Facing the Past

"I was at the bar with my dad, catching up with some friends," Pete said. "Ethan and Trent came in. They were already plastered. The bartender wouldn't serve them, but they'd brought their own and it took about two seconds for them to start fighting with each other and trying to bring everyone else in."

"Not exactly unusual behavior for them," Chris observed.

"No," Pete agreed, "but they started yelling about Annabeth. Calling her all kinds of things I won't repeat, blaming her for them losing the house and having to live on the streets now that Miss Eve's dead. I didn't understand a damn thing they were going on about."

"Wait," said Chris, trying to order his thoughts. "Miss Eve is dead?" Annabeth's eyes widened and he took one of her hands in his.

"Yeah," said Pete. "Sorry, should have said that first. I knew you'd been to the hospital -- I talked to your mom -- and I guess I thought you might know already."

"Okay, keep going," said Chris.

"Like I said," Pete continued, "Ethan and Trent were blathering on about Annabeth, finding her and making her stay in the house. I wanted to make sure she was safe, and you too. They made some choice comments about you, too, pal."

"I can imagine," Chris said. "Look, I'm with Annabeth and she's fine. We warned the hotel about them and haven't heard anything."

"Good." Pete was relieved. "Do you know what they were talking about?" Chris explained about Miss Eve and her will. "Damn," said Pete. "She was a mean old woman, wasn't she. Not to speak ill of the dead."

"I don't know that it's possible to speak well of her," Chris said, futile anger rising again.

"True," said Pete. "Look, I'll let you go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and let you know -- oh, shit, what was that?" Chris heard a faint rumble through the phone.

"Pete," he said. "Pete, what is it?"

"Sit tight," his friend says. "I'll call you back." He was gone.

"What is it?" Annabeth said, and he saw the fear in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It was Pete," he said, and told her that Miss Eve was dead, and the rest that Pete had told him. She covered her face with her hands and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her against him.

"It's all right," he soothed, brushing his lips against her hair. "I won't let them hurt you, I promise."

"I know," she said, but her voice was dull. She didn't know how much more of this she could take, or what she would have to do to ever feel safe. "She's gone," Annabeth said, almost disbelieving. "Miss Eve is dead."

Chris nodded. "That's what Pete said. He thought we knew or he'd have called earlier."

"I'm still scared." Annabeth closed her eyes. "I might be more scared now that I was before. She's gone and they'll blame me when they have to leave." She jumped when Chris's cell phone rang again.

"Yeah, Pete," he said. "What's going on?"

"The Fordham place is on fire," Pete told him. "There was some kind of explosion, maybe. Sorry, I jumped off to call nine-one-one."

"Are you okay?" Chris asked. "What did I hear over the phone?"

"There was some kind of explosion," Pete said. "Not sure what." Chris heard sirens wailing over the line. "I'm at your mom's, so I heard it."

"Why are you there?" Chris asked, his heart suddenly racing.

"It's okay," Pete assured him. "I was just worried about you and her after Ethan and Trent were yammering at the bar. They didn't say anything but I got it into my head they might try to wait for you here or something. They're idiots but occasionally they're lucid idiots."

"Thanks," said Chris, relieved. "Look, we'll be right over."

"Don't bother," said Pete. "We're fine, it's late, and the police and fire guys have the streets blocked off. You'd never get through."

"Okay." Chris wasn't entirely satisfied but saw the logistical problems. "Thanks for staying with my mom. Call any time -- seriously, any time -- if you need us or if something happens."

"You got it. Talk to you later." Pete disconnected again.

"Now what?" Annabeth asked, leaning against him.

"The house is burning," Chris told her as gently as he could. "The Fordham place." He couldn't say 'your house.' She'd never thought of it that way, he was sure.

"What happened?" She was stunned.

"I don't know." He stroked her hair, moved so they both lay on the bed again. "Pete said he heard an explosion, that's why he cut me off the first time, to call nine-one-one. When he came back he said the place was on fire."

"I don't want to go there," she said. She closed her eyes, trying to block the images that were trying to form.

"We're not." He kissed her forehead. "Pete said there are too many emergency vehicles and the street's blocked off. Let's go back to sleep and we'll deal with it in the morning. He'll call if anything else happens."

"I'm not sure I can sleep," she said. She felt cold and couldn't help shivering. Chris pulled the cover over her and rubbed her back to warm her up.

"You don't have to," he said. "We can just be here. We can talk or not. Whatever you want."

For a few moments, they were just there, not talking. Annabeth's mind was reeling and she was too tired to make any sense of the thoughts streaking through her head. I want it to stop, she thought tiredly. There was one thing, she knew, that could make all the thoughts in her head stop and fly away.

She turned to Chris and kissed him, nervously at first, but then more confidently as his hands came around her back and hers combed through his hair. She broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. "I need you, Chris. So much."

He nodded. "I'm here." She kissed him again and as his lips touched hers, and his hands stroked her body, the thoughts in her head fell away until she could think only of him.

x-x-x-x

"Lorna, you're okay?" Annabeth hugged her hard. She and Chris had fallen asleep at last, surprising them both. They hadn't slept long, and as soon as they figured they could, they'd showered, dressed and gone to his mother's. On the way in, they'd seen what was left of the Fordham place -- barely a shell.

"I'm fine, sweetie," Lorna said, holding Annabeth to her. "I'm just fine. Pete was my own bodyguard," she told her.

"Pete, I can't thank you enough," Chris said. Pete waved his hand dismissively.

"It's all right. Overkill on my part," Pete said.

Chris shook his head. "No, it wasn't. Not with those two."

"So, what do we know?" Annabeth said as they all went into the living room. Lorna detoured to the kitchen to get coffee and tea, gesturing the others to sit.

"Not much," said Pete. "Joe Hernandez -- Cassie's husband -- came around a little while ago asking where we might find you, Annabeth. I told him we'd call when you got here. I'm not sure exactly what he wants, but it's not surprising he wants to talk to you."

"No," she sighed. "No, it's not. Why don't you call him now? The sooner I can deal with this, the better."

"Sure," Pete said. He pulled out his phone and wandered to the other side of the room.

"Will you be okay with that?" Chris asked, holding her hand. "Joe would understand if we needed to wait a while." She shook her head.

"No, no. Whatever this is, I want to get it done and then..." her voice trailed off. She didn't know what to say next.

Neither did Chris, so he held his tongue and stroked her fingers with his thumb. He helped his mom set the tray down and pour out the drinks. They talked quietly about what they didn't know, and Annabeth related what had happened at the hospital the day before.

"She thought you'd come back for money?" Lorna gaped.

"Apparently," Annabeth said. "Thought she had me figured out."

"She figured wrong," said Chris, and Pete and Lorna agreed. There was a rap on the door and Lorna went to answer it.

"Hi, Joe," she said as she led him in. "Coffee?"

"Thanks, Lorna," he said with a nod. "That would be fine. Chris, Pete, how are you?"

"Good, thanks, Joe," said Chris. "How's Cassie?" Joe smiled.

"She's fine, thanks for asking. The best." Joe turned warm brown eyes to Annabeth. "How are you, then, Annabeth?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Hernandez," she said. "I'm really not." She had met Joe when she'd lived there, but because he was a cop, she'd avoided him. Cops had never helped her before, and if Ethan saw her talking to one, she knew there'd have been hell to pay.

"Call me Joe," he told her. "Thanks, Lorna." He sipped his coffee. "Now, I want to tell you first off, I'm not here because you're in trouble. I do need you to tell me where you were yesterday, and then I'll tell you what I know."

Annabeth took a deep breath and told him how she'd seen Karen at the café, come to see Lorna, then gone with Chris to the hospital. "Miss Eve told me she'd leave everything to me -- house and money -- if I came back and lived here. Otherwise they'd all be out on the street. I said no, so you can imagine Ethan and Trent weren't any too pleased. I left the hospital with Chris. We stopped off at a restaurant, then sat by the pond, and then went to my hotel room. Pete called us -- I don't know what time it was -- to tell us Ethan and Trent had been drunk, causing trouble. Then he said the house was on fire. Chris and I stayed at the hotel all night, then got here about twenty minutes ago."

Joe nodded. "Thanks. Chris, how about you?" Chris gave an overview of his day, and Joe nodded again.

"So, what happened, Joe?" Chris asked.

Joe sighed. "There's no good way to say it, so I'll just say it. Karen set the house on fire, starting with the curtains in the dining room, and then went to the kitchen and turned on the gas. That's what caused the explosion."

Annabeth was white. Chris rubbed her shoulder. "What else, Joe?" he asked; he could tell there was more.

"No one survived," Joe said. "What it looks like -- and I shouldn't really say, but I know you won't let it go anywhere -- is that Ethan and Trent were sleeping and Karen set the house on fire. Now, we don't know if she gave them any kind of tranquilizer, or if they were just dead drunk, but we do know that the fire started on the first floor. I think she did it on purpose, so that if they did wake up, they couldn't get out."

"What about Karen?" Annabeth asked in a raw voice.

"She died, too," Joe said neutrally. "Not sure, again. This is just a hunch. I have a feeling we'll find out Karen killed herself. We found her body and there'll have to be an autopsy. I just find it hard to believe she'd lay there waiting for the fire, so I'm thinking she took some pills or something like that." Annabeth nodded blankly.

"Rumors will start, you know," Joe said, "and I'm sure some of them will put you as the problem. We know that's not so, Annabeth, so don't you worry. This was all on them, and nothing to do with you." She only nodded again.

Joe finished his coffee, shook hands with Chris and Pete, and walked out with Lorna.

"Listen, I'm heading out," said Pete. "My parents are probably worried. If you need anything, either of you, just call, okay?"

"Thanks, man," said Chris. "We appreciate everything."

"No sweat." Pete looked at Annabeth. "I'm very sorry, Annabeth. I really am."

"Thanks, Pete." He nodded and left, giving Lorna a peck on the cheek on his way out.

"Annabeth, do you want to rest or anything?" Lorna asked anxiously. "I know that seems silly, but sometimes you need it."

"No, thank you," she said. Then she stood. "I need to go see it. I don't know why. I just do."

Chris nodded. "I'll go with you." He hugged his mother. "We'll be back soon."

"See that you are," she said. She stepped back and brushed at imaginary lint on his sleeve. "Don't let her go this time, Chris," Lorna said. "I'm not sure she'd ever come back."

"I won't," he assured her.

x-x-x-x

She stood in front of the fence that ran along the sidewalk. It was about four feet high and metal, rusting in spots. The gate squeaked. It was as close as she could make herself go. The house was in tatters. The little bit of white left on the outside was streaked with soot and dirt. The windows were all broken and the front door was held in place with police crime scene tape.

They're all gone, she thought, and was unable to really comprehend it. Her family, however awful they'd been, were all gone. All swept up by the angel of death in one night. It sounded like a movie, but it was real.

"What am I supposed to feel?" she asked Chris as she stared blankly at the ruins.

"Anything you want," he told her. "You can feel sadness, anger, hurt or nothing at all. That house has bad memories for both of us, Nabby. I don't expect that you'd really miss it."

"For you?" She turned. "Bad memories for you?"

"Oh, yes," he said, and put an arm around her. "I followed you home from school all those days, even when you didn't want me to. You called me crazy and foolish on more than one occasion," he said with a small smile. "But it broke my heart to see you go into that house. Every time, it just killed me. I was afraid you wouldn't come out."

Annabeth wiped at her eyes and rested her head on his chest for a moment. Then she stood again and stared at the ruined house. "'Love me, somebody.' That's what I'd say sometimes," she said, her voice distant. "I'd be in my room with the door blocked and curled up in the corner. It was like a prayer, a mantra. 'Love me, somebody. Somebody, love me.'" She shook her head. "They never did. They couldn't."

Chris gently turned her to face him. "I love you, Nabby. I'm somebody."

"You do?" she was shocked. She had wanted to hope so, but was afraid to. It hurt more when you hoped and then it wasn't true.

"Of course, I do," he said. He kissed her gently. "How could I not?"

"I love you, too," she said. "I always have. I meant it when I said I only wanted you. I'm sorry, so sorry I never told you."

"It's all right," he said, holding her close. "You told me now. That's what important."

"It's over, isn't it?" she said, this time not looking at the house. She'd had enough. "They're gone, and it's really over."

"It really is," he assured her. They stood quietly for a time, until Nabby stepped back slightly.

"Well, if that's over," she said, smiling shyly, "I think I'm ready to start something new."

"What a coincidence," Chris said with a wink. "So am I."