Through Indigo's Eyes

by Tara Taylor

  My back went rigid, and I turned my head to stare out the window. Was he talking about Amber? Was he trying to hurt me on purpose? Why would he say something like that, today of all days? I mean, saying that about Lacey was okay with me. She was my friend, and she was the prettiest girl in the school. But Amber? My skin itched, and I gnashed my teeth together. Did he not think I was pretty, too? He’d only ever once said anything about my looks, and that was at Christmas. I opened the car window to let in some air. It flowed through my hair and around my body.

  Why was I worried about something like how John feels about my looks just after such a crazy night?

  Forget about it, Indie. Just forget.

  John continued talking, obviously not noticing my silence or my hurt. “The guy got really lucky. He could’ve been paralyzed.”

  I helped him. I fiddled with the clasp on my purse. Life was worth living if I could help people.

  “I met a guy in a wheelchair one day at Billings Bridge, and he seemed really happy,” I said. “Maybe Burke would have worked in hockey in a different way, just not as a player. Or maybe he would have made a total recovery with some new research.” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help myself.

  John glanced at me, from the side of his eyes. “I was wondering,” he mused, almost hemming and hawing. He paused for a beat. Then he quickly said, “If you still wanted to go to grad with me?”

  My heart hummed, my blood bubbled, and my nerves tingled just like when I had first met him.

  “Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “I’d like that.”

  “Me too,” he said. Then he took his gaze off the road for a second to look at me. Our eyes connected. He smiled at me, and my body thawed and felt warm and fuzzy. Then he looked back at the road but put his hand on my knee.

  His touch sent shivers flying through my entire body. What was it about him that made me react so strongly? Why could he control me with such a small gesture? But then something else crept through my body like a slithering sneaky snake. I could feel his hand vibrating on my thigh. He seemed distant, jittery, overly talkative … and his eyes were always bloodshot. Deep down, I knew he was high; I just didn’t want to admit it.

  He took his hand off my thigh and casually rested it on the back of my seat, behind my neck. I felt the pad of his fingertip circling the skin on my neck, like a brush of warm air.

  So much to say, but how to say it? I needed to tell him about his father and his mother. It was as if a pile of words were lodged behind a dam in my throat. I stared straight ahead. How was I going to tell him?

  You have to learn when to talk and when not to talk. Some people have to figure things out for themselves. My gentle man’s voice spoke to me. You can’t save people, but you can help.

  Were these words of wisdom? I don’t know what to do, I thought.

  Patience. When the time is right, you will tell him.

  Tonight I had stood up and yelled at Burke, and perhaps by doing that, I had saved his life.

  But I hadn’t saved Nathan.

  Because you didn’t know how.

  “You want to hang out tomorrow?” John interrupted my thoughts.

  “I can’t,” I said. I paused for a second before I said, “I have a rehearsal with the band. They’re going to let me do one song with them.”

  “Are you serious?” His tone was accusing again, the old John.

  I turned and looked at his profile. “Yeah,” I said firmly, as if his question was stupid.

  He took his eyes off the road long enough for me to see the frown on his face. “So lame, Indie. Rise above that crap,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’ve never even heard us.”

  “Well, don’t ask me to come to your stupid performance if that’s what you call it.”

  “I won’t.”

  He tapped his hand on his steering wheel in obvious agitation. Then suddenly, he cranked the steering wheel and pulled the car over, skidding on the gravel on the side of the road. He grabbed my upper arm and squeezed it until I could feel his fingers digging into my skin. “I don’t want you in that band.”

  I yanked my arm away from him. “Don’t. That hurts.”

  He sank into his seat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He hung his head. “It’s just this thing with my dad is eating me up inside.”

  I wanted to hug him, tell him everything was going to be okay, that I would help him through the stuff with his dad. Instead, I said very calmly, “It’s not an excuse, John.”

  He glanced at me and in a hushed tone said, “I didn’t hurt you, Indie. I barely touched you.”

  “I want to go home.”

  The car lurched forward as John pulled away from the curb, going well over the speed limit. I gripped the door handle and stared straight ahead. Why had I agreed to ride with him? He pulled into my driveway, and when I went to get out of the car, he tenderly put his hand on mine. I turned and stared directly in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Indie,” he said. “Would you help me find my dad?”

  “John, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think your dad is gone.” The words came out of my mouth before I realized what I had said. If the truth be known, at that moment in time, I would have done anything to take them back. The pain etched on John’s face was unbearable, more than I could handle. I looked down at my hands, letting my hair fall in front of my face. My heart beat through my skin, and it ached. His pain seeped into every pore in my body.

  “Dead?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  John smacked his hands against the car steering wheel over and over and over. He cursed and yelled. I just watched quietly. Finally, after more than a minute of him ranting, I put my hand on his. His body stilled, and he curled over the steering wheel, sobs racking his body. “I’m like him,” he said. “I hurt you tonight, just like he hurt my mom.”

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t want to tell him it was okay, because it wasn’t. I moved beside him and put my arm around his shoulders and rested my cheek against his arm. I let him cry until he had no more tears to cry. Then he turned and took me in his arms and hugged me. I hugged him back. When we pulled apart, he lifted my chin and looked me in the eyes. “How did he die?” he whispered.

  Without thinking of my words, I replied, “That’s something you should ask your mom.”

  Chapter

  Twenty

  Roses bloomed, and their sweet smell lingered in the air. Nathan splashed around in a huge lake, wearing a bright red life jacket. “Look at me, Indie,” he yelled. “I can swim.” A lady in a red coat skated across the lake, and it turned to ice, and as she skated, Nathan played his violin, the high notes ringing. He was now standing on the ice but still wearing his life jacket. “You’ll be great at your concert,” he said. The lady made a perfect hockey stop, and suddenly she became Burke in a black and gold Pittsburgh Penguins jersey. “Thanks, Indie. You saved my life.” He flashed his perfect smile, and as he skated away, he turned into a woman wearing a blue winter coat and a gray and blue scarf, walking, holding a child’s hand. Nathan still played his violin.

  My alarm buzzed. I reached over and turned it off, glancing at the time. I had an hour to get ready. I sat up and shook my head. What a weird dream. So muddled and full of characters. Feeling my movement, Cedar sat up, licked her paw, and glared at me.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  Nathan had come to me to tell me he was going to be with me in spirit. That was so Nathan. He remembered about the concert.

  “Thanks, Nathan,” I said.

  “I told you I’d come,” he replied.

  With only an hour to get ready and drive to the animal shelter, I had to forget about my dream. Today was the big debut of the Bad Girls, and I had to shower, do my hair, and rehearse my song. I was going early to set up with the girls then I would watch while they did four songs. I was playing the final song.

  “Dad and I are coming to watch,” said Mom at breakfast. “Do you need a ride?”

&nb
sp; “Nope.” I swigged some orange juice and put my glass in the dishwasher. “Lacey is going to drive me.”

  “I’m so glad you girls are friends again.”

  I smiled. “Me too.” I kissed my mother’s cheek just as I heard Lacey honking. Then I picked up my guitar case and headed outside.

  As soon as I got in the car, I noticed that Lacey had her silver necklace on. I had given it back, untangled, and she had readily accepted. I think she’d worn it every day since. We didn’t talk until she had backed out of the driveway and was driving forward. Lacey hated backing up. When we were on road she asked, “Is John coming today?”

  I laughed. “Doubtful.”

  “You guys break up for good? I saw you talking at school.”

  I nodded. “Yup. We’re done. What about you and Burke?”

  “Yeah, we’re done, too. I wasn’t going to break up with him until he was better, but I just got accepted to Queens, and I’ve been recruited to play volleyball there, too.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said. “What did Burke say?”

  “He wasn’t too happy and thought I’d be better off being his ‘hockey girlfriend.’ I think we both need a clean break. A fresh start. Maybe one day we’ll get back together. Who knows? You think John and you will ever get back on track?”

  “He’s got a lot to work on, and so do I. Tell me more about Queens.”

  “I’m pretty stoked. We’re going for a school visit next week. I’m so excited. What are your plans for next year?” she asked.

  For a few seconds, I glanced out the window, at the trees whizzing by me. They were kind of like my life; everything just whizzing by without any direction in mind. Soon the trees would have leaves, and the lilacs would bloom, and the colorful tulips would brighten the world. And what would I do?

  I glanced at Lacey and shrugged. “I have no idea. Get a job, live in the Glebe. Travel. Or …” I turned the radio up and made my hand into a pretend microphone and sang along with the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Lacey started laughing, and I continued singing. When the song ended, seconds later, I said, “I could always star in a rock band.”

  “Whatever you do, you’ll be awesome,” said Lacey. “Don’t give up on who you are,” she said. Then she held up her hand. “Promise.”

  I gently slapped her hand. “Promise.”

  But could I really promise that? I had no idea how to be who I was. Could I use my visions to actually help people every day? So far everything I’d done had been a fluke.

  “I’m excited to hear you sing,” said Lacey, interrupting my thoughts.

  My stomach did a somersault. “I’m so nervous,” I said.

  “You’ll be great,” said Lacey.

  More than a hundred people showed up to the fund-raiser, and I sat at the back listening to the girls play. They sounded awesome—like, really awesome. Somehow, they had raised enough money to buy an incredibly good microphone, and Sarah’s raspy rock voice shook the place. All the songs were upbeat and more or less kid-friendly. There were silent auction items set up on tables, and people milled about, looking at everything while listening to the music. Little kids danced in front of the stage, and it was so cute to watch.

  I was watching the band so intently that I didn’t hear the woman beside me until she said, “Buddy, no.”

  I looked down to see the cutest little dog, jumping in front of me, tongue hanging out, tail wagging. The woman pulled on his leash. “Sorry,” she said. “I just got him from the shelter yesterday.”

  I looked at the dog and smiled. He was definitely the same dog I’d seen that day in Denny’s. I immediately got down on one knee and gave the dog a big hug. “I know who you are, and you are soooo cute.” He licked my cheek, and I grinned. His eyes weren’t sad anymore; he had a home.

  The woman walked away, Buddy straining on the leash, panting, happy to be alive, just as Sarah finished singing the fourth song. When the last chord was played, she motioned for me to come up on the small stage with them.

  “Break a leg,” whispered Lacey.

  Butterflies swarmed my stomach. Then I remembered Nathan telling me I was like a butterfly, free to fly. I approached the stage and slipped my guitar over my shoulder, letting it hang comfortably in front of me. When I looked out, I saw my mom and dad, Brian and Lacey. No John.

  We played the intro, then I stepped up to the microphone and started singing. The words flowed out of my mouth. At first I did what I always did with this song—I sang to John. But about halfway through, I suddenly realized the words weren’t for him anymore. They were for me. I was the breath.

  I needed to breathe for me, not for him.

  I was put on the earth and given breath for a reason. I had the ability to make a difference, even if I didn’t know what that difference was yet.

  Soon, said my soothing man’s voice. Soon you will find out.

  About the

  Authors

  Tara Taylor is an internationally known intuitive counselor, spiritual teacher, and motivational speaker. She has been featured in newspapers and on radio and television, and has helped many people through her workshops, seminars, and public speaking. Tara counsels people of all ages and guides professional intuitives and children with clairvoyant gifts, as well as friends and family who need help understanding these special children. She is president and CEO of Whitelight Wellness, as well as Sacred Space, a wellness center located in western Canada, and co-founder of the Just Say Yes seminars. Tara attended St. Paul’s University, studying world religions, theology, and pastoral counseling. She is also an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor, and a Usui/ Tibetan Reiki master. Tara is one of the contributing authors to the Amazon bestseller Manifest Success: The Ultimate Guide to Creating the Life of Your Dreams.

  Visit: www.tarataylor.ca and www.throughindigoseyes.com

  Lorna Schultz Nicholson has been a television co-host and reporter, radio host and reporter, community theater actor, fitness coordinator, and rowing coach. Now she is a full-time writer who has published both fiction and nonfiction. Her list includes children’s picture books, middle grade readers, young adult fiction, and nonfiction sports books for all ages. She has written more than 20 award-winning books, including Roughing (Lorimer, 2004) and Northern Star (Lorimer, 2006). Her books have been nominated for the Red Cedar Award, the Golden Eagle Award, and the Diamond Willow Award. Her nonfiction 2010 Olympic book, Home Ice (Fenn, 2009), was on the Globe and Mail bestseller list for many months and was a top-selling sports book during the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. Lorna divides her time between Calgary and Penticton, where she and her husband share their homes with their crazy golden retriever, Snowball, and whiny bichon–shih tzu, Molly.

  Visit: www.lornaschultznicholson.com and www.throughindigoseyes.com.

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