Page 64 of Possession

Until I clicked on the third from the last one and saw a thirteen-year-old Grace holding up a shard of glass refracting a prism of light. The students sat in front of her, many of them not paying attention since she wasn’t the real teacher, so she couldn’t get them in trouble.

But one boy was riveted. Fourth row, fourth seat back. Shaggy dark hair hiding most of his face, and his oversized glasses obscuring some of the rest.

“Take a look.” I pushed away from the counter and paced across the kitchen. I didn’t want to see her expression as she realized I’d been in her purview back then and she’d never so much as given me a second glance.

On the other hand, I’d built an entire fantasy life around her. And when Annabelle had reminded me of my proper place—far away from her granddaughter—I’d stuffed her memory and my thoughts of her into a box.

“It’s my class at the Beacon school,” Grace began slowly, taking my seat. “I used to help the teacher with art classes in the summer.”

“I know, Grace. I was in that class. Just like I’m in that picture.”

Definitely not my best day, and I couldn’t deny the spurt of embarrassment at her seeing me that way. But of course, she already had back then. She simply hadn’t been aware of me.

At the time, I’d been bitter about that too. I’d figured she had rich boyfriends lined up around the block, so naturally, she wouldn’t notice the awkward, angry, borderline nerd who clung to the corners.

After a while, I realized Grace wasn’t interested in boys. She cared about her art, andonlyher art. So, I nurtured my obsession like a lover, waiting for the day that would change.

“What?” Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she grabbed the edges of the laptop screen and dragged it closer. “Where? I don’t see anyone who resembles—” Then she broke off, torturing that small bit of flesh even more. “No. That can’t be you.”

In the picture outside with her grandmother, I’d tamed my hair and I wore no glasses. I’d also managed a tight smile in spite of the fury that burned in my gaze. But in the classroom shot, I was in full geek mode—hair wild from my hands, huge, thick lenses, white shirt with the collar shot up as if that made me cool.

Yeah, not my finest moment for sure.

“Compare it to the other one you just saw with your grandmother. I’m afraid you’ll see it’s very much me.”

Her head came up, her eyes narrowing. She knew it was. I was fairly certain her shock came more from seeing me in the same room as herself rather than true surprise. The boy photographed with her grandmother just happened to be the edgier, streetwise version of the nerd who lived inside me still.

“How?” she whispered. “How could this be you? How long did you know who I was?”

My first instinct was to cover my tracks. I’d been doing it for so long that I scarcely knew how to be truthful anymore. But this woman deserved more than easy lies from me. She deserved everything.

“I was sixteen the first summer I took one of the glass classes you assisted with. I took my final one when I was eighteen and you were fifteen.”

“You took them for three years?”

Nodding was easier than replying when my throat had tightened to the point of pain. Even thinking of those days of lack and want brought forth a physical response.

“Three summers you sat in my classroom. Never spoke to me. Never identified yourself.” She returned her gaze to the screen. “How did you go from this to…” She gestured wildly at me, and I had to laugh, because sometimes I still wondered that myself.

My transformation had been inner as much as outer. Over time, I’d hardened until no one could pry away the pieces that held me together or see inside past the slick veneer. The opacity went much farther than the surface.

Much like the glass I—we—loved.

“I had to. I was born dirt poor. The kind of poor you couldn’t imagine until your grandmother died and left you penniless. I didn’t know,” I continued, sensing she was winding up to blast me. “I had no idea the state of your grandmother’s finances.”

“Oh, really? Then why were you at her house the day before she was found dead?”

“Because she invited me. She called me, quite out of the blue, and commanded I make room in my schedule to see her. Immediately. And I was to come to her, of course, since her time was more valuable than mine.”

Despite the difficulty of the subject matter, thinking of Annabelle’s absolute imperviousness made me smile. She was a hell of a woman.

Life had never knocked her down for long.

She was more apt to do the knocking. I should know. And I did, all too well.

“I did as she asked. She’d helped me at a time when no one was taking my calls. Hell, I might as well have been a ghost for all the recognition I got in architecture circles. Your grandmother’s connections and money helped pave the way for me.” I kept my voice level as if I didn’t notice Grace’s spine stiffening degree by degree. “If not for her early assistance, Carson Covenant would probably still be struggling. I would’ve gotten there eventually. But it would’ve taken a lot longer.”

“And since you’ve already denied being lovers, I’m to believe she helped you out of the goodness of her heart.” Suspicion threaded through Grace’s words, thick and hot. “Just her way of giving back to the community. Or perhaps she…saw something in you.”

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