Destiny Is Calling Eden
Destiny Is Calling
Eden
All is chaos, but in slow motion. The body flying, the SUV careening away, the sound Brooklyn makes when she lands.
It is sickening, the crunch. The screams from my throat are so familiar, so like the night Chloe died.
I haven’t felt this terror in so long, and now . . . God, the blood is everywhere.
I have to force myself down the drive, but as I draw closer, it’s like a magnet is guiding my hand. There is so much blood, and I need to feel for her pulse. She is broken, she is bleeding, she is so hurt—
“Don’t touch her,” Theresa says. “Her neck might be broken.”
I snatch my hand back. Theresa is already on her phone with emergency services.
She is calm, collected, with red cheeks from the cold and a distant look in her eyes.
I’ve seen that look before. She has switched off her emotions, become an automaton who can handle these epic tragedies.
She did it at my sister’s crime scene. At the time, I thought her cold. Now I know it’s a coping mechanism.
She’s relaying all the information, and it doesn’t take long for us to hear the ambulance. The blood keeps pulsing onto the ground. Theresa puts her jacket over Brooklyn’s body. The ambulance roars around the corner, flakes of snow dancing in the headlights.
Slow motion goes into overdrive, everything happening at once.
Blood. Screams. Holding back the children, who are desperately trying to reach their mother.
Theresa giving the particulars to the police who are here now, too.
The firefighters pulling away, and then, as suddenly as it began, it’s over.
The lights of the ambulance fade, the police report is finished, and I’m left standing on the porch in the freezing cold with two hysterical children and a grizzled policewoman who looks as alarmed as I know she feels.
There is blood on the street, thick and coagulating in the frozen darkness.
The neighbors are gawking. The past half hour is a blur.
The impact bangs through my head on repeat.
The scream—was that from me, or Theresa?
Hurrying to the curb, calling 9-1-1, feeling for a pulse.
I felt nothing; Theresa said it was thready but there.
The SUV that hit Brooklyn is long gone; they didn’t stop, just screeched around the corner and slid across into the curb, smashed into her body, flinging it across the driveway like a rag doll, then gunned it and took off down the road.
All I saw was the woman going down, a look of surprise, almost delight, on her face.
I told the police four times that I didn’t know how Brooklyn fell. Maybe she tripped. She ran out of the house like her hair was on fire, in a blind panic, but I thought—thought—she was turning back toward the house when she went down.
I’ll be honest, it didn’t look good. She must be dead, though the EMTs were working on her frantically when the doors slammed closed and the ambulance squealed away. They arrived so quickly—that’s her only chance.
God, so much blood.
Dead or alive, one thing is for certain.
I now have Brooklyn’s children.
Andrew’s children.
This day. This insane, awful, wonderful day.
From the look on Brooklyn’s face when I told her about Chloe, I’m sure she didn’t know the truth. Either Brooklyn Locke is an Oscar-worthy actress, or she was truly blindsided by the news that Andrew is a murderer.
Now, I just have to find him again. Shouldn’t be too hard, not with his new face ready to hit the airwaves. Plus, with his wife hurt, injured, dead, surely he will reappear.
And I have his children. Maybe he’ll come to me. Maybe, for once, I will be the spider, and he will be the fly.
If he doesn’t? I will find him and end this.
Because, contrary to the romantics, love does not conquer all. No, love makes people do the worst possible things.
Ask me how I know.
“Eden, the children,” Theresa says, pulling me back to reality.
They have stopped crying, shock setting in for them, as well.
Or maybe hypothermia. It’s cold as hell out here, and they’re not wearing jackets.
Neve is trembling; Four is trying to be a man, his shoulders back, lip firmly bitten between his teeth.
He’s holding his sister’s hand, watching me for cues on how he should act.
Should he fall apart? Should he be brave? Should he run screaming?
Maybe the last, but he doesn’t know it yet.
I pop down to my knees and gather them to me in a wide hug. “Oh, babies. You must be so scared.” They collapse against me, shivering; it is so cold out here. This is my chance to shine. To show these children what sort of life they should have had. To be the aunt I was always meant to be.
I am coming to life now. Look at them. Blood of my blood and bone of my bone.
I’ve been alone for many years now. I have no one left—no sister, no parents.
Our extended family never stayed in touch.
I see them occasionally online, but that’s it.
I don’t even have phone numbers or email addresses for most of them.
I hardly have any real friends anymore; I’m on the road too much to fit into their schedules. Even my roommates are gone.
I have no one but these two children. Andrew’s fledglings.
I pitch my voice low and soothing. “Let’s go inside. Get you warmed up, get you some tea, some soup. Then we’ll go to the hospital so you can see your mom. Okay?”
They nod, silenced by the fear.
A quick glance at Theresa shows consternation on the older woman’s face, but she doesn’t argue.
In we go. Into the lair I’ve built, a place that is the opposite of their home in Nashville. It is not warm, comfortable, or cozy. It’s utilitarian and empty. Lifeless. Not at all appropriate for children.
I will fix this. I will soften all the edges and redo the entire house to be gentle and sweet.
I’ll inform my boss that I won’t be able to travel for work anymore.
He’ll allow me to deliver my presentations virtually.
He might even be relieved; the budget will take much less of a hit if I’m not on the road all the time, trying to escape my lonely life.
I will learn to cook all their favorite foods and sing them their favorite songs and read them their favorite stories. I will homeschool them, teach them myself. I’ll take them back to Malogen so they can meet their grandparents.
They might lose a mother, but they will have the next best thing. I will give them the life they should have had, and it will be joyous for us all.
Chloe would do the same if she were here. I know she would.