chest and pulled the covers up to my neck. My mind spun in a million different directions. Please let me be wrong, I silently pleaded. I couldn't have read him right. I rolled over and curled my knees up to my chest. Even worse was my response. I could barely admit it to myself, but there was no denying it. The feelings that swelled up inside me the night before when Cane pressed his lips to mine were the same ones that I felt when Bryan kissed me and held me close. Did I really have feelings for both of them, or was I reacting to something inside them? Is any of it real? Did Cane really care about me or was he confusing his former feelings for my sister? Ugh!

What was the good in knowing peoples' emotions if I couldn't determine the thoughts and motivations driving them?

Remembering Bryan was still here, I got out of bed and made for the door. He stood with Monica and Aaron at the bottom of the steps in the foyer. He still had on my brother's t-s.h.i.+rt, but he'd put back on his pants from the night before. When he saw me, he came up the stairs and wrapped me into a big hug. I tipped my head back to look at him. His eyes were so dark the pupils blended with the irises, but they shone so brightly, I could see my guilty reflection staring back at me.

"I have to take Monica home so she can gather her things. Are you all right?"

Beneath that calm, Bryan-feeling, I could sense a bit of that lingering jealousy and a bit of embarra.s.sment over allowing me to notice it. The warmth winding its way around me was him concentrating on his affection for me. He knew I was aware of his emotions, yet he tried to hide them from me anyway. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"I'm fine," I replied. "Just tired."

I plastered on a smile that I hoped did not appear fake.

"Okay," he said, giving me a quick peck on the lips. "I'll call you tonight."

"Bye, and have a good flight," I called as he and Monica left out the front door.

My headache was mostly gone now, but every muscle in my body hummed with fatigue. As much as I wanted to hang around the house brooding about my love life all day, there was a much more important matter to attend to. Holy c.r.a.p! I can heal people???

I took as quick of a shower as my exhaustion would allow. Not bothering to dry my hair, I descended the stairs, heading for the front door.

"Hey, Bug," my dad's voice called from the living room. "Don't go anywhere yet. We need to talk to you."

I entered the room to see my parents sitting beside each other on the couch clutching hands, not in a romantic way, more like Mom was clinging to him for strength. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater and her hair was brushed. If it weren't for her too pale skin and lack of makeup, she would've appeared almost normal again.

Aaron sat in the recliner, his knee bouncing nervously. While not as volatile as most of my cla.s.s rooms were, the emotions feeding into me were varied and jumbled. My belly knotted up with Mom's fear and embarra.s.sment. My chest ached with Dad's concern and love for his family. And my shoulders tensed with Aaron's uncertainty. The combination made me want to hurl. Instead, I sat on the arm of my brother's chair, aligning myself with him.

"What is it?" I asked.

My parents exchanged a look before my mother's gaze became engrossed with her shoes.

"You both know that your mother hasn't been herself lately," Dad said, rubbing Mom's arm supportively. "I know you've been worried about her." He heaved a sigh before continuing. "We've talked it over and your mother has agreed to get help."

"I thought she already was seeing a therapist," Aaron said.

"She is, but we think she needs more help than an outpatient program can offer her."

Mom didn't seem to notice that they were discussing her as if she weren't in the room.

"What are you saying?" I asked. "That she needs in-patient treatment?"

"I-I'm going to check myself into a rehab facility today," Mom answered. My gasp had more to do with how difficult it was for her to admit that than any real surprise on my part.

"We've found a place in Minnesota that can offer her support for her substance abuse problems as well as grief counseling. I'm driving her up there today."

"How long are you going to be gone?" Aaron asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"For as long as it takes," Mom whispered, gazing beyond us out the window.

"I'll be moving back home temporarily while your mother's gone to keep an eye on you both. I know you kids have had a lot to deal with on your own for these last weeks, but it's time that we pull together as a family and get through this."

I struggled to block out the swirl of emotions in the room so I could a.s.sess my own thoughts. Part of me was glad that my mom was getting help. I knew it was the right thing. But another part of me boiled with frustration that Aaron and I were expected to find our way back to normal life on our own, while she was allowed to completely flake out. We didn't have the luxury of self-pity; we had school. And what about the c.r.a.p I'd been living through these last weeks? My parents had no idea about the emotional rollercoaster I'd been on. Okay, so I hadn't exactly told them about it, but they hadn't thought to ask either.

I looked down at my brother sitting next to me, and the wind went out of my sails. Soft gray smudges spread under his eyes, dimming his inner light. I opened myself to him and felt the sadness and worry lingering in him as if it had taken up permanent residence. I'm as bad as they are, I thought. So wrapped up in my own problems, I haven't been there for Aaron. I rested my palm on his shoulder and silently vowed to be a better sister.

"I'm glad that you're getting help, Mom," he a.s.sured her. "Don't worry about us. Cady and I have each other's backs."

Dad nodded as if that settled everything. "Well, Julia, let's get your bags in the car and head out. It's over three hours to Rochester."

Mom stood and crossed to hug us, but I s.h.i.+rked away and went back up to my bedroom. I sat on the bed trying to understand why I was so angry with her, why I couldn't let myself feel sorry for her. Guess sympathy doesn't automatically come with empathy.

I lay back on my bed and covered my eyes with my forearm. The sounds of my parents gathering Mom's luggage from the bedroom down the hall echoed through the plaster walls. Just as I thought they had gone back down the stairs, a soft knock rapped on my door.

"Can I come in?" Mom asked, stepping inside without waiting for permission.

"Can I say no?" I sat up, my head dizzy from the movement. Man, I was exhausted. Not sleepy, just spent. I tried to block out her feelings, but I couldn't do it anymore. Her guilt and pain and sorrow seeped around my s.h.i.+elds, demanding my attention. The emotions weakened me further, so I dropped the blocks, letting them flood over my mind in defeat.

"Cady, I know you are worried about me -"

"I'm not worried, I'm p.i.s.sed off. Big difference."

Mom sat down on the bed next to me and tried to put her arm around my shoulders, but I shot to my feet, putting distance between us. I couldn't let her touch me. I had enough of an emotional storm brewing on my own; I didn't want direct contact with her to drag me into her pity-party, invalidating my own feelings.

"Arcadia-"

"Will you please stop that? Stop using that mother-voice on me. It's not going to work, all right?" I paced back and forth in front of my closet.

"I am your mother," she said, her voice rising with indignation.

I paused mid-stride and faced her. "Really? Some mother you've been lately. Tell me, while you were wallowing away in your bedroom like some Victorian-era heroine, did you even think about the two kids that you left to fend for themselves?"

I hated myself even as I was doing it, but something snapped within me, and I let it all out. "Who do you think paid the bills this month? Dad did. Who has been making excuses for you when your office calls, or the clients that you have abandoned? Aaron, that's who. Who has been making sure there is food in the house? Me."

The volume of my voice was steadily rising into a shout. "We're all running around here taking care of things so you don't have to. So you can feel sorry for yourself. But what about us? We lost someone too. You do not have a monopoly on loving her!"

Mom's skin faded to a grayish white and her hands visibly shook. I had gone too far. I'd kicked her when she was down. What kind of s.h.i.+tty daughter does that?

Dad appeared at the door. The tight press of his lips let me know he'd heard at least part of my tirade. "You ready to head out, Julia?"

Mom stood, smoothing her clothes, not meeting either of our eyes. She nodded.

"Mom," I said, reaching for her as she brushed past me. She yanked her arm from my grasp, leveled her lightly blood shot eyes on me and said, "Goodbye, Arcadia."

The odd formality in her tone rooted me to the spot, keeping me from following them out the door, down the steps and to the car.

I crossed the hall to the guest bedroom and watched from the window. In the driveway, Aaron hugged Mom tightly and Dad tucked her into the pa.s.senger seat of his truck as if she were fragile cargo. Aaron waved until the truck turned out of sight.

I slumped down to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest, too upset to even cry. I never had temper problems before, but for the second time since the accident, I found myself feeling guilty and embarra.s.sed by a sudden outburst. It wasn't like me at all.

A long sigh from the doorway made me look up.

"So now what?" Aaron asked.

"Huh?"

He entered the room and sat down on the carpet near me. "Well, one of my sisters is gone, and I can't do anything about it. My mother has a drug problem and is headed to rehab, and I can't do anything about it. My other sister," he cut his eyes to me, "has turned into some sort of psychic healer, and I probably can't do anything about that either, but well, I'm here and so are you, so I guess that means we're in this together. So again, what do we do now?"

"Now," I shrugged. "It's time to figure out what in the h.e.l.l happened last night."

Aaron's head nodded in agreement. "Okay. Where do we start?"

I grinned. "I think it's time for you to meet the neighbor."

Acknowledgements.

If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes at least an apartment building filled with an eclectic bunch of neighbors to publish a book. I give my appreciation and thanks to the following people who played a part in Arcadia's Gift.

First and foremost, I'd like to thank my writing group Mercy Loomis, R. Scott Steele and Joe "Zombie Joe" Alfano. They saw the most horrendous versions of this story and still chose to support me. Thank you for your input and peer pressure. Sometimes, not wanting to show up empty-handed on Tuesday night was all that kept me going. A special thanks to you, ZJ, for helping me out of my t.i.tle crisis and for your phenomenal baking. Seriously, your cupcakes are like ambrosia.

Thank you to my editor, Vicki Keire. Your comments, suggestions and support were valuable to me. I look forward to working with you again in the future.

Even with a fabulous editor, it is essential to gather input from others. Thank you to all of those who beta read for me: Victoria Grundle, Elyse Rector, Mercy Loomis, Jennifer Lowe, Tammy Treleven and Ashlyn Rae -who helped me with getting the teen perspective right.

Thank you to Phatpuppy Art for my gorgeous cover. Every time I look at it I feel like Cady is alive and not just a fictional character born of my imagination.

On a personal level, I need to thank my longsuffering husband, Steve Riggles. You never complain about the time I spend in front of my laptop or running around with my bookish friends. I couldn't wish for a more supportive man in my life.

Speaking of bookish friends...thank you to Victoria Grundle, Lindsey Hebel, Jamie Annear-Feyrer, Laura Kate Leibelt and Mercy Loomis for our book club. That one night each month has kept me sane through this whole process. I love you all like sisters!

Lastly, I want to thank Eleah, Eliesha and Michael d.i.c.kenson for educating me on what it means to be a twin and how powerful the connection between twins can be. I don't think those of us who are not a twin can fully understand the relations.h.i.+p. I hope this story in some small way honors that special bond.

Okay, enough of the love fest. I have another book to write.

~Jesi Lea Ryan.

Arcadia's Gift Play List.

Music is powerful inspiration for writers. The following are the songs that provided fuel for my imagination during the writing of Arcadia's Gift. They are also the music most likely to be on Cady's iPod. (In no particular order.) Teenage Love - Lee MacDougall.

Hurricane Drunk - Florence + the Machine.

If I Die Young - The Band Perry.

Handlebars - Flobots.

Run - Snow Patrol Mad World - Gary Jules I Lay My Head - Fallulah.

Return - Ok Go Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order.

Calling You - Blue October End of the Dream - Evanescence.

Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park How - Regina Spektor Trumpet Vine - A Stick and A Stone.

Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran Sleep - The Dandy Warhols.

About the Author.

Jesi Lea Ryan grew up in the Mississippi River town of Dubuque, IA. She holds bachelor degrees in creative writing and literature and a masters degree in business. She considers herself a well-rounded nerd who can spend hours on the internet researching things like British history, anthropology of ancient people, geography of random parts of the world, bad tattoos and the paranormal. She currently lives in Madison, WI with her husband and sa.s.sy kitty. This is her second novel.

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