Whispering Minds

by A. T. O'Connor

  I relented, and we lugged my suitcase and bags of clothes to Trav’s truck. They barely fit in the cab, and I thanked my foresight in taking the rest of my books and treasure boxes to the shed for safekeeping. I’d have to come back and get those another day. Unsure of when my parents would return, I turned off the water and ran the lines clear. Our pipes had frozen before, and the mess was too much to leave for them. Not that my dad couldn’t handle it: he worked as a plumber after all—when he stayed sober long enough to trade his services for money.

  Next I closed all the shades in case Old Man Parson wanted to snoop. My last stop was the office. I gathered my notebooks and checked around for any other schoolwork I might need. On my way past the bookshelves, I ran my fingers over the books that had kept me sane during the past four years. Escaping into them had been easier than dealing with my family. A thin silver spine caught my attention. I pulled Cowboy Heroes and Legends off the shelf.

  “What’s that?”

  “Just a book I used to read.”

  Travis took it from me and flipped through the pages. “Looks interesting.”

  “Very. I used to dream of living back then. Of having a cowboy sweep me off my feet and take me away to a ranch where we’d raise a herd of kids and a cow or two.” I felt lame admitting it out loud.

  He pointed to a black-and-white photo of a man sitting atop a horse, his hat tilted to keep off the sun. “Like this one?”

  “Ugh no.” I flashed Travis a grin and turned to page sixty-seven and sighed dreamily. “Like this one.”

  He scratched his chin in mock concentration. “Looks an awful lot like me.”

  I snatched the book away, refusing to admit he was right, and set it on the desk with my mounting pile of stuff. From behind, Travis wrapped his arms around me. His breath sent sparks of electricity all the way to my toes.

  Boyfriend.

  Best friend.

  Love.

  Lover.

  Friends. Only friends.

  I groaned, confused by the conflict running through me. Why was I so chicken to love him back?

  Encouraged by my groan, he nuzzled my cheek, leaving a train of small kisses along my neck. Before I could rebel or respond with affection of my own, he loosened his hold. Panic stirred at the thought of losing him. It had nearly crushed me when he didn’t answer my call. The bruises on my heart hurt more than the bruises on my body.

  Despite the pulse in my temples, I turned and caught his face in my hands. “Travis…I…”

  My words got lost as our lips met. A tremor shot through me, and I held on tighter, pressing my body against his, needing the heat to melt the last of my hesitation. My hands found their way along his back, and I pulled him closer, feeding my newly awakened desire.

  * * *

  Indie reveled in the thought of finally losing her virginity. God knows, she’d tried hard enough. Booze parties, sneaking out, showing off her wares in tight shirts and short skirts. She’d wrapped herself up as a free gift and still, she’d never quite managed to get the job done.

  But those boys were mere shadows of the man she now held in her arms.

  She thrust her pelvis against his and trailed her hand down his arm, along his spine, dipping her fingers into his waistband, under his shirt, searing flesh against flesh.

  Damn, if he wasn’t a fine specimen.

  Her fingers found his zipper, struggled with his button. She moaned his name into his mouth, asked him to take her upstairs.

  His hands tangled in her hair. Tousled it into the just laid look—one she’d be proud to wear. At least then, she’d finally be good for something.

  * * *

  I returned Trav’s kisses with a passion I didn’t know existed. Nothing had ever felt so right before, and I wasn’t willing to let go of him now. When he pulled back, I took the lead. It was no longer his hands caressing me, but rather mine that stoked the fire just under his skin. For once, the ache in my head disappeared, the voices quieted by the pounding of my own heart.

  “Relax, Gemi. I’m not going anywhere.” Trav’s laugh had a husky quality that ratcheted up my desire. “Not after working so hard to get this far.”

  I ran my tongue along his jawbone, tasting salty sweetness. “Don’t be such a gentleman, Travis. For once do something wild and crazy.”

  With a sigh, he untangled our limbs and set me aside. “I am. I’m saying no.”

  Chapter 18

  Travis was quiet on the way to his house. While he never broke the physical connection between us, he was somewhere else emotionally. I worried over the events of the past few hours, wondering if I’d done something wrong. By the time we reached his house, I decided I’d made progress on the honesty front—with him and myself. From now on, I’d tell Travis everything that happened when it happened.

  And I’d start keeping track of everything, just like in my dream notebook. The whole purpose behind the project had been to make us conscious of our dreams, to help us remember more vividly what went on in our heads at night. If I applied this tactic to my waking life, I should be able to figure out exactly when and why I was blacking out.

  Travis helped me out of the truck and led me up the step. My stomach growled in response to the aroma seeping into the winter night. I honestly didn’t know the last time I had eaten. Thanks to Travis, I knew I’d missed nearly forty-eight hours of my life. He reasoned that the knock on my head left me wandering the house for at least a day before calling him.

  I wanted him to be right, but deep inside, I feared he was wrong. Something terrible happened, and I had no idea what. I pushed the thought away and followed Travis into the house. His home felt comfortable in a way mine never had. Firefighter knickknacks filled in the spaces on the bookshelves, and a Dalmatian lounged in front of the fireplace. A tiny Christmas tree sparkled in the corner of the living room. Everywhere I looked, things were neat and tidy, kept up and well loved.

  I carried my suitcase into Trav’s bedroom and made my way to the kitchen where he and his grandpa were cooking. “Just for the record, something smells absolutely delicious.”

  Clarence stopped chopping. “Indian tacos.”

  I walked over and gave him a warm hug. I didn’t know if there were rules against hugging a shrink, but it felt right. In fact, everything about the moment felt right. Maybe I should just stay with Travis until I graduate.

  A loud buzz sounded from the back of the house announcing the six o’clock fire station check. Travis left to shut off his dad’s pager, while Clarence made his way around the kitchen. I searched the recesses of my mind and came up empty as to an explanation for his missing foot—unless you counted my theory of my dad chopping it off.

  As if reading my thoughts, Clarence pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, Miss Gemini. I have a story to tell you about my life.”

  Travis carried out a few platters and set them on the table. When nobody else sat, I realized they were waiting on me. Embarrassed, I sank into my seat. Clarence and Travis followed suit, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. I couldn’t remember the last time my family had eaten at the table together. Nor could I ever recall a time when my dad had pulled a chair out for Mom to sit. Maybe that was before my birth, when my dad still smiled.

  Like in the church photo.

  An electric pain shot through me.

  Where had that come from?

  I strained to hold onto the image and what it could mean. I saw my dad and Mom in front of a gray backdrop, his hand on her shoulder. A black smudge darkened the bottom half of the picture, erasing them from the chest down.

  Travis nudged my foot under the table with his. The vision vanished. I shook my head and turned to Clarence. He’d already started his story.

  “I was born a twin on a black night. The moon hid behind thick clouds, and not a star could be found in the sky. It was a bad omen to begin with. Made worse when the medicine man entered the tipi, said a few words and left. The squaws began wailing and carrying on. The Trickster had come cal
ling.

  “We were born under a black sky, two boys connected. My mother died that night. My brother, the bigger of us, got to remain whole. Me, I lost the foot that we shared. The shaman cut the flesh that bound us, leaving a scar on me from armpit to ankle. That is where my scar ends and my brother’s foot begins.”

  I found Trav’s hand under the table. His fingers were warm and rough, and filled with strength.

  Clarence continued. “I do not begrudge my brother his foot. Instead, I pray daily to the Great Spirit who gave me a reason to stay home from the hunt that took my brother’s life.”

  A sound bubbled up in my throat. I wasn’t sure if I was going to laugh or cry.

  Clarence patted my hand. “Do not look so horrified, my little Gemini. You of the name Twin. His blood I share, and he mine. When he died, so did I. Yet through me, he, too, lives on.”

  “Do you, um, ever use a…would it be easier to get around with a crutch?”

  Clarence smiled, the depths of his eyes shining with wisdom. He tapped his chest. “In my heart, I am whole, and that is what matters.”

  I tried to return his smile, but failed.

  “Besides, my wee Gem, it is more joyful to hop through life than to hobble through it.”

  Travis grunted. “The doctors have been trying for years to get him on crutches. It would be easier on his knee, but he’s too dang stubborn.”

  My stomach growled, breaking off the glaring contest between the generations. If tacos had been my favorite meal before tonight, the Indian version far outranked them. I ate, while Travis and Clarence talked, basking in the normalness of the night.

  Functional families did not spend Christmas Eve at the casino. They did not abandon their children. They…. I pushed against the knot on my head, banishing all thoughts of my parents. I would not let them ruin this night for me.

  Too full to eat another bite, I stood and gathered the dishes. Travis helped me clear the table while Clarence moved into the living room to start a fire.

  Alone in the kitchen, Travis caught me around the waist. “You okay?”

  “Just tired. I didn’t realize how hard it is to get back into life.”

  He tilted my chin and touched his lips to mine. “You’re only a week in. It takes longer than that for the pain to fade.”

  He’d never talked about his mom before. I didn’t know if he wanted to now, but I asked anyway. “How long did it take to get over her?”

  “You never get over it. It only gets less difficult.” He turned back to the sink. “You know, you can talk to my grandpa if you’re having a tough time. It’s what he does.”

  Despite Clarence being one hundred percent sweetheart, the thought terrified me. He, like Travis, seemed to know more about me than I knew about myself. And as much as I knew I needed help, I wasn’t quite ready to have a one on one with Clarence. Not tonight. I silently vowed to visit his office as soon as the holidays were over. Until then I needed a break from the craziness that had been haunting me since Granny’s death.

  We finished cleaning up and headed to the living room. Travis sat on a recliner, while I sat in front of him on the floor. We listened to his grandfather talk. In between stories, they smoked. Not cigarettes, but pipes with sweet smelling tobacco. Having lived in Prairie Flats—or thereabouts—my entire life, I knew well the story of the peace pipe and how important tobacco is to the Native Americans. But until now, I’d never experienced the smell of it first hand. I inhaled deeply, finally understanding where Trav’s familiar scent came from.

  Lazily, I watched the smoke billow out of the pipes and fade away into the far corners of the room. Travis settled his hands on my neck and massaged my shoulders and upper arms. Completely relaxed, the story of Black Corn, a squaw who suffered great abuse at the hands of men, reached my brain like wisps of smoke, leaving a thin residue across my memory.

  After Clarence left, I crawled into Trav’s bed and hugged his pillow. It smelled of him and was nearly as comforting as cuddling up against him. His steady snores from the next room relaxed me, and I tried to sleep, but the tale of Black Corn nagged at me. Abused and self-loathing, she reminded me of Luna.

  At the mere thought of her, something dark and dangerous stirred at the corners of my memory. Luna’s unrest. A message unanswered. Another…a warning…. I struggled to pull together the thoughts.

  I flipped on the bedside light, letting my eyes adjust to the inside of Trav’s room. His dresser held stacks of books, while his night stand held a framed picture of me. I loved that he went to bed each night looking at me, and marveled that he hadn’t flipped it down or removed it altogether after our fight.

  A dream catcher hung on the wall above his bed. Blue and green feathers trailed from the central web. I stood on the bed and took it down. A spider occupied the center of the ring, its body made of fine black strands twisted together. It was the same material that wrapped around the web and secured the tiny hummingbird feathers.

  My fingers traced the pattern memorizing the feel of it beneath my fingers. It matched the dream catcher in my room at Granny’s. The same feathers, the same human hair. Even the watchful spider in the center was the same. When I’d asked Granny about the spider as a kid, she’d asked in return, “Who better to catch scary things than a spider?”

  The coincidence between the dream catchers was too much. I grabbed my notebook and jotted down every weird thing I could remember to date. All I had to do now was ask the right questions when I next visited Clarence. With my head emptied, I turned back to the pillow.

  * * *

  Luna listened for the sounds of sleep, waiting for her moment to escape. She’d promised James she would meet him tonight. Not ideal, she knew. But Christmas Eve couldn’t suck only for her. Somebody else should be as miserable as she. Gemini, for instance.

  But no, Little Miss Perfect slept peacefully in her boyfriend’s bed.

  She seemed to have totally forgotten the assault on her room, and the fact that she had friends. Gemini hadn’t logged on to her computer in days, as if the Dozen had ceased to exist. Not for the first time, Luna wished she’d never answered Gemini’s call for help on the forums.

  She would give anything to be back in her world before Gemini’s intrusion. Little Miss Gemi could take her psych notebook and shove it. Better yet, Luna would do the shoving for her.

  Now to find James.

  * * *

  Darkness softened into light, and I willed my dream-self back to the yellow room with the Baker’s Dozen. This time I counted heads right away. Both James and Luna were missing. My sense of unease increased. Without Luna, I wouldn’t get a straight answer about the vandalism or the threat.

  Everyone else lounged around the room, almost as if they hadn’t moved since the last time I dreamed about them. JayJay’s train track overtook the floor. Art work covered the walls. Coloring book characters frolicked about; a bear outlined in black, crayoned in with shades of brown, and an old lady saving a kitten finished off in pastels.

  Rae sat in her rocking chair. The clack of her knitting needles the only sound in the quiet room. Brutus, Angel and Daisy shared the bed with Indie. Indie painted her nails bright red in even, practiced sweeps. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, obscuring her face. Angel watched without a hint of longing or jealousy on her perfect features. She truly looked like she’d been carved from a piece of heaven.

  Brutus sported a black eye. If it’s in your way, remove it.

  Someone had obviously gotten in his way. And recently, by the looks of it.

  Daisy held a stuffed animal in her hands. She stroked the white fur. My heart skipped a beat. Where had I seen it before?

  In the background, Bach played the tinny piano, though the music pouring from it sounded equal to that of a grand piano at the mall. The Poet scribbled in his notebook without looking up. Beside him, Einstein stared at me with openly curious eyes. They were a beautiful shade of green and never blinked. After a disconcerting moment, I looked away.
/>   “Where’s James?”

  Brutus tried to sit up, making the bed springs groan under his massive weight. “He doesn’t come here. He’s a bit more…reserved…than the rest of us.”

  “Reserved?” Indie practically snorted. “He’s not reserved. He’s embarrassed.”

  “Of what?”

  “Us.” This from Einstein.

  A nervous giggle escaped my lips. “But we’re the only ones here.”

  “He doth not mean here, per se, but rather in the public way.”

  “Very profound, Poet. But I think you’re confusing our little Gemini.” Rae never stopped knitting, even as her thin shoulders shrugged in my direction.

  A snippet of memory nagged at my mind. James telling me he and Luna were planning to meet. And now the rest of the Dozen were all together. “You guys get together in public? Why have I never been invited?”

  Daisy giggled. “Not so much, Gemi, really. We would never leave you out of something that big. Besides, en masse we can be a bit much.”

  “It wouldn’t be wise.” Fell spoke from her watch by the door. “Nor is this conversation. Gemini, dear, just close your eyes and dream of something else. Something sweet.”

  Brutus grunted. “As if that’s possible. When are you going to tell her the truth about Travis and her granny?”

  Fell held up her hand to cut Brutus off. “She doesn’t need to know.”

  I squared up against Fell. “Actually, I do need to know. It’s why I’m here.”

  She yawned, as if bored. “What’s your question, little one? Make it quick, though, as you need your sleep.”

  Undeterred, I pushed on. “What’s the deal with Luna?”

  Fell’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “She and James are meeting.”

  Again the bored look. “It’s okay, Gemini. We know many of the same people you know.”

  “She threatened me. I think. Or at least that’s what James said. And there were texts on my phone.”

  From his spot on the bed, Brutus roared like a wounded animal.

  Daisy soothed his hair back from his forehead, shifting just enough to reveal the black stockings tying him to the headboard of the bed. Petrified, I grabbed the door handle, ignoring the searing pain in my palm as I wrenched it open. I paused, trying to see into the dark hallway, weighing the greater evil—the unknown or the crazy Dozen?