Redemption by Kaye Draper Page B

his body.  It had been a heavy, cumbersome
thing.  Not having to breathe was easier.  More comfortable.
    And while he was
not breathing, not being, he didn’t have to worry about other people.  His
brother and sisters would be fine.  They’d grown up well and had their own
lives.  They didn’t need him anymore.  His few friends weren’t close.  They
wouldn’t really notice he was gone.  He had, at most, been one more face at the
party, nothing more.
    As these
thoughts swirled around incoherently in his mind- or whatever there was left of
himself- faces swam to the surface and floated away.  His siblings he passed
over with a feeling of peace, his parents long gone from his life.  His
grandmother was well taken care of- he had made sure of that.  There was only
one face that gave him pause.  It caused him discomfort in his otherwise
unconcerned state.  Those brown eyes stared at him accusingly.  He didn’t like
the feeling brought on by that look.  He tried to forget that particular
face.  
    It was
pointless.  Though he floated in nothingness, she followed him, her eyes
accusing, her expression disappointed and hurt.  He finally admitted to himself
that he wasn’t going to be able to escape her.  He stared into her face and
heard her call his name, only then realizing that he was once again hearing,
which of course meant that he had ears.  He was pleased to find that those ears
seemed to be attached to a body, though it was oriented all wrong. 
    He lay on
something cold and lumpy, his head cushioned on something warm and soft.  Cold
raindrops were pattering on the exposed bits of his skin, and he could hear
them hitting the leaves overhead.  As he looked up, he met those beautiful
brown eyes.  They didn’t look accusing anymore, he thought happily.  They were
filled with a kind of guarded relief. 
    “S’okay,” he
said, lifting a heavy hand to pat the side of her head as she leaned over him. 
He was lying flat out on the ground, with his head in her lap. 
     She brushed his
hair back from his eyes, and he did the impossible and roused himself to sit
up.  He was just so damned tired. 
    “What
happened?”  He still had a bit of a headache.  Had he fallen and hit his head? 
He had the oddest feeling of having gone somewhere.  Rain pounded down
overhead, and filtered down to them under the leaves.  Their hair and clothes
clung wetly, plastered to their bodies.
    Rebecca, now
more assured that he was going to be okay, spoke in clipped tones.  “I was
hoping you could tell me.  I was picking berries and I looked up and you were
gone.”
    He ran his hands
through his hair and shook his head.  “There was a light and I followed it,” he
said sheepishly.
    She opened her
mouth to reply, but he held up a hand in defense.  “I know!  Asshat move.”  He
shrugged.  “But I think I wasn’t really… in my right mind? “  He put a hand to
his chest, realizing that it didn’t hurt so much anymore.  He was achy, but
didn’t feel sick like before.  “I haven’t been feeling too great.”
    Rebecca stared
at him.  “You’re sick?  But why?  I feel fine.”
    He shrugged. 
Then, thought of something.  “Will-o-the wisp,” he said suddenly.  
    Rebecca raised
her eyebrows, but didn’t comment.  Isaac grinned.  “My old Irish granny told us
all kinds of stories when we were little.  She’d be so disappointed that after
all her warnings I fell prey to one of the forest sprites.”
    Rebecca stood
and held out her hand, a bit of a smile playing about her bowstring mouth.  She
looked like she wasn’t sure if she should go along with his humor or smack
him.  If she only knew how much he wanted to kiss those lips she would probably
decide on the latter.
    He took the
proffered hand and she pulled him to his feet.  “That’s a pretty lame excuse,” she
said, brushing off his fairy explanation.  “Though search me if I know why you
suddenly decided to take a nap in