Beyond Reach, page 3
part #3 of True Calling Series
Mel refuses to acknowledge Cal’s apparent deceit, and I don’t push the subject. Always conscious of how alone she must feel—without any of her family here—the last thing I want to do is cast doubt on her beloved brother. There’s also my selfish need to soak up her many stories of Cal, and maybe I’m latching onto this to help hold onto the view that goodness does exist within him. Or perhaps I just want to continue deluding myself.
“All right, Ari?” she asks, reaching down and taking a plate out of the cupboard.
“Peachy.”
“I saw the broadcast. They’re not giving up.”
“Doesn’t look like it. And now I have to contend with finger-pointing and staring again.” Of course, Mel isn’t aware that I loathe any form of public attention or that the government couldn’t have chosen a more perfect weapon to unhinge me. If the gawping continues, I may even turn myself in. She’s looking at me with a funny expression. “I hated all the cameras, and the scrutiny, during the pageant,” I explain. When I think back to the intense monitoring I endured whilst participating in ‘The Calling’ and during the period where Cal and I represented Aqua in the ‘Amor Regale,’ I really don’t know how I survived both ordeals. Actually, I’m not being truthful; I know exactly how I lasted the distance. Cal was by my side, and everything always seemed tolerable when he was there. “Come on, let’s eat,” I say, banishing the thoughts before they drain me.
We’re sitting down, about to tuck in, when I notice Zane and Isla walking into the kitchen. She’s talking animatedly, and he’s laughing raucously at whatever she’s saying. They look good together; the unbidden thought pops into my head. It’s worrying, not that I harbor any notions of us as a couple, but because she’s such a bad influence. Zane defends her constantly, like any loyal friend, but I fear she’s going to get him into serious trouble one of these days. Lifting his chin, Zane looks straight at me, his intense brown eyes drilling into mine. I raise my hand and wave casually before turning my attention back to our table. The last thing I want to do is sit through another forced meal with Isla today.
Deacon is quieter than normal during dinner, and even Mel can’t seem to coax him from his contemplation. He only perks up when she suggests a game of pool. Declining to join them, I pretend not to notice the look of relief on Deacon’s face as I make my way out of the communal space.
Back in our apartment, I easily navigate onto the training unit page of the portal and pull up the list of training materials for the preliminary pilot exam. There’s a significant amount of study to get through, and it’s going to be tough. Recording my name on the exam registration list, I spot Isla’s name below mine. I’d expected her to participate, so I’m not in the least bit surprised. Zane hasn’t added his name though, and that does surprise me. It’s going to be pretty unbearable if I’m stuck in a group with Isla, when Zane isn’t there to referee. Wondering if he’s spoken to her yet—about a potential truce—I decide on a whim to talk to her myself. It’d be nice to have one less stressor in my life. Unsure of her whereabouts, I tap Zane. He confirms that she’s in the gym, and I head out.
There are only a handful of people in the training unit, so at least there isn’t a crowd if this turns out badly. Isla is pounding away on the treadmill when I approach. “Isla, do you have a minute?” She looks at me warily. “I thought we could talk. Clear the air.”
“Really?” Her tone suggests disbelief.
“Look, it would make Zane happier, and quite frankly, I could do without the grief.”
She presses a button, and the machine shudders to a stop. Grabbing a beige towel, she pats her forehead and then swigs thirstily from her water bottle. Stepping down, she walks toward the back of the room.
“Shoot,” she says, in a breathless voice, leaning against the wall.
Wanting to get this over and done with fast, I cut to the chase. “I’m willing to call a truce if you are.”
“What, that’s it? Hardly convincing.” It’s clear she wants to make me sweat.
“Why do you dislike me so much?”
“I’ll admit that I didn’t like you before I’d even met you, though I did feel some initial sympathy when I heard about the memory erase. But seriously? The way Zane talks about you, like you’re some kind of Goddess, is so irritating. And then you show up, with your negativity and your petty dramas, and you made it even easier to despise you,” she says, with obvious enjoyment.
The insinuation that the distressing events within my life are mere petty dramas provokes me, but if I give in to it, we’ll just end up arguing as usual. It’s been a draining day, and I don’t have the mental capacity to engage in confrontation with Isla at this hour. So I ignore the dig. “And what about your unrequited love for Zane? Or did you think no one would notice the way you fawn over him?”
“So I like him, big deal—it’s hardly a secret, or the fact that I’d be better for him than you.”
Resisting the urge to tell her that’s a matter of opinion, I say, “If that’s what this is about, then there’s no point to it. I don’t have those feelings anymore, surely he’s told you that much?”
“That’s what I’m talking about! You’ve discarded him without hesitation!” Her tone is aggravated, and her comment only adds to the sense of guilt I feel whenever I think of Zane.
“Look, we don’t like each other and never will; that’s abundantly clear. Can we at least act civil to each other for Zane’s sake?” I’m so over this discussion.
“I’ll try, but I’m only doing this for him,” she says, straightening up.
“Ditto.”
There’s a brief moment where I think she’s going to add something, but she walks off toward the changing room without further conversation.
Arriving back at the apartment, I’m greeted by the sight of Deacon fast asleep on Mel’s lap. An uncharacteristic surge of envy seeps into my veins. “We were watching a movie when he dozed off. I was afraid to move him, in case he woke up.”
“No problem. I’ll get his bed ready.”
Entering Deacon’s bedroom, I retract the comforter and switch on his bedside lamp. He won’t sleep in the dark anymore. Too many nightmares. As I re-enter the living area, Mel rises on wobbly legs and slides him to me. I gather him into my arms. It’s been some time since I’ve had reason to lift my little brother, he’s much heavier than I recall. However, I manage to carry him into his room and gently tuck him up in bed. Staring at him for longer than necessary, I feel a swell of emotion building in my chest. He looks so young and innocent. All I want is to hold him, and tell him I love him, but he won’t let me, and it’s eating me up inside.
Mel is in the kitchen when I return. “Thanks for looking after him.”
“Ari, please stop thanking me. We’re family now. Any update on rescuing the others from Novo?”
“No, we’re still stuck in limbo. I’m going to start recording the conversations. Then I can just replay them and save my breath.”
“You’re not giving up, are you?” Tilting her head to the side, she looks inquisitively at me.
“No, don’t mind me. I’ve been like this all day. You know what today is?” She shakes her head. “Our wedding day,” I whisper, chewing on the side of my lip.
“I didn’t think you wanted to get married anyway?” Her look is probing.
“Not like that—when it suited the government. But I did want to marry Cal one day.”
“Did or do? Sounds like you have already given up.”
“I haven’t, Mel. Believe me when I say that I cannot stop thinking about him.”
“I hear you crying at night,” she admits, handing me a steaming, hot cup.
“Thanks,” I say, curling my fingers around it. “I didn’t realize I was disturbing you, sorry. I never thought I’d yearn for any part of Novo, but I have to admit that my longing for my trusty Medicet is growing stronger by the day.” I’m only half-joking.
The corners of her mouth turn up into a slight smile. “We have to do something.” Naked desperation is written all over her face.
“I know, and I’ve had an idea.”
A firm rap on the door diverts our attention before I’ve had the chance to explain. “Come in, Zane.”
He is casually attired in navy jeans and a grey V-neck sweater that possessively clings to his taut chest. Giving him the once over, I have to admit that he looks damn good. He’s clean-shaven, and his tousled hair is styled back off his forehead. Where Cal is tall, blond, and blue eyed, Zane is average height, dark haired, and brown eyed. And they’re as different in their personalities as they are in their looks. Arching his eyebrows, he looks at me curiously. Concerned that my thoughts may have betrayed me, I have to remind myself that his psychic gift doesn’t work like that. While he has the ability to tap into my mind and see what I’m doing at any given moment, he can’t hear, or read, my thoughts or emotions. Thank God for small mercies.
“Hi, Zane,” Mel says. A telltale flush blooms in her cheeks. I’m convinced she has a thing for him, though she refuses to acknowledge it whenever I bring up the subject. “Coffee?”
“Great, thanks, Mel.” She busies herself in the tiny kitchenette while Zane and I move over to the couch. “Have you signed up yet?” he asks, gesturing toward the screen.
“Yes, ironically my name’s directly above Isla’s.”
“How did your meeting go?”
“We’ll never be BFF’s, but we’ve agreed to be civil to each other,” I admit. “Purely for your sake,” I add.
“I appreciate that; being caught in the middle is no picnic.” Without thinking, I take his hand in mine just as Mel arrives with a fresh pot of coffee. It was only intended as a friendly gesture, but her eyes flit instantly to our conjoined hands, and her lips purse in disapproval. Quickly releasing his hand, I try to mask my obviousness by helpfully pouring the drinks.
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring, Ari?” Mel asks.
“I didn’t want to risk losing it,” I admit, only half-truthfully. My engagement ring now represents everything that’s cloaked in doubt and uncertainty, and it’s a constant reminder of all that’s been lost. The despair I feel when wearing it is overpowering, so I stopped putting it on. But I don’t want to fall out with Mel, or raise suspicion over my motives. Rising fluidly, I head into my bedroom.
When I pull it out of the box, the ruby, bordered by a layer of small, sparkling diamonds, glistens brightly. Sliding it on my finger, I’m reminded of its exquisiteness. I remember how natural it felt the first time I wore it; now it feels like an alien-being is wrapped tightly around my finger, slowly restricting my blood-flow.
Faking enthusiasm, I re-enter the living area with a flourish. “There,” I say, extending my hand.
“It’s so beautiful,” Mel gushes, as if she’s never seen it before.
“I know, just like him,” I say, automatically conjuring up his image in my mind. I don’t even have a photo of him. We can’t risk switching our data-cuffs on here, so all my photos are locked away, impenetrable, along with my emotions. One of the reasons why I sneak a peek at the recording most days is because I miss looking at his face. The usual flurry of confusion churns in my gut, as my conflicted emotions wage war inside me.
“I’m heading to bed. See you guys in the morning,” Mel says, too suddenly. Glancing over, I can tell she’s on the verge of tears, and my heart aches for her. Pulling her in for a hug, I squeeze tight.
“Today’s been a tough day. How are you holding up?” Zane asks, once Mel has left the room.
“So, so. I’ve been going over our options, and I have an idea,” I say, plopping down beside him.
“Let’s hear it.”
I pause for dramatic effect first. “I think we should steal a stealth-craft and go rescue them ourselves.”
CHAPTER 3
He’s looking at me as if I’ve totally flipped out. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I know there are some specifics to figure out, but it could work,” I say defensively.
“How exactly?” His leg brushes mine as he turns to face me.
“I’ll learn how to fly the stealth-craft, and you’ll crack the new Magna Superiore codes.” My voice vibrates with supreme confidence.
“And how will we get in and out of the Novo penitentiary without being apprehended?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“That’s one of the specifics to work on.” My tone is becoming less confident.
“It’s completely dangerous, and I don’t see how the two of us can pull this off on our own.”
“We can’t. We’ll recruit Ben and Mel, and whoever else we can trust, to help out.” Hopping up, I stand in front of him.
“There are a lot of unknowns to be considered.”
“I know, but we’ve time to figure out the whole plan. In the meantime, we’ll keep chipping away at the administration; maybe they’ll relent and agree to launch a rescue mission.” I pace back and forth.
“Unlikely, but in the absence of any other option, let’s try and flesh out your plan.”
Detecting skepticism, I sense he’s only agreeing to placate me. “I know you’re just humoring me.” My eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Every plan is worthy of exploration,” he says, lifting the cup to his mouth.
“That sounds like something my dad would say.” Heaviness cloaks my chest.
Zane looks pensive, and then his lips twitch. “They say most girls end up marrying a guy just like their dad.”
“Oh God … That’s so lame,” I say, spluttering as coffee dribbles down my chin.
“I believe it’s a tried and tested theory,” he says, standing up and wiping my chin with the back of his hand. I jolt at his touch.
“Now it’s a theory? I thought it was a saying? Next you’ll be telling me it’s a fact.” I flop back down on the couch.
“Empirical evidence shows that sixty-eight percent of girls marry a guy who displays similar personality traits to her father …” His voice trails off as I shake my head. “What?” he asks, his palms open and raised.
“You really need to get out more. Where’d you glean that interesting nugget? The desperate men’s journal perhaps?”
Dropping down beside me, he says, “Funny, ha, ha.”
“You’re relentless.” I grin.
“Only when it comes to the things I want.” Oh, oh. My heart starts that quivering, fluttering thing it does whenever he hints at his desire for me. Lacing his fingers through mine, he moves to close the gap between us. I know he’s only holding my hand, but it’s the manner in which his fingers curl around mine, and the way his eyes bore into me that makes it seem much more intimate. Scared to even acknowledge the sensation, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind.
“Why didn’t you sign up for the pilot training?”
“I won’t pass the medical.”
Of course, his heart condition. I had totally forgotten. He always seems so sturdy and healthy, that it never crosses my mind. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“You can ask me anything.” Placing his cup on the table, he faces me.
“What’s wrong with your heart?”
“I keep forgetting that you don’t remember these things,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “I have a congenital heart defect. It was only detected during a routine check-up when I was fifteen. I’d a bunch of tests, and that was the diagnosis.” He shrugs.
“What does it mean in practical terms?” I know he’s careful with his diet, and that he attends regular appointments in the hospital, but he’s never mentioned anything more than that to me.
“There’s an increased risk of developing a heart condition later in life, but I look after myself, so you don’t need to worry.”
“I’m more curious than anything.” He smiles knowingly.
“Why didn’t you tell me about today?” I look at him with a blank expression. “Mel mentioned it.” Ah, the wedding.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” I admit, though it’s more complicated than that.
“I won’t break. I haven’t up to this point. I saw how you two were on Novo, and it forced me to face the harsh facts of the situation. Besides, it’s not as if the engagement is genuine anyway.”
“What do you mean?!” I stare at him incredulously.
“Come on, Ari, you’d only known Cal a few months, and it was all being forced on you by the government.” He states this so matter-of-factly, as if there are no gray areas. “Or are you seriously telling me that you wanted to get married at eighteen?”
“No, I didn’t want to get married so young. Cal knows that, but that doesn’t mean the engagement isn’t real!”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.” Raising the cup to his lips, he drains the remainder and stands. I want to protest, to rage at him and tell him he’s wrong, but my head is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and I can’t think straight. Because on one level he’s right. I didn’t buy into the whole notion of teenage marriage and babies, although having that with Cal still formed part of my plans for the future.
I’m quietly contemplative as I see him out.
Ear-shattering screams wake me in the early hours. I race to Mel’s side and crawl in beside her, tugging her in close. Taking turns comforting one another at night is starting to become a predictable, regular habit.
I wake with a start, feeling the heat from the arm wrapped around me. For a fleeting moment it seems like Cal is here, only the sleeping blonde head at my side is his adored sibling, and not the boy I crave. Squinting at my watch, I groan; it’s only 5:00 a.m. That’s clearly the only sleep I’ll get tonight. I look down at Mel and study her face; she looks so much like him it hurts.
Extracting myself cautiously from her grasp, I peel back the covers and wrap my dressing gown across my body. I pad quietly into the living area and move to the kitchenette to put the coffee on.
As soon as I sit down on the couch, the usual flood of thoughts rush through my mind. It’s the same pattern every night—Cal, Zane, Mom, Dad, Lily, Deacon. The constant analysis, upset, confusion, and grief threaten to drown me in a sea of emotion; on and on it goes until I think my head might explode. No matter what I do, every attempt I make to distract myself with other things, it’s no good—I can’t empty my brain. I can’t keep doing this; it’s slowly turning me into a person that I don’t want to be.
