The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller(85)

He looked up into a canopy of branches filled with oddly shaped leaves. They looked like long arrowheads with vibrant blue veins running through their structures.

A scent came to him, something warm and wholesome, reminding him of his mother. Baking bread, or the smell of her flower garden in June. The scent made him think his stomach would growl, but he realized he wasn’t hungry. He was satisfied, as if he’d recently eaten.

Evan smacked his lips, watching the shimmer of blue sky through the gaps in the leaves, a blue so deep he knew no one could say a name for it.

He sat up, pushing himself away from a bed of sand softer than silk. The little particles glinted at him, miniature diamonds in the sun. He turned a little, looking down a path to where the sun shone, resplendent in the sky, burning in a perfect orb of yellow. He realized he could look at the sun and not squint; it didn’t hurt his eyes in the least. It felt right.

Evan stood, brushing off a pair of lightweight pants that he didn’t remember owning. His body felt glorious, strong, rested. He wanted to laugh but only smiled, trying to remember how he’d gotten here. There was a memory there, something troubling, horrible even, and it began to form.

The clock, Abel, Shaun.

He swallowed, waiting for the grief to plummet into him, an outside force burrowing through his soul. His son was dead, gone forever. But instead of breaking down and falling beneath the pain, a strengthful peace filled him. He heard the rush of water somewhere ahead. The ocean, waves hushing against a shoreline, a breeze still coated with the smell of bread nudging the thin shirt he wore. He had to see the water.

Evan moved, his bare feet sinking into the sand only a little, the walking easy. Trees, their trunks glistening with moisture, lined the path he treaded on, their presence easy, sure, as if he walked down a hallway guiding him.

The ocean was closer now, and he saw it through the trees, a vastness that thrilled and calmed him at the same time. He ran, the trees coasting by on either side, sweet air in his lungs, the sun on his back.

He emerged onto the beach, the forest of beautiful trees falling away to reveal sand finer than and as white as sugar as far as he could see. A turquoise stream flowed into the ocean, and when he looked at the water, two things made him stop and stare.

The first was the utter beauty of the sea, its water as flat and calm as a pond, its color a cousin of the sky. Waves, small and topped with white froth, washed the beach smooth, the sand there even and unbroken but for a short line of little stones running like a stream along the entire beach.

The second was the two people standing at the water’s edge.

One was a boy with light hair, wearing the same type of clothes Evan did. He stood with his feet in the waves, his arm cocked back before he slung it out and threw a rock in a straight line. The stone flew a dozen yards and then skipped across the water in bright hops—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—before it sank out of sight.

Evan turned his gaze to the other figure, a woman with hair that matched the boy’s, wearing a flowing white dress that came just below her knees. He studied the curve of her back, the slope of her shoulders, how she shifted from one foot to the other, swaying in time to the waves. She turned then, her face coming into view. His eyes traced her chin, her lips, the nose he’d kiss sometimes, to her declaration that she hated it while laughing. Her eyes, the last time he saw them so full of pain, now clear, glistening in the sun.

Elle smiled at him.

Evan ran down the beach, his legs carrying him before he knew he was moving. The boy turned, hearing his approach, and he saw Shaun’s face light up, his eyebrows leaping, his mouth opening in a cry of wonder. Then he was with them, holding them close, feeling their warmth, the realness of them. Elle’s hair tickled his face, and he knew that he wasn’t dreaming. No dream could be so vivid or so kind.

“Daddy,” Shaun said, the words clear, without a slur.

Evan knelt, and Elle came with him, their knees digging into the sand. Shaun looked at him, clear-eyed, studying his face.

“You came, you’re here.”

The joy at hearing Shaun speak nearly knocked him off balance, and tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’m here, buddy, I’m here.”

He pulled Shaun to his chest and felt his son’s small arms wrap around his back, strong, holding him tight. Elle leaned close to them, and Evan kissed her, her lips tasting of the apple balm she used to wear. She cupped a hand to his face, holding him, tasting him too.

When they finally broke apart, Elle tipped her forehead against his, their eyes drinking each other in.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “There’s so much—”

Elle pressed a finger to his lips. “I know, I know.”

She kissed him again, her own tears now flowing. Shaun sat back from them, holding on to Evan’s hand. When Evan looked at him again, he saw the scar from the accident was gone, and a memory came back to him, clear and unrefined, poured into his mind by a gentle hand.

“Wawee. You were saying ‘Mommy,’ weren’t you?”

Shaun smiled, nodding. “I saw her in my dreams. She told me we were coming here soon.”

Evan turned his gaze to Elle. She smiled, gripping his hand tighter.

“We’re together again,” she said.

Evan nodded and heard the clack of rocks beneath his hand. He looked down, seeing that they were next to the river of stones, and that each one of them was a perfect skipper.