“Chris, see the woman in the red jacket over there.” I nod my head instead of pointing.
He turns around and says, “Yes.”
“Have you ever used your Healing power on strangers?”
“What?”
“Try to feel inside her body to see if anything is wrong.”
“Her joints are stiff and painful,” he surmises.
“Yeah, that’s what I found too.”
“Should we help her?”
“You gave me an important lesson about healing once. Now let me teach you what I know, what Maetha taught me about how Diamond Bearers should determine who to and who not to heal. That woman is a good candidate to practice your healing power on because her arthritis isn’t a terminal disease.”
“What if it was? What if it was cancer?”
“Healing someone with a deadly disease isn’t wrong as long as you’re not prolonging their natural lifespan. But first you need their permission . . . like with Jonas. You also have to consider that your strength will be exhausted, leaving you vulnerable. As a Bearer, you don’t want to put yourself in a position that might lead to your death. In that weakened state, you won’t be able to use the Healing power on yourself. Have you used the power on yourself yet?”
“Yeah.”
“What was wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you use the power?”
“I wasn’t injured. I just needed to use the power on some . . . um, inflammation.”
“What was inflamed?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he looks embarrassed and takes a big bite of his burger.
“Oh . . . oh! Sorry.” Now I’m the embarrassed one.
Chris sips on his soda, then takes the subject back to the woman in the red jacket. “She’s not going to die anytime soon. Helping her with her pain would be a good thing to do. Can I try?” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yes, go ahead.”
The woman stands in front of a large display of various sale items. She bends forward slightly, then stands upright. She looks around and opens and closes her hands. Confusion spreads across her wrinkled face. I read her mind and find she thinks she’s about to pass out, even though she’s not. She doesn’t know why her pain is gone. She takes her purse out of her cart and leaves the store.
“Did I help or just confuse the woman?”
I laugh. “I think she’ll be fine. Check out the man at checkstand two.”
“The one with the headache?”
I realize there are two men standing there. “Yes.”
“Should I heal him?”
“I’m going to leave this one up to you, Chris.”
“Okay. Well, healing the arthritis was something the woman won’t have to deal with again. This man will have more headaches in the future, so healing this one is kind of pointless. I’m not going to.”
“That’s your call.”
We eat our food, pointing out different shoppers to each other, examining the minor issues within their bodies. Together we heal a twisted ankle, a wicked toothache, an inflamed spinal disc, and calm an irritated toddler to help the mother. I like the way Chris uses wisdom to make his decisions.
A man enters the store riding an electric scooter. He’s severely overweight.
“What do you think, Calli?”
I read the man’s mind and find he has a genetic condition which disqualifies him for gastric bypass surgery. His family has a history of not waking up from anesthesia. I say, “He’s not a candidate for surgery. We can’t do anything about the extra pounds on his body, but we can alter his hunger cravings.”
“How would you do that? Is that mind-control?”
“No, I’m going to readjust his brain chemicals to tell him he’s full a little sooner. I’m also going to help him with his depression, which is part of why he overeats.”
“His future shows he’ll shed many of those pounds,” Chris confirms.
“Hopefully, he’ll stay on that path and continue losing weight.”
“You know, Calli, I could do this all day long. I feel fantastic helping people.”
I smile. “I know what you mean. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s not so great.” The smile falls from my face. “For instance, like now.” I motion to the cart about to go past the eatery. A child about three-years-old stands inside the cart. She has Down Syndrome. I look to her future and find she will contract pneumonia in a couple months and die due to her smaller than normal airways. I say to Chris, “I could heal her airways today. Let’s look to the future to see if that would help.”
Chris says, “She’ll only live a little past that. Heart problems. We could heal her heart, too.”
“No, she’ll still die. Leukemia.”
“So, no matter what we do, she’s still going to die young? We have to do something at least,” Chris pleads.
“Let’s heal her airways so she doesn’t have to die painfully with pneumonia. Her heart problem will result in a painless death and she’ll never have to go through chemo or the other issues with Leukemia. I think we should strengthen her mother’s patience, too.”
Chris looks at me with high regard. “You are a wise Healer, Calli.”
“You taught me to be so. Will you heal the child? I’ll work on the mother, and then we’d better get back to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
* * *
When we return to the hotel, the five of us stay in the same room, going over files till bedtime. Crimson invites the guys to go to their room and then excuses herself. She speaks to my mind after she leaves, I’ll be able to hear you if you need me. I don’t foresee any danger for you tonight, though.
Okay.
About two minutes to the second after Crimson leaves, someone knocks on our door. Beth checks through the peephole. “It’s Brand.” She opens the door.
He saunters into the room. As he passes the television cabinet he lazily drags his finger along the edge. “So, I was thinkin’, if Crimson’s gone, there’s no reason why we can’t do a little mixin’ things up.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Sheez Calli, you’re so naïve.” Brand rolls his eyes. “I mean, like, you and me trade rooms.”
“No,” I say. “Crimson assigned us these rooms.”
“Okay, so we switch back after a couple hours.”
“No, Brand. Does Chris know you’re trying to finagle things around?”
“Who do you think sent me?”
“What?” I go to Chris’s mind. Did you send Brand to talk me into coming to your room for the night?
No, he said he was going for ice.
I point to the door. “Get out, Brand. And don’t forget the ice you told Chris you were getting.”
He looks at Beth, who looks rather amused by his actions. “It was worth a try.”
I clear my throat loudly, then shut and lock the door after he leaves. I grab my nightclothes and change into them as I ask Beth, “Did you know he was going to do that?”
“He talked about it while we were shopping. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but you know Brand. He had to try anyway.”
“Doesn’t he understand Crimson is aware of everything we do?”
“Well, it’s not like we’re kids, or this is some school outing.” Beth straitens the files on the table.
“That’s true. But Crimson set the room assignments. I, for one, am not going to go against her wishes.”
She turns and faces me. “Don’t worry, Calli. I wasn’t going to either.”
“What do you see in Brand anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is it about Brand that you’re attracted to?”
“He gets me. No one else ever has. Plus, he makes me laugh.”
“Do you ever compare his physical appearance to other guys?”
“No. I don’t need to. Believe it or not, Calli, I like charm over looks. Besides, Brand isn’t lacking in either department.�
� Beth puts an end to the subject as she says, “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“Okay.”
I think I’ll call my parents while she’s showering. I haven’t wanted to do so in front of her out of respect for her loss. She can’t call her parents ever again. I don’t want to rub that fact in, nor do I want to give her any other reason to point out how “lucky” I am. I walk over and sit on my bed and pick up the phone to dial my home number.
My mother answers and we talk for a little while. I just want to hear her voice and to also let her know I’m all right. We talk for the fifteen minutes Beth is in the shower. Once I hear the water turn off, I end my call with my mother.
When she comes out of the bathroom, Beth asks, “Are your parents doing okay?”
“How did you know I called?”
“The walls aren’t that thick here.”
“Yeah, my parents are doing well.”
“They’re probably really sweet and cater to your every need.”
“Yes, they do.” Please don’t say I’m lucky.
Beth climbs under her covers and fluffs the pillows. “My parents were never like that. Dad loved his bottle more than life itself, and Mom preferred pills to taking care of the kids she’d squeezed out. Once my running power surfaced, I was able to get out of that hellhole. I just wish I could have taken Nate with me. But at least he’s going to go work with Clara Winter. He’ll finally have a good caregiver.”
“I’m sorry, Beth.”
“For what?” She reaches up and turns off the lamp by her bed, darkening the room.
“Sorry I ever lit into you when I arrived at the compound. I had no idea.”
“Don’t be. You helped me have the courage to stand up to them. Your example helped me more than you’ll ever know. I think it’s why I’m not all broken up about their deaths. I was able to say my peace while they were alive.”
“You’ve been on your own most of your life, haven’t you? Separated in your mind, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“When is their funeral?”
“I’m really tired, Calli.”
“Oh, okay. Good night,” I say, and pull my blanket up around my neck. I feel guilty for having had a plush, protected life. Learning what Beth grew up with has opened my eyes a little more to how unlucky other kids are.
Chapter 4 – Powerful Prisms
The next morning, I awake to find Crimson sitting at the table with the files.
“Good morning, Calli. You’d better get moving. We need to leave in thirty minutes.”
Beth is already in the bathroom, so I get up and organize my belongings while I wait for Beth. I’m excited, and a little nervous, to wear the green dress Chris had me buy. I go ahead and change in the room, slipping the dress over my head, hoping it fits. I still can’t believe I bought a dress without trying it on first. I mean, the dress is the right size, but that doesn’t always guarantee a good fit. I look at myself in the mirror and am amazed. This dress looks fantastic on me. Now, if only Chris would tell me more about his vision.
Someone knocks on the door. I let Brand and Chris into the room. Brand lets out a whistle to show he’s impressed and walks over to Beth. She’s wearing a black sleeveless dress and has either forgotten to apply her black eyeliner or she’s not going to put any on. She looks different without the liner―good different.
Chris’s voice fills my mind. I told you that dress would suit you well. You look stunning. I kind of wish we weren’t headed to a funeral just now.
You’re not too bad yourself, sir. Our eyes share a quick glance and I look away. He takes my hand.
He announces, “Time to go. Calli and I will go check out and meet you in the van.”
* * *
Crimson drives us to the old church with a cross on top where Anika’s parents’ funeral will take place. Crimson says, “I’ll see to it that everything is loaded on the plane. You’ll be leaving later this afternoon and heading to Denver. I’ll meet you at Chris’s father’s home.”
As I climb out of the car, my attention is drawn across the street to four adults walking back and forth, carrying picket signs.
“What’s that all about?” Brand asks.
Beth says, “Didn’t you guys know? Anika was raised by two dads.”
“Two dads? Gay guys?” Brand blurts out.
“Shhh,” she admonishes. “Those are protestors of their, um, preferences.”
“I don’t think there’s anything lower than people like that,” I hear Chris say.
I’m more than shocked by his statement. I wouldn’t have pegged him as an anti-gay kind of guy. I’m bothered by this quite a bit. I glance over at Chris, trying to think of what to say, only to find a disgusted expression on his face as he glares across the street at the protestors. He says, “Why do they have to do that right now when all these people are in mourning?”
Relief, in epic proportions, warms my heart. I touch his arm and say. “They have the right to their opinion. Everyone does.”
“Well, my opinion is they shouldn’t be here ruining this funeral.”
Once we enter the building, Anika rushes over to greet us. She has swollen red eyes, but seems pleased to see us.
“I want you to meet my grandparents. Come on.” She leads us toward a large room. On the way, we pass an enormous arrangement of flowers with a large photograph of two men.
Inside the room, folding chairs are lined up to accommodate the guests. Flower arrangements on elevated stands are placed everywhere around the perimeter, and an organized receiving line of who I assume are family members of the deceased leads up to two caskets with the heads against each other.
An intense wave of despair hits my gut. Seeing the parents of Anika—dead—brings everything we’ve been through into sharp focus. They died because of General Harding and his revulsion of people with powers. They died because of intolerance and hate―ironically, not because of intolerance and hatred toward their sexual orientation. I look over at Chris, but he’s no longer next to me. Brand hooks his thumb past his ear, motioning the direction Chris went. I can tell Brand is trying hard to keep his emotions in check.
I leave the room to look for Chris. He’s outside the front door, standing on the step.
I push the door open and walk to his side. I thread my fingers with his and lay my head on his shoulder. He rests his head on mine. I say, “That just got very real in there, didn’t it?”
He doesn’t respond, just squeezes my hand.
The voices of the chanting protestors across the street catch my attention again. I read their signs and am dismayed. One of the signs chastises the church and pastor for allowing the funeral of two gay guys to take place inside. Another sign states gay people shouldn’t raise kids. Then there’s the typical sign letting everyone know how God feels about homosexuals. The last sign is a dry-erase board and the holder is currently changing the message. I hesitate for a moment, knowing what I’m considering doing is wrong, but then decide to go ahead and use Mind-control on the lady to help lighten Chris’s emotional state.
“Watch this, Chris,” I say.
He lifts his head. “What?”
“Watch the protestor who’s writing on her board.”
The lady is bent over for a minute, then stands up and holds her board up high while chanting her message. “God Hates Haters! God Hates Haters!”
The other protesters stop cold in their shoes and pretty much tackle the lady, taking the board from her grasp. One guy uses his elbow to smudge her message.
Chris laughs. “Thanks, Calli. I needed that. Let’s go back in.”
We turn and enter the building. I release my mind-control hold on the female protester.
Anika finds us again and introduces us to her grandparents. We shake hands and offer up our condolences. I’m amazed at their level of control over their emotions. They’ve lost their sons. Forever. How is it they are so calm?
I read the mind of the first grandmother Anika introduced.
She feels she’ll see her son again in the next life and that when she does, his gay-ness will be gone—healed. She’s happier that he’s in heaven now.
I look into the mind of the other grandmother and determine she’s incredibly angry about the murder of her son. She had accepted him when he came out in public with his sexual orientation, supported him in bringing a child into the relationship, and has always been there for Anika. Her son’s murder, and that of his partner, is something she’s always feared.
I choose not to look inside the grandfathers’ minds. The insight I’ve gained from three different perspectives is enough for one day.
Beth and Brand have already chosen their seats, reserving two more for us. We join them.
As the funeral services proceed, I ponder the great mysteries of life and death. Crimson was right when she said people are afraid of the unknown. I feel that no one really knows where we go when we die, if we go anywhere at all.
The preacher tells the crowd that just believing in Jesus will get you into heaven. It seems to me the bar is quite low when it comes to who will be alongside Jesus in heaven. Maybe there’s more than one heaven. Maybe the Jesus-believing protestors across the street will be in a different location than the homosexual-accepting people in this room. Heaven better be a big place, that’s all I can say.
I think about Beth and her deceased parents. According to the preacher, as long as they believed in Jesus, they are saved and are currently in heaven. I wonder how that makes Beth feel. I have no idea, and I’m not going to read her mind to find out.
What about Chris and his father’s death? Religious beliefs aside, is he going to realize one day he’s lost the chance to finally gain his father’s respect and love? Or has he already mourned sufficiently, as he claims?
After sitting through the services, I conclude I need to live this one life I have in front of me to its fullest. Yes, my life will last longer than most, but that’s why I need to make sure I make the most of it.
The Diamond Bearer's Secret Page 5