'Watch out, Alex! You almost let his head hit the stair railing!' Isabel exclaimed.
Alex gave a grunt in reply and kept climbing backward, cradling Max's shoulders in his arms. He carefully inched through the open front door of Michael's apartment. 'Do you need a break before we take him the rest of the way?'
Liz and Isabel exchanged a look. 'No, we're okay. Keep going,' Liz answered. Her breath was coming a little hard, but she didn't want to lay Max down on the floor like a basket of laundry that had gotten too heavy. She kicked the apartment door shut when she cleared it, and then they crept down the hallway toward the bedroom. Her arms were aching by the time they managed to put Max down on the bed, but she still hated to let him go.
'We'll look for the Stones again tomorrow,' Isabel announced, in case the consciousness was listening. She brushed Max's hair off his forehead and stared down at his face for a long moment. 'So, we'll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Okay, Max?'
'I want to stay in here a little bit again and just-um-visit,' Liz stammered. She adjusted her backpack, feeling her supplies slide around inside.
'Leave the door open. And don't get too close, okay?' Alex said.
Liz nodded, even though she knew she had absolutely no intention of following Alex's instructions. As soon as he and Isabel were safely in the kitchen, Liz closed the door halfway, figuring one of them would come check on her if she shut it completely, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Max.
'I've been reading this book on comas,' she told him. 'I know you're not in one, but I thought some of the experimental techniques they've tried to bring coma patients back to consciousness might work on you.' She pulled off her backpack and unzipped it, watching Max's face the entire time. 'The big thing seems to be stimulating the senses, through methods like music or even pain. But don't worry, there will be no pain involved,' Liz added quickly.
Oh, God. Did I blow it? Did I just announce to the consciousness my whole plan and give it time to defend itself? But it was too late to worry about that now. She took a CD out of her backpack, stuck it in the player on the nightstand, selected the track, and hit play.
'Remember this one?' she asked, focusing on Max's eyes. 'It's the song that was playing during our dance as homecoming queen and king, our first dance together.' Her heart squeezed as she listened to the melody and remembered how she felt that night-beautiful and special and loved. She tried to push the feelings aside.
'You were so surprised you'd won, I wasn't sure you'd even be able to move. But it was a great dance.' Liz stopped talking and let the music fill the room. As she listened, she could almost see the cheesy yellow and brown crepe paper streamers that had filled the gym that night, could almost see the shock in Max's bright blue eyes when she'd pretty much asked him to kiss her, shock followed by warmth that had almost melted her bones.
Was the song flooding Max with images the way it was her? Or was the consciousness now controlling the part of Max's brain that held his memories? His face gave her no clue. There was no change of expression.
'Okay, let's try something else,' Liz said when the song ended. She snapped off the CD player and removed a bottle of ketchup from her backpack. The smell always brought her back to one of the most intense experiences of her life. She thought it might do the same for Max.
'Worth a shot,' she mumbled as she turned Max's palm up, smoothing out his fingers. She touched him a little longer than she needed to, then upended the bottle and waited for a dollop to fall onto his skin.
'Come on, come on.' She gave the side of the bottle an impatient smack. Then, remembering the trick her mama had taught her, she found the little raised 57 on the glass and hit the bottle again, right over the number. With a plop a blob of ketchup fell into Max's hand. Liz curled his fingers over and rubbed them in it. 'Remember ketchup?' she asked. 'You broke a ketchup bottle and poured it over my stomach to cover the blood, remember, Max? It was the day you healed me. The day you saved my life.'
Max's face remained blank. Liz ran one of her fingers through the ketchup and then held it under his nose. 'Remember that day, Max? The day everything changed? The day you risked everything for me?'
It's not working, she realized. Something else. Something else. Liz wiped off her finger and Max's hand, then rooted through her backpack frantically. She'd really thought the ketchup was a great choice, but just because that smell always jerked her back to that wonderful, horrible moment didn't mean it was the trigger for Max.
'Maybe this will work for you,' Liz said. She pulled free a dark green dress, lace over a lighter, silky smooth layer, then ran the cloth down Max's cheek. 'This was what I was wearing when I told you I loved you the very first time. Remember?' She rubbed the cloth against his skin again, harder. Too hard. The lace made a row of tiny scratches.
'Oh, sorry.' Liz kissed her fingers, then pressed them over the scratches. 'Sorry,' she repeated, kissing the scratches themselves.
She scooted closer to Max, and the backpack fell onto the floor. She didn't bother to pick it up. When she'd been gathering all the items that might snap Max back to her, she'd forgotten about the physical sensation that, at least for her, was more powerful than anything else-a kiss.
Liz knew the consciousness could be feeling everything that she was doing to Max and that he might not be aware of any of it. But she pushed that thought out of her mind.
'I love you, Max,' she said, clearly and forcefully. Then she lowered her head and kissed him, trying to infuse the kiss with all the emotion and passion she had inside her-that she had inside her for Max.
His lips were cool, and still, and dead feeling, but Liz didn't pull away. I love you, she thought. Can't you feel that? Remember?
A hand wrapped itself in her hair. Another hand pressed itself against her back, urging her closer, closer, closer. Without breaking the kiss, Liz opened her eyes and looked into Max's eyes-bright and aware and full of love.
She pulled back just enough to speak. 'Oh, God, Max. You're all right!'
'Maybe Alex knew what he was talking about when he called me Snow White,' he said, his voice thick. 'I just needed the right kiss.'
'You heard that?' Liz exclaimed. Then she kissed him again before he could answer, starving for the taste of him, wishing she could swallow him, absorb him, make him a part of her or become a part of him.
'Yeah, I heard that,' Max answered finally, breathless. 'I heard everything. But… I'd given up trying to fight my way back. I was too deep. It was too far. Then I felt you kissing me. And I just-'
He rolled her underneath him, stretching his body over hers. 'Liz, there's so much I want to say. Need to say. About Adam. About how you were right about the consciousness all along. But I can't stop…' His mouth was on hers, desperate and fierce.
Liz locked one of her legs over his, then slid both her hands under his shirt so she could feel his skin. Closer. She wanted to be even closer.
'Max,' she gasped, speaking his name against his lips.
Suddenly his mouth went slack. It slipped away from hers, and Max's head fell against Liz's shoulder as if all the muscles in his neck had been cut.
'Max!' Liz shouted. 'Max!' His motionless body pinned her to the mattress, pressing down on her until she thought her heart and lungs would cease to function. 'Max!' she screamed again.
Suddenly she was free. She sat up and found Alex and Isabel pulling Max to the other side of the bed. 'What happened?' Alex demanded. 'Did he attack you?'
'No.' Liz shoved herself to her feet. 'That's not…' She raised her fingers to her lips. They were still warm from Max's. 'He kissed me.'
TEN
Don't even think about demanding to know the exact meaning of 'I'm thinking about it,' Maria ordered herself. Don't even think about begging to know if he's going to go or if he's going to stay. She stared out at the straight stretch of highway leading to Albuquerque, not allowing herself even a sidelong, superfast peek at Michael. She could feel the questions on her tongue, crouched down, waiting to leap out.
No. No, no, no, she thought. Remember the last time you decided to hand Michael an ultimatum-choose
