A Gift of Time (Tassamara)

by Sarah Wynde

  Twins.

  Because the world needed two of Mitchell, of course.

  She couldn’t help smiling at the boy’s jubilant welcome as he drew Kenzi forward, but as she grabbed the flashlight Travis had set down, her brain was ticking.

  “Me first,” she said. Twin boys. And a teenage boy. And maybe…

  “Who’s that?” The Mitchell double protested as she hurried across the room and knelt next to the prone figure.

  The boy lying on the floor lifted feverish eyes to hers. The bruises on his face were unmistakable, deep purple and yellow stippling the tawny skin, but Natalya was more immediately worried by the cracked lips and sunken eyes. Gently, she lifted up his arm and pinched his skin. The skin tented up and only slowly dropped back into place.

  “He’s dehydrated,” she said, keeping her voice calm. Severely dehydrated. The boys must not understand how dangerous his condition was. “Do you have water for him?”

  “He throws up,” Travis said. “Blood and gunk.”

  Internal bleeding, Natalya thought. Damn it, this boy needed a hospital, immediately.

  Kenzi dropped to her knees next to Natalya. She reached for the boy’s face but Natalya put a hand out to stop her.

  “Wait,” she said. “Do you know how you do what you do?”

  Kenzi lifted her face, eyes searching Natalya’s. She shook her head.

  “He has serious injuries, internal injuries,” Natalya explained. She lifted the boy’s t-shirt, pushing it up and out of the way with steady hands. She shifted, moving over so Kenzi could see. His abdomen didn’t look hard or distended, so the blood loss was a slow leak. Maybe his spleen, maybe somewhere else. If it had been faster, he’d be dead already, she knew with grim certainty. As it was, she couldn’t be sure he’d survive, not without proper care. But Kenzi was what she had, at least for the moment.

  “Do you know where it hurts?” she asked the boy.

  “Everywhere,” he rasped.

  “Any place more than the rest?”

  His hand lifted, hovering above the left side of his torso. Natalya nodded. She saw nothing so obvious as protruding bone, but his ribs might be cracked. “Right here, Kenzi,” she directed the girl. “Touch him here and try to focus on this area.”

  The girl licked her lips and nodded. Gently, so gently, she put her tiny hands on the boy’s side. Natalya watched but there was nothing to see, until she realized Kenzi was swaying, her body rocking back and forth, her eyes closing, her skin growing paler.

  “Enough,” Natalya said sharply, lifting Kenzi’s hands off the boy. She’d only worked with a couple of psychic healers before but she’d read the literature. Most healers had only minor power, the ability to encourage the growth of healthy cells, to spur a metabolism into action. But a few in the historic record could pour their own energy into others. They tended to die young.

  “You just okay with that?” Travis’s voice interrupted Natalya’s absorption.

  “With what?” Natalya’s eyes didn’t leave Kenzi’s face. The little girl was pale and shaky, lips parted, breathing hard as if she’d been running, but her hands still reached for the prone boy. “No more, honey, not yet.” The whimper Kenzi gave in response was so quiet Natalya might have imagined it.

  “With what she does?” Travis stood across the room from them, still by the bar, the expression on his face lost in the shadows. Mitchell and Other Mitchell were together, close enough to Kenzi to watch with wide eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Natalya asked. The shadows already under Kenzi’s eyes looked deeper, her cheekbones more pronounced. Maybe it was the light. But if healing used her innate energy, she didn’t have a lot of it to spare.

  Natalya glanced back at Jamie. His eyelids drooped over dark eyes, lashes dark lines against the bruises, but his face looked easier, more peaceful. She touched his cheek. He felt warm, but not as fevered as he’d looked before.

  Kenzi reached for him and again, Natalya stopped her. “No, sweetheart. You don’t have enough energy to heal him all the way.” Kenzi looked at her, a question in the tilt of her head. Natalya stroked her hair, cupping her cheek. “You need to eat something, get some calories in you. What you do takes energy. You can’t give it to Jamie if you don’t have enough to give.”

  “You act like it’s normal.” Travis moved forward into the room, his motion abrupt, almost angry.

  “Normal?” Natalya raised an eyebrow. Keeping her voice deliberately light, she said, “I’ve always thought normal was overrated.”

  Jamie chuckled, the sound a bare puff of air. “Wish everyone felt that way.” His voice cracked, rough with thirst.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Natalya said, automatically reaching back to him. “You need liquids.” She frowned down at him.

  What he really needed was an ambulance. A hospital. An IV. A complete scan to assess his injuries. Maybe surgery.

  What she had was a canoe. And Kenzi.

  “How did you get him here?” she asked, turning back to Travis.

  He shrugged. “Canoe.”

  “You couldn’t all have come here in that canoe,” Natalya protested. Jamie wouldn’t have been able to paddle, and the combined weight of the Mitchells plus the older boys would have been enough to swamp the small boat.

  “Not in one trip,” Travis answered. “I went back for Mitch and Mike. Promised I wouldn’t leave ‘em there.”

  “Where’s there?” Natalya asked.

  “None of your business.” Travis crossed his arms across his chest.

  Natalya’s eyes narrowed. She waited for a memory to float to the surface, to tell her what the next minutes would bring, but her mind stayed stubbornly blank. She licked her lips. “The Thompsons?”

  It was taking a risk. Maybe a big risk.

  “How the hell did you know that?” Travis’s arms dropped, his mouth falling open, before his expression changed to a glare. “No way did Mac tell you.”

  “You just told me,” Natalya said. She put an arm around Kenzi, feeling the little girl trembling next to her. The twins were looking from Travis to her, their faces uncertain, their eyes worried.

  “I did not.” Travis took a step forward.

  “Confirmed it, let’s say.” Natalya nodded toward the twins. “There aren’t a lot of twins in foster care.” She was far from intimately familiar with every kid in the local system, but she remembered the twins’ story. No father in the picture, a mother who’d died in a car accident without a will. The state hadn’t been able to locate an appropriate guardian and the boys had entered foster care.

  “How did you…” Travis stopped. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going back there.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Natalya agreed. “They’re clearly not fit caregivers. You’ll never go back to them.”

  “No one believed us before,” one of the twins volunteered.

  “You ran away days ago and they haven’t reported you missing.” She tried to make the words reassuring. “Believe me, that’s not the sort of thing foster care agencies take lightly. At the very least, the Thompsons are neglectful. You won’t have to live with them, not ever again.”

  Except, she realized, Kenzi wasn’t in foster care. If she had been, they would have discovered her name days ago. Could she be biologically related to the Thompsons? Natalya tightened her grasp on the little girl. Keeping a biological child out of the hands of bad parents was a lot harder than moving foster children to a new home.

  Still, there’d be a thorough investigation before Kenzi went anywhere. Colin would make sure of it.

  “Right now, though, we need to get Jamie to a hospital,” she continued. “Do you have a phone? We should call an ambulance.”

  “No.” Travis was breathing hard, the rising and falling of his chest visible even in the dim light. “We can’t. You don’t understand.”

  “Explain it to me,” Natalya said calmly.

  Travis shook his head, his words abrupt. “I gotta go on a food run. Michael, you come
with me this time. Mitch, stay here. Stand guard.”

  “Wait,” Natalya protested, half-rising out of her kneeling position. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just leave us here. Jamie needs medical attention. Kenzi needs food and dry clothes.” Blankets, a bed, an IV line, a damn cell phone—the list of other things she wanted ran through her head but she didn’t say them aloud.

  “You’re the medical attention, lady,” Travis said bleakly. “Do your best. Jamie understands.” He crossed the room to them and crouched next to the boy on the floor, squeezing his hand. Voice hushed, he spoke directly to Jamie, “Try to eat some soup, man. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” before rising without waiting for a response. He moved away, heading for the stairs. Both twins followed.

  Natalya fumed, but let him go. He had the gun, after all. And her brother would be on his way home already. Zane would find her.

  “There’s some stuff over in the corner,” Jamie said, voice a husky whisper. “You can see if you can find something for Mac to wear there. Won’t fit, but better than nothing.”

  Kenzi had her face buried in Natalya’s shirt, but Natalya stroked a hand down her back. Her leggings were damp, her socks wet. Natalya’s own shoes were soaked.

  “Kenzi, honey, do you see the clothes over there?” Kenzi lifted her head and Natalya gestured. “Go see what you can find that will fit you. Or be more comfortable than your wet clothes, anyway. And maybe find me some socks?”

  Kenzi nodded obediently and trotted away. Natalya sat down on the floor next to Jamie and started taking off her wet shoes. “Tell me what you understand,” she said to him. “You must know how sick you are. You need a hospital.”

  He blinked, his eyes tired, and then turned his head slowly to follow Kenzi’s movement across the room. “Later,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to upset her.”

  Natalya’s gaze followed his. She felt a surge of worry and pushed it away. It wouldn’t help. “All right. How are you doing then?”

  His lips turned up at the corners. “Better.”

  “Less pain?”

  He nodded.

  She reached for his wrist to take his pulse. It felt like a useless gesture, but any information was better than the none she was working with. His heartbeat was strong and steady, not as rapid as she would have expected with severe dehydration. Maybe Kenzi had helped with that, too.

  Mitchell came bounding back into the room. “Travis says we can eat the soup. It’s cold but still good. And we’ve got crackers.” He rummaged around the bar area, before triumphantly coming forth with a large Styrofoam container and a handful of plastic spoons.

  After Kenzi was dressed, with pants rolled up five times and a belt cinched tightly around her waist, the children ate. Natalya let Jamie sit up and risk a few bites. She watched him closely, but when he didn’t start vomiting, she relaxed a little.

  Kenzi and Mitchell shared the rest of the food between them. Although Natalya was hungry, she wanted Kenzi to have as many calories as possible. When they'd licked every last drop out of the container and swallowed every last crumb of cracker, Mitchell turned to Kenzi. “Want to explore, Mac? This house is way cool.”

  Kenzi looked to Natalya for permission and Natalya nodded at her. “Sure. Stay away from the pool, though.” She handed the little girl the flashlight. “Here, take this.”

  Natalya waited until she could no longer hear the sounds of the children moving away, before turning back to Jamie.

  He still sat, his back against the windowed wall, his eyes closed, but as if he felt her gaze, he opened them. His lips lifted in a half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s a long story,” he warned her.

  “I seem to have plenty of time on my hands,” she responded. “Start at the beginning.”

  “I guess it started when Mary came back,” Jamie began.

  “Who’s Mary?” Natalya interrupted him.

  “Mac’s mom. She’s the Thompsons’ daughter. Real daughter, not a foster kid.”

  Natalya’s head dipped. She wasn’t going to tell this boy about the spirit at the hospital, not yet, maybe not ever. But she feared she’d just learned the ghost’s name.

  Jamie shifted restlessly. “It didn’t use to be a bad place. They were okay people. Pretty strict, but not mean. Some stuff was kind of a drag. Chores and rules and Mr. Thompson would pray for like ten minutes before we could eat. But then there was always lots of food, plenty to go around. And Mrs. T, she’s nice. I guess that made it harder when it got weird.”

  “What do you mean, weird?”

  “Mrs. T, she was real happy when Mary came home. She’d run away a long time ago. And they didn’t know about Mac, she was a surprise. But Mr. Thompson, he said stuff. Crazy stuff. He was worried about judgment day and how Mary was going straight to hell, she needed to repent and all that. It wasn’t so bad at first. He wasn’t around so much. Then he lost his job and he was home all the time.”

  Jamie stopped talking.

  Natalya waited, but when he didn’t say more, she pushed harder. “What happened?”

  “Sometimes he’d get real quiet for a while. Lie on the couch all the time, not talk much. That was okay, except ya never knew when it was gonna end and he’d get all mad and weird. He thought Mac was like some symbol of evil. Proof of her mom’s sinfulness. And any little thing would set him off. He’d yell and scream and then…” He fell silent again.

  “Then?” she prompted.

  “The first time was a while ago. It was dinner time and he was praying. And praying and praying. We all just wanted to eat. Mrs. T, she tried to interrupt him, but then it was like he was talking to God and hearing God talk back. It was creepy. So Travis said ‘a good God would let folks eat before the food gets cold’ and Mr. Thompson, he hauled off and smacked him. Knocked Travis right out of his chair.”

  “That sounds frightening.” Deliberately, Natalya kept her voice soft, non-judgmental, hoping to ease the pain of the memories, but inwardly she was furious. That poor boy. Those poor children.

  Jamie shrugged. “I guess. But he was real sorry after and Mrs. T, she cried and cried.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone?” She made the words a question, although she was sure she knew the answer.

  “No. Not that time.” Jamie looked away, seeming uncomfortable.

  “It kept happening?”

  “A few times, yeah.”

  “You still didn’t report him, though.” Natalya kept her face and voice neutral.

  “They would have taken us away,” he said. “Split us up. Travis and me, we’d end up in juvie or a group home. No one wants teenage boys and I’m almost aged out. Only two months to go. The M&M’s mighta been okay but they didn’t want to leave either.”

  “M&M’s?” Natalya felt her lips twitch into an unexpected smile. The nickname fit the bouncy twins.

  “Yeah, Mary always called ‘em that.” Jamie’s lips turned up, too. “She liked to tell ‘em they were made of chocolate, pure sweet all the way through.”

  “She sounds nice,” Natalya said.

  “She is. Real nice.” Jamie’s voice held a deep desolation. He closed his eyes, but not before Natalya saw the shimmer of moisture in them.

  She waited again. The silence stretched between them but she made no move to break it.

  Finally, Jamie swallowed and continued his story, his voice huskier. “Then, back in the summer, he hit Mac.”

  Natalya clenched her teeth together as tightly as she could, refusing to let the words that wanted to spill out of her escape. Why hadn’t Jamie gone straight to his caseworker? The agency wasn’t perfect, but allegations of abuse were always taken seriously. And with multiple witnesses, the children would have been pulled out of the Thompson house immediately. “What happened then?”

  Jamie sounded almost dreamy as he went on, “I don’t know when Mary knew about Mac. That she’s special, I mean. She can make a hurt stop like it never happened. But we all knew by then. It made it better, easier. But Mac can�
�t heal herself. So when he hurt her, Mary knew they had to go.”

  At last, a reasonable decision. Except, of course, it apparently hadn’t been carried out. Natalya forced herself to relax her fingers. They wanted to clench into fists. “Why didn’t she?” Her voice was still perfectly controlled.

  “No money, no job, no place to go. Same reasons she was there in the first place. But…” Jamie stopped talking, seeming reluctant to say any more.

  “But what?”

  “She knew a guy,” he muttered. “We… did a little job for him.”

  “A little job?” Natalya felt a lump dropping into her stomach like a cartoon anvil and no amount of relaxation training could keep all of the bite out of her voice when she asked, “Let me guess, a not exactly legal little job?”

  He nodded, looking miserable.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered.

  “You don’t know how serious the crime you committed is?”

  “Oh, no, I know that. I just don’t know what happened. I think…” He stopped speaking and swallowed hard. “I think maybe Mary’s dead. She would never have left Mac for so long. Not if she could get back.”

  Natalya pressed her lips together. She thought he was probably right, but she didn’t want to say so. “Tell me the whole story,” she said gently instead. He didn’t answer right away and she leaned forward, putting her hand over his. “Let me help you,” she told him. “All of you. Your brothers need help, Kenzi—Mac needs help, and you need help, too. I understand you’re in trouble, but you can’t get out of it by running away.”

  He let his head fall back against the window. “We needed money. A lot of it. Mary—well, I don’t know what all she did while she was gone, but she didn’t want nothing to do with meth or molly. But she knew this guy. A big dealer. At least that’s what he said. He agreed to buy some weed from us. So we planted a patch in the forest and took care of it.”

  “Round Thanksgiving, Mr. Thompson really lost it. Mary’d been keeping Mac out of his way, keeping her quiet, eyes down, do what she’s told, don’t make no waves. But he went off on how she was the spawn of Satan and everything bad that happened was because of her, because of her cursed blood. Mary took Mac and left, hid out in the woods. We took turns bringing her food. Mrs. T, all she did was cry, but she knew we was sneaking stuff out. She didn’t tell. But he figured it out.”