Transcendence

you were born to it.”

Mom bursts into the room carrying a tray of cookies, and everyone turns to help her clear a place at the coffee table. I smile gratefully at Griffon, while everyone else seems to forget about the fact that I can suddenly speak in tongues. Italian tongues, anyway.

Mom glances over at Kat, slumped in the chair by the window. “Honey, why don’t you play something for us next?” She turns to Veronique. “Kat took piano lessons for years. She doesn’t have the skill that you do, but she’s quite the little musician in her own right.”

I wince at her words, amazed as always that Mom apparently can’t hear what comes out of her mouth. With the rest of her body totally still, Kat turns just her head in Mom’s direction. “I don’t think so.”

Mom straightens up. “Oh, come on, Katherine,” she says. “Give us a tune. You used to love playing Chopin. You and Nicole played the most marvelous duets together.”

Kat stands up and runs her hands over her dress. In a voice much quieter and steadier than I would have thought possible, she says, “We’re not trained monkeys, you know. Just because Cole can’t be your after-dinner entertainment anymore, it doesn’t mean that I have to make a fool of myself.” Nodding to Giacomo and Veronique, she crosses the room in four strides and heads down the hallway.

Mom smoothes her hair back and plasters a smile on her face as if nothing’s happened. “Well, then,” she says in a singsong voice. “Who wants coffee?”

Nineteen

As the door shuts behind Veronique, I can see Griffon relax for the first time this entire evening.

“That went well,” Mom says, scurrying around the living room picking up cups and napkins.

“Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Ryan,” Griffon says, turning the full intensity of his smile on her.

She smiles back at him. “We’re happy to have you,” she says, glancing at me in a meaningful way that I pretend not to notice.

I can hear Dad washing dishes in the kitchen and figure it’s best to ask when they aren’t together. “Is it okay if we go out and meet Rayne?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Mom says. “You just got out of the hospital.”

“The accident was more than a week ago,” I say. Mom hesitates just a second, but I know she’s lining up more excuses in her head. I jump in again. “I’ve barely gone anywhere since I’ve been home. Can’t we just go out to get ice cream?” I ask quickly. “And maybe to the cafe. It is Friday night.”

She glances at the clock. “Okay,” she agrees. “Just be home before midnight. And take your phone.”

“I will,” I say from the hallway, already handing Griffon his jacket. We slip out the front door before she can change her mind.

As soon as we’re down the steps and out of sight of the house, Griffon stops and kisses me, pulling me up to him so quickly that my feet actually leave the sidewalk. “I’ve been dying to do that for hours,” he says, setting me back down on the ground.

I stand on tiptoe and pull his head down toward mine again. “Not as much as I have,” I say, kissing him longer than he did me. I reach for his hand and he grabs mine, squeezing as if he’ll never let go.

“Thanks for the save on the Italian thing,” I say. “That was so weird. Was I really speaking Italian?”

“Flawlessly. Once you’ve opened your awareness of a past life, a lot of things come through easier,” Griffon says in Italian, although I can understand him perfectly. He switches back to English. “Although it’s happening really quickly for you. Did you see anything else?”

I hesitate. “Just a few things. I’m sure we were musicians together.” Veronique agreed to meet me tomorrow so I can finally show her the truth. As soon as we clear it up, I’ll let Griffon in on all of it.

Griffon slides his fingers through my hair, giving me a wicked case of the shivers. “Despite the fact that we can’t pinpoint anything in particular, I’m more convinced than ever that we need to be careful.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say. “Unless you want to meet me every single day after school.”

Griffon grins. “You say that like I haven’t thought about it.”

I look up the street, but I don’t see his motorcycle anywhere. “Did you drive?”

“It’s around the corner. I figured it wouldn’t help my case much if your dad saw me parking the bike out front. Are we really going to meet Rayne?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer. “But not up on Haight. She told me about a bonfire out on the beach tonight—want to go?”

“Ooh, lying to your parents now?” Griffon smiles, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What happened to the straitlaced, cello-playing girl I used to know?”

“She’s decided that she needs to get out more,” I answer. “Plus, it’s not a complete lie. We are meeting Rayne, and I do have my phone. Maybe there will be ice cream—who knows?”

Watching the storefronts whizz by through what I’m quickly thinking of as my helmet is such a different experience than riding the bus home from school every day. As we stop for a light in front of Peet’s Cafe, I feel like waving into the lit interior so that everybody can see that I’m not just the schoolgirl on the city bus anymore. So much has changed in such a short time.

As we get closer to the beach, the air becomes heavy with moisture, and I can taste the salt on my lips as we drive. At the end of the road, Griffon turns left, and the ocean stretches into the horizon beside us as we ride down the hill, parallel to the water. Up ahead of us, shimmering spots of orange blaze as weekend bonfires light up the beach.

Coming out of a smooth turn at the bottom of the hill, Griffon suddenly hits the gas hard with his right hand. The bike jerks forward, and I press my body tight against his back. I can hear the motor strain as we pick up speed, the lines on the road turning into a continuous blur as we race along the asphalt.

For the first time riding with him, I’m afraid. Griffon takes his eyes off the road to glance over his shoulder for just a split second. Not wanting to turn my head, I peer around his arm until I can see headlights in the rearview mirror—headlights that are gaining on us so quickly it makes my breath catch in my throat. Whoever is behind us seems to be aiming right for the bike, and I will Griffon to go even faster.

As he lowers his head into the wind, Griffon lets go of the bike with his left hand to pull my arms together on his chest, and I know he means for me to hang on. With my right hand, I grab handfuls of his jacket and bury my face into his back, my heart beating fast and the plastic facemask of the helmet fogging up from my breath. The whine of the bike rushes through my ears, but not loudly enough to drown out the sound of the heavy car rumbling behind us. I don’t dare lift my head to look, but I can tell by the sound and the way the headlights light up our silhouette that it is almost close enough to touch.

It seems as though the car’s bumper is right at our back tire when Griffon eases up on the gas just the smallest bit and throws us into a left-hand turn so tight that we’re horizontal to the cold black street as we swing away from the main road. The car races past us, unable to make the turn at the last minute. Hitting the throttle once again, we speed into the west end of Golden Gate Park, the bike easing upright as Griffon slows down and pulls over into the grass at the side of the road.

I sit frozen as he puts the kickstand down and turns the engine off. The sudden silence is deafening, and without the headlight, the darkness is only interrupted by the moon peeking through the trees.

Griffon puts his arms around me and I manage to get off the bike, my knees buckling as my feet touch the grass. “Are you okay?” he asks urgently. Gently, he unclips the strap and lifts my helmet off. I manage a brief nod before I start shaking.

“Son of a bitch!” Griffon yells into the darkness. He slams his helmet to the ground and paces a few short steps in front of the bike. The force of his anger is almost visible as my eyes adjust to the dim light, and I’m glad that it isn’t directed at me. “I can’t believe she’d pull something like this. What the hell is she thinking? Dammit!”

I stand motionless, willing my heart to stop pounding and brush away the wet spots on my cheeks. We’re fine. We didn’t crash. As long as I keep telling myself that, the panic will ebb to manageable levels. “What happened?”