by Jan Harman
“The council should’ve listened to you, Claire. It was unrealistic to expect Olivia to be receptive when she is burdened by grief. It would’ve been kinder to have left her in D.C., until she had finished healing and had completed college. The entire situation has been mishandled. At the moment, all I can suggest is to convene the Elder’s Council, inform them of your change in status, and then remind them of Ethan’s arrangement in regards to his daughter’s future. For the time being, we cut off all contact with this life. A nice endowment should get Olivia a slot at her old boarding school in England. Once she’s completed college and has had time to grieve and adjust, only then do we set about integrating her gently into valley life.”
For the most part, I’d stopped listening somewhere after the revelation that Aunt Claire had been pressured to bring me out here. After experiencing Mr. Cassidy’s persuasive techniques firsthand, I was angered for my grieving aunt. How many council elders and clan folk had followed Mr. Cassidy’s example? I indulged in a second or two of well-deserved guilt for the delightful moods that I’d inflicted upon my poor aunt.
Bits and pieces of the rest of Shade’s announcement penetrated the listing of my offenses. They were giving up on me? My chest squeezed. Only minutes ago I’d been complaining that I had plans for my life. The idea that I wanted any part of this valley was crazy. If that was true, then why did it feel like I’d been offered a treat only to have it pulled away at the last second? My insides grew cold at the thought of leaving. Which world did I want?
“You’d send me away?” I asked of my aunt, finding it hard to get the words out of a throat that was closing down.
“Shade’s right. We had no business thrusting you into valley life completely unprepared. Some space and time will help you gain perspective. Maybe after college you’ll see that underneath folks’ anxiety for the future, we’re just a normal town with normal concerns.”
“You’d send me away?” I asked again of my aunt, feeling the first beads of moisture in the corner of my eyes. The knot in my stomach twisted harder.
“Olivia? I don’t want you to go. You understand that, right?”
“In the hospital, you said it was just the two of us. That we’d always have each other’s shoulders to cry on. But now that you’re certain that I’m still broken, you’d send me away,” I said, hating the fact that I cried so easily these days.
My aunt pulled me closer. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“And that’s on another continent? Who am I going to talk to about all of this?”
“That’s the point. You won’t have to talk about it because it won’t be your problem. You can go back to just being Olivia.”
“Nice sentiment, but totally unrealistic. I can’t rewind the past. All I can do is fix what is broken.” Shade stood at my side, scowling at my choice of words. Neither of them understood what if felt like to be thrust into madness.
“Think of this as a chance to catch your breath. A chance to live free of fear,” Aunt Claire said.
I pulled out of my aunt’s hug. “It’s too late for that.”
Her face scrunched up as though she were on the verge of tears. She turned pleading eyes onto Shade who said, taking a different approach, “For the last time, you’re not broken. Your father—”
“Yes, I know what he wanted and what the council wants now. Everyone has an opinion. Too bad no one ever cared to let me in on the secret, so I wouldn’t end up looking like a frightened child. To tell you the truth, it’s kind of insulting that you’re so quick to write me off.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“I don’t think I am. I’d like to see how well you’d cope if everything you counted on fell apart. Lose someone then talk to me about keeping your chin up.”
Hands then arms blurred. Fragments resembling ice shavings broke off the swirling white bands circling his irises. A low growl resonated deep in his throat.
Aunt Claire rested a hand on his arm. “Now, Shade, she doesn’t understand the significance of events. Let’s just take a moment here and collect ourselves.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Had I really said that I would feel better if he lost his family? Geez I was turning into a capital ‘B’. Head lowered, I spoke in his direction. “I didn’t mean to imply . . . I meant that you can’t really understand what I’m going through. No one in the valley can, not really. Everyone says they do, and they pretend to care if I’m alright. But all they really want is for me to jump right in and be the warden to make them feel good.”
“We don’t,” he retorted, the words flinging out of his mouth, flipping my hair to the side.
“You’re the guiltiest. You think I don’t pick up on your disappointment? I’m not my father or Danny or your warden. It’s not fair that you expect me to be when I’ve been left in the dark and lied to.” I took a ragged breath and thought of something else. This time, he was on the receiving end of my not quite as intimidating gaze. “When I came down to the kitchen tonight, you said my fears were justified, but now you think I should be sent away. What am I supposed to think? That I don’t measure up or that I must be—”
“You’re not broken,” he said before I could get the words out. He looked down at the table and expelled a long, deep breath. “I apologize for putting pressure on you. In my mind you are my warden whether you ever take the position or not. And for the record, I’m not pretending. I care a great deal about how you’re doing. You, Olivia.” He emphasized, staring straight at me. “Not my warden, you. Understand?”
I didn’t know what to say. Aunt Claire broke the silence for me.
“On that note, I think we should call it a night. The stress of the past couple of days is making everyone a bit touchy,” Aunt Claire announced, postponing making a decision on whether I should leave or not.
Maybe she had decided, I thought, getting a sick feeling in my stomach, but didn’t want to break it to me in front of Shade. The tension in her voice shook me. So Shade wasn’t the only one with doubts. I looked at her, really looked at her as a person and not as my aunt. Since the accident, she’d lost a lot of weight and a few gray strands of hair now framed her face. She’d lost that sparkle that I remembered from her visits. She’d aged, because of me.
It occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t the only one out on that wobbly boulder. Maybe my aunt needed something to hold her together, too. Maybe she needed something from me just like I needed for her to be strong, so I could be. “Give me a minute. I have to get something from my room,” I said, my voice uncertain as I pushed up from the table.
I could hear their voices in low conversation as I clumped up the back stairs. A few hours ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance to leave, but now I was fighting to stay? My fears were the same. Something else wasn’t, and it was stronger than my fears. Looking past my resentment was tough as was ignoring Mr. Cassidy’s motives in showing me that photo. What mattered was Danny’s confident smile, and his bold, forthright stare that still had the power to reassure his troubled little sister. Danny hadn’t been afraid of this place or his future. In a sad twist of fate, that became his last gift.
Chapter 11
The contents of my medicine cabinet clattered into the cheery holiday bag with the smiling snowmen family. I was sure my aunt would object. Too bad. This wasn’t just about me, and what I needed to move forward anymore. This was about us and a bunch of people I hadn’t met yet.
Without explanation I dumped the bag out on the kitchen table. Several vials rolled towards the edge. I let them. Shade plucked them out of the air and held them out towards me in the palm of his hand an eyebrow arched over a wary eye.
“What is the meaning of this?” Aunt Claire demanded, flipping over the bottles, her narrowed eyes skimming the labels. “Antidepressants, sleeping pills, pain pills; did you take everything?”
“You need me to move forward, so let me toss them out,” I answered.
“Not like this. You need these. Dr. Mar
tin’s—”
“Would have me committed if I spoke a word about what really goes on in Spring Valley. I’m tired of the lies and that includes those I live to get through each day.”
“Let’s not be hasty. The sleeping pills are necessary. Even with them, you wake up screaming. Not the pain pills—you need those, too. This rashness is exactly why I believe you should go away for a little while.”
“Why don’t you listen to me? Alright, I get it. I fell apart. You can stop protecting me every second of the day. I need, no I want to be able to think clearly and feel like myself, or barring that, try to find myself again. I can’t do it when I feel so detached from my own life.”
“You’ve no idea what you’re asking me to agree to. You were so out of it for months. It was as though I’d buried you in the family crypt,” she replied, her voice thick with tears. “I couldn’t bear to see you that way again; drifting through your days like the walking dead with hollow eyes and a lifeless voice, crying hysterically for hours on end. Please, put these away.”
“It was scary being inside my skin and trapped in my head by . . . doubts.” I’d almost said by a sinister voice, but that would give her more ammunition. “But I’m not that girl anymore, just like I’m not the Olivia Pepperdine that was before the accident. I need you to let me do this. Otherwise, I might just stay lost,” I said. My voice kept quivering now that I faced myself through her eyes. “Let me try it without all the meds.”
“Claire, maybe—”
“No, Shade, you weren’t there.” Aunt Claire cut him off. “The littlest thing would set her off.”
“Please, I’ll try harder. I’ll stop hanging out in the gazebo. I’ll go back to the yearbook meetings and work more hours at Hattie’s store. Just tell me what you want me to do!” I begged, the words running together. I sucked in my lower lip and tossed my earbuds and iPod on the table. “Take them. I won’t use them to block out the quiet. Just believe in me one more time.”
“Sweetie, I never stopped believing in you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt yourself. I only meant to protect you until you were stronger. Maybe until I felt strong enough for all of this. I’ve been so wrapped up in getting through each new thing thrown at us; that I didn’t see that you were getting better.” She fingered my iPod, thinking. “We’ll compromise. Keep your music, the pain pills, and the sleeping pills. Keep the low dose anxiety pills for those times when you need a little help coping,” she said, pushing those towards me. The rest, she pocketed. “I’ll speak with Dr. Long about weaning you off the others and ask what to do in case you have a bad day.”
“Does that mean I can stay here with you?” I asked, holding my breath.
“As long as you want. No more pressure either. I’ll make sure of it.”
“We’ll make sure,” Shade said.
“Agreed,” I sighed, giving my aunt a hug. “Now, can we try before I chicken out?”
“That’s between you and Shade. Personally, I’d like you to sleep on it.”
I turned to Shade. He grabbed the milk jug and headed over to the refrigerator. “Great show of confidence,” I said when he started rearranging items in the door.
“I thought we agreed no pressure.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t broken.”
He ran a hand through his hair and turned slowly around. “After the series of shocks you’ve had, I’d prefer you eased into valley life and enjoyed your senior year.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t agree.”
In a blur of movement, he was standing next to the table, searching my expression. I took a deep breath and tried to sound calmer than I looked, judging by the increase in the tension in his stance. “I want to understand this place my family cares so much about. Maybe it’ll help me feel closer to my parents and the clans. I’ve got to start somewhere. Small steps remember?”
The corner of his lips curled up slightly. He sat down. Then, just as he had for my aunt, he put his hands on the table, palms up. It helped that he looked so utterly relaxed and nonthreatening. Not quite sure what to expect, I placed my hands on top of his.
He chuckled. “Relax. I’m not going to leap across the table.”
Calluses rubbed gently against my palm. I knew he was strong from watching him heft Hattie’s supplies. But was he always so warm, I wondered, noticing the low simmer. Tense muscles relaxed as the warmth spread up my arms. I shot him a questioning look. Leave it to Shade to help me relax for my own good.
“Better,” he said in his compelling, deep drawl. “Now then, I don’t want you to be disappointed if nothing happens. I’ve seen it take several sessions. Not everyone responds in the same way. And like it or not, Olivia, you come into this with a lot of baggage.”
“Baggage. How attractive,” I said, smiling crookedly. “I think you’re the one who’s going to be the stumbling block. I’m just saying you’re all Mr. Hero type afraid to hurt the heroine of the story.”
He snorted. “Give me a break. I’m just moving at a nice slow pace, so you have a good experience.”
“You mean a snail’s pace. I can’t experience anything if you don’t actually do something. I mean it, Shade. Prove to me that I’m not broken. Join.”
He growled. His brow furrowed and he said in a strained voice, “Olivia, could you try not ordering me. I could cause you serious mental damage.”
“Oops, sorry. Take your time.”
“Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths.”
“How will I know if it’s working? What will it feel like?”
He sighed. “Deep breaths. There you go nice and even,” he said in his smooth, melting voice. “I’m just going to skim. You’ll feel a tingle of awareness. Nothing invasive. It’ll be like the sense you get when you think someone is observing you and you need to turn and look. If you can breathe through that, I’ll deepen my touch until you get a sense of my emotional state. Depending on how that goes, we’ll see about taking it a step further. Don’t be upset if you don’t feel anything. This is all pretty new to you. And no matter how much you think you want this, underneath there’s baggage.”
Excellent pep talk, guaranteed to fire up the nerves. The warmth from his hands continued to spread into every crevice of my body. My shoulders drooped. It was all I could do not to yawn. Briefly, I suspected him of trying to make me too tired to make an attempt tonight.
Like the tickle of a feather, Shade ghosted along the periphery of my mind. I gulped in my next breath of air and started to cough. He waited patiently while I sipped some water and got comfortable in my chair. I tried to smile to show him I was okay. Judging by the tiny stress lines at the corner of his mouth, I don’t think he bought it. I half expected him to decide we were going to wait until tomorrow when the white bands around his eyes began to thicken and spiral around his irises. Intrigued, I leaned in closer. Apparently, my curiosity he took to be a good sign. His posture relaxed. Leave it to Shade to devise a test of my readiness.
The ghosting sensation resumed followed by a subtle shift in pressure. I accepted it confidently enough that he decided to move things along. Now, the ghosting bristled and tugged, forcing me to notice what he was trying to convey. I shoved back into my chair and it scraped across the linoleum.
Aunt Claire touched my shoulder. I sucked in a startled breath. “If you want to stop, Olivia, just say so. Shade won’t be offended.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure about that?” Shade hooked a foot around the leg of my chair and pulled it up to the table. “Try to remember that you trust me.”
Given my rapid breathing, I decided to just nod.
It seemed like we reached the bristling and tugging stage much faster this time. Then as though pieces of him had inserted hooks into the brief microsecond between thoughts, awareness became a connection and I sensed my world extending to include another. Unobtrusive like the lightest touch upon my arm to get my attention, Shade’s e
motions hovered, respectfully waiting for the next step to be my decision.
I almost smiled at his overly cautious hero approach. Then I recalled the gravity of the occasion. The curve of my lips straightened into a serious line of concentration that hid my unease. I’d asked for this. If I hesitated much longer he would decide to end this before we started, for my own good. The moment I turned my attention onto the most pronounced emotion it flowed forward in an unhurried fashion, spreading with the consistency of thick cream until it coated my next thought but did not mix or hinder. Again, Shade doing all he could to make this a pleasant experience.
Anticipation radiated off of him, and then deflated when I drew back, disconcerted by the intimacy. I couldn’t help it. This elevated invasion of privacy way beyond having my diary read. I was the diary. I struggled to keep my revulsion from showing on my face and could only hope that it didn’t spill over into the part of me that Shade could sense.
I must not have succeeded because he asked, both tone and touch concerned, “Are you alright?”
“I’m used to it just being me in here.”
“At this point, it still is. If you want to stop just give the word.”
Discouragement—so faint that it was immediately smothered by another round of deep concern—upset me on several levels. In my before life I’d never quit when things got hard. I’d been so much bolder. Between the memory of Danny’s happy smile and my trust in Shade, I found the courage to say, “I’m fine. I just needed a minute. Please continue.”
I breathed harder as, one at a time, his emotions flowed alongside of mine, allowing for an undemanding adjustment to the intriguing, everyday world of the Whisperers. Concern. Hope. Welcome. This intimate gift, a snapshot of the motivations behind this intriguing man, left me humbled. I should’ve known my hero would take care that nothing upsetting filtered through the connection.