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The Watcher

By Sara Davison

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The knock that rattled the screen door startled me awake. I bolted upright, clutching the arms of the wooden rocking chair on the porch and muttering to myself as I groped my way back from the dream I’d been having. The murkiness thinned and gradually cleared like the last vestiges of fog blown away by the morning breeze. I blinked, not entirely sure for a few seconds whether the image in front of me was real, or a remnant of the half-world I’d been pulled from. I glanced through the screen door into the kitchen of the old farmhouse. At the sound of the knock, Kathryn Ellison had pushed herself away from the counter she’d been relaxing against while she talked on the phone with her only daughter, Lexi.
As Kathryn made her way around the island and over to the door, still chatting away, she was blissfully oblivious to the fact that her life was about to change completely. And not for the first time. For my part, I couldn’t suppress a shiver of excitement. A perfect metaphor always does that to me. And her pushing open the screen to see the man waiting on the other side, thereby flinging open a door she had long ago wedged a shoulder against, figuratively speaking, was such a metaphor.
I held my breath, anticipating a strong reaction. She didn’t disappoint me.
“Nick.” The whispered word fell from her lips, rich and full, as though it had been there, growing and ripening for years, waiting for the sight of him to pluck it from her. The phone she been holding to her ear slipped down her cheek.
“Mom?” The concern in her daughter’s voice called her back and she lifted the receiver.
“Lexi, I’ll talk to you later. Someone’s here.”
In spite of the extraordinary abilities I possessed, I had to lean forward to catch the words, they were so quiet and shaky. Not waiting for a response, she pressed the off button and dropped the phone onto the small wooden table inside the door. Pressing her shoulder to the wood, Kathryn leaned against the frame as though she would sink to the porch in a quivering heap without its silent support.
Nick might not have noticed the way Kathryn’s legs trembled and her fingers gripped the door handle until they turned white at the knuckles, but I certainly did. I planted my palms on the arms of the chair and hauled myself to my feet, groaning as my long idle bones and muscles stretched and clicked into place. I wouldn’t have missed this meeting, though. Not for anything. It was what I—and Kathryn, whether she knew it or not—had been waiting for since that day in the courthouse seventeen years earlier when she’d first laid eyes on Nick Lawson.

But I’m getting ahead of the story here. And not getting ahead of the story is a rule I strictly adhere to. It’s a matter of pride. And professionalism. So all I will tell you is that neither Kathryn nor Nick has spoken since she said his name.
This is an interesting phenomenon I have noted about humans in intense situations—the words are the first thing to go. Frankly, I am uncomfortable with this. Silence rarely sends you hurtling toward me, so I usually attempt to fill in the blank spaces (when I don’t forget myself and become caught up in the drama of the moment) with dialogue of my own. In this case, I will take the opportunity to fill you in on what has happened in the life of Kathryn Ellison to bring her to this point. Only I and one other Being, my good friend Faith, can do it, as we have been with Kathryn since the beginning, or very nearly.
At times both of us have packed to go, thinking we would soon be ordered away or lost forever. We never have been. Not quite. I’m still here, and so, somewhat battered and bruised, is Faith. Over there, in the corner of the porch where she has climbed up on the railing and sits, swinging both legs in front of her and watching the encounter taking place with as much interest as I am. Which is all either of us can do—watch and wait, with a newly piqued interest, to see if Nick and Kathryn will find me, or if either of them will even have the courage to try.

“I shouldn’t have come by without calling.” Nick’s voice was as thin and unsteady as Kathryn’s, and I took a step toward them so as to not miss anything. “But I needed to see you.”
“No, it’s fine. Do you want to sit down?” His eyes hadn’t left hers and Kathryn could barely hear her own words past the blood pounding in her ears.
He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and his light brown hair curled a little around his ears. Nick Lawson had been born after his time. His bearing and the look in his eyes revealed a man right at home herding cattle on the open range. He was a cowboy, at heart and by profession.
“Sure.” He sank onto one of the white wicker chairs on the porch.
“Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade, maybe?” Please say yes. A glass of some kind of cold drink would be helpful, as Kathryn was desperately in need of something to wrap her trembling hands around.
Nick managed a grin, although his dark brown eyes churned with as much emotion as she felt. “Lemonade would be great, thanks.”
I watched her through the screen as she pulled open the refrigerator door and withdrew the pitcher.
Get a hold of yourself, Kathryn.
I grinned at her self-admonishment. I’d listened in on a lot of that over the years and it never failed to amuse me, particularly as she rarely followed her own advice. Her hand shook as she poured them both a tall glass of lemonade. It’s been two years. He could easily be with someone else now. She set down the pitcher and pressed a hand to her chest at the sudden stab of pain that thought caused. Breathe. Clutching a glass in each hand, she returned to the veranda. After handing Nick a drink, she lowered herself onto the wicker chair beside him.
He took a sip and raised his glass. “That’s good. Not from a can.”
“Oh no.” Kathryn’s eyes widened in feigned horror. “My mother would die before she’d allow lemonade, or anything else for that matter, from a can to be served in this house.”
His laugh was infectious and she couldn’t help smiling in return. Nick took another swallow of lemonade, then set his glass down on the small table between their chairs and turned to face her.
I glanced over at Faith, well aware of the magnitude of this conversation. Lifting her head, she winked in my direction before shifting a little on the porch railing to watch, equally aware, I was sure.
Kathryn was drawn to Nick’s eyes. They were even darker than she’d remembered, almost black, and she felt, when they were directed at her, as though he could see right through her. She swallowed hard. “How have you been, Nick? I’ve thought about you and James often and wondered how you were.”
A shadow crossed his face. “We had a rough time after Halyna died. I think we’re better now. The pain isn’t as sharp, and I can go a whole day here and there without thinking about her, but it hasn’t been easy. We all miss her.”
My grin faded. Nick’s sister had died two years earlier and I’d accompanied Kathryn to the funeral so she could pay her respects to Halyna’s husband James and to Nick. That had been another time when I had watched Kathryn and Nick and wondered whether it was the beginning or the end for them. Rarely had I been involved with two humans where it was so hard to tell.
“I’m sure you do.” The pain was back in her chest, an ache of grief for all that he’d been through. And she hadn’t been there for him. She blinked rapidly. Of course she hadn’t been there for him. It wasn’t her place. There was nothing between them …
It’s time to stop lying, Kathryn—to yourself and everyone else.
Her stomach clenched as she considered that thought. It was a revelation to her, although I could have told her that’s what she had been doing all those years, if she’d asked. I knew she’d fooled herself into believing she was only protecting her fragile heart. Nick Lawson was the first man to break through all her carefully laid defenses, and he seemed to do it effortlessly, with a single word or touch.
Kathryn straightened in her chair. I can’t let him in. It’s not possible. Is it? She set her glass on the table and raised her gaze to meet his. He was studying her intently, as though trying to listen in on the internal dialogue he must have sensed she was having. A look of wonder crossed her face. For years she had wanted him to go slightly more than she had wanted him to stay, although she wanted that desperately. Now, for the first time since he had walked into her life, the opposite was finally true.
When she didn’t speak, Nick drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve tried so hard to put you out of my mind.”
“Me, too.” Kathryn nodded, making the admission to herself as much as to him.
“I hope it’s worked as well for you as it has for me.” He reached out and brushed back a strand of her long, dark hair before taking her hand in his. “I know the timing has never been right for us, and I’ve waited to feel a peace about when it would be. Not very patiently, I might add. I haven’t felt it, until now, although I’ve had to get James to hide my truck keys occasionally to keep me from driving over here and taking you in my arms anyway.”
“I’m not sure I would have objected if you had.”
A smile broke across Nick’s face. “Now you tell me.” He sobered as he leaned forward, their clasped hands resting on his knee. “I know you’ve been hurt, Kathryn, so it’s natural for you to be scared. I’m scared too. I’m still dealing with the loss of a person I loved deeply, and the thought of getting close to someone again is a bit terrifying. The thing is,” he brushed the back of his hand lightly across her cheek, “I don’t think I have a choice with you anymore. I’m not sure I ever have, to be honest.”
I waited for her to bolt. It was her MO. I’d seen it happen every time they had been together over the years. I realized suddenly that I had the porch railing in a white-knuckled grip. I yanked my hand away as though the wood were burning hot. I was becoming far too involved with this one. There was something about Kathryn Ellison though. She had been through so much since That Night. I wanted her to find me, more than I ever had with anyone else. And so much so that on more than one occasion I had almost jumped in front of her, waving my arms to let her know that I had not, as she supposed, abandoned her entirely.
It was strictly forbidden, of course. My job was to watch and to make myself available, not to interfere in any way. Sometimes, though, the watching and waiting—mostly because it occurred during those unbearable silences (like the one that filled the space between them now)—required almost inhuman strength. Fortunately for all concerned, I am inhuman, but still …
“I don’t have a choice, either.”
She looked as shocked as I felt. The words floated from her mouth and hung in the air like the last notes of a particularly haunting song do even after the instrument has been put away.
A bright light ignited in his eyes. “Kathryn.” He said her name as though it were a rare treasure in his hands that he needed to handle with reverent care.
Hope helped straighten up my old bones. If only a cloud neither of them could see, the only other thing to disturb my slumber that week, hadn’t recently formed over the horizon, they might have a real chance this time.
A sudden apprehension swept across her face. “But …”
Oh dear. Too many clouds blocking the sun now, a storm obviously brewing. I shot a look at Faith. Her legs had stopped swinging, but otherwise she did not exhibit any of the trepidation I was experiencing. Not surprising. Faith is a lot hardier than I am. She doesn’t dread storms. In fact, I sometimes wonder if she doesn’t wish for them to come along. Easy for her. She usually comes out of the battering wind and rain stronger than ever. For me it can go either way. If I emerge at all, I am either in better shape than before, or limping badly and in need of some sort of metaphysical assistance. Not that it mattered. There was nothing either of us could do but watch and wait for the hurricane to blow in.
The light that had been glowing in Nick’s eyes flickered and went out. I shivered as the cold wind that had extinguished it blew through me. He gripped her hand tightly. And uselessly, as it turned out. “Kathryn, no. Don’t do this. Not again.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke but she pulled her hand from his and stood, backing toward the house until she reached the cold stone side of it. “I have a few things to do first. I need time.”
“How much time?” His gaze followed her, pinned her to the wall.
“I’m not sure. A few days.”
Nick pushed to his feet and strode toward the porch stairs. Thinking he was going, I took a couple of steps forward, prepared to follow, but he stopped at the post and gripped it with both hands, resting his forehead on the smooth, white-painted surface. Kathryn waited, twisting her hands together in front of her as though she could feel me leaving on his heels and was struggling to hold on.
When he turned around, the light had returned to his eyes, but a hot red glow now, not the bright yellow blaze that had been there before. “Don’t you think this thing has kept us apart long enough?”
The same red glow leapt into her eyes as she pulled herself up straight, the rough stones scraping against her back. “This thing almost destroyed my life.”
His shoulders sagged and he crossed the porch toward her and pressed the palms of his hands against the wall on either side of her head. The pulse pounded in her throat. “I know that.” He smacked the wall with both palms and she jumped. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve watched it eat you up for years. And I’ve felt the prick of every tooth that ripped into you gnawing away at me, too.”
The words didn’t dredge up the tears that welled in her eyes. It was the pain that laced through them, like the yarn on a child’s sewing card, outlining and defining each one.
Nick searched her face in the soft glow of the porch light. Then, with a heavy sigh, he lowered one hand, trailing his thumb across her cheek to wipe away the tear that had started down. “Well, it’s been seventeen years. What’s a few more days?” He stepped back and made an attempt, which failed miserably, at a smile.
Kathryn did no better when she tried to return it. A few days were a lot. Except for Faith and me, no one understood better than she and Nick did what could be gained—or lost—in a few days. A few hours. A few seconds. “This isn’t like the other times. I promise.”
Nick studied her, his jaw tight. “I’m coming back for you.” He spun around and started down the stairs.
“I’ll be here.” The words were soft, almost under her breath. Still, he heard them, and took Hope along with him. I could see it in the set of his shoulders.
I’d started to follow him, but the quiet promise reined me in and I sank onto my wooden chair in the deeply shadowed corner of the porch once again.
When he came back, she would be here. And so, apparently, would I.

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