The Goddess Test
Page 3
We skidded to a stop, miraculously missing the tree line. My pulse raced, and I took great gulps of air, trying to calm myself down. “Mom?” I said frantically.
Beside me, she shook her head. “I’m fine. What happened?”
“There’s a—” I stopped, focusing on the road again. The cow was gone.
Confused, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure standing in the middle of the road, a dark-haired boy around my age wearing a black coat that fluttered in the breeze. I frowned, twisting around to try to get a proper look out the back window, but he was gone.
Had I imagined it then? I winced and rubbed my sore head. Hadn’t imagined that part.
“Nothing,” I said shakily. “I’ve just been driving too long, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
As I cautiously urged the car forward, I looked in the rearview mirror one last time. Hedge and empty road. I gripped the wheel tightly with one hand and reached out to take hers again with my other, futilely trying to forget the image of the boy now burned into my brain.
The ceiling in my bedroom leaked. The real estate agent who’d sold us the house, sight unseen, had sworn up and down there was nothing wrong with it, but apparently the jerk had been lying.
All I did after we arrived was unpack the essentials we’d need for the night, including a pot to catch the dripping water. We hadn’t brought much, just whatever could fit into the car, and I’d already had a set of secondhand furniture delivered to the house.
Even if my mother hadn’t been dying, I was sure I’d be miserable here. The nearest neighbors were a mile down the road, the whole place smelled like nature, and no one delivered pizza in the small town of Eden.
No, calling it small was being generous. Eden wasn’t even marked on the map I’d used to get here. Main Street was half a mile long, and every shop seemed to either sell antiques or groceries. There were no clothing boutiques, or at least no place that would ever carry anything worth wearing. There wasn’t even a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell—nothing. Just an outdated diner and some Mom and Pop store that sold candy by the pound.
“Do you like it?”
Mom sat curled up in the rocking chair near her bed, her head supported by her favorite pillow. It was so worn and faded that I couldn’t tell what color it had originally been, but it had survived four years of hospital stays and chemotherapy. Against all odds, so had she.
“The house? Yeah,” I lied, tucking in the corners of the sheet as I made her bed. “It’s…cute.”
She smiled, and I could feel her eyes on me. “You’ll get used to it. Maybe even like it enough to stay here after I’m gone.”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to say anything. It was an unspoken rule that we never talked about what would happen after she died.
“Kate,” she said gently, and the rocking chair creaked as she stood. I looked up automatically, ready to spring into action if she fell. “We need to talk about it sometime.”
Still watching her out of the corner of my eye, I tugged the sheet down and grabbed a thick quilt, arranging it on the bed. Pillows soon followed.
“Not now.” I pulled the covers back and stepped aside so she could crawl in. Her movements were slow and agonizing, and I averted my eyes, not wanting to see her in so much pain. “Not yet.”
Once she was settled, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tired. “Soon,” she said softly. “Please.”
I swallowed, but said nothing. Life without her was unfathomable, and the less I tried to imagine it, the better.
“The day nurse is going to come by in the morning.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I’ll make sure she’s all set up and knows what to do before I head to school.”
“Why don’t you stay in here tonight?” she said, patting the empty space next to her. “Keep me company.”
I hesitated. “You need your rest.”
She brushed her cold fingertips against my cheek. “I’ll get more with you here.”
The temptation of curling up against her like I’d done when I was a child was too much to resist, not when every time I left her, I wondered if it would be the last time I’d see her alive. Tonight I would let myself avoid that pain. “Okay.”
I crawled into bed next to her, making sure she had enough blanket before I used the rest to cover my legs. Once I was sure she’d stay warm, I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her familiar scent. Even after spending years in and out of a hospital, she still smelled of apples and freesia. She nuzzled the top of my head, and I closed my eyes before they started to water.
“Love you,” I murmured, wanting to hug her tightly but knowing her body couldn’t take it.
“I love you too, Kate,” she said softly. “I’ll be here in the morning, promise.”
As much as I wished it could be, I knew that was no longer a promise she would always be able to keep.
That night, my nightmares were relentless and full of cows with red eyes, rivers of blood, and water that rose around me until I woke up gasping. I pushed the blanket off me and wiped my clammy forehead, afraid I’d woken my mother, but she was still asleep.
Even though I didn’t sleep well, I couldn’t take the next day off. It was my first day at Eden High, which was a brick building that looked more like a large barn than a school. There were hardly enough students to bother building one in the first place, let alone keep it running. Enrolling had been my mother’s idea; after I’d missed my senior year to take care of her, she was determined to make sure I graduated.
Beside me, she shook her head. “I’m fine. What happened?”
“There’s a—” I stopped, focusing on the road again. The cow was gone.
Confused, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure standing in the middle of the road, a dark-haired boy around my age wearing a black coat that fluttered in the breeze. I frowned, twisting around to try to get a proper look out the back window, but he was gone.
Had I imagined it then? I winced and rubbed my sore head. Hadn’t imagined that part.
“Nothing,” I said shakily. “I’ve just been driving too long, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
As I cautiously urged the car forward, I looked in the rearview mirror one last time. Hedge and empty road. I gripped the wheel tightly with one hand and reached out to take hers again with my other, futilely trying to forget the image of the boy now burned into my brain.
The ceiling in my bedroom leaked. The real estate agent who’d sold us the house, sight unseen, had sworn up and down there was nothing wrong with it, but apparently the jerk had been lying.
All I did after we arrived was unpack the essentials we’d need for the night, including a pot to catch the dripping water. We hadn’t brought much, just whatever could fit into the car, and I’d already had a set of secondhand furniture delivered to the house.
Even if my mother hadn’t been dying, I was sure I’d be miserable here. The nearest neighbors were a mile down the road, the whole place smelled like nature, and no one delivered pizza in the small town of Eden.
No, calling it small was being generous. Eden wasn’t even marked on the map I’d used to get here. Main Street was half a mile long, and every shop seemed to either sell antiques or groceries. There were no clothing boutiques, or at least no place that would ever carry anything worth wearing. There wasn’t even a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell—nothing. Just an outdated diner and some Mom and Pop store that sold candy by the pound.
“Do you like it?”
Mom sat curled up in the rocking chair near her bed, her head supported by her favorite pillow. It was so worn and faded that I couldn’t tell what color it had originally been, but it had survived four years of hospital stays and chemotherapy. Against all odds, so had she.
“The house? Yeah,” I lied, tucking in the corners of the sheet as I made her bed. “It’s…cute.”
She smiled, and I could feel her eyes on me. “You’ll get used to it. Maybe even like it enough to stay here after I’m gone.”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to say anything. It was an unspoken rule that we never talked about what would happen after she died.
“Kate,” she said gently, and the rocking chair creaked as she stood. I looked up automatically, ready to spring into action if she fell. “We need to talk about it sometime.”
Still watching her out of the corner of my eye, I tugged the sheet down and grabbed a thick quilt, arranging it on the bed. Pillows soon followed.
“Not now.” I pulled the covers back and stepped aside so she could crawl in. Her movements were slow and agonizing, and I averted my eyes, not wanting to see her in so much pain. “Not yet.”
Once she was settled, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tired. “Soon,” she said softly. “Please.”
I swallowed, but said nothing. Life without her was unfathomable, and the less I tried to imagine it, the better.
“The day nurse is going to come by in the morning.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I’ll make sure she’s all set up and knows what to do before I head to school.”
“Why don’t you stay in here tonight?” she said, patting the empty space next to her. “Keep me company.”
I hesitated. “You need your rest.”
She brushed her cold fingertips against my cheek. “I’ll get more with you here.”
The temptation of curling up against her like I’d done when I was a child was too much to resist, not when every time I left her, I wondered if it would be the last time I’d see her alive. Tonight I would let myself avoid that pain. “Okay.”
I crawled into bed next to her, making sure she had enough blanket before I used the rest to cover my legs. Once I was sure she’d stay warm, I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her familiar scent. Even after spending years in and out of a hospital, she still smelled of apples and freesia. She nuzzled the top of my head, and I closed my eyes before they started to water.
“Love you,” I murmured, wanting to hug her tightly but knowing her body couldn’t take it.
“I love you too, Kate,” she said softly. “I’ll be here in the morning, promise.”
As much as I wished it could be, I knew that was no longer a promise she would always be able to keep.
That night, my nightmares were relentless and full of cows with red eyes, rivers of blood, and water that rose around me until I woke up gasping. I pushed the blanket off me and wiped my clammy forehead, afraid I’d woken my mother, but she was still asleep.
Even though I didn’t sleep well, I couldn’t take the next day off. It was my first day at Eden High, which was a brick building that looked more like a large barn than a school. There were hardly enough students to bother building one in the first place, let alone keep it running. Enrolling had been my mother’s idea; after I’d missed my senior year to take care of her, she was determined to make sure I graduated.
