Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

After glancing around to make sure nobody was waiting for help, Jemma typed,
What did you do for money as a teenager?

McDonald’s, Burger King. You know, the glorious jobs that just about everybody has at one or more points in their lives. Nothing wrong with them, but not where I wanted to be, even as a teenager.
He grinned as he continued typing.
Eventually, I quit the fast food jobs because I figured out I was better at selling virtual gold for online games. Again, not a particularly glamorous job, but it was a little more up my alley. Stopped that, too, eventually, when people started making laws regarding it and companies started trying to enforce their own rules. I didn’t need the money enough to risk my reputation.
He looked at her.
What about you? What were your jobs before finding your career?

Not babysitting.
She didn’t have to look up to see him shaking with laughter.
I didn’t work a lot, honestly. Tutored when I needed some extra cash. Spent time volunteering in libraries. By the time I could work, I knew what I really wanted to do, and I felt like anything else was a waste of time.

It’s good, knowing yourself that well. Not something I can really claim.

You laugh a lot more easily than I do, though. I envy that.

He cocked his head, watching her before typing.
I don’t know. You seem to laugh easily enough, at least as far as I’ve seen.

She heard footsteps coming her way before she could respond, and she saw Jack notice them, too. He waved and went upstairs so that she could help the approaching patron.

***

The rest of Jemma’s day passed quickly, and she started closing duties later than she liked, so when Jack approached to type with her before the end of her work day, she held up a finger, not wanting to be distracted while she finished. In her peripheral vision, she saw him nod, and she focused her attention back on work. She finished just a few minutes past the hour, and she blinked when she looked up and saw Jack still waiting, even though she’d known he was still there when she’d checked for other patrons and locked the door.

While waiting for her, he’d pulled out a book - his own, as far as she could tell, not one that belonged to the library - and was reading, leaning against the circulation desk, his elbows propped on the counter. He couldn’t be particularly comfortable, Jemma knew from having read in that same position with some regularity. Jack’s brown eyes, skimming back and forth across the page, had dark circles under them that she wasn’t used to seeing on him. He flicked his gaze toward her and grinned. She felt herself blush slightly and hoped the lights were dim enough that he couldn’t see she’d been watching him. He closed his book and put it back in the outer pocket of his laptop case, then reached for the tablet that hadn’t yet been turned off.

Enjoying the view?

Jemma resisted the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at him, settling instead for the more mature option of rolling her eyes.

I couldn’t exactly clear my throat to get your attention, now could I? You seemed absorbed, so I didn’t want to make any louder noises
, she typed.

Sure
, he typed.
Ready to go? Thought after last night I might walk you out to your car when I’m here. I mean, not to imply you need protection, but there’s safety in numbers, and it’s kinda dark, and if you heard that noise more than once, then maybe…
He closed his eyes and sighed, finishing typing without opening them, impressive on the on-screen keyboard.
Is it possible to ramble without speaking aloud?

Jemma smirked at him when he reopened his eyes.
It would be fine if you walked me to my car. You look like you might fall asleep on the way out, though.

I’m not quite that tired, though I feel it. I’ll probably turn in early tonight.
He rubbed the back of his neck and typed with his free hand.
It was a long night. Dad woke me around midnight, needed help.
He put his hand back down on the counter, and she hesitated a moment before covering it in silent apology. He smiled at her, the hint of worry and sadness disappearing.
He seemed better this morning
, Jack typed, reclaiming his hand to do so.

I’m glad.

He cocked his head toward the door questioningly, and she nodded, turning the tablet off.

They walked out to the parking lot, pausing for Jemma to re-lock the door. There was no sound, no hint that another person or animal was nearby, and they made it to their cars without complication, Jack waving before he pulled away.

***

She set her purse in its normal resting place and locked the door behind her, putting down her keys and heading into the kitchen, where she stared at the refrigerator. She wasn’t sure whether she was hungry enough for a meal; she’d polished off the bag of trail mix that should have lasted her the whole week.

She grabbed a bowl and the makings for a new batch of trail mix, throwing it together before she grew too tired, knowing she’d regret it if she didn’t have a snack for tomorrow’s workday. She finally decided on dinner, another one of her frozen meals. She heated it, then bypassed her computer to sit at her couch, reading until she was finished eating. Her current book was a romance, not something she sought out terribly often, but this one was by an author she knew many of her patrons read. It was about a marine trying to build a new life in a small town in some mountain range on the other side of the country.

After she finished eating and read a few more chapters, she glanced at the clock and saw it was still a while before bedtime. She wondered whether she’d have a discussion in bed tonight, too, still not convinced it was more than a figment of her imagination. She bit her lip for a moment before focusing on the voice she remembered, trying it before she was tired enough to doubt herself more.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed in her mind, but then there was silence. Shrugging, she moved to her computer. Almost immediately, a message popped up from her mother.

You awake?

Yeah. What’s up?
Jemma asked.

I was just making sure you’re still coming for supper Friday.

Of course.
Jemma clicked on the clock at the bottom of her screen, verifying that it was only Tuesday.
Something special going on?

Nope. Just doing my groceries tomorrow and wanted to purchase appropriately. How was work?

Work was fine
, typed Jemma.
Whatever gene you and Dad have that make you enjoy working with kids, I don’t think I got it.

Ha!
her mother sent.
You certainly didn’t. Remember that time your younger cousin came over? Katie? You were SO upset that she kept following you around.

Give me SOME credit, Mom. I was only ten.

I think Jilly likes kids, though. We might have grandchildren yet. Not YET, of course.

Jemma sighed.
Of course not yet. She’s seventeen.

What if…
Her mother sent the abbreviated message and then stopped typing for a minute.

Mom?

What if by the time I have grandkids, we still don’t have our voices back? How will we sing them to sleep?

Jemma pulled out her phone and texted her sister:
I think Mom could use a hug.

She switched back to her computer, responding to her mother.
If that’s the case, well, I’m sure mother and child will have telepathy, right? What’s to say you won’t, too? And if you can’t talk to it immediately, you know you’ll spend so much time with the baby that its first word’s gonna be your name.

I suppose.
There was another pause before her mother typed again.
You sent Jilly to give me a hug? Thank you.

Didn’t take much. We love you. Now stop worrying about hypothetical future children or grandchildren. It’s about bed time. Get some sleep.

Fine. I’ll see you Friday night
, Carolyn wrote.

I’ll see you then. Tell everyone good night for me.

Okay. I will. Sleep well, Sweetheart.

I will. You, too
, Jemma typed.

Jemma shook her head at the screen and then took her time getting ready for bed. Once comfortable, she was unsure of whether to try speaking to the mystery man again or not. She was tired again, and she hadn’t thought of as many things she could ask as she’d wanted. She decided to read instead, picking the book back up where she’d left off before talking to her mom. She’d made it through a few more chapters before she was interrupted.

“Hello?” The voice rumbled in her mind.

“Hi,” she said, pausing a moment and then putting her book away.

“Sorry I didn’t answer earlier. I know there’s a way to speak telepathically to one person and not another, but I haven’t actually gotten to practice and didn’t want my family to think I was loony.”

“That’s fine. I suppose this is rather intrusive as far as communication goes. Can we block it out, do you think?” she asked.

“That’s a good question. Should we try? How do we even go about that?” he returned.

“Maybe we’d better save that for when I’m less tired. Is it night where you are, too?”

“Yep. About my bed time.”

She thought for a moment. “We keep talking when we’re tired, and so I am having trouble telling myself this isn’t all in my mind, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he answered.

“Okay, so I was thinking maybe there was some way we could confirm it’s real, without giving away too much personal information. Maybe you could tell me something, and then I can look it up and see whether it’s real? It has to be something I don’t already know, though.”

“Hmm,” he said. “So something you don’t know without first knowing much about each other. I’m not really big on science, so I probably can’t give you anything there.”

“And I spend a lot of time with books, so most literature is out,” clarified Jemma.

“What about math? I could give you an equation and the answer, and you can check to make sure it’s right.”

Jemma thought for a moment, then grabbed her cell phone and opened up the notepad app. “Okay. That’ll work. What’s the problem?”

“Give me a sec,” he said, sounding amused rather than impatient as his words might suggest. Jemma had to admit she had missed some of the nuances tone allowed in communication. “Okay, got one. Ready?”

“Yeah,” said Jemma, scribbling down the letters and numbers he gave her, clarifying twice in places she wasn’t sure how to write. “Okay, got it.”

“What about me? I need verification, too. I mean, I seem to be more sure than you are, but still, it’d be nice, right? Knowing I’m not crazy?”

Jemma looked around for inspiration and then grabbed her e-reader. “How about the author and title of a novel? That’s easy enough to verify.”

“Okay, just nothing popular that I might have seen on display recently. I don’t read a lot, but I do glance at the books at least.”

She thumbed through a couple pages of her library until she reached books that had come out a few months ago, giving him the title and author of one that hadn’t been much of a hit. “Want the ISBN, too? You’re less likely to have that accidentally imprinted on your subconscious.”

“Sure.”

She relayed that to him, letting him know he’d be able to confirm it on Amazon. She put down phone and e-reader and got comfortable again. “So… What now?”

“I’m not quite ready to sleep yet. I think I stayed up too late, and now I’m wired. Do you mind if we keep talking? We can avoid the personal stuff.” His voice was low, almost soothing, and Jemma yawned as she sought a topic.

“Do you think time travel is possible?” she asked, not entirely sure how she’d settled on that topic.

“Umm… I suppose? I mean, I like watching shows with time travel, reading books, as long as their explanations make sense. Stable paradoxes are fine, but not one that is impossible because it undoes itself.”

“So you don’t believe in multiple timelines, then?” she asked, trying to let her smile show in her mental voice.

“You think that’s funny?” He sounded amused. “I don’t really know. I can see the argument either way. Sometimes I like imagining infinite possibilities, infinite dimensions, infinite versions of ourselves. Other times, though, I like thinking that there’s just us, that what we do matters in more than just this one little version of our life.”

“Mmmm.” She was quiet a moment. “You mentioned time travel shows. What are your favorites?”

The conversation continued, the two discussing television, books, entertainment, and various other topics that skirted identity, while still sharing thoughts and opinions. Finally, Jemma was unable to keep her eyes open.

“Okay,” she said, “I need to sleep.”

“Fair enough. It’s later than I realized. Good night, stranger.”

“Good night,” she said, smiling again and slipping quickly and quietly into sleep, her dreams much less turbulent than they had been, filled with time travel and romance in alternate dimensions, connections spanning time and space.