An immense grief wrapped around me. Not just for my own wrongs that could never be fixed, but also for all the wrongs Edward felt had been done to him. He sought justice at every turn, trying to mend wounds that would never close.
“How are we ever supposed to move on?” I asked, my voice small.
Hudson shook his head, as though he didn’t have that answer, but his words said differently. “We do just that. We move on. If we can’t fix it, it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the guilt. All we can do is forgive ourselves, try to be better in the future. And we can love the people in our lives wholly. We can believe in and fight for their goodness as strongly as we once worked to tear people apart.”
“Use our powers for good.” I’d said it once before to Edward when he’d wanted me to go after everyone who’d hurt me in the past. I’d hated the idea then, but now, framed like this, I could envision it as something different. Something beautiful and kind and right.
“Use our powers for good,” Hudson agreed. “I like that.”
Yeah. I really liked it too.
Suddenly I knew exactly what to say to Edward and what needed to be done in order to heal the rift between us.
Now he just needed to come home.
Fifteen
Edward
The incoming notification sounded on my mobile, a different tone than a normal call indicating it was FaceTime. Only one person communicated with me through this app, and only for one reason.
I glanced at the time then lowered my cigarette out of screen’s view before I answered. Freddie’s face filled the screen. “It’s nearly eleven there. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
My sister leaned into the screen. “He had a nightmare about you. Couldn’t go to sleep until he made sure you were alive and well.”
“There was a monster with fire coming out of its mouth and a big swamp thing, too,” my nephew said excitedly. “And both of them were trying to eat you and I couldn’t see your eyes and I thought you were gone forever!”
Freddie’s dream felt eerily like a metaphor for my current life.
“No monsters here,” I said, twisting my phone so he could see the expanse of the hotel room balcony. “No swamp things either. And if you can see, I still have my eyes.”
He laughed as I brought the phone up close to one eye then the other.
“See?” Camilla said from the sideline. “Uncle’s fine. You’re probably just having dreams because you miss him.”
“Will you come home soon?” he asked me.
He wasn’t the only one wanting an answer to that question. Though the texts from Celia the day before had referred to our shared hotel suite as home and not London as Freddie meant.
I didn’t have an answer for either of them, unfortunately.
“You’ll be the first one I tell as soon as I know,” I promised.
“I hope it’s soon,” the six-year-old said with a yawn.
Camilla kissed Freddie on the forehead. “Think you can sleep now?”
“I’ll try.”
Camilla took the mobile. “Hold on for a second while I tuck him in?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t like I was doing anything other than brooding.
The screen went dark as she held her mobile against her body, the sounds of good night and the shifting of bed blankets coming through muffled. I took the opportunity to flick the growing ash of my cigarette into the glass I’d brought out with me to use as a makeshift ashtray, then brought it up to my lips for a drag.
Just in time for Camilla to return to the screen. “Please tell me that’s a joint and not a cigarette.”
I blew out a stream of smoke. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.”
“What the hell, Eddie?” The image bobbed as she walked down the hall to another part of her house. “You haven’t smoked in years. Have you taken it up again?”
Her concern was both annoying and oddly comforting. “It’s the first one of the pack so I can’t say that I’ve taken it up again. I suppose that’s something I won’t really know until I do or don’t buy a second pack.”
She frowned, a frown that grew deeper when I took another drag. “I kept you on because I wanted to ask how Celia was doing after Ron’s sentencing, but now I wonder if I should be asking after you instead.”
I ignored the inquiry about me, which was an answer in itself. “I couldn’t tell you how Celia is doing. I haven’t seen her in two days.”
The bouncing image subsided as Camilla settled into her bed. “Ah. Must be quite a row if you’re both avoiding her and smoking.”
“I’m not avoiding her, exactly.” I took another puff then crushed the butt into the glass. “I’m relieving her of having to spend time with my temper. It’s a courtesy, really.”
“Yes, that is a courtesy. The Edward Fasbender Temper is quite terrifying, speaking from experience. Congratulations on having the sense of mind to stay away.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “It would be funny if it weren’t so true.”
“Perhaps.”
A beat passed, and I thought seriously about lighting another cigarette.
“You know, Eddie, speaking again from experience, when you sent me away to school, I would rather have had your rage than your distance. Your anger blazes like an inferno, but your silence is colder than any winter I’ve known. Personally, I’d rather be warm.”
“Thank you for that, Camilla. I didn’t feel bad enough already.” I pulled another cigarette from the pack.
“It wasn’t said to make you feel bad. It was said to give you some perspective.”
I tapped the unlit fag on my knee. “Should we talk about you now? I think that will be a lot more productive.”
She sighed. Then she launched eagerly into telling me about the new man that she was seeing, and I lit the cigarette and listened and was happy for her, but also I thought about what she’d said, really thought about it, and by the time we hung up, I’d decided.
It was time to go home.
I found Celia bent over the desk in the living room, scrawling something onto a piece of hotel stationery. She must not have heard me come in because when she looked up, she startled.
The flash of surprise on her face quickly vanished, though, and was replaced with a genuine smile. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“Thank God.” She ran to me, throwing her arms around my neck.
Without hesitation, I hugged her tightly, burying my head in her hair. There were so many ways she could have greeted me—with accusations or resentment or the silent treatment—and she’d chosen joy. I couldn’t have felt more cherished. I couldn’t have been more relieved.
We held each other like that, neither of us willing to let go. I could have done without words for longer, content to be wrapped in Celia’s warmth, except that there was something missing. Someone missing. “Is Cleo sleeping?”
I felt her head shake against my shoulder. She leaned back so she could look up at me. “She’s with Genevieve and Chandler. They picked her up a few minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see them in the hall.”