Page 110 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
He looked astonished, a man used to accomplishing what he set out to do. “This is a pigeon egg pickle.”
“Maybe you have another task to perform. What would it be?”
“I don’t know. I told you—”
“I know. No ‘Welcome to the Afterworld Reception.’ ” To my surprise, I’d grown fond of Elder. Not fond enough that I wanted him haunting my footsteps forever, but enough that I wished he could finish his earthly existence and move on to . . . whatever came after for him.
As with me, he seemed glad to abandon his issue and return to mine, proving we did have something in common: evasion. “Never mind me. It’s you who must make a decision. I have eternity and I have no life to worry about. Cal won’t delay in upsetting this baggage cart of a wedding.” When I rubbed my forehead in distress, he added, “Of course, if you’ve decided to marry Lysander, you need do nothing. You can leave Cal to face the scandal alone.”
Elder held a bubbling pot o’ muddy guilt and scooped with a big ol’ ladle.
My usual clear thinking had abandoned me. Papà and Mamma were right; love opened a new world for me. Joy, yes. Passion, yes. Glory, yes. But also madness and confusion, choices made in haste that guaranteed the dawn of regrets on my horizon—
A thunder of footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Elder looked in that direction and muttered,“Che schifo.”
Of course, Elder was disgusted, for Lysander, my One True Love, appeared in the doorway.
CHAPTER60
“Lysander!” I rushed into his embrace. “Oh, Lysander!”
His dear arms enclosed me. He kissed the top of my head, pressed his cheek to his kiss, gasped and trembled. “People were looking up at the tower. I looked up, too. I saw you dangling, struggling to get your arms over the railing. I couldn’t believe . . . but my heart assured me there could be no mistake. It was you. We could see a man staggering about, trying to push you, but it looked as if . . .”
“As if what?” I choked out the question.
“As if he was being hit by lightning!”
“Is that what it looked like?” Elder asked.
Lysander bent his head close to my ear and spoke softly. “I doubted you before, but now I must ask—was that Prince Escalus the elder to your rescue?”
“The boy’s not an idiot,” Elder said in approval. “He’d be a worthy . . . No, wait. I don’t mean that.”
If I wasn’t already so wretchedly confused, I would have grinned at his clumsy about-turn.
“At the point at which you were about to lift yourself to safety, we shouted ‘huzzah’ for you.” Lysander’s voice sounded as if he was trying to cheer me. “On the street, over and over, ‘Huzzah! Huzzah!’ For you, my darling. Did you hear us?”
I shook my head. I’d known of the shouts below, but it had been the twin roars of fear and hope I’d truly heard.
“The man—it was Barnadine, was it not?”
“Good guess, since his corpse is there.” Elder could apparently only be pleasant for a few continuous moments.
“Barnadine leaned over you—I thought he would hurl you and himself down, but then like a whirlwind, Prince Escalus leaped, knocked him down, and you fell . . .”
“We know what happened,” Elder told him. “We saw it from up here.”
Yes, and the recitation reminded and chilled me.
“I thought—” Lysander tightened his grip, and in a broken voice, he murmured, “My love, my love.”
Emotion overwhelmed me. Tears started, and I sobbed aloud.
“Pull yourself together, woman!” Elder sounded disgusted.
Lysander loosened his grip. “I shouldn’t hug you. I saw how hard you hit. You’re injured.”
