Whispering Minds (16 page)

Travis sighed and scrubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw. He looked so miserable I laughed. “I assume you didn’t sleep nearly so well.”

“You could say that.”

“Were you waiting up for Santa?” I teased.

“Sadly, yes, but he never showed.”

I slid off the counter to retrieve a gift bag from Trav’s room. Upon my return, I held it out like an offering. “Maybe this will make up for Saint Nick’s no-show.”

Travis peered inside and pulled out a hand-knit scarf. He wrapped it around my neck, using it like a rope to draw me close. “I love it.”

Inside, I squirmed like puppy. “I made it myself.”

“Funny,” Travis said and held out a small present wrapped in red and tied with a silver bow. “I made this myself, too.”

Carefully, I unwrapped the little carved bear from the store. The cool stone fit perfectly in my palm. My own personal totem. “Thank you, Travis. She’s amazing.”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“She just feels that way.”

“You might very well be right. In our tradition, the bear is a truth seeker and a caretaker. However, as interesting as the gender of your present may be, I feel it’s of the utmost importance to interrupt this conversation and eat. Otherwise we’ll be late for the Christmas festivities.”

I slipped the bear into my pocket while Travis scooped up cinnamon rolls. With him standing so near, casual conversation seemed impossible, but I tried anyway. “Do you always cook?”

“Nah. Dad and I usually take turns. I’ve been trying to impress you.”

“It worked.”

Trav’s dimples popped out as he leaned against the counter to finish his roll. “You ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

“I think so. Seriously, I can’t just sit around anymore. It won’t bring her back.” Not to mention, I didn’t know what I did when I was alone.

We ate in silence. I polished off two rolls to Trav’s four. Somewhere between the first and second one, I gathered the courage to ask a few questions that had been nagging me. I licked the last bit of frosting off my fork. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You remember me from when we were little, right?”

Surprise turned to joy on his face, in his voice. “You remembered?”

I shook my head guiltily. “I read it in my notebook. But here’s the thing, do you know what happened in my past? What the big secret is?”

Travis took my plate without looking at me. “There was a car accident.”

I knew this. He’d lost his mother in that accident. “When did it happen?”

“Eleven years ago.”

When I was six, and Travis was seven. He bent to put his plate in the dishwasher, effectively keeping me from seeing his face. Losing his mom that way must have been horrible for him. Apparently horrible for me, as well, if it had made me forget half my childhood.

I flashed back to the pictures in the living room. The one with four girls. A grandmother, a mom, a daughter and Abi.

It was Abi’s first knitting project. She and her little friend made it for my birthday one year.

The turkey hat. I helped knit that hat. I was Abi’s friend. I was right, Clarence had come to the hospital for a reason. He’d brought that hat to jog my memory. He’d helped Granny keep her promise.

But why was the accident that killed the beautiful Stone women a secret?

More information connected by invisible strands, like the spider web on Trav’s shoulder. Somehow his family and my family were linked by this singular event, the ripples spreading out along the silvery strands to snare us all in its sticky hold.

“It was that bad, that traumatic, that it wiped away all my memories?”

Travis pried my frozen fingers from my plate. “It was a tremendous loss, Gem. It shook everyone up bad.”

Even with my broken relationship with my parents, I couldn’t imagine losing anyone I loved. I would have gone crazy being in his shoes. “How did you survive?”

Trav’s eyes flickered. “I had a good therapist and the support of my family. It makes a difference.”

“And me?”

“I’m here for you now.”

I nestled against him, my hands caressing his skin. His in my hair. He hummed against my cheek, a deep rumble that soothed and excited me. Travis knew I was a mess and he hadn’t deserted me.

If he hadn’t yet, he never would.

I lost myself in the moment.

* * *

Angel crossed her chest and murmured a quick prayer. She prayed for a real Christmas. One where her parents could forget the Fall and start over again. Impossible, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from asking just the same. She also prayed for forgiveness once again. Both for her sins and theirs.

* * *

JayJay loved Christmas. Alone in his room, he tore down his train track and set up a farmyard. Horses grazed on the rug. Tractors plowed the wooden fields. He’d heard about cow tipping from Brutus—thought he’d give it a try. He lined up the black-and-white heifers and pushed them over one by one—found it crazy boring—and put them back in the field beside the tumbleweed-dust bunnies.

Next he played with his army dudes—let them tip cows— until the dinosaurs came. They crushed the army guys and munched on the cows—got Mad Cow Disease—and died too.

With the farm destroyed, JayJay pulled out the one stuffed animal he hid from everyone. He curled up on his bed, rubbed the tail between his finger and thumb and dreamed about tomorrow. Maybe he’d play with his pirate ship. He’d build a great big wall—bigger than the China Wall—and keep the pirates from invading the Land of Giant Bugs.

* * *

For Daisy, the most magical part of Christmas happened after the presents were unwrapped and the littles ran off to play with their new toys. Long into the night, she listened to the stories of old, shared over dessert and drinks, the men growing raucous and silly, the women growing content and serene.

From the shadows, the girls watched through virgin eyes, the love pass between the adults and the playful banter that followed. They learned what it looked like. Sounded like. Smelled like. And they dreamed of their own future loves as they silently flirted with the boys across the room.

* * *

After spending Christmas with Trav’s extended family and friends I’d been exhausted. I’d gone from sipping tea with dark-haired preschoolers in velvet dresses to smashing block cities with dimpled little boys. I’d washed dishes, served pie and watched the exchange of gifts from one family member to another. When we got back to the Stone residence, we’d both crashed on the couch.

With great difficulty, I wiggled out from under Trav’s arm without waking him. In sleep, he was more perfect than he was awake, and I resisted the temptation to crawl back under the blanket with him. I’d give anything to relive the magic of yesterday instead of heading off to work, but I’d already neglected my real life long enough.

Somewhere in the last week, I’d fallen in love with my best friend. It terrified and delighted me. Mostly terrified. I had no business starting a serious relationship when I slipped in and out of the real world as easily as I changed clothes each day.

Never mind that I had nothing to offer him. His life was perfect. His family was perfect. Mine was anything but.

Chapter 21

I settled into the work routine at the nursing home as if I had never left. The residents had been told I lost my granny and shared just the right amount of concern without crossing the line. They knew, after all, just how tenuous a grasp we all had on each day. I ended my shift exhausted, yet satisfied.

On the way home from work, I bought myself another phone to replace my lost one—thank God for insurance—and drove past the darkened farm in Trav’s pick up. The drifts were door high, and the place looked abandoned. I’d have to wait to retrieve my boxes from the garage. Not that it mattered: I had no place to put my stuff. Not until I talked to Clarence about letting me live at Granny’s.

Putting it off had been easy once I’d convinced myself that staying with Travis was best in the short term. At least until I went to the doctor. Forgetting the past was different than forgetting the now, and after everything that had gone on, a brain tumor no longer seemed far-fetched.

With nobody home at the Stone residence, I locked myself in the bathroom and dialed the clinic’s number. When I finished setting up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, I flushed the toilet and washed my hands to mask my stay behind closed doors. It didn’t work.

“Who was that?” Trav’s easy grin did nothing to hide his suspicion. There’d been a lot of that yesterday. Little moments where we weighed each other’s answers, searching for the lie behind the words. I wondered if we’d ever come clean about our secrets or if keeping things hidden was an inevitable part of all relationships.

“The doctor.”

“A therapist?”

“A regular doctor. I’ve just been…off. You know?” He shook his head, making me feel like a little kid lying about an empty cookie jar. I grasped at straws. “Ever since that accident, I’ve been having headaches. I worry it’s more serious than I first thought.”

* * *

Indie stretched out on the examining table, letting the gown drape open at the front. Not enough to completely bare herself, but just enough to garner a second glance from the doctor when he walked in.

He adjusted his glasses and peered at her file. “And what seems to be the problem today?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

* * *

“Tell me again what your symptoms are.”

I sighed and started all over with the headaches.

“When did they begin?”

“About two months ago. Middle of October or so.”

“And then what?”

“Nausea. Sometimes I throw up.”

“Hmmm hmmm?”

Before I lost my nerve, I plunged in with new information. “I’ve, uh, also been more forgetful. Almost like I pass out without actually fainting. And I kind of don’t remember some things when I wake up.”

“You drink?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you drink?”

“No. I was in a car accident. I think I might have a concussion.”

“When did this accident happen?”

It was a question I couldn’t exactly answer. Suddenly I wished Travis had come with me. “Last week sometime.”

“Wrong time frame.”

“What about seizures? Sometimes it smells like smoke before I lose track of time.”

“What kind of smoke, pot?”

Blood pounded in my ears, and my temple started to ping. “Fire smoke. Like an aura some epileptics supposedly get. Or is that migraines? Maybe I have migraines.”

He scratched notes into his file, not looking up.

The silence dragged me to an uncomfortable place, and I pulled out the trump card. “What about a brain tumor? My granny just died from cancer.”

The doctor actually snickered. He leaned back on his stool to rest against the wall and ogle me through his glasses. That’s what I got for taking the “his-schedule’s-wide-open” doctor at an unknown clinic in an unfamiliar town. “Forget it. Let’s just pretend I never came here today.”

“Irritable?”

“Heck yes, I’m irritable. Your questions are ridiculous.”

“No, I mean you sound irritable. Together with the vomiting, memory issues and headaches, it sounds like you might be experiencing chemically-induced blackouts.”

I’d had enough. I gathered the sheet around me and slid off the examining table. “You know what? I came in here because I have headaches, and you took a pregnancy test that I knew would be negative. And now you’re accusing me of being a drunk when I just told you I don’t drink. If you’re done insulting me, I’m going to leave.”

“Hmmmm.” Doctor Steinman peered up from his file, noncommittal, non-comforting. Just stared at me as if assessing my crazy-factor, like he actually wanted me to stumble out of the room half-dressed.

I did one better. I dropped the sheet and the thin hospital gown, tugged on my jeans and sweatshirt and pulled open the door.

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.”

“Because now I’m crazy?”

He shrugged: the likeness to my dad in that action set my stomach quivering. I snatched the prescription sheets from his hand and let the door slam between us.

* * *

Luna stepped into the office and dropped a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “I have an appointment.”

The receptionist—Madge, by the wood-carved name plate—twirled a lock of graying hair around a finger. “Name?”

“Luna.”

“I see…”

Clearly she didn’t. Luna leaned on the counter, picked up the money and waved it under Madge’s nose. “I don’t have insurance, but I have the greens. Now can you see if Doc is available?”

Flustered, the older lady excused herself. She disappeared down the hall, leaving Luna alone in the drab waiting room. A single chair sat in the corner next to a television tray over-flowing with outdated magazines that had the addresses blacked out on the back cover. A dried-up Christmas tree tilted unceremoniously from its spot against the far wall. Luna spent her time counting the pine needles on the worn-out carpeting.