Untrained Eye

UNTRAINED EYE

Jody Klaire

The
Above & Beyond Series

Book 1:
The Empath

Book 2:
Blind Trust

Book 3:
Untrained Eye

Book 4:
Hindsight

Book 5:
Noble Heart

Book 6:
Black Ridge Falls

Book
7: Full Circle

© 2016
Jody Klaire

All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced
or transmitted in any means,

electronic
or mechanical, without permission in

writing
from the publisher.

978-1-943837-14-4
paperback

978-1-943837-15-1
ebook

Cover
Design

by

A
Mindancer Book

BInk

a
division of

Bedazzled
Ink Publishing, LLC

Fairfield,
California

http://www.bedazzledink.com

CIG boss Ursula Frei asks Aeron for help to prevent a
group of children in the Caprock Academy from becoming victims to a life that
created the same deep scars Frei herself bears. But this personal request is
complicated by Aeron’s dimming powers as a consequence of her actions for
healing her mentor Renee.

Although Aeron enjoys the respite from her burdens,
she is forced to fake a vision, not realizing her mother, Lilia, has the same
vision and ultimately allows the CIG team to get involved in the mission.
Unfortunately, Aeron’s vision sees them rescuing the children and walking away
stronger, and her mother sees the three agents implode and their mission
unravel under the weight of secrets, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings.

But Lilia has faith in Aeron, Frei, and Renee and
still believes they can get the children out safely . . . even if it means one
of the team gets left behind.

To
Sunny (SFH)—Who helped Aeron find a home.

For:

Mum
and Em who go above and beyond.

And,

For
anyone who is that little bit different.

Acknowledgments

There’re
a lot of people who I would like to thank, whether they have directly been a
part of writing, editing, or publishing this book. Their friendship, expertise,
support, and guidance have made a difference to me. Whether named or not, their
time, patience, and warmth feel much like a big cwtch!

To
you, the reader, whether a returning friend of Aeron’s hoping to see how she’s
getting on, or a new one taking a chance on her, thank you. I hope that you
love her new adventure, welcome in, put your feet up, and grab a slice of cake!

Fellow
Writers’ Workshop people: Katherine Hetzel, John Taylor, Brenda, Julie, all the
wonderful people at the festival and online, so numerous that I would need a
novel. I love being a part of an amazing community of writers. The Writers’
Workshop team, Laura, Nikki, and Co. Thank you for nurturing, supporting, and
running such great festivals.

The
GCLS mentoring programs and the writing academy. A big wave to my fellow alumni
from the program and a massive thank you to the staff who work so hard to run a
great organization.

To
Liz McMullen, for your continued support, cheering me on and your fantastic
show. You’re as cool as pie.

Thank
you to Ann and Salem for your encouragement and support. Ferb sends Lucy a
kiss.

Thank
you to Lynn for your patience and hard work on the cover. Welcome aboard!

To
Ian and Pat Griffiths. You really do brighten up my week and keep things
moving, improving and your laughter and joy are a blessing.

To
Team Truth: Dani Dixon, Gena Ratcliff and Karen Kormelink. You’re such
wonderful ladies to know. I love that you are willing to share your experiences
and your knowledge about that big ol’ beauty of a country. You bring me smiles,
a lot of smiles. 

Claudia
(Bedazzled and Gus Gus!) Thanks yet again, boss, for taking a chance on me, for
the patience with my attempt at describing America . . . and Frei says thanks
for the Bluetooth headset, it’s working great.

 To
Casey (and Meka). We’ve had road trips, snow on warm mountains, deserts in
scrub land, and . . . ketchup . . . (mustard, not ketchup . . . right?) Thank
you for undangling participles, unraveling what British slang I’ve thrown at
you and for your understanding, your patience, and getting it to make sense. I
hope you are enjoying it all as much as me. If not, there’s always cat
relaxation music . . . 

To
Brie Burkeman. You believed in my storytelling and my writing and guided me. (I
hope that you still do.) You will always be that person who helped me believe I
could and for that, thank you, thank you, thank you.

To
Debi Alper. You are as cool as you look. I’ve learned so much from you, from your
workshops and your guidance. You always inspire me and it’s such a pleasure
learning from you. Thank you.

To
Revd. Sue and Mr B, Fr. Mike, Revd. Jayne and all those in the CNB parish, you
are very much in my heart. A special thank you to Tanneke Berwick for loving
Aeron and for listening to me chat about her.   

To
Moira Spence, it was incredible being able to journey through the meditations
with you. Thank you for the energy and light you give and the patience and
guidance. Thank you also for your input and your help with Father James.

To
Sandra Moran (Sunny), your light, your friendship, mentorship, laughter,
smiles, expertise, passion for writing . . . I could go on. I am blessed to
have known you. Thank you for being so kind, so patient, so caring. You
unequivocally rock.

My
family, those here and those in the next room. Your lives and hearts touch
mine. Your stories inspire me and your laughter echoes in my own.

Em,
for laughing with me not at me (most of the time . . .) for listening to my
ideas, picking up the bits I miss, for keeping vigil through the late night
edits and all the little things that make such a difference.

Mum,
for reading at Frei-speed, explaining why my sentence doesn’t make sense, for
loving my books, for loving Aeron and company, and all the cool things Mums do
without even stopping to think about it. 

To
THS, my solid foundation, I hope that this book shines with your light and your
love. Thank you for loving me, for blessing me with Aeron and her stories. Love
never fails.

Jody Klaire

December 2015

“If
I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a
resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If
I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge and
if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I
may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love
is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with
the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails . . .

.
. . And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these
is love.”

                                            
—1 Corinthians 13: 1-8 & 13

Chapter 1

SIGHT IS A funny thing. It throws up all kinds of meanings.
Looking at something and really seeing it ain’t the same thing. There’re
different perspectives, I guess.

Some folks have a vision of success or what love is. They have a
way of focusing on how to achieve their goal. They pursue it without resting.
It can see them become great or it can drive them to madness. It’s a risk they
seem to accept and they go all out for it.

I guess you could say that I had a unique way of seeing things. I
mean, I was pretty different and my ability to see the past and present,
feelings and hidden secrets of folks around me meant that I had a lot of
responsibility on my Samson-like shoulders. That was okay. I was learning to
live with it.

Thing was, I found it hard when people didn’t see that I wasn’t a
machine that spat out answers. The Criminal Investigations Group, or CIG,
employed me to be just that. I was there to save them time, or at least that’s
how it felt. Even Renee started to act the same way. She didn’t seem to get me
at all. Something pretty nasty happened to her which had changed her view on
things. Seeing stuff through scarred eyes had narrowed her point of view.

Renee always had a tendency to be a bit tunnel visioned. Being a
protection officer could do that to a person. Her educated, highly-trained eyes
seemed to miss that her attitude kinda hurt sometimes.

I didn’t get how she let me in so close and then pushed me away.
Her secrets nearly cost a lot of folks their lives in St. Jude’s. The more I
thought about it, the more it got to me. I’d trusted her but she hadn’t really
ever returned it. I’d thought all that happened in St. Jude’s had shown her
that I was trustworthy, that I was capable of helping.

Turned out, sometimes I could be as blind as the next person.

She didn’t know that when I’d healed her, I’d seen it all. I’d
seen everything she went through and took on board the pain. I’d been trying to
shake it off but it wouldn’t shift no matter how hard I tried.

Then, there was my mother, Lilia. She was the head of the CIG and
a “seer.” I thought she was meddling more than helping. The whole basis of CIG
was that we ran around trying to help people fix stuff that hadn’t even
happened. I wasn’t fond of her, not after she left me when I was a kid. I had
more issues with her than I could cope with so I just came to the point where I
thought it best not to think too deeply about it.

Finally, there was the hawk-like gaze of the CIG’s boss. Ursula
Frei was the operational leader. She had eyes as sharp as her tongue and her
views on what was acceptable didn’t always match mine. I didn’t know if she
liked me all that much but she scared me more than I liked to let on.

Women, in my humble opinion, were a pain in the butt. I’d been
locked up with a bunch of them in a mental institution for eleven years but
nothing had equipped me to cope with Renee’s odd mood swings, my mother’s guilt
trips, or Frei’s icy glare. Not that I wanted to go back to Serenity Hills but
I didn’t get why everyone was being so complicated.

It seemed like beyond my burdens, beyond my six-foot-five frame,
they’d all forgotten I was pretty inexperienced. The more they were shoving me
into stuff, the more I didn’t know how to cope with it.

Aeron Lorelei, the empath, the one who did as told and didn’t make
too much fuss about it. They’d forgotten where that kind of attitude got
people. I’d spent over a decade inside. There was a burning sense of injustice
in my heart from it.

Maybe one day, I’d unravel the cobwebs sticking all around me and
find a way to let it all go. Maybe I’d find my own goal to set my sights on.
Seeing was believing, right?

Sometimes I’d dream I lost all my burdens. I was free to do
whatever I wanted to. I wondered what would happen if I woke up and that were
true. What would the folks around me act like if I’d lost the skills that made
me useful? Would these women, women I’d stuck by, do the same if I got a pass
to freedom?

Would they support me and celebrate it? Would they cheer and give
me guidance on how I could achieve my dreams?

Or . . .

Was I only good for one thing? Would they be irritated that I
couldn’t make life more convenient for them? Would they support me then or
would they walk away?