Chapter Two
H is wings towered over him magnificently—if he did say so himself—translucent, brilliantly etched against the green hospital walls, a feathery show as much a part of him as his breath or the memories that inhabited his skin.
Their full effect elicited a gasp from Emma as she stumbled away from him, colliding with the wall behind her, sliding down hard onto the bare linoleum floor, against the wall, with both hands over her mouth.
Against his better judgment, he settled his wings back into place where he should have kept them all along and crouched down beside her. No doubt the Council would use this bit of pride against him in his review. “Believe me now?”
She waved a silent hand at him, at an apparently uncharacteristic loss for words.
Was she… crying ?
Balls.
He steeled himself against her tears. He’d never been any good with a woman’s tears, least of all hers. He coached himself against feeling anything at all. Dangerous, dangerous ground, Connor.
“Dinna cry,” he told her, but it came out more like a demand than a comfort.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She gulped back a sob. “I think I’m entitled. Don’t you?”
“’Tis no’ like you.”
“How would you know what I’m like?” She blurted out the question on a sob. “And this is all a little much for me. This is all some kind of mistake. I’m not ready to die, though I’d hardly expect you to understand.”
He sank down beside her on the floor. “’Tis my job, after all.”
She sniffed. “You’re not very good at it, though, are you?”
That stung. He was good. Very good at his job. Just not with coming face-to-face with Violet here in the in-between. Not Violet exactly, he reminded himself. Just her doppelg?nger.
“And look,” she said, a fresh sob pulling at her voice. “I’ve even lost my shoe.”
Someone slid the glass door to her room open. She sat up, wiping her face with the heels of her palms. “Aubrey!” she cried, jumping to her half-shod feet.
The young woman at the door only had eyes for the woman lying in the bed, who was poked with tubes and breathing apparatus.
With a thick bandage around her head, and a swollen eye, Emma looked nothing like herself.
Aubrey’s eyes were red—from crying, he supposed.
She clutched a tissue in one hand as if it would somehow save her from the wave about to crash over her at the sight of Emma in the bed.
The nurse standing beside her took her arm. “It’s always a shock at first to see someone you care about like this.”
Aubrey nodded. Tearfully she made her way beside Emma’s bed. “Can I…will I hurt her if I touch her?”
“No. Of course not. We’ve got her heavily sedated.”
“Sedated?” Emma shot a look at Connor, who was getting to his feet. “Well, that explains everything! That’s why I’m so fuzzy. Right?”
He sent her a rigid look, unwilling to say what she might not be ready to hear.
The nurse went on. “But she may even be able to hear you if you talk to her. At least, we think so. Sometimes.”
“Yes. Yes. I can,” Emma cried. “Thank God you’re here, Aubrey. I’m right here. Look at me!” But of course, Aubrey didn’t.
Connor stepped back, curious about this girl.
“You’re her only family, then?” the nurse asked the girl, adjusting the drip on Emma’s IV.
Aubrey nodded. “She’s my aunt. I mean, she’s only ten years older than me. My mom was her older sister. But my parents both passed. It was just the two of us left. Emma’s taken care of me since I was sixteen.”
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” the nurse said. “We’ll all keep a good thought for her. We’ll do everything we can.” The nurse pressed a hand against her shoulder. “Five minutes, now.” She quietly left the room.
Emma pressed her knuckles against her lips, watching her niece. Against his will, Connor felt a little sorry for Emma as she began to realize he’d been telling her the truth.
“Oh, Em,” Aubrey whispered, gently holding Emma’s still hand above the covers.
“This can’t be happening. I can’t do this alone.
I need you to be here. I need you. The doctors say you have a chance.
A good chance, okay? But please, Emma. You’ve got to fight.
This can’t be how it ends for you. For us. ”
Emma made an effort to gather herself. “I’m not dreaming. Am I?”
Connor lifted one brow but said nothing.
With tears in her eyes, her niece shook her head and stared up at the machine beeping away above her bed.
“I can’t lose you, too. It can’t be your time.
You’re just on the brink of…of everything, Emma.
If you go, who will walk me down the aisle?
Who will kiss my children? You. You have to. Please. Emma. Please try.”
Emma teared up, too. She touched Aubrey’s shoulder. “This is all wrong. I promised to stay with you always. I never expected—” She heaved a shuddering breath. “I’m going to clear up this mistake, Aub. You’ll see.” She stared up at Connor.
“Everyone’s outside in the waiting room,” Aubrey told her. “They’ve been here all night. We’re all so worried for you. I love you, Em.”
Moved by her words, Emma watched her niece for a long time. “I love you, too. Why don’t we say those things to each other more? I didn’t say it enough to her. I should’ve told her every day.”
“She’ll be alone if…?” Connor began. It wasn’t his job to worry about such things, but curiosity bested him.
Emma nodded. “Except for Jacob. Her boyfriend. But they’re…he’s…they’re just dating. She’s like my own daughter. A daughter I’ll probably never have. Now.”
Feeling empathy for Emma—Violet—was something he hadn’t anticipated.
Nor did he welcome it, even now. But once, a long time ago, he himself had longed for a child.
A child with Violet, a little girl with depthless brown eyes and her mother’s strength.
But that was never to be for him, either.
Violet had gone on to give that traitor, Sykes, children, a fact that had torn at him for longer than he cared to admit.
But he’d let all that go.
No, he hadn’t.
Aubrey squeezed Emma’s hand as the nurse popped her head back in the door. “There are some police officers out here who would like a word with you, Ms. Wilhelm.”
“With me?”
“They’re waiting outside.”
Emma shot Connor a questioning look. Police?
He glanced at his wrist again: -6 percent now? Oh, for the love of all that’s —
Aubrey patted Emma’s hand, then left with the nurse.
“I’m going with her,” Emma told him, starting to follow her niece.
“Don’t,” he warned.
“Why not?”
“Because.” He indicated her body on the bed, clarifying, as if it was obvious.
“No. I’m walking outside that door now.”
“Ye canna.” He narrowed his best intimidating look at her. He didn’t have the patience for games like—
She took a small, testing step toward the door, watching for his reaction.
Then another.
“Listen to me—”
She took another, reaching the threshold of the doorway, then lifted her shoulders in a who’s going to stop me—you? gesture.
“Emma—” he warned.
If she scared easily, she certainly didn’t show it. Not a bit. Instead, she deliberately placed her bare toe on the other side of the doorway. When nothing dire happened, her mouth quirked in a victorious grin.
Stubborn as a bairn bent on testing her limits.
Once she’d crossed a foot over that imaginary boundary he’d drawn, it was clear there’d be no stopping her.
Connor scowled as she disappeared into the corridor to listen in on her niece’s conversation.
Headstrong, obstinate, perverse. Just a few of the words that came to his mind as he watched her hover over her niece’s shoulder in the hallway as the girl conversed with the two officers in blue.
But then, disloyal had always been a favorite of his when it came to her.
Although he supposed he didn’t have the supporting evidence for that word yet as it applied to Emma James.
She wasn’t Violet, he reminded himself. Not exactly anyway. Except in all the ways that counted: the way she looked, the touch of sadness in her eyes, the way his body reacted to her…
He did his best to avert his gaze from the woman lying in the bed, hooked up to machines.
Surprisingly, but for a few cuts and abrasions, her poor broken left leg elevated in a sling, and the nasty bruise around her eye, she looked like the Violet he remembered—a paler, more docile version of the Emma in the hallway.
How often had he found himself mentally rewriting the last days of their history together or composing what he might have said to her if he’d had half the chance?
A thousand times, he reckoned. Now was his opportunity to say it to her face.
But this woman, this Emma had no memory of him.
No soul memory at least. That would come later.
Now she was hovering somewhere between worlds, trying desperately to stay in this one as the other beckoned her, with him as her erstwhile traffic cop, pointing her toward the path of least resistance.
With a final look at the woman on the bed, he followed Emma into the hallway.
*
“There’s evidence that there was another vehicle involved in the crash,” the officer was telling Aubrey as Emma appeared at her shoulder. “From the looks of the crash scene, Ms. James—”
“Wilhelm. My name. It’s Aubrey Wilhelm. My aunt’s last name is James.”
He wrote that down in his little book. “So, we’ve determined that an encounter took place over approximately sixty feet of road.”
Emma staggered back a step and leaned against a wall, something niggling at her memory.
“ What? What…exactly do you mean, an encounter?” Aubrey asked as her boyfriend, Jacob, moved beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“We’re trying to connect some debris found on the road with your aunt’s car accident. Also the piece of debris found on the scene.”
“What kind of debris?” Jacob asked.
“Some parts of another car’s bumper. Pieces of a headlight. Some impact paint scrapes on the rear fender of your aunt’s vehicle. It could have been a simple hit-and-run or something more intentional.”