The Sententia: Second Thoughts Part 17

I went into the bookstore first, instead of going straight upstairs, thinking I might actually talk to Melinda before I found her nephew. She was so good at listening and girl problems, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, even though he wasn't supposed to be working, Carter was there. He sat behind the counter on his stool, a newspaper in front of him even on his day off. It must have been obvious something wasn't right, because as soon as he saw me, he flipped the newspaper closed and opened the counter hatch to come through.

"Hey. What's wrong?" In only a few strides, Carter had enveloped me in his strong arms.

I'd come to talk to Melinda, but I'd take this in exchange. I never felt safer or more comfortable than I did with him. Loving Carter was the one thing that scared me in a good way. It had thrilled me long before the vision and after and, no matter what happened, I suspected it always would. So I held him there in the middle of the bookstore, soaking up the sense of safety and belonging that was like breathing in and out. A lounge full of undercla.s.smen watched us, but I didn't care.

"Hey," he repeated, pulling back to search my face with his eyes. "What's up?"

"I had a fight with Amy." It was only one of my problems, but it was the only one I felt ready to tell him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I admitted. "It was stupid."

"Stupid enough to make you cry?"

"I'm not crying!" I was upset about it though. I looked up at him. "She just, she said some things...and maybe they weren't all wrong." He hugged me again but didn't press for more details. I decided to change the subject. "What are you even doing down here? You're supposed to be off."

Carter pulled back and smiled, grabbing my hand to lead me over to the counter. "I wasn't really working. Either job," he added softly, after I made a face and eyed the newspaper he'd been reading. I didn't really believe him until I got close enough to see the paper's front page.

"Real Estate? What's this?" Besides a good distraction.

"Just...looking," he said and I examined the paper more closely.

"This is from the D.C. area."

"Yeah," he admitted. "But there are more." He moved it aside and underneath was one covering Boston/Cambridge and one for Southern Connecticut. "I thought...maybe you'd look at them with me? Tonight, if you want."

"You're buying a house?!"

"Probably just a condo, but yeah."

We'd never talked about this before. In fact, since the dinners and tours his uncle had arranged for us in the fall, we'd barely talked about college or next year at all. For a while, he'd been too worried about the vision and, regardless, I insisted on waiting for my acceptances until I made any serious decisions. Those acceptances were now tucked in my desk drawer. I wondered if Carter had a stack in his drawer as well.

"You never said anything."

He b.u.mped me with his shoulder. "Neither did you. But you have to live somewhere, wherever you choose, don't you? So do I."

I guessed that was true. There was so much about next year I hadn't considered, for so many reasons. Also, I was, simply, scared. Not just about my possible lack of future, but about having one too. I was comfortable at Northbrook, settled for the first time in my whole life, and one way or another, I'd have to give that up. I wondered if I was the only girl in the whole senior cla.s.s who didn't want to graduate.

But there was nothing else I wanted to do tonight, so why not talk about the future? I pulled up a second stool and sat next to him. It wouldn't be long until the store closed and all the students would have to go down to Anderson's Cafe or back to campus and Carter and I could claim the couch in front of the fireplace. Mandi Worthington sat there now, and I could feel her watching us.

When I looked in her direction, she smirked and I had to fight my instinct to stick my tongue out or go slap her. Maybe I did want to graduate after all. I turned back to Carter's newspapers.

"You know, normal people just look at this stuff online. What did you do, special order these, old man?" I knew full well he preferred print because of his Lumen gift-it was easier to remember pages than scrolling computer screens-but I still liked to tease him.

He kissed the side of my head and smiled, ignoring my commentary. "I got some for you too." From under the counter, he pulled out a second stack and handed them to me.

I quickly scanned the D.C. one on top. "This is different from yours?"

"Babe, your budget is different from mine."

To his credit, it wasn't bitter or embarra.s.sed the way he said it. He took it in stride that I was wealthy, though he was always more conscious of it than I was. For the first time, I realized that was probably annoying about me. That I forgot about the money, in the way only the truly wealthy can. Before Northbrook, my life with my aunt moved so quickly, I never had time to compare myself, and at Northbrook, I was surrounded by students with comparable bank accounts.

I blushed. "Sorry," I said and resolved, going forward, not to be so thoughtless. About everything, I added to my resolution, thinking back to what Amy had said earlier. Occasionally legitimate or not, maybe I did spend too much time wrapped up in myself.

Carter pushed the stack closer to me and put an arm around my shoulder. "You don't have to apologize. Just buy yourself a nice place that I can come visit."

We sat in companionable silence for a while, perusing the various papers while we waited for closing time. It was kind of thrilling, looking at the listings and imagining myself there. I'd never considered buying somewhere to live. It wasn't a typical concern for someone my age. Of course, neither was antique furniture, and I had a ton of that just waiting to furnish my own place. Whenever I let myself think about after graduation, I always figured I'd bounce around between my family and Amy's before living in a dorm. I could still do that. I even might.

"Why not just rent?" I asked Carter. I knew he'd never choose a dorm or to have roommates, because that's just how he was, but renting seemed simpler.

He glanced over. "I thought about it. But I've been saving for years...it feels like a waste just to spend it on rent and get nothing back. Real estate's a good investment."

That was true. Uncle Martin said so all the time; in fact, he'd encouraged me to consider it once before. And I knew Carter wasn't a pauper or anything. Between the bookstore, his Perceptum income, and a college fund he didn't really need for tuition, he had savings far greater than a lot of people, especially guys his age. Now that I was thinking about it, buying a place seemed like a natural step for him.

The more listings I looked at, the more exciting the idea seemed to me too. A little while ago, I'd been sad about leaving Northbrook, a place I'd finally experienced the feeling of being settled. I still had to leave Northbrook, but I realized I could make my own place to feel settled. I didn't have to be a wayfarer. I'd already experienced that. I could travel whenever I wanted, but putting down roots took time to grow. There was no reason I couldn't start now. The real question was, where did I want those roots?

"Where?" I blurted, my thoughts slipping from my mind to my tongue. The students all gone and the doors locked, Carter and I were performing the nightly ritual, wiping the tables and pus.h.i.+ng in chairs.

Carter looked up. "That chair? Wherever. Either of those tables."

"No, I meant...I was thinking out loud. I meant where should I choose?" I gestured toward the papers we'd left on the couch by the fireplace. "Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you want," he said, wiping the last table and stowing the cleaning supplies in their cabinet. "I like them all." As a nonanswer, that stressed me out and I told him so. After a hesitation, he said, "I promise I'll choose wherever I want most."

"But?"

"I like you best, Lane."

I sat on the couch, tucking my knees up on the seat, and Carter joined me after stoking the fire. "I don't want you to go somewhere just because I'll be nearby. My aunt thinks you're crazy."

"She's right." He winked at me as he unfolded a paper to a page with a few listings he'd circled. I huffed and he put the paper down, finally serious. "This is different for me. I don't have to go to college. I want to, for fun, but I have a career. I have this"-he gestured around the room-"and I love it. I've never wanted to do anything else. I am crazy, just like your aunt thinks. I'm twenty years old and already as content as the old man you joke about me being. I want to study, but there are so many places I can be happy doing that. All of the places I've looked at, and none of them are going to change my life. I have a life. What will make me happiest right now is being close to you."

He was looking right at me by the end and I couldn't do anything but stare back. My heart swelled and plummeted and did whoop-diwhoops in my chest. As he spoke, I saw it. I saw my whole future right there in front of me. And it was a happy one. After college, we'd move back here and I'd start my own antiques gallery just like I'd always wanted, and it would be perfect. Eventually we'd get married just like Amy predicted and everything would. Be. Perfect. If there was a such a thing as fate, I felt like I'd just seen mine, without the help of a Sententia gift.

"Do you believe in fate?" I asked.

At my unexpected question, he tilted his head just to the left. He was so beautiful it was almost painful and I couldn't help myself from leaning forward to kiss him, quickly on the lips. His whole face brightened with a smile.

"What was that for?"

"I think it was fate," I said. "If you believe in that kind of thing."

That bright grin s.h.i.+fted toward the mischievous, my only warning before he reached forward and grabbed me tight around the waist. Papers fluttered to the floor around us as he pulled me onto his lap and held me there. I made a halfhearted squeak of protest but ruined it by giggling when his breath tickled my neck. "I do," he said, and his tone told me he took my question seriously. He always did. "Believe in fate. How could I not? I'm holding a Diviner in my arms. You deal in fate every day."

"That feels more like...chaos."

He kissed the skin behind my ear and made me s.h.i.+ver. I wished I was looking at him but I didn't want to ruin the perfection of the moment by trying to turn around. His closeness was a warm blanket and I snuggled deeper into it. "It is," he agreed. "Chaos is part of the process."

"Then how can it be fate? How can that be the same thing?"

"You've really thought about this, huh?" he teased and I b.u.mped him with my head. Of course I had, and I knew he had too. While he continued, I traced his fingers with mine. "Why can't it be the same thing? Fate's not this one fixed, immutable thing. Fate's the future. It's ever-s.h.i.+fting. Some of it s.h.i.+fts more than others."

"That's not fate at all then."

"Isn't it?"

I didn't know.

"Fate's what happens in the end," he went on. "What good would G.o.d, or whatever you call what connects us, be if our decisions and actions meant nothing?" The question hung there in the room with us, the fire crackling and the air sparking with something that might have been the elusive fate I was trying to define. Always more concerned than I was, Carter asked at last, "Is this about the vision? Has something changed?"

"No," I said. "Our fate is currently wide open." On a whim, or in a choice made by my heart without strict permission from my head, I told him, "And I think...I want it to be in Boston next year. I think I want to go to Boston."

As soon as I said it, the vision returned.

Chapter Nineteen.

I was shocked, almost literally. As soon as I'd said Boston, the hum of recognition rose up between us, vibrating subtly at every point where we touched. It was different from the quiet, barely discernible sense that came from his birth, from his mother's death. I had to work to notice that at all. This was a new feeling, insistent but somehow erratic. I'd grown used to the idea that it was gone, a defunct possible future and no longer on our worry list.

Carter squeezed me tight, oblivious to the continued coming and going of his role in my death, while I tried to control my breathing. "Harvard. Nice."

There were still no details-just my face, cold, white, and lifeless, along with the irrefutable knowledge that Carter had made it that way-but I knew I was dead. Really dead. Or I would be, and soon, if I went through with the decision I'd just made.

I wasn't sure what made me say that, about Boston. I thought I hadn't decided yet, especially after just seeing my uncle. Was that it? Had I been unconsciously leaning toward Boston all along and something about going there would bring about my death?

So, I changed my mind.

"No, wait! That wasn't final. Baltimore...the others are still definitely on the table."

The vision faded away.

That was it. Fate was that facile. One decision, made with conviction, could change everything in the matter of a few heartbeats. I was safe again, for now. Just as quickly as it came, the hum disappeared.

My pulse began to slow and breaths come easier. If Carter sensed the moment of anxiety, he didn't comment, likely writing it off to the decision I was struggling to make. I knew I should tell him what just happened but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to say it. A few minutes ago, I wished I could see him, but now I was glad he was behind me and couldn't see my face. Why Boston?

"So what you're saying is I can recycle the New York papers?"

"No. I might be into this real estate thing."

"But not NYU?"

I tested fate. "Not NYU."

Still no vision. New York was my clear third choice, so with no vision when I eliminated it, I kept it off the list. Baltimore, not Boston.

"Good," he said, and I could feel him smiling. "I knew we'd be on the same page. I wasn't really sure I wanted to buy a place in New Haven anyway."

Interesting. Did our changing fate have something to do with his favored destination? The thought made my breath catch again. "Do...do you really want to go to D.C.? Is that what you want?"

"No," he said. "Not necessarily." It sounded genuine. He s.h.i.+fted me off his lap and back onto the couch, making me work hard to control my expressions. "Yale was just my least favorite of a bunch of great options. I wouldn't have minded it, though I meant it that I might not have bought a place in New Haven. I'd like D.C., but I'd like Boston, too. I'd even like California," he added and poked me in the ribs.

"I'm not sure either of us could afford a place out there anyway," I joked, but it wasn't very convincing.

"Hey. What's up? Do you really not want D.C.? Did you just say that because you thought I did?"

"No. I don't know what I want." Just that I want to live. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Planning the future usually is."

Is it? I didn't know that either. "It never was before. We moved where the art took us, and then Northbrook fell in my lap. Now I have to...to make a commitment. Amy would tell you I'm afraid of that." I'd half forgotten about my fight with my roommate.

"She'd be wrong," Carter said. "You're afraid of deciding. The commitment part you do with your whole heart."

ON THE WAY out of the dorm the next morning, I took a moment to observe the poinsettia. It was a little wilted from yesterday, but a brief touch of one of the leaves told me it didn't just need water. There was no hum of life to it; I'd definitely killed it, even if it would be days before it truly showed the signs of what I'd done.

Amy and I still hadn't spoken, and I didn't think either of us was ready to apologize. We'd both returned right at curfew last night, and I'd left this morning before she got up. On Sunday mornings, I didn't have anywhere I had to be; I just didn't want to be there. I grabbed my real estate papers and went to the dining hall for caffeine. At breakfast, I found Brooke. Thank G.o.d for having one friend who was a morning person.

"Hey early riser," I said and slumped down into the seat across from her.

She smiled. "Hey yourself...though you're not quite yourself this morning. Usually you like being up this early. Still tired from Friday?"

"Something like that." Actually, I'd just killed one of the plants that sat on the table with the silverware and plates, but I didn't mention that. After a sip of coffee, I finally managed a smile for her.

"It was pretty awesome, the Ball, wasn't it? I had more fun than last year."

"Not me," I said and we laughed.

"Of course not!" She shook her head seriously. "Only one girl kissed your boyfriend, and it was you. Where's the fun in that?"

"You know..." I said, and I told her about how Alexis had actually been the first girl besides me to kiss him last year. I wasn't sure why I decided to tell her, if it was because I was feeling a little less at odds with Alex now so I could laugh about it, or if I was actually feeling really b.i.t.c.hy because of Amy and wanted to spill someone's secret.

"Wow," Brooke said, her lips hanging in a perfect O shape. "And not only did you vote for her this year-she told me what you said-you seemed thrilled when you both won."

"I was!" I said, and we laughed again.

"If I weren't actually your friend, I think I'd probably hate you for being so frustratingly goodie-goodie."

And that hit a little too close to home, after what Amy had said. I didn't mean it to, but my smile disappeared and I pushed some bites of breakfast around my plate.

"Hey." Brooke reached across the table to knock on my cast with the back of her fork. "I was just kidding. You're a sweetheart and, I mean, you were Winter Queen. Everybody the opposite of hates you."