The Door

Chapter Twelve

Nothing about this panic attack was mild. I curled up on the ground, shaking, and sobbed. I lost all track of time, until the morning became sweltering. Sweating and trembling, I forced myself up at some point and sat at the base of the door, the only source of shade on the property. Seated on Teyan's cloak, I huddled with my knees drawn to my chest and waited for the episode to pass. It drained me, left me weak and fatigued. When it was over, I rested my head back against the door and gazed up at the vibrant blue sky.

Ten years.

I wasn't able to wrap my head around such a thing. What had happened in the past decade? New technology for certain, but what about my family? Was everyone still alive? Did I look the same?

Would anyone find that weird, if so? And what did I tell someone who asked where I was?

I didn't have the energy to worry and neither was I fully willing to believe this wasn't a joke or bizarre prank. Sure, someone had cleaned up the house in ten seconds and created a memorial, which seemed morbid, but did that mean ten years had really passed?

I felt the answer and squeezed my eyes closed, unable to handle another meltdown right now.

Concentrating on my breathing instead of my emotions, I held the rock Teyan had given me tightly. Neither of us had any idea it might've been a farewell gift. Was he alive? Had he forgotten me and moved on with his life?

The thought stung hard enough for my breath to catch.

I barely knew him – what did it matter if I lost him? Surely there was a process for Tili alliances where someone died.

But ... I didn't die. Not only that, but Teyan came after me when I ran through the portal without hesitation, because it was what allies did for one another. I owed him. At least, I thought I did. Somehow. If he tried to find me and couldn't come through the portal, then shouldn't I let him know I was alive, instead of running back to New York and trying to forget this entire experience?

What about my mother? What if she was killed in a car accident or something during the past few years?

If I let myself think too long on any aspect of my life, I'd start weeping and never stop.

"Just breathe, Gi," I whispered to myself.

With some effort to redirect my thoughts, I managed to focus on my breathing and relaxing my distressed body.

The faint flutter of the poster against the fence was a reminder of how my world had changed so suddenly. Again. First my father's unexpected death, then the incident, and now this. I had the worst luck in the world.

How long would it take before Carey returned?

Restless and tired of the heat already, I opened my eyes after a while and frowned. Something was blocking my view of the sun. It looked like ... an envelope?

My first thought – that I'd somehow vaulted another ten years into the future without noticing – scared me enough that I leapt up and circled the door to ensure it wasn't locked. My nerves calmed some to see it wasn't and I centered myself before returning to the front of the door.

The envelope remained.

Caretaker was written on the front.

I debated leaving it for Carey, but another flare of anger made me reach out to take the envelope.

I opened it and found a letter inside. Withdrawing it, I sat down against the door once more to read. The letter was dated the day before the Caretaker died.

"If you're reading this, you've been selected to become the next Caretaker at this location, a lifelong assignment that ends only with your death. The deed to the property has been recorded in your name, and you may take possession immediately. You MUST rebuild the refuge around this door, for it will not ever move. The houses and Caretakers may change, but the door never will. Our visitors are relying upon us to help them create peace among their worlds. Our existence, and our duties, are essential in creating universal harmony.

For advice and assistance, contact the Caretaker Council. You know how to reach them. As always, never lock the door."

I read through it again, frowning, and then twisted to stare up at the door. The letter hadn't been there when I sat down originally – this much I knew. If this is true, and the door – and its property – now belonged to me, then my decision about my future just became much more complicated.

I tucked the letter away and chewed my lower lip, staring at the end of the driveway, where the invisible portal was located.

I didn't deserve to be a Caretaker, not after what I'd done. But didn't I owe it to Teyan and those like him to takeover the duty, to provide them a refuge? If I walked away, did the Council choose another Caretaker, or could there only be another if I died? And if I didn't die for eighty years, what happened to those who came through, seeking refuge? They'd have nowhere to go and no one to help them.

I'd never had a purpose in my life. One had fallen into my hands, and it not only came with duties of epic importance, it came with a home.

Sort of. It came with property on which I could build a home, which was more than we'd ever be able to afford in New York.

Given my track record, though, wasn't it better to decline the duty and let someone more responsible, less emotionally fragile, take over?

I lifted the memory rock before my eyes.

The image of Teyan crushed me.

He would never walk away from an ally or a duty. Perhaps, if I ever wanted to be a better person, to become someone who wasn't so afraid of everything, I had to take one last chance on something that terrified me.

I might see him again, if I stay here. Assuming he was alive, and I hadn't destroyed the other worlds, and my mother was alive, and I didn't crack and end up in a mental institution. This sense of urgency, and accompanying rush of adrenaline, hadn't been experienced since the night I fought off my attacker. Except this time, I really was helpless. I could only wait in agony for Carey to return, for news of my family.

My eyes went to the spot where the driveway met the road.

I could only wait and hope Teyan was alive and hadn't forgotten me.

Ten years?