Shadows of the Past Page 18

  Emily is sitting on the couch watching TV with her girlfriend, Lily. They both turn when they hear two sets of footsteps. Emily's eyes go wide seeing Oliver beside me, but when she notices how disheveled I am with bits of grass and leaves in my wild-looking hair, she covers her mouth with both hands and gasps.

  We haven't talked much since our fight last week. I didn’t know how to fix it and Emily was so mad at me. It was easier just to avoid her.

  "Kayla, what happened?" There's so much emotion in her voice now when she asks the question and her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, God, are you all right?”

  "She's fine," Oliver reassures her.

  He walks me over to sit on the smaller couch before sitting down beside me. He looks over at me, his eyes silently asking if he can tell her. My nod is almost imperceptible, but he sees it. Taking a deep breath, he looks up to meet her frightened eyes.

  "James accosted her in the Gardens." Emily reaches forward to take my hands in hers, and her expressive blue eyes fill with tears.

  "Oh, Kayla, I'm so sorry. Did he..." she trails off, but her thoughts are obvious.

  I shake my head, unable to speak past the sudden lump in my throat. I hadn't realized just how much I missed her until right now.

  Oliver, Emily, and Lily talk, thankfully not forcing me to answer any questions, with Oliver explaining what happened. All I can think is how lucky I was that he was there. I don't even want to think what might have happened if he hadn't been.

  Lost in my thoughts, I don't realize how much time passes until Oliver stands to leave. He hugs me tightly before letting Emily show him the door. I watch him hand Emily what looks like a business card as he opens the door, and I can hear his low words.

  "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything." She nods, kissing him on the cheek before shutting the door behind him and returning to sit next to me.

  "Oh, Kayla," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing. "I'm so sorry about everything." She begins to cry as Lily watches us from the other couch, her own eyes red with unshed tears. "I know there are still things you aren't telling me, but I don't want to fight with you anymore."

  The next words come out garbled because she's starting to cry harder. "If something had happened to you..."

  I return her hug, but I can't stop thinking about everything that's happened lately. It's like some invisible force is trying to make me leave, pushing me back toward home. I can't face what happened there; all the ghosts that haunt me live in New York.

  CHAPTER 41

  "Hello?"

  A male voice speaks. "Hello, is this Kayla O’Mally?" Not just a male voice, an American male voice. I almost drop the phone, but if I hang up, he'll just keep calling, and Emily will be back soon.

  "Who is this?" I can hear the tremor in my voice, but I pray he can't.

  His throat clears, and then his voice is back in my ear.

  "My name is Eric. Your mother hired me to find you." Eric's voice is dry, like finding people who've gone missing or run away is something he often does.

  "Hired you?" I want to slap my hand over my mouth after I ask the question.

  "I'm a private detective."

  I start to panic. "How did you get this number?" It's not like I'm listed in the phone book as living with Emily. Calling my cell was bad enough.

  "That's not important." Hell it's not! I need to know what he did so I can make sure it doesn't happen in the future. I've been careful. I don't have a bank account or credit cards; I don't even get mail here. My phone bill doesn't get delivered here either; instead it gets emailed to me. I used a fake address and don't ever pay the bill from the same postbox.

  I'm so tired of fighting with myself, with Emily, with Oliver. In the two weeks since the confrontation with James, Oliver's upped his game, showing up at the flat every day, insisting I talk to him. Every day I refuse.

  Emily says I'm a coward, and she's right. I am. I've been running for so long I don't know how to stop. I've been living in limbo, never moving forward, never able to move on because I've never dealt with any of it.

  I left before the twins' funeral, and I've been avoiding my mom and my sister ever since. Leaving isn't what I want to do; I don't want to leave Emily, and honestly, I don't want to leave Oliver either.

  "I'm sorry; I need to go." I hang up before he can protest and run for my room.

  Grabbing my duffle bag, I begin throwing things into it. Clothes, shoes, anything I can grab. I need to get out of here fast. If that detective is close enough to find a landline number, he'll be here in person soon. I can’t do that.

  It will just convince Emily and Oliver that I shouldn't be trusted, and I don't want to see that look on Emily's face ever again.

  "What are you doing?" It's like thinking about her conjured her out of thin air. Emily is standing in my doorway, her eyes narrowed as she takes in the mess that is now my room. "Are you leaving?" She sounds shocked.

  Unable to look at her, I answer, "I have to."

  "I can't believe you're just going to leave. You're not even going to tell him goodbye?" Emily is pissed.

  She doesn't understand, but how could she? She's never had to go through anything close to what I have.

  "We already said our goodbyes, Em. Oliver and I were friends, and then we were more for a few days. He'll move on when I'm not here anymore. He deserves more than I can give him." It sucks, but it's the truth. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, to understand that love isn't always enough.

  "That's such bullshit. You're scared, and you're running again, Kayla." Emily is standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, like she is going to keep me from leaving by force of will alone.

  I'm doing this, no matter how much she hates it. It's not her decision, and it's not Oliver's either.

  She takes her phone out of her pocket. "I'm telling him you're running."

  I try to grab the phone, but she anticipates the movement, holding it behind her back.

  "No, Emily, don't. You can't say anything to him. Promise me!" She doesn't respond, and I don't get another chance to make a grab for the phone because she escapes, locking herself in her room so I can't reach her.

  Thank God I already called the cab. When the cabbie calls up a few moments later, I lug my two bags to the front door. Emily unlocks the bathroom door and comes over.

  “Don’t go.”

  "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

  She begins to cry, “Please wait, and think about this for one more day. This is a rash decision.”

  “But it isn't, Em. It's one I've been thinking about for a while now. It's time for me to move on.” This is tearing my heart out. I screwed up. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to people. I wasn’t supposed to care about anyone. It’s all I can do to walk away from her. I rush out the door and down the stairs, leaving her standing in our doorway, not looking back because I'm afraid I'll change my mind.

  The cab driver helps me put my bags in the trunk, and just as I start to climb into the backseat, someone grabs my arm. Thinking it's Emily, I sigh.

  "Come on, Em. You know why I have to leave."

  "No, actually, I don't." My head snaps to meet icy blue eyes and a face I didn't think I'd ever see again. Damn it, Emily.

  Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I narrow my eyes at him.

  "What are you doing here, Oliver?" I want to be angry with him, to be upset that he's here, but to my horror, tears fill my eyes, and I turn my head away, hoping he doesn't notice them.

  "Hopefully talking some bloody sense into you." While I'm struggling to keep my emotions in check, he's not even trying. His anger is almost palpable as he pushes me into the cab behind me.

  "Drive until I tell you to stop," he tells the cabbie, "but don't you dare stop at the airport."

  "Oliver, you can't stop me from leaving. I need to go."

  His blue eyes are like ice when he looks over at me. He's so upset his voice breaks when he says, "This is your home. You belo
ng here, with me."

  I shake my head. “This isn't my home. I don't have one anymore.”

  Frustrated, he grips my chin to make me look at him.

  "Do you honestly think you'll be happy? That fleeing will make things better? It won't. Ignoring everything, ignoring me, won't make you feel better. It won't make you happy."

  "You don't get it!" I shout. "You're right, leaving won't immediately make everything better, but I have to do something. I can't sit here anymore and wait for something or someone to fix me. I need to fix myself, and I need to be alone to do it." I need to make him understand, this isn't about him, this isn't even about what happened between us.

  Trying unsuccessfully to remove his hand so I can look somewhere other than into his eyes, I feel mine fill with tears. His eyes soften, and so does his voice.

  "Baby, I don't want to fix you. There's nothing wrong with you. Why can't you see that I just want to love you? I want to take care of you, wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night. You don't have to do everything alone. Damn it, Kayla, let me in! Stop running from me and be with me." His eyes bore into me, and I can see that he means everything he says.

  It scares me like nothing else ever has. It scares me because I want the same things. I want to wake up with him every day. I want to let him in, but I don't know how. I can't do it.

  "I'm sorry, Oliver. I wish I could. God, you don't know how much I wish I could do just that. You just don't understand what it's like." He deserves the words, he should know that I love him, but if I tell him that, he'll never let me go. He'll keep trying to convince me to stay.

  Oliver grabs me by the shoulders and turns me so I'm looking straight at him.

  "I don't understand? How can I understand anything when you don't talk to me?" His voice is rife with pain and I hate myself for hurting him more. "All I know is that you believe in ghosts, hate cemeteries, and someone hurt you so badly you won't let anyone else get close to you."

  I turn my head away to gaze out the window as Oliver presses something small into my hand. I look down, seeing a small USB device, before looking back up at him in confusion.

  "It's a thumb drive," he explains. "I had an IT guy I know extract the pictures on your old phone and load them onto this for you."

  "You got my phone out of the lake?" He nods. “You went in the lake?”

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  A dull roar fills my ears. He got my pictures back. I stare at the thumb drive in awe.

  “Did you look at my pictures?” The thought of him seeing all my pain laid bare like that makes me want to cry. I’ve haven't shared those with anyone since I left home.

  “I only saw the first picture, and I realized why you were so upset when Barkley knocked your phone into the lake. You could have told me.”

  I smash my lips together and stare straight ahead. He saw me holding my girls. The bottoms of my eyelids come up as I try not to cry.

  “There's something else.”

  “What?” I glance over at him. Oliver holds up his hand and drops a flash of silver. It dangles from his fingers and I begin to sob. “My locket. Where did you get that?”

  “Barkley ate it. The vet removed it and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I had no idea it was yours until the IT guy showed me the pictures on your phone. The photo in your locket was on the phone. This is yours.” He holds it out and drops it into my palm.

  “Barkley must have swallowed it when he knocked you down. I’m so sorry.” When I continue to stare at him, silent, he shrugs his shoulders. "There's no way I would betray you that way, Kayla. I want to know you, but I want you to tell me your secrets, and not go behind your back to discover them myself."

  "I didn't ask you to do this.” I’m numb, shocked. I feel like I have emotional whiplash. I want to tell him what happened to my girls. He probably thinks I left them somewhere. He has no idea what really happened, but the words are stuck in my throat. I can’t tell him.

  Oliver sighs, "I know you didn't. Hasn't anyone ever just done something nice for you?"

  "No. In my experience, people only do things to get things in return." I glare up at him, desperate to push him away. "What do you want?"

  "I don't want anything you don't want to give me you stubborn girl. The only thing I want from you is your trust."

  "Please, I'm begging you, just let me go." My words are barely a whisper. The knot in my throat is cutting off my ability to talk. I'm so close to losing it, to dropping every wall I've erected around myself—the thought terrifies me.

  His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth. Dropping his hand from my chin, he looks away from me this time, but not fast enough that I don't see the hurt and the anger whirling in his eyes.

  "Fine. You want me to let you go? To let you do everything all by yourself? Okay. You win. I'm done putting everything on the line while you do nothing. I'm done pushing myself on you, trying to make you see that you love me. Maybe you're just not capable of it right now, but I deserve more than what you're offering."

  My breath catches, but I can't say anything. He's right. He deserves everything. He asks the cab driver to pull over, and I look over at him in shock.

  "What are you doing?"

  "You want me to let you go. That's what I'm doing."

  The car stops at the curb, and he opens the door to get out. Once he's standing on the sidewalk, he bends to look at me one last time. "Goodbye, Kayla."

  CHAPTER 42

  The cab door slams shut, and I'm left alone. I can see him walking down the street, his head down and his shoulders slumped. What am I doing? Am I really going to just let him go? To let him leave, knowing I'll never see him again?

  The cab starts to pull away, and the driver asks, "Am I taking you to Heathrow Airport again, then?"

  I finally know what I need to do. Why wasn't it clear before? God, I've been so stupid.

  "No, please...stop the cab."

  He pulls back to the curb, and I shove the door open and get out. Just before I do, I ask him to wait. The driver nods.

  "I'll wait, but the meter is running." I don't even care. Let the meter run. I need to find him.

  When I step back onto the sidewalk, I look in the direction Oliver walked, but I don't see him. I begin to panic as I hurry in that direction, my steps falling faster and faster.

  "I thought you were leaving." His voice comes from behind me, and I spin around to see him standing under an awning. My heart nearly explodes in relief.

  I rush over to where he's standing.

  "You were right. I was running away." Tears are falling unchecked down my cheeks, but I don't care. I need to tell him everything. "Trusting people doesn't come easily for me. I need to tell you why."

  He doesn't say anything. Thankfully, Oliver just lets me get everything out. It's a good thing. Now that I'm finally talking, I don't think I can stop.

  "When I was nineteen, I got pregnant." His eyes remain unreadable, locked on mine. "When the father found out, he dropped me. Told me he wasn't cut out for parenthood, that he wasn't ready to be a father." I laugh mirthlessly. "Like I was ready at nineteen to be a mother? Anyway, instead of one baby, I got two. Twins. I went from being a nineteen-year-old college freshman to a woman who was going to be a mother of two overnight. But, I was happy. I had my mom and my sister; I had support. My father was long gone, but good riddance."

  "My father abused my mother daily for years, as far back as I can remember. He was a mean drunk. My mother put up with it when she should have shown him the door.

  “As my sister and I got older, he started taking his anger out on us as well. One night, he smacked my sister Shannon across the face for talking back. That was my mom's wake up call. She finally got the courage to leave him, and we never heard from him again.”

  He watches me as I pour my heart out. I wring my fingers as I speak.

  “My mom and Shannon were so supportive when they found out about the babies. I expected disappointment or
at least for Mom to ask me to put them up for adoption, but instead, she told me she'd do whatever she could to help me.

  "Oliver, we struggled. I was a college student with a part-time job, my sister was the same, and my mom was waitressing in a diner. We didn't have money to spare. I didn't have health insurance, and healthcare in the US is nothing like it is here. I applied for assistance with paying for the doctor visits. It was so embarrassing. I had to see a doctor who would accept the state insurance. I had to attend special appointments to qualify for assistance with food and formula, too, appointments where they pushed breastfeeding on me like me choosing not to do it would hurt my babies. Becoming a mother so young was hard, but the judgment I received from places that were supposed to help me, that was even worse."

  Oliver melts as I speak. There’s more to this story, the worst part is coming. My lower lips trembles and he pulls me into his arms, wrapping them securely around my waist and letting me cuddle into his chest.

  Tears streak down my face. "I did everything right. I went to the classes, I kept every doctor's appointment, and I followed every bit of advice the doctor gave me. But, it still wasn't enough. I went into labor a week after my twentieth birthday, and I was terrified. The pain was so bad I didn't think I would make it through, but it’d be worth it in the end—I’d get to meet my girls.”

  I swallow a sob and continue, “But then, everything changed. Nurses were running in and out of my room, paging frantically for another doctor, and all three of us were left in the dark."

  “Kayla, my God. What happened?” He strokes my hair, holding me tight.

  Voice shaking, I manage to get the rest of the story out. "The doctor came in, and he started barking orders, telling the nurses to use an internal monitor instead of the one that was lying on my stomach. I knew something was wrong, but no one would tell me what. Finally, after a flurry of activity, the doctor told me that they were no longer able to find a heartbeat. I went through labor. Both babies were delivered, but I never heard their cries. I had heard the silence before I realized what it meant.