Page 27 of Graveyard

Even now, she’s upstairs with Charlie, helping her work on her gift. Charlie’s barely spoken to me since her incident, but that’s fine too, I suppose. I’ll find her a permanent home, soon. It’s easier if she hates me. It’s easier for both of us if we start the emotional separation now it will only hurt more the longer we stay together.

Graveyard looks at me warily and I’m pulled back to the present.

“Is Pocus around?” he asks gruffly.

“I think he went to the big house,” I say in a small voice.

Things are strange between us now. Tense. Now that he knows the truth about me, well most of the truth, he has a wall up. I deserve it. I should have been honest with him from the beginning.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask lamely, as if I actually live here and I’m not a guest. A very tentative guest at that.

He shakes his head and appraises me carefully. “Let’s go for a walk,” he says, striding toward the back door before I can respond.

“I’m not supposed to leave the house,” I call after him, but he pays me no mind. I have no choice but to follow him.

He walks out to the bayou and down a dark path like he knows his way. He stops at the end of a long dock and hoists himself up onto the railing. He looks out at the water.

“I was placed on administrative leave,” he says, not looking at me.

I stand in front of him, wringing my hands together nervously. I hear what he’s not saying. He was placed on leave because of what he did for me and Charlie. This is my fault, like every damn thing is my fault.

“Graveyard, I’m so sorry.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks at me and gives me a small, sad smile. “It isn’t your fault,” he says, shaking off the heavy mood he’s had since he stepped into the house. “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

He holds his hand out to me and I take it. He pulls me up onto the railing, and we sit facing each other. I draw a deep breath and try to steady myself.

“Of course, it’s my fault.” My eyes fill with tears. “You broke Charlie out of the hospital for me. You put your job on the line for me. And I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m worth it.”

Graveyard’s smile fades and he takes my hand, holding it in both of his.

“You are worth it,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Charlie is worth it.”

I swallow heavily and feel the atmosphere shift between us. In the moonlight, he’s more handsome than usual. His hands over mine are so warm. I feel dizzy in his presence. But I can’t feel this way, not about him or anyone. Too much is at stake. I pull my hand gently away and look out at the bayou.

“The first time I met Charlie, I thought I would have a panic attack,” I tell him. “Like I said before, her gift overwhelmed me. I’d never experienced anything like it. I felt her gift before I saw her, and I had no idea what to expect.”

“How long ago was that?” he asks quietly.

“Nearly six months,” I say. “I’d been gone for a while. I had to get out of New Orleans and clear my head.”

This is more than I mean to tell him. Now he’ll wonder what drove me away but I’m not ready to have that conversation yet. He seems to sense this, thankfully, and he asks me a question to get me back on track.

“What’s it like when you sense people’s gifts?” he asks.

I consider his question for a moment. I’ve never had to explain this to anyone, never had anyone who cared to know. I close my eyes and think about the feeling. That magnetic pull and the images that crop up inside of my head.

“It’s like watching a movie with the sound off,” I tell him. “I get these glimpses of what they can do, or sometimes the fear they have about their gifts. You can imagine that being a kid with supernatural powers is overwhelming.”

“I can,” he affirms. “I’d never met anyone gifted until I joined the MC. It took me a while to wrap my head around it. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up in New Orleans. I’d seen the voodoo and heard the ghost stories. But when you become friends with a guy who sees the future, it fucks you up.”

“Wait ’til you meet a kid who can control fire,” I tease, remembering Johnny in Tuscaloosa. Even with that gift, he was less of a handful than Charlie. I sigh heavily.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. The sounds of the frogs and insects’ lullaby drown out my thoughts. All things considered, it’s peaceful here. It’s the first time in months that I feel like I can breathe. But I can’t let my guard down for one second. This is temporary. The moment I get comfortable, something will change. I’ll be forced to leave again. That never changes.

“Why do you do it?” he asks, breaking our moment of peace.

“I used to be a social worker,” I tell him, remembering the time in my life that feels a million years away. “Right out of college, I found a job helping kids in the foster system. And I realized how many of those kids had gifts and needed good homes. Not that the other kids don’t deserve good homes, but it’s a much more unique challenge finding people who understand.”

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