“It was.”
“How can you …”
“It’s not always like that, Lucas. Most of the time, I don’t actually see them die. I just see the mark.”
“What is it? What does it look like?”
I described it the best I could, none of my images exactly right.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Forever.” I told him about the schoolkids, random people I’d seen. “I didn’t really figure it out until my grandmother was in the hospital and I saw it on her roommate. When I went back to visit the next day, the roommate was gone. Passed away. I started thinking about it, putting the pieces together. The next time I saw it, I did what we just did. Followed a man until … it ended. That was the car accident.”
Lucas was calmer, the color back in his cheeks and, with each question, he sounded steadier. In front of us, a trio of guys threw a football. Their shirts were off and, unlike the girl we’d followed, they seemed the picture of health, toned and laughing. I watched them for a while, until Lucas said softly, “You really saw it on me?”
I glanced over and, for the first time today, saw him actually looking at me. Not annoyed, not dismissive, a penetrating stare. “I did.”
“And then it went away?”
“It did.”
“Do you think I was meant to die that day?”
“I think something would have happened if you had gone out. Something bad. That’s what the mark means.”
“You saved my life, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Lucas. That’s never happened before.”
We watched the football players a little longer. They reminded me of the picture in Lucas’s apartment of him with his high school friends. Maybe he thought so too.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” he said.
I nodded. “You want to go back to the hotel?”
“No. I don’t want to stay in this city. I want to go home.”
“Our flight back isn’t until tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Let’s change it.” He stood. “Let’s pack and go to the airport.”
“Don’t you think we should call first? See if there’s anything available? Or what it’ll cost?”
“I don’t care. We can fly standby. Even if we have to sleep in the airport, it’ll be better than staying here.”
I didn’t argue with him, didn’t blame him for wanting to get away from what he’d seen.
Chapter 22
We made it back to Bering late that night, well past midnight. Lucas dropped me at the apartment. I was disappointed. It felt like a replay of our last drive back from Wichita.
“You understand, Cassandra,” he said. “It’s been a very long day. I just need … I don’t know … some time.”
I nodded, but I didn’t understand. I had proved I wasn’t crazy, hadn’t I? “I know this is hard to absorb, Lucas,” I said. “Maybe I can help. I’ve had some experience with this—”
He cut me off with a curt shake of his head. “Thanks, but I think I need to just … work through this myself, you know?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You’re back early,” Drea said. “What happened?”
“Becca got sick,” I told her.
I waited. A day passed. Then two, then three. I slept, I worked, I read three books. I watched the phone. I’d been sure I’d catch him in class Monday, but he came late and left early, avoiding my eyes the whole time.
“You and your boyfriend break up?” Doug asked.
“No, why?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him around much.”
I shrugged. “He’s busy with classes, papers, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
Finally, on Wednesday, he called. “Let’s have lunch,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
He was already at Café Lennox when I arrived. He waved me over but didn’t stand, didn’t offer a hug or kiss. We’re on campus, I told myself. He has to be careful here.
He didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “I’ve been thinking,” he said after I returned to the table with my food, “about your gift.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that, couldn’t quite agree, but I didn’t argue.
“Tell me more about it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You said you’ve seen it forever.”
“Right.”
“And you figured out what it meant when? Six months ago?”
“About that. A little less.”
“But you kind of already knew, right? When you followed the man who got hit by a car.”
“Kind of. Not really.”
Lucas nodded. His questions had a rhythm, like they did in class when he was leading more than exploring, taking me to a destination he had already chosen. “How often have you seen it since?”
“I don’t know. A few times. More here than I did in Ashville.”
“Have you ever told anyone? Tried to warn them?”
“Only you.”
He nodded again, leaning back and watching me closely. “Didn’t it ever occur to you to try to stop it, Cassandra? To help them?”
We had arrived and it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Not at all. I had proved I wasn’t crazy. Things were supposed to go back to normal, the way they’d been—us reading together on his couch, taking walks, sharing dinner. “No, not really,” I answered. “I … I mean, how could I think I could stop it?”
“You thought you could with me.”
“I didn’t really, Lucas. I just … I couldn’t not say something. I didn’t really think I could change anything.”
“You must have. Or you wouldn’t have told me to stay home. What did you think you were doing if you weren’t trying to change things?”
“Why are you attacking me?”
“I’m not attacking, Cassie. I’m just trying to understand how you could see this mark on all those people—mothers, fathers, kids, for crissake—and not try to do something about it. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I’d feel it was my duty.”
“Your duty?!”
“Yes. Just like we talked about in class, at dinner. Your ‘hypothetical,’ except that it isn’t about letting someone decide how to use their remaining time; it’s about giving them more time. Saving lives. Jesus, Cassie, how could you not try to help?”