"Would you like to see some of my musings about you?" he asked quietly.
"Yes" hadn't reached my mouth before he responded. And I saw myself in a way I never had―not even when he had previously opened himself up to me. Probably, I reasoned, because I had been so absorbed by the strength of the overall feelings before that I hadn't singled out any particular images from his inner world.
This was different―more refined, more selective. And I could tell that he had somehow categorized these impressions to address this specific subject. (How did he do that? He was so far ahead of me.) They were . . . astonishing. Primarily because I was bewilderingly lovely in them. I simply did not see myself that way. But I found myself deeply moved by the fact that he did. And the realization that his fantasies and mine dovetailed beautifully.
No wonder that my inner life was so appealing to him. I would be sorely tempted to do the same thing myself―if I had his skill level. But we still had to reach some kind of understanding affording each of us some measure of personal space and privacy. He had already dealt with this kind of thing in his family, so we should be able to work it out.
I let out a very deep sigh, and opened my eyes to find Will's. They were gazing at me. "So, what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Would it be reasonable for you to, um, ask first?" I suggested doubtfully. I liked our free access to each other and didn't want to limit it. But there were some other needs surfacing that had to be addressed.
He seemed to understand. "That's very reasonable. And I'm sorry I didn't start out that way. I was so excited when I was able to reach you clearly that it didn't even occur to me at first. And then―well, I guess I didn't really think it through completely until now. Cassie, it doesn't excuse anything, but I want you to know that it has only been a few days.
"Sorry. Again. I'll work harder on speaking to you clearly over distances so I can ask."
"Thank you." But this wasn't entirely the way I wanted it. Something wasn't quite right. My issue, mostly my responsibility. And I wanted to have at least some control over it. "I'll work harder on my curtains with you so you won't have to control yourself and ask all the time. For now, if they're open, you can assume it's okay. If they're closed, you can ask and I'll probably open them for you anyway." That felt more equitable, instead of expecting him to do it all. And I really needed to master that skill anyway. Especially if I wanted to learn additional ones. Speaking of which . . . .
"Will?"
"Yes?"
"I want to be able to read you at distances, too. And talk to you. Could we work together and help each other? I really don’t think that would interfere with getting ready for college next month. Do you?"
"I'd like that. A lot, actually. And, no, I don’t think it would interfere." He paused to think. "In fact, being able to stay connected with me while you’re on campus would probably be a good thing. Why don't I try getting your attention after you go home tonight? If you hear me, try to answer. If I don't hear from you within, say, five minutes, I'll call you."
"And then I'll try getting you to hear me?"
"Right. And we can practice back and forth until we get it. Shall we give it a shot?"
"Yes!" I was excited by the concept of being available to each other all the time, and anywhere. (Well, eventually.) And without having to use cell phones!
"Anything else we need to resolve?"
There might have been something, but I didn't want to deal with it right then. We had faced another issue, but with no fight. This was a lot better. Time to . . . well, not make up. But something like.
I got up, walked over to him, and held out my hand. I've got another idea. I pictured it in my mind for him to see. Okay with you?
It must have been. After a quick read, he grinned and accepted my hand. Then, pulling me to him, we rehearsed the preliminaries to some of our shared fantasies.
The second piece of information I had gleaned from his mind earlier? I decided he didn't need to know I had discovered it―if he wasn't already aware that I had. I would let him surprise me. And, based on what I didn't see during my foray into his thoughts, I would still have a surprise of my own for him.
When Will dropped me off at home that night, I was eager to get started on our long distance communication. But it didn’t happen right away. Gina had left a note on my pillow that Sam wanted me to call her as soon as I got in, no matter what time it was. She must have been serious because she even had Gina write down her cell phone number, which Sam knew I had long since memorized. So I called her.
"What's up?" I asked after the usual hello's.
"You are sure hard to get hold of these days," she said. Huh? I worked with her four days a week. "On weekends, I mean," she explained. Oh, okay. "You don't even answer your cell phone." True enough. I figured Will was more important.
"Yeah. I guess I am," I responded.
"It's because you're with him, isn't it?"
Of course. "Yes."
"I was trying to get you in time for this weekend, but, since you won't even answer your cell phone . . . ." Point made. But I wasn't going to change anything.
I chuckled. "Well, you've got me now. What is it?"
"Greg and I would like to go out with you and Will next weekend―either Friday or Saturday night. To a movie," Sam said.
Greg was a college friend of her brother Todd whom she had been dating for the last few weeks. I had met him at the Boutique a few times. He was a lot like Sam―straightforward, laid back, and easy for me to be around (particularly with my improved filtering skills). "Sounds like fun," I responded. "I’ll talk to Will and get back to you tomorrow."
"Okay, if you promise," she emphasized.
I chuckled again. "Cross my heart."
"Alright. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Yup. Tomorrow."
“Okay. ‘Bye.”
“’Bye.”
I was relieved that Sam hadn’t wanted to talk for long. Had Will been trying to get through to me while I was distracted talking to Sam? I tried to focus in when my phone rang. It was Will.
"Cassie, did you hear me?"
I explained that I had been returning Sam's call. "So I didn't hear you, but I wasn't really listening. I'm sorry, Will. Would you try again, please?"
"Sure. Why don't you go ahead with whatever you usually do, and I'll try again within the next few minutes."
"Okay." So I started getting ready for bed. It was while I was brushing my teeth that I thought I heard him, but very faintly and only in part. Something about "Sam" and "calling." Maybe he was asking why Sam was calling me.
Well, my turn. I closed my eyes, and starting searching for him. But I realized I didn't know how. I tried sending thoughts about a double date with Sam and Greg in the direction of his house, but that didn't seem quite right. And it definitely didn't work. Thinking of what I usually did, I tried searching for the feel of him―the familiarity of his mind and emotions. But it seemed such a vast empty space with nothing to guide me to him. I kept looking anyway.
The phone rang again.
"Did I get through this time?" Will asked.
"I think so. Was it something about Sam and calling?" If that wasn't right, I must have been imagining things.
"Yes! I asked what Sam was calling you about. So we managed to connect on the gist of it. If it's the same as with the other long distance communication I've been working on, the rest will fill in as we progress."
Okay. He could locate me to contact. But how? "You couldn't hear me, though. Could you?"
"No, Love," he answered.
I must have been able to hear him more from his ability to send than mine to receive. And he didn't hear me because I couldn't even find him. "I couldn't find you, Will. It's not the same as when we're closer. I didn't know how to send my thoughts."
"That may be the problem. Assuming it's the same for you as me, I don't have to send anything. Or search. And it's not only a mental process. It's more like my whole consciousness―thou
ghts, feelings, everything―calls for you, or opens up to you. And it seems to draw the connection to me. I don't go looking for it. Then the message or information flows along the connection," he tried to explain. "Maybe you were trying too hard instead of opening up and allowing it to happen."
That felt right. And now I recognized that, when he was close, I didn't think direction or know exactly where he was. I just knew he was near and invited the communication with him by wanting it and opening myself up to it. I wanted to try again. "Thank you, Will. I think I understand better now. Shall I try again?"
"Absolutely. I'll call you back in five minutes if I don't get anything. Before that if I do. Okay?"
"Okay." And we ended the call.
This time, I simply thought of Will, felt about Will; opening up to invite him in. I expressed myself by wanting to let him know about the double date that Sam had invited us on with her and Greg. So I concentrated on that idea, focusing on Will knowing about it, too.
My phone rang again. How many minutes had it been? It seemed like only two or three.
"Cassie?"
"Did it work?"
"I think so. Was it something about Sam and a date?"
Yea! "Yes, it was. Sam and Greg want us to go on a double date with them next weekend." How exciting! I did it! Well, at least in part. "That's a good start, isn't it?"
"That's a great start, Cassie! But, if you don’t mind, I think that's probably enough for tonight. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm really tired. And I'd rather sleep tonight than be worn out tomorrow when I can be with you. Do you want to try again tomorrow night?"
Oh, alright. He didn't often express a desire to sleep, so I knew he must really need it. Truth be told, I probably did as well. "Okay. Thank you for helping me," I added.
"You are most welcome. I enjoy doing this kind of thing with you."
"Me, too." Wasn't there something I needed to ask? Oh, yeah. "So, what about the double date? With Sam and Greg? She mentioned going to a movie." Sam would never let me forget it if I didn't call her tomorrow as promised.
"Do you want to go?" Will asked.
"Yeah. I think it will be fun." As long as I was with him.
"Then let's go," he said. Did he say something else? I didn't hear it with my ears, but it seemed like he was still talking . . . .
And then it came through, very faintly, but more clearly than before: "I love you, Cassie."
I love you, Will, I responded. Did my message get through? "I heard you, Will."
"Telling you I love you?"
"Yup. Did you hear me answer?"
"I think so. But it was kind of hard to understand. Did you say you love me?" he queried.
"Yes. But since it didn't come through very well―I love you, William Stuart."
He chuckled. "And, again, I love you, Cassandra Campbell. Sweet dreams."
"You, too." And we ended the call.
I wasn't quite sure at first, but I thought I heard him again as I was dropping off to sleep. Then it became clearer. It was him. And he was singing―a slow, peaceful melody. A lullaby, just for me. Was he spoiling me, or what? The only way it could have been better was if he were there in person.
I closed my eyes, and allowed his soothing voice to carry me off to sleep.
.Chapter Nineteen
It was going to be a wonderful Christmas. I was so excited!
First―although not foremost―I was finished with high school. Hurray! Done, done, done, done, done! I had the option of going through the formal graduation ceremony the next May if I wanted to (no way), but I was officially a high school graduate. No school until January, when I started at the University. Second, because Sam was also out of school for Winter Break, Mrs. Miller decided that she didn’t need me at the store. She had offered to give me some hours if I needed "some money for those last minute Christmas extras," but I declined.
I had been very careful with my earnings since starting work at the Boutique. I purchased a few Christmas gifts―for Will, of course, and his family, certainly Mark and Gina, and Sam and her mom. Gina said it was appropriate to give your boss a small "remembrance" sort of thing. (After all, if it weren’t for her generous hourly wage for my newly skilled labor, none of the purchases would have been possible.) But most of the money had faithfully gone toward my original goal: An engagement ring, as it were, for Will.
Although we had initially said we would exchange rings later in the spring after we finished our scheduled payments, I knew that Will had decided on another idea that he was going to carry out for Christmas. (This was the second piece of information I had searched out during my recent visit to the innermost recesses of his mind.) And I had a reciprocal surprise for him. In preparation for which, his ring was entirely paid for and in my nightstand at home.
It would be great! That is, if he hadn't changed his mind for some reason. Like, maybe, because he had deduced that I knew about his surprise for me. I hadn't been able to get back inside him to confirm. He had a new shield up. (It was different. An electric field of some sort.) But I figured there was no need to get past it right away―I had been very careful, even when I wasn't with him, so I didn't think he could have found out.
These days, he put up his old shield―the one I had slipped through―as sort of a welcome mat when it was okay for me to come in. The old one still kept everything else out, so he only used the new one when he needed privacy. (Come to think of it, he had been using the new one a lot lately. Was he protecting the secret he didn’t know that I already knew? Or did he have something else up his sleeve?)
Although I had made tremendous progress in setting up my curtains to keep the world in general out, to three different degrees, I still wasn't able to exclude Will. In spite of my occasional need for privacy. Consequently, we had refined our previous understanding. When only my sheer and medium weight curtains were in place, he knew that he was welcome and came on in. And when my heavy duty stage curtain was up―I used that curtain a lot when the world in general was overwhelming―he understood that he might be welcome, but he checked with me first to make sure.
So, although we hadn't before seen how it could be useful, his ability to call to me without actually entering came in quite handy. He was still way ahead of me in proficiency, especially when it came to the reliability and clarity of our telepathic interactions. In fact, I was sure he was more responsible for our ability to connect this way than I was. (I still didn't comprehend how he could be so precise in so many ways. He kept assuring me that I would figure it out.) We were now to the point where we could communicate no matter where we were―within a few miles of each other, at least. We hadn't tried for farther yet.
It was fun to be able to talk to each other "long distance," instead of being limited to when we were in the same vicinity. It was exciting to just call Will's name inside myself and have him answer―any time of the day or night. (Though we did agree to avoid interrupting each other's classes.) His sensitivity to me had become so refined that even my dreams about him would beckon him. And it warmed my heart that his voice was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep at night, although it was usually in the middle of a conversation because we didn't want to stop talking until one or both of us dozed off. And it didn't have to be over the phone. (We still used that, too. The sensory experience of hearing with our physical ears was pleasant as well.)
I began to wonder if I had become thoroughly spoiled. Will was remarkably good to me; exceptionally sweet and thoughtful. Melinda would pretend to gag when I said such things within her hearing. Will just laughed. Whether at her or me or both of us, I wasn't quite sure.
For example, and in addition to chauffeuring me virtually everywhere I went, there was a flower waiting on the passenger seat of his car for me every weekday when he picked us up from school. Now that was ending, I wasn't sure exactly what would happen. But I was confident it would be good―whatever it was.
The absolutely best part of all, however, was the simple reality that he l
oved being with me. And it was the same for me. Always had been, according to my now restored memory as confirmed by Will and his family. We had always been inseparable, and "unbearably" (Melinda's version) happy with each other. (Will pointed out to her that she had been too young at the time to remember very accurately.)
And that, of course, was another exciting thing about this Christmas Break: Being free to spend time with Will since I had no work or school. Will had no school over the break and only one meeting near the end of the break to attend for his work. I was going to go with him and wait, then he was going to help me find my classrooms so I wouldn’t feel totally lost the first day of school. So, essentially, my whole life with Will for more than two weeks! (I would have counted the days, but I was afraid that keeping track of the time would interfere with enjoying it.)
And it would start that very afternoon. I had finished my finals the day before, but had to go in to school in order to complete some paperwork related to graduation, clean out my locker, and so on. All was now complete, and I was standing outside the school with Melinda and everything from my locker (which wasn't much) in my backpack, waiting for Will.
"This is so lame," commented Melinda.
"What is?" I asked.
"We won't be waiting for Will together anymore." She appeared to be thinking so hard there was almost a frown on her face. "I'm going to miss you, Cassie."
I wasn't expecting that. "I'm going to miss you, too. But it's not like we're not going to still see each other every day. Or almost. You don't think you're going to get rid of me that easily, do you?"
She cheered up a bit. "Yeah. You're right. And, even though I'm going to ride the bus now, you'll still come get me sometimes, won't you?"
I put my arm around her. "Sure we will. In fact, we've both got a light load on Fridays. I'll check with Will. Maybe we could come pick you up every Friday," I suggested.
"Okay," Melinda responded. Then she grinned. "Until I get a boyfriend of my own to pick me up every day, that is." She was alright now. "Speaking of which . . . ," she began, as Will pulled up.
Ascent Page 24