The Healer: First Touch (4 page)

It was from him. I was sure of it. But, more importantly, I was sure he was real now. I touched the hard metal. It was really there. Rubbing my thumb over the stones, I marveled at the beauty of the little pin. Angel's wings. Hadn't he told me he had been looking out for me like....what had he called it? A guardian angel?

I took the pin off my sweatshirt and placed it in the palm of my hand. It really was beautiful. The stones sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sun throwing tiny rainbows of color around me. It felt solid in my hand even though it was delicate and small.

I closed my hand around the pin, clenching the symbol of him in my fist. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. A strange uneasiness came over me as if someone was watching me. Opening my eyes, I looked around again. I didn't see anyone, but I still felt uneasy. I kept searching. He had to be out there. I just knew it. Strangely, I thought I could feel it.

And then I saw something. It was across the street and two homes down in the Waldron's front yard, behind the big oak tree. I caught my breath. My heart felt as though it jumped into my throat.
Could it be? Is it him? There was
a dark figure in the shadows behind the large tree. As I stared at the shadow, the prickly sensation of uneasiness strengthened.
What is it?
I stood to get a better look. The shadow moved closer to the tree to avoid being seen.

I was about to walk over and take a closer look, when a familiar red pick up truck pulled into the driveway. Emma screeched the shiny truck to an abrupt stop and the entire truck rocked forward.

"Jacey!" Emma called out of the open truck window. She threw off her seatbelt and opened the door. As she got out of the truck, it rolled backwards toward the street.

"Emma! The Truck!"

"Whoops!" Emma said. She jumped back in and slammed the truck into park. Giggling nervously, she stepped out of the truck to walk towards me. "Forgot to put the truck in park, I guess."

Emma was the complete opposite of me. Where I was short, she was tall and slender. Her golden, chin length hair contrasted with my dull brown hair. She had the most stunning green eyes, the color of dark emeralds. She was beautiful and outgoing while I was shy and content to be by myself. In short, Emma was the life of the party: fun, vivacious, and friendly. Sometimes I wondered how we maintained our close friendship while being so different. But we did. She was my best friend.

She wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "You okay?"

Hugging her back, I replied, "I'm fine. I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."

With her hands still holding my arms, she pulled back so that she could see my face. Cocking her head to the side, she stared at me with her emerald eyes. "You sure?" she asked, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Yes." I tried to be as convincing as I could. "I'm Fine." I smiled, but I'm sure it looked more like a grimace.

"Hmmmmm," Emma murmured. "Let's go inside." And wrapping her arm around my shoulder, she ushered me in the house.

"Do you want a Coke?" she asked me.

"No."

Emma opened the refrigerator and pulled open the crisper drawer where Oma stored the cans of soda. She grabbed a Coke and popped it open. I watched her, smiling at the fact that she always made herself at home when she was here.
She's more than a best friend. She's my sister.

She took a quick drink and looked at me. Staring back at her, I innocently asked, "What?"

"What?" She asked incredulously. "Tell me what's going on. I'm dying to know!"

"Okay, okay. Let's go to my room at least." Oma would be home soon and I didn't want her overhearing my story.

I walked upstairs to my room with Emma following. Once inside, I sat on my bed. Emma followed, folding her long legs gracefully beneath her.

"Now, spill," she commanded, placing the can of soda between her legs and folding her hands together.

I giggled nervously. I was suddenly nervous about telling the story. My face flushed in embarrassment. Emma just smiled. Taking a deep breath, I told her about my run as she nodded her head. Then, I told her about being followed and watched by what I thought was a stalker.

Emma's eyes widened sparkling with a mixture of fear and excitement. "No way," she breathed.

"Yes," I said, continuing on to my sudden fall and injured ankle. "It was really bad," I added. "I knew I wouldn't be able to run away from...him." I stuttered the last word but Emma didn't seem to notice.

"Oh my god. What happened next?" Her eyes were huge with excitement and awe.

"Well....he helped me."

"He what?"

"He helped me." I then explained how he walked me home, the two of us stumbling along the crowded boardwalk.

Emma smiled. "Really?"

"Really," I reassured her. I could feel my cheeks reddening again.

"So, what happened next? I mean, are you gonna see him again? What's his name?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I just woke up with a huge headache downstairs on the couch and he was gone."

"Well, do you have his name? His number at least?"

"No," I answered gloomily. "I don't even know who he is, but there was something familiar about him."

"Familiar? Do you think you've seen him before?"

"I don't think so," I answered truthfully. But I explained how his voice and smell seemed familiar. "So, that's it," I ended, taking a deep breath. There, I had done it. I waited anxiously for her response.

Emma sighed deeply. With a slight smile, Emma murmured, "That's amazing."

We sat in silence for a moment, barely looking at each other.

Then Emma asked asked, "So, what do we do now? What's our first step to look for him?" Determination lined her forehead and stiffened her jaw.

I knew Emma would be supportive. I needn't had worried. She would help me because she was my friend and because she was so curious herself.

"I don't know what's next," I said shaking my head.

"Is that all?" she asked, "There's nothing else?"

"Nothing," I answered quickly. I had left out the part about the healing of my ankle, partly because I didn't know if it was real, and partly because I couldn't explain it.

But, Emma was too bright. She was about to sip her soda, when she quickly asked, "What about your ankle? Is it okay?"

"Yes, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it." I showed her by bending my ankle back and forth.

Much to my relief, Emma didn't probe any further. "Well, that's good," she added before sipping her soda.

Looking at my hands, Emma asked, "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That thing you have in your hand? What is it?" she said, pointing at my hands.

I hadn't realized it, but I had been rolling the angel's wing pin around in my hands over and over again. I stopped and opened my fist, allowing Emma to see the pin.

"It's beautiful," Emma breathed. "Where'd you get it?"

"I thin from him," I responded.

"Him?" she whispered. "How do you know?"

"Because he had told me that he was watching out for me like a guardian angel, and these are angel's wings. They were pinned to my sweatshirt when I woke up this afternoon. I've never seen them before." I handed her the so she could have a better look.

Taking the small pin delicately in her hand, Emma turned it over and examined it. The stones sparkled in the light.

"If this is from him, we might not have to search for him," Emma reasoned.

"I don't understand."
How is this tiny pin going to help us find him?

"Don't you see, Jacey?" Emma asked with glittering eyes.

Wrinkling my eyebrows, I shook my head.

She stretched her arm out toward me with the pin her hand. "We don't have to find him. He'll find you. He'll be watching you."

I stared at her, my eyes growing wide with understanding. "Like a guardian angel."

"Jacey? You home?" Oma said as she walked into the house.

"Yeah, upstairs," I yelled back.

"Hi Emma," Oma called.

"Hi Oma." It was common to see Emma's shiny truck in our driveway. I knew Oma wouldn't be surprised by it, or that Emma was upstairs with me.

I could hear Oma opening and closing cabinet doors in the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Dinner?! Was it that time already? Where has my afternoon gone?

I looked back at Emma. Her bright, green eyes were still sparkling with excitement. I thought again about what she had just said....
He'll be watching you.
I knew she was right. It made sense. Why else would he give me the pin? The thought of him looking out for me both excited and scared me. I was excited about the possibility of seeing him again and getting answers to my questions. But I was scared of what else was out there. Why was he looking out for me? What could he possibly be protecting me from?

Emma dropped the pin in my open palm and I stared at it. The little wings suddenly felt heavy in my hand. I closed my palm around it and brought it to my heart.

"Do you really think so?" I whispered to Emma.

"Definitely," Emma proclaimed. Her face broke into a wide smile. "Let's go." Getting up from the bed, she grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

We descended the stairs and came into the kitchen. Oma already had water boiling and a box of elbow macaroni sat on the counter. She busied herself at the counter cutting a block of cheddar cheese. Nearby was a brown grocery bag.

"Oma, do you need any help?" I looked into the brown bag. She must have stopped at the store on the way home; the bag was full of groceries.

In a separate pot on the stove, Oma placed the cubed cheese, milk, and butter. While stirring, she said, "That would be nice, hon. You can put the groceries away. Emma, I assume you're staying for dinner?"

"Of course, Oma," Emma smiled broadly, taking a box of cereal from the brown bag. "I wouldn't miss your homemade macaroni and cheese."

"Okay, then. You can set the table. Place a fourth setting please, because Cathy will be coming for dinner too."

Since Opa Gill's death, Oma Clare spent a lot time with her friend Cathy. Cathy was roughly the same age as Oma. She lost her husband a few years before Oma lost Opa. I knew Oma treasured her close friendship with Cathy. They were kindred spirits who had suffered and survived similar losses. I even sometimes found myself a little jealous of the closeness Oma enjoyed with Cathy.

As I put a box of crackers and a can of peas on the pantry shelf, I called out, "Did you see anything nice at the craft show?"

"Oh, yes," Oma replied. "It was at the high school. Some fundraiser for the band boosters." She began telling us about the crafts she had seen. I heard Oma's pleasant, soft voice, but I really didn't hear what she was saying. I was too busy thinking about him and wondering when I would see him again.

"Jacey, did you hear me?" Oma asked. I didn't realize she had asked me a question. I had been putting groceries on the pantry shelves and stopped, staring blankly into the pantry, just remembering him. Oma regained my attention. "Jacey?" She repeated, with questioning eyes.

"Huh?" I stammered, turning my head and attention towards her. "I'm sorry, did you ask me something?"

"Yes, I asked you a question," Oma answered. "You alright, child? You feeling okay?" Oma quickly closed the distance between us. Placing her hand on my forehead and my cheeks, Oma declared, "Child, you feel feverish and your cheeks are flushed.

"I bet," Emma giggled.

I flashed glaring eyes at her as a silent warning.

Removing Oma's hand from my cheek, I tried to reassure her. "Oma, I'm fine. I think I just got a little too much sun today when I was out running." Oma squinted her eyes, assessing me. I knew she didn't believe me. She had marvelous intuition. I grabbed Oma's other hand so I was holding both of her hands in mine. "I'm fine, honestly." Oma didn't appear totally convinced by my words of reassurance. Thankfully I was saved any further scrutiny by the pot of macaroni noodles that boiled over onto the stove.

"My noodles!" Oma exclaimed as she hurried over to the stove to tend to the mess.

Emma worked to stifle her giggles, but her eyes watered from her efforts. Her shoulders shook with laughter. I glared at her again, motioning her to stop.

"Jacey, the noodles are ready. Can you warm up some broccoli?

I grabbed the broccoli on the counter and placed it in another pot. That was one of the things I loved about Oma. She was easily distracted. I was grateful for that at this moment.

Emma finished setting the table and Oma put the macaroni and cheese in the oven to bake. The warm smell of baked cheese filled the small kitchen. I grabbed some glasses down from the cabinet.

"Helloooo," an older woman's voice sang out from the living room at the front of the house. Cathy came into the kitchen. "Mmmmm. Smells good," Cathy said. "Here, I made a rhubarb pie." I took the pie and set it on the counter. Cathy was a pleasant woman. She was short and round with curly gray hair. She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"Thanks, Cathy. How did you know rhubarb was my favorite?" I joked.

Obviously pleased with my response, Cathy chuckled softly.

Dinner was rather uneventful. Emma and I were anxious for dinner to be over so we could talk and scheme. Oma and Cathy talked the entire time. From the way they carried on, no one would have guessed that they had spent all day together. Occasionally, Emma and I would add to the conversation, but for the most part we stayed quiet, quickly eating the macaroni and broccoli on our plates.

I pushed my chair from the table. "Thanks, Oma. Dinner was yummy as usual."

"All done?" Oma asked. "Don't you want any of Cathy's pie?"

"Um, not right now. There's going to be a big bonfire out by the lake tonight. Em and I have to get ready to go."

"We do?" Emma choked, her mouth still full of macaroni and cheese. I shot Emma a glare and nodded my head slightly. "We do," Emma said with more conviction, swallowing her food with a gulp.

Emma had asked me to go to the bonfire with her earlier in the week. I had declined then, citing a prior engagement of playing bridge with Oma and her friends. Emma had teased me, asking when I turned in to an old woman. I laughed the teasing off, not wanting to admit the real reason I didn't want to go. Although, Emma always had fun at the bonfire parties down by the lake, I wasn't comfortable with the drinking that everyone else did there or the pressure that went along with it.