Dream Whispers

by K.L. Bauman

  Chapter Nine

  The Picnic

  After swinging through the closest fast-food drive-through, Kayde took Becca to a large park in the center of Glenville. The giddy laughter of children playing on the structure filled the warm evening air. He’d wanted to surprise her with a picnic, hoping it would get her to open up; better food would’ve been nice, but he was no cook. Besides, he’d been eating healthy all week at Mrs. Kline’s—he needed some grease.

  He watched Becca’s every move closely, trying to catch any little clue that would help him figure out what she was all about. What caused this music that played in his mind every time he was near her? How had she stopped that same music—along with his darker emotions—that day near the hardware store? Why, when he wanted nothing more than to get on his bike and race away from her, did he find himself instead drawing helplessly toward her?

  He scowled at the bruise on her cheek. He’d never been so furious in his life than when he’d seen that idiot hit her. The thought of it still made his body burn with rage. He’d forgotten all about the errands he’d been on for Mrs. K after seeing Becca hurt. He took a deep breath, forcing himself not to think of it or he’d soon find himself hunting that kid down to give him another thrashing. He had to force back a dark song he’d begun to create, specifically for Gabe.

  A stray Frisbee landed between them, helping to distract Kayde’s thoughts. Becca laughed as she flung the disk expertly back towards a couple of tweens playing Frisbee tag. They thanked her and waved as they continued their game. Kayde kept his eyes on her, watching her cheeks turn pink under his gaze, as he grabbed a cheeseburger out of the fast food bag.

  Kayde noticed, in spite of the mystery surrounding her, Becca was a simple person compared to other girls he’d been with. No dangly earrings hung on her lobes, no gaudy rings cluttered her fingers. Only one, delicate silver chain hung from her neck; the end of it held a silver leaf with a sapphire nestled inside its curled edges. He wondered where she got it, but she spoke before he could ask.

  “So,” Becca said as she played with the napkin wrapped around her burger. “How are things?” She bit her lower lip, drawing Kayde’s attention to her mouth.

  Clearing his throat, he answered, “Fine.”

  “Been working hard at the B & B?”

  “Yep.”

  Kayde felt the corners of his mouth twitch at her frustrated look. It seemed he wasn’t the only one wanting answers tonight. He’d have to attempt to keep the conversation directed more at her. He didn’t want her knowing much about him. Not yet.

  He really wanted to ask about her parents, but he didn’t want to scare her off right away. He blurted the first question that came to mind. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Becca seemed startled at first; she looked down at the straw sticking out of her cup of soda. “Uh, g-green,” she whispered. She took a nervous sip.

  “What’s yours?” she asked softly, finally looking at him again.

  He smiled slowly, looking into her eyes, and answered, “Pale blue.”

  “Hmm. I would’ve guessed black,” she said. They chuckled, and both of them relaxed, allowing the conversation to flow in similar manner.

  “Do you have a boyfriend? That guy you were with today, maybe?”

  “Toby? No, he’s just a good friend.”

  Kayde breathed a sigh of relief, even though he’d guessed as much. “How long have you lived here?”

  “All my life. Do you have a girlfriend? Where are you from?”

  “No. Texas. My parents lived here in Montana, though. My grandpa grew up in Canada.” What was he doing? The words rolled off of his tongue without him even thinking them first. Maybe this girl had a special ability of her own. Maybe she could get in his brain and get him to do things without him even knowing it--like he did to people with his singing.

  Kayde shook his head. Get a grip, man! Just ask another question. He wanted to distract her from asking anything more about him. He shifted nervously, gearing up for the question he’d first wanted to ask. “Becca,” he said softly. “What happened to your parents?”

  The warm light in her eyes died instantly, leaving them a cold, wintry blue. Becca scowled, casting her gaze to the ground. Kayde suddenly wished he’d left the subject alone. Feeling like a jerk, he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  Becca was still staring down at her lap, so Kayde pulled his second burger from the bag. Becca picked up a French fry and picked it apart before throwing the pieces to the birds. He took an abnormally large bite of his burger—partly out of hunger and partly to ease the awkward moment. He almost choked when Becca started to speak. Her voice was barely audible above the shouting kids and barking dogs.

  “They were in a terrible car accident two years ago. No one really knows what happened. No other drivers were around. They just…went off the road and over a cliff by the badlands.” Becca kept her unblinking eyes on her lap. Kayde swallowed the lump of food he had in his cheek and took a sip of his soda. He probably looked like he didn’t care what she was telling him, but he needed to do something with his hands to keep focused; he could feel her torment washing toward him like a tidal wave.

  Becca’s scowl deepened. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at a group of adults sitting on a bench close by before continuing. She spoke so quietly, Kayde had to lean forward to hear her. “People started talking, saying Dad had been drinking, that he’d lost control of his senses and his bearings because he was so plastered.” Her face turned red and she grasped her cup so tightly it started crushing beneath her fingers. Kayde’s heart dropped when Becca looked up at him, tears edging her angry eyes. “But Dad never drank. He was the most honest, hard working man I’ve ever known!”

  Why had he asked her this question? What sort of heartless guy was he to make her re-live what was probably the worst moment in her life? In his agitation, Kayde took another mouthful of fries and a huge drink of soda. He remembered his own feelings when his grandfather died. He knew the darkness that Becca was feeling. He was suddenly furious with the entire town for starting the rumor about her dad.

  Kayde opened his mouth to speak, but instead a horrid, untimely belch burst from his gut. Becca slapped her face over her hands and then rested her elbows against her knees.

  “Oh, crap! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean---Becca,” Kayde said her name more softly, trying to ignore the people staring at them now because of his socially inappropriate behavior. How could he be so stupid? He had to make things right.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again quietly, sincerely. Reaching across the space between them, Kayde softly placed his hand over Becca’s, wanting more than anything to comfort her, to take away the tortured feelings that had shown in her eyes, to protect her from the darkness.

  As soon as his flesh touched hers, the strange energy took over. It wound around his hand, up his arm, and sang in his ears. Kayde felt hopelessness at first—that dark and lonely feeling from what he and Becca had both lost. But it gradually changed, growing brighter. It seemed to reflect in Becca’s astonished eyes as she lowered her hands to look at him.

  “Do you feel that?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he managed to breathe back at her.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What are you?”

  This question threw Kayde off guard. He drew his hand away, severing the connection. His skin was still tingling, though, as he raised a brow at her. “What do you mean?”