Claiming Amelia

by Jessica Blake

  I nodded and climbed out of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out thick blankets and a picnic basket that I spread on the riverbank before going back for her. Opening her door, she reached for my hand, and I felt as though I was with a queen. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to contain myself for the next hour or so. It would be a good exercise in self-control.

  We sat by the river and opened the basket. I’d brought tiny bottles of champagne as well as soft drinks, and she opted for the latter. I immediately buried the liquor, getting it out of her sight. There were sandwiches and salads, cheese, fruit and tiny cupcakes in a variety of flavors. The basket came with a fitted set of dishes, and we set about making plates for our feast.

  “So, is it just you and your father?” I asked, wanting to know where she stood. She nodded and looked sad, and I immediately felt bad for being too inquisitive. “I’m sorry,” I muttered quickly.

  “No, no… it’s okay,” she answered. “My mother died two years ago. She had cancer and it was a long, long battle. I guess we didn’t say enough prayers because she couldn’t stay with us.” She swallowed hard before taking a sip of her bottled iced tea.

  “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  “It’s okay, Hawk. I want to tell you. Mom was sick for a very long time, and I took care of her. You might wonder why a girl my age isn’t married yet, and now you know. Dad, even though he’s of the cloth, isn’t much good with sick people. It fell on me to be there for her. I didn’t mind, but it changed quite a bit of my early years.”

  She wasn’t complaining, merely accounting for what she realized would be obvious questions. I added admiration to the list of Liane attractions I was compiling. I waited for her to go on, sensing a need in her to talk.

  “I shouldn’t burden you with all this,” she apologized, and I quickly shook my head.

  “It’s not a burden. Please tell me. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

  She looked a bit doubtful. Perhaps she was accustomed to being the listener.

  “Well, what would you like to know?” she asked.

  “Would you marry me?” I said quickly.

  Liane’s head tipped a bit, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, now you’re having fun with me,” she said in a very clipped, heavily accented tone.

  I smiled. “Maybe not as much as you might think… but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’ve never been one for too many words.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, seeming to be sincerely interested.

  I shrugged. It was far too early in this game for me to do a tell-all. Maybe it would never be the right time. One thing I knew. I was becoming addicted to her. I almost felt an oncoming sense of anxiety knowing that our picnic would end soon, and it would be time for her to leave. I didn’t want that to happen.

  “You have secrets?” she prompted.

  “You mean other than I’m a maharajah in hiding from my harem because I’ve cut off their American Express?” I couldn’t keep the smile from playing across my lips.

  Her slender finger came up and slid down my cheek. Currents of hot electricity answered her touch, all the more so because I knew she was totally innocent of intent or guile. She was genuinely caring. “I understand,” she murmured. “Sometimes secrets must wait their turn.”

  I quickly grabbed the finger trailing down my cheek and kissed the tip of it. She didn’t seem startled at all. It was almost as if she expected it. When I finally let go, she moved the finger to her own lips and kissed the kiss I’d left upon it.

  I was overwhelmed. I’d never been treated with such gentleness, such a genuinely pure spirit. It felt like an encompassing cloud of peace and acceptance just to be near her. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” I blurted.

  She nodded and her cheeks blushed the smallest bit. “It’s my sensitivity you’re feeling.” The words were matter of fact.

  “How so?” What did she mean?

  “Promise you won’t laugh?” I waited until I nodded and she exhaled a long breath. “I generally don’t share this about myself, but I’m an empath. Are you familiar with what that means?”

  “I know empathetic,” I tried, attempting to understand.

  “Well, sort of based off the same idea except a little more so in my case.” She turned to me fully, her deep dark eyes almost willing me to understand. “My mother was an empath and her mother before her. We’re very sensitive to people and what they’re thinking, who they really are. For example, someone might try very hard to keep secrets about who they are, but I’ll see right through their words and see them for who they are.”

  “Like a psychic?”

  She shook her head. “No, no visions or anything like that. I pick up on their energy; often even better than they know it themselves.”

  I froze inside. I was nothing but a maze of secrets, lies, and deception. Even my name wasn’t my own. What was she thinking about me? I had to ask. “What do you pick up from me?” I held my breath.

  Liane looked out thoughtfully over the river as if framing her words before she spoke them. I felt as though my entire future was in the balance, but fought the impulse to stand up and leave.

  “I feel a sadness from you,” she said. “There’s a darkness in your past, something you had no control over but it became your life nevertheless. I know you’re a good man, but you’re holding on to bad things. I watch you when you think I’m not looking, and you’re like a chameleon. You have one face and body language that you show others, but a softer one you show me.”

  She knew me — too well. Was she holding something back?

  “Do I frighten you?” I asked in what was an admission that her words held credence.

  “I’m not frightened of you, but I am frightened for you,” she answered finally.

  I bristled a bit. I could take care of myself. Except for Bernie, I always had. What could this gentle creature do that I couldn’t do for myself?

  “I could teach you how to love,” she answered, and I froze.

  Jesus! She really can read thoughts!

  “Do I frighten you?” she countered.

  I gave the question serious thought. “I’m amazed, but not scared. I’ve never been around anyone like you before,” I told her, trying to put her at ease.

  “It’s okay if it bothers you. That’s why I don’t talk about it with many people. It makes them believe I’m a bit looney or one of those woo-woo psychics who charge people for a bunch of malarkey.”

  “I didn’t think that.”

  “I know,” she said, and those words took on a completely different significance.

  We sat companionably on the blanket and watched the water churning downriver. The Ohio was not your sweet, meandering river. It originated near Pittsburgh and met up with the Mississippi further south. It had wicked currents and while some pleasure boaters could be seen there from time to time, so could reports of drowning as people were pulled into undertows. The majority of its traffic was freighters pulling barges.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt as peaceful as I did alongside Liane. She was so incredibly pure and vulnerable. My every instinct was to protect and love her. I almost felt as though that’s the reason I’d been born. There was no artifice in her. She wore no makeup and made no attempt to impress anyone.

  She was a giver. The problem was, I was a taker. I was completely out of my depth here. “Will you teach me? About yourself? About how you look at the world? Will you help me erase some of the darkness that follows me around?” I asked the question, while at the same time not believing the words that were coming from my mouth.

  She swiveled and looked at me, her hand reaching up again to touch my cheek. It trailed over the scars, and it almost felt as though she was wiping them away. “Of course I will.” Her response was soft, and she leaned toward me and kissed me gently on the lips.

  The oxygen was sucked from my body. I’d been sitting there this entire time, wanting so badly to kiss her and kn
owing it could push her away. Then, to my astonishment, she kissed me. She had touched the ugly part of me and not pulled away. Who was this ethereal angel? My entire life had been one long blur of black, ass-kissing resentment and in less than an hour, she had me ready to lay down my hard-earned life for her.

  “Time to go,” she whispered, releasing my lips and bending into the chore of putting the remaining food back into the basket. I sort of rocked back on my feet in an amazed shock. She turned and smiled sweetly, snapping me back to reality and I leapt up and gathered the trash, dumping it in a receptacle.

  “I’ll get that,” I said, pointing to the basket and blanket. I extended my hand and with a feather-light pull, she was standing and brushing herself off. I walked her to the car and installed her safely in the passenger seat before retrieving the remains of the picnic and popping it into my trunk.

  I was quiet and thoughtful as I followed her directions to a small, well-kept duplex set back from the road. I pulled into the driveway and could think of nothing more to say than, "Thank you."

  She nodded and that Mona Lisa smile appeared on her face. "I know. It takes a bit of getting used to. You will, though, Hawk. That much I promise." She already had her door open and was out of the car before I pulled on my handle. She waved and walked up the sidewalk to her front door.

  I wanted to follow her. I wanted to kiss her on the doorstep. I wanted so much more.

  Instead, I lifted a hand when she waved one more time before disappearing, feeling like a school boy on a first date. On the drive home, my cheeks began to ache. A quick glance in the rear view mirror proved why. A huge grin seemed to have taken up residence on my face. I massaged my aching jaw, but the smile didn't falter. I don’t remember ever smiling that much.

  Even though it was dark, I saddled Diablo and rode to the boundary so I could look out over Carlos Acres. There was only a dim light on in the barn and just two upstairs lights at the big house. Something was different, and I wondered what it was. That’s when I realized. It was me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Liane

  I drove home that evening with mixed feelings. I’d been brought up to be fairly submissive and reserved. That’s the way British girls were supposed to behave, and most particularly daughters of vicars.

  I don’t understand why I felt so moved to touch Hawk’s cheek and then to actually kiss him. I just knew his energy was conflicted. There was a solid, intelligent, sensitive man inside what felt like a rather porous, dark shadow. The shadow felt less dense when he was close to me. This told me I was able to have some effect on him, compelling me to reach out and pull him closer.

  He made it fairly apparent that he was interested in me. I knew that his appearance didn’t speak for the man inside, but perhaps Dad wouldn’t be able to see beyond that. I was an adult, however, and I’d done my best to look after him, but the time had come for me to have my own life.

  I shared a duplex with Barbara and Dan Connor. Our units were side by side with garages to the outside. We each had small patios off the kitchen but were very different in how we lived. The Connors, while very nice people, tended to barbecue and party loudly with friends who drank too much. On my side of the privacy fence was my collection of trash to treasure outdoor furniture, chimes, a small water fountain and a variety of birdhouses. My rooms were much like my patio, filled with reclaimed furnishings I had doctored and decorated. I didn’t mind the eclectic look, or even that things were outdated. It just felt like an extension of my inner self, and that made it home.

  I pulled into my drive and saw that the Conners’ house was fully lighted and heard loud music streaming out their opened windows. I sighed, knowing it would be a little harder to get to sleep. Just then, Dan emerged from his living room, a bag of ice cubes in his hand. He slammed the bag on the porch concrete several times to break it up and waved to me with a smile.

  “Care to join us?” he called over, but I shook my head.

  “Another time, perhaps, thank you, Dan. I’m rather tired and want to get some sleep.” I hinted but as good as he was, he could be a bit dense.

  I went inside and closed all the windows against the clamor coming from next door. I was highly sensitive, and loud music and parties could easily overwhelm me. I changed into my nightie and sought out my headphones so that I might drown out the neighbors with some new age natural sounds. I slid between the sheets of my bed and tried to go to sleep, but Hawk was on my mind.

  What a strange name, I told myself. It didn’t even sound normal — more like an alias. That gave me cause for thought. Ordinary girls might have steered a wide course around him, as handsome and mysterious as he was. There were too many things that didn’t make sense and too much that was borderline hostile about him. For me, though, I could see through the exterior and knew he needed a loving woman to trust and need him.

  Perhaps one day he would tell me his story, but until then, I would be content with what was available. I learned when I was a child that it wasn’t important whether people told you they could be trusted. I already sensed it and just needed to trust my instincts. They’d never steered me wrong.

  I knew I was ready to have my own life. I had taken care of Mom and had looked after Dad after she was gone. I’d gotten my education and given my share to the community. It was time for me. Time for finding a good man and starting a family. There had been a special kind of loneliness when my mother passed. She had been an empath too and understood how I thought and felt. She never made me feel like an outsider.

  The few people in my life who knew about my gift handled it in different ways. Some heaped sarcastic skepticism on my shoulders and others steered clear entirely. I felt like a freak in a carnival. A few understood and accepted me completely. It could be a cumbersome gift. Often, I felt negative energies from others that indicated undiscovered ill health or deep sadness. What I felt could permeate my energy as well. For that reason, I tended to be a loner.

  It was different with Hawk. I felt his darkness, but it was an energy that attracted me to him. He was like a window splattered opaque with mud. I felt the urge to wash away the dirt and let sunlight illuminate the person inside. It was more than a feeling, actually. I felt compelled to do so. I was drawn to him. He was as familiar to me as a lover who reoccurred in my warm and trusted erotic dreams. We had already been connected by an unseen force that was as natural as breathing.

  I knew he felt it. He probably didn’t understand it. He may have even thought it nothing more than an animal need for companionship, perhaps breeding. His energy changed as he came close to me and I knew it felt good for him.

  There was an aspect of my abilities that I’d had little experience with so far, but I sensed it was maturing quickly. I’d first felt it with my mother. It had been a winter night, the kind so bitter as to have no redeeming factors save the prospect of spring. A spring she wouldn’t see. She had been in great pain, beyond what the narcotics could cloud. Although her eyes and lips were firmly sealed against complaining, I sensed her pain and felt helpless. I knew she needed something pleasurable to focus upon.

  Since we were both sensitives, we were linked in consciousness. I summoned up the picture of a hot air balloon landing in a springtime pasture, its colors vibrant against the blue of the sky. I mentally pushed the picture toward her, as one would wrap someone in a blanket. I knew when she received it. Her eyes remained closed with the vision, but her lips curled up at the corners, and she nodded her awareness. I patted her hand and kissed her cheek. For that moment, we were as one mind, and I was able to ease her pain.

  The danger, however, lay in the reverse possibility. I began to feel her pain. First as a great weariness and then a burning misery that radiated throughout my chest. Regretfully, I let go of her and left the room, walking out into that bitter night to cleanse myself of her energy. I hoped I had left behind enough of the balloon image to give her peace. She died two nights later, a smile still on her face. My dad took this to mean that she had seen
Heaven in her path and that Jesus had come to welcome her. I knew differently.

  I had the innate realization that I could do that at will, given that the recipient was somewhat aware. I believed Hawk had this, although he had no idea of it and probably couldn’t return it.

  I turned over and over in bed, trying to sleep, but it was elusive that night. I did the only thing that brought me comfort. I slipped on a robe and slippers and went outdoors to the patio. I had hoped to release the restlessness to the sky, but the party next door was blocking me. Instead, I went inside, threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and left in my car to go to my dad’s church. I had a key to the back door and let myself in, headed for the organ. When Mom was ill, I’d often played throughout the night. It was an emotional release. One badly needed. Without release, I became overwhelmed, fearful, and anxious.

  What I didn’t count on was that my dad was at the church as well. His office door opened, flooding the hallway with his lamp’s light. He came toward the organ, knowing it was me. I felt him approach and turned on the bench, rising to hug him.

  “You can’t sleep again?” he asked simply.

  I shook my head.

  “What has you upset?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing, Dad. I’ve met someone, and he has many layers. I know he’s good inside, but he’s working very hard at hiding it.”

  “You and your mother. You both always looked for the beauty within and blind yourself to the danger in discovering it.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” I teased him with a small smile.

  “I suppose, but it seems to come easier to you, as it did to your mother. Often, she guided me when I couldn’t see it. This man, is he someone I know?” Dad was concerned and protective, as always.

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. He lives a few miles from here, but I don’t know where. We’ve talked many times over the past few weeks, went on a picnic once. I’m drawn to him.”