Where One Goes(71)

“Please don’t leave me tonight,” I beg him.

I drift off to sleep as he tells me, “I’m here, baby girl. I’m right here.” But it only reinforces the pain, because I know he won’t be around much longer.





Before Charlotte awakes, I go to George’s to check on him, and I’m surprised when I find him wide-awake, sitting on the couch, staring numbly at the television when I morph into the living room. He’s showered, and at least that’s an improvement. His chin lifts and his eyes scan the room almost as if he senses me.

“Ike?” he questions and my brows rise.

“I’m here, George,” I tell him.

His head lowers and he stares at a notepad in his lap, the first page covered in writing. He tears the sheet off and folds it, setting it on the table beside where he’s seated. When he lifts his head again, he says, “I don’t know if you’re here, but I feel like maybe you are.” He’s silent for a long moment before continuing. “I’ve felt that way a lot since you died, like maybe you were watching over me.”

I move toward him and kneel down at his side. “I have been, George.”

His eyes tear up a little, but he takes a deep breath and keeps the tears at bay. “I’m sorry I let you down, that I wasn’t better or . . . stronger, but I’m okay now, Ike. I don’t want you to be trapped here because of me. I promise I won’t go back to the drugs. I swear it. I’m going to rehab.”

As he speaks, the remainder of the weight I’ve carried slips away. He’s telling the truth. He will be okay. But, what about Charlotte? Will he be foolish enough to let her go?

“I’m in love with her,” he says, as if he’s just read my mind. My gaze jerks to his, my brows narrowed in shock. “I know you’re worried about her. I know you have to be in love with her, too. How could you not be?” he snorts.

My chest tightens with his words. Is he guessing all of this or does he sense me? Now that he knows I’ve been here, is he allowing our bond, that bond between not only siblings, but twins, to speak to him?

“I f*cked up. I was angry at myself, and I took it out on her.”

“Yeah, you’re an ass,” I mumble as I stand.

“I’m an ass,” he says, shaking his head.

“I’m going to do my best to make things right with her. If she’ll wait for me, I’ll try my hardest, for her. So . . . don’t worry about that, if you are. I’ll take good care of her. I promise.” Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he says, “I love you, Ike. Thank you for loving me enough to stay and watch out for me, but I want you to find peace, brother. I need to know you’re okay, too.” A tear trickles down his cheek before he stands and wipes it. Heading back to his bedroom, he quickly dresses for work.

When he comes out he’s holding my dog tags. Why is he taking those with him? Grabbing his keys and the folded piece of paper on the table by the door, he takes a deep breath and says, “Good-bye, Ike. I love you, man.” Then he walks out the door.

“Good-bye, George. I love you, too.” I nod sadly and morph away.





When I return to the room Charlotte is just waking up. “Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s go to our place.” I manage to encourage her to get up and force her to shower and dress. She is definitely not a morning person. The intention is to meet with her father first thing, but I think I need to take her somewhere peaceful.

“Our place?” she asks.

“Yeah, under the tree by the water. Bring a blanket.”

We climb in Sniper’s truck and drive up the mountain. Neither of us says a word the entire drive. The pull that was annoying before is now something I have to literally fight or it will drag me away. But I can’t go yet. The truth is George is okay. He’s let me go and Charlotte helped him do that. He knows I’m okay and now, my business is done. The problem now is he doesn’t feel worthy of her. He hasn’t admitted that to anyone, let alone himself, but sometimes others can know someone better than they know themselves. I only pray he’ll pull his head out of his ass before it’s too late and he loses her forever.

The day is warm, and the sun is shining brightly, enhancing the elaborate colors of early fall. Charlotte grabs the blanket from the back of the truck, and we head down to the water. After she spreads it out, we sit side by side and stare at the river; the surface ablaze with the light from the sun.

My throat is tight. There are things I must say to her because I don’t know how much longer I can fight the pull.

“It’s almost time, isn’t it?” she asks, her gaze fixed on the water.

“Yes. It will be soon.”

“Are you scared?” she asks. She’s asked this before, and the answer is still the same. I’m not scared. I’m sad. I’m sad to leave her and everyone I love, but this is part of the cycle; something that must be done. I know I need to put on a brave face for her; after all, she’s the one being left behind now. I’ll be gone and if George doesn’t get his shit together, she won’t have him either. I do know if she stays here in Warm Springs, the Mercers will watch out for her. And if she’s ready to forgive her family, she could go home, but I know that’s not what she wants. She loves it here . . . or she did. She loved the feeling of home, the people, the magic of a small town filled with tranquility and beauty.