The Gifted Ones: A Reader

by Maria Elizabeth Romana

  Grace laughed as she tasted the steaming beverage. “I’d forgotten what a continuous stream of wonders this place has to offer.”

  “Say, Miss Grace—”

  “Oh, Doo, please, just call me Grace. You make me feel like the old schoolmarm.”

  His face reddened slightly. “Sorry, ma’am. Just a childhood habit. Originally from Texas, ya know.”

  She wasn’t sure ma’am was any better; it made her feel every bit of her thirty-four years. As if sharing a coffee with a not-quite-fully-clothed man several years her junior wasn’t doing that already.

  “So I was thinkin’…being that you’re up early and all, and being that you’re such an expert with large animals—Joe told me that—I was wondering if you’d want to come out to the barns with me and look at some of our research. We’ve got several projects goin’ right now. We’re working on some plant-based antibiotics, and cross-breeding for natural pest resistance, and there’s also this study with the cows…”

  Grace’s eyes lit up, and she forgot her earlier questions about his sanity. “Oh, yes! I’d love to see. I didn’t realize you guys had all this stuff going on. Joe didn’t mention it.”

  “Well, maybe that’s ’cause he’s worried about the future of the projects. See, we had this great research vet here, Dr. Bianco, for the last ten years, but he left. He went to a veterinarians conference in Vegas and never came back.”

  “He never came back?”

  “Nope. He met a lady there, exotic animal specialist from New Zealand, and they ran off together. He sent me a postcard that said, ‘When it’s right, it’s right.’” Doo shrugged. “Can’t blame him. Prospects aren’t so good here at the farm.”

  “Prospects…o-o-oh, I see what you mean.” Sure, that made sense. Bright, successful men and women could find a world of joy for their intellectual and creative pursuits here, but their love lives? Not so much. At least not if they were young and healthy and hoping to get married and make babies. Grace was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that she was one of very few women in a fifty mile radius who didn’t carry a particular gene.

  Doo was now sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, pulling up the leg of his jeans and sliding on his boots, and again, Grace was trying not to notice certain very masculine aspects to his physique: long legs, bulging thigh muscles, broad shoulders…

  “Gracie.”

  She spun toward the sound of a soft, deep voice. “Joe! You’re up early.”

  “I was just about to say the same—” Joe stopped mid-sentence when Doo stood, pushing his chair back noisily. “Oh…uh, sorry, I didn’t realize…”

  “What? We were just having some coffee, chatting.” Why did she suddenly feel so uncomfortable? And why did her cheeks feel so warm?

  Joe appeared to recover from his momentary fluster. “Right, of course. Good morning, Doo.” He smiled politely and made his way to the coffee machine.

  Doo was the only one who didn’t look ruffled. “So you ready, Grace?”

  Joe looked up sharply, and Grace explained, “Doo was going to show me some of the research set-ups out in the barn. He said they have these great—”

  Joe’s voice was stern, “Not now. I need to talk to you.”

  # # #

  Joe gave Doo an impatient stare. “Doo, would you excuse us? Now, please. You can show her around later.”

  Doo looked annoyed, but grudgingly agreed, “Yeah, sure.” He grabbed his Stetson from a hook by the door, gave Grace a brief nod, and headed out.

  The minute the door closed behind him, Grace lit into Joe, “Joseph Manning, was that really necessary? What is so important that it couldn’t wait? And did you have to be so rude?”

  Joe cringed. She was absolutely right. He’d acted like a jerk. What the hell was wrong with him? He took his coffee and slumped into a seat at the kitchen table. “Ah, Gracie, forgive me. That was totally out of line. I owe you both an apology.” He ran a hand through his silver-black hair. “The last forty-eight hours have been rough. Just seeing you and Ellie, after all these years…” He shook his head. “So many memories.”

  Grace softened and sat down next to him, laying a hand over his. “It’s okay, Joe. We’re all a bit rattled right now, but just realize…” She waited until he made eye contact. “I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not your girlfriend’s baby sister. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, I know.” But did he? When he walked in and saw her drooling over the half-dressed cowboy, some primal instinct had taken over. He shook it off and shifted gears. “Look, Gracie, I know you’ve got your heart set on finding a new place to live, to hide out, at least until Ellie’s grown, but…”

  She pulled her hand back from his. “Joe, this is not up for discussion. You know I want Ellie to have a normal life, regardless of her abilities.”

  “Yes, Grace, you want. Have you thought about what Ellie wants? Especially now that she knows she’s Gifted. Don’t you think you should at least give her a chance to chime in?”

  Grace sipped her coffee and didn’t answer. After a moment, she got up, walked back to the picture window, and stared out.

  Joe followed and spoke over her shoulder, “I know how you feel about this place and the people in it, Grace. But how long are you going to let your feelings get in the way of what’s best for Ellie? Think of what she could learn here. Think of what she could become here. She could study with some of the most brilliant and creative people in the world. The opportunities are endless.”

  She turned her head and looked up at him. “You mean, think about the great career she could build for herself, don’t you? What about a life, Joe? What about love? Maybe Ellie wants the things you and I never got to have—a home, a real home, with a husband and children and…maybe a dog. What about those things, Joe?”

  “She can have those things! She won’t be hidden away here for the rest of her life. She can come to Washington with me anytime she wants, and she can travel to our other installations and meet people from all over. All kinds of people, not just Gifted Ones.” He took Grace gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Be honest, Grace. You know first-hand what we could do for her here. You know this is the best place for her.”

  Grace closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them again. “I’ll think about it.”

  Joe grinned. “Really? Thanks, Gracie. That’s all I ask.” He released her shoulders and motioned toward the door that Doo had walked through. “Now, if you want to go see Dr. Doolittle’s experiments, be my guest.”

  “Wait, seriously? His name is Dr. Doolittle? I thought ‘Doo’ was like, a nickname or something.”

  “Oh, it is. His real name is Garth Clovis, but we call him Doo, because…”

  Grace wrinkled her forehead. “What?” Then her eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

  “Well, he doesn’t really talk with the animals, of course, but…you’ve heard of a horse whisperer? That’s Doo. He’s got the Gift, with all the animals. He’s a Communicator, with a twist. Granny flipped when she first heard about him. She couldn’t wait to get him up here, to start studying his methods…and his DNA. He’s like her pet project now.” Joe looked up in his head. “Uh, no pun intended.”

  Grace laughed. “Well, this I’ve got to see for myself.” She headed for the door.

  Chapter Seven: Wonderland

  “Hey, chica! There you are. Joe sent me to look for you. He needs your help with something.”

  Ellie grinned at her new-found friend, as she made her way down the front staircase. After her first night in the old farmhouse, she was feeling a bit lost, and the friendly face of Angel Espinoza was a welcome relief. “Hi, Angel. Have you seen my aunt? I checked her room, and she’s not there.”

  “From what I heard, she was up with the sun. Out in the barn with the animals now, I think.”

  Ellie nodded. “Oh, sure, that makes sense. Aunt Grace probably couldn’t wait to get out there.”

  “I can go get her, if y
ou want.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s nowhere she’d rather be than raking stalls or milking cows or whatever. Let’s go find Uncle Joe.” Angel took a step towards the hallway, but a loud growl emanating from Ellie’s midsection stopped them both. “Uh, could we grab something to eat first? Maybe a little toast or some juice?” Ellie turned back toward the staircase. “Is that the kitchen through there?”

  “Ooooh, yes and no.” Angel turned around and pointed to the little room with the antique-style cabinets. “That’s the original farmhouse kitchen. We still use it for coffee and snacks and stuff, but the real cooking takes place back there.” She pointed down the hall, past the dining room where dinner had been served the night before. Angel looked side-to-side, as though wanting to assure no one would see them, then led Ellie to a swinging doorway. She held her finger to her lips, then slowly and gently pushed the swinging door inwards, peering around it as she went. After a moment, she relaxed, and pushed the door wide open. “C’mon.”

  Ellie followed her in, also glancing side-to-side as she went, wondering what it was they were watching out for. Once inside, however, she was too busy looking around to care. “Holy cow! This place is awesome.” The room was outfitted as a large, professional, restaurant-quality kitchen. There were enormous prep tables, multiple refrigerators, and dozens of pots, pans, and gadgets hanging from overhead racks. In the center of one of the prep tables sat a large basket of assorted pastries and a half-empty platter of crispy bacon. “Yum!” Ellie reached over and snatched a piece of bacon off the platter and stuffed it in her mouth, then she grabbed a fluffy baked item that was dripping with icing. She took a big bite of the pastry, and, with mouth still full, exclaimed, “Whoa, this is awesome. This is the best—”

  Angel cut her off, making a pressing motion with her hands, “Shhh, not so loud. He might hear you.”

  “Who?” asked Ellie, as she licked some icing off her fingers.

  “Renni. Our cook. He doesn’t like anyone in his kitchen, especially when he’s not here.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Trust me, I know from experience.”

  Ellie nodded, since her mouth was now busy sucking down a glass of fresh-squeezed juice. After she swallowed, she spoke in a hushed tone, “Well, I don’t want to make anybody mad. Especially a guy who can cook like this.”

  Angel relaxed a little and studied Ellie. “You like cooking? Are you any good at it? If that’s your Gift, Renni would love to work with you…”

  Ellie choked on an apple fritter. “Wait—you mean, cooking can be a Gift? You mean this Renni person is-is one of you, I mean, us?”

  Angel stepped to a countertop next to the giant oven and pulled a large hardcover book off a shelf. She displayed its cover to Ellie. The book featured a dark-skinned man sporting dreadlocks and a bright white smile. He was wearing a candy-striped apron and holding a platter of well-dressed shrimp in his hands. Angel read the title aloud, “The Science of Exotic Spices by Chef Renford Myrie.”

  Ellie snatched the book from her and studied the cover, then looked up. “Chef Ren? As in Real Food with Chef Ren? The TV show? Are you kidding me? He’s super famous! Aunt Grace loves that show.”

  “Oh yeah, he does that, too, but most of the time, he’s here, working on his books and trying to fatten me up.” She smacked her own curvy behind, then reached back up to the book shelf and flipped through a few volumes, adding, “He’s written fifteen or twenty books about natural cooking and food science and composting and all kinds of stuff. You should check out his video series on YouTube.”

  Ellie stopped stuffing her face long enough to look through a couple of the books. “Man, this is so great. Aunt Grace is gonna flip when she hears about this. Will we get to meet him?”

  A booming laugh suddenly cut in from the hall outside the swinging door. Angel dropped the book she was holding on the counter and grabbed Ellie by the arm. She pulled her toward a small doorway near the back of the kitchen and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Crap, it’s him. He will skin me alive and serve me for dinner, if he finds us in here. C’mon!” She opened the door and yanked Ellie through it.

  # # #

  When the door from Chef Ren’s kitchen closed behind them, Angel and Ellie were shrouded in virtual darkness. It was also damp and surprisingly cold. Angel guided Ellie’s hand onto a railing. She whispered, “It’s an old stone stairwell, be careful. Just hold onto the railing and follow me down.”

  “How can I follow you? I can’t see a thing.” Ellie gripped the railing tightly, and felt her way down each of the steps. The air got colder and damper with every inch of descent. When they reached the bottom, there was a bit of light filtering through a smudged basement window off to one side. There were shelves along the walls and wooden cartons stacked here and there. Ellie squinted in the darkness. “So where are we now, and how long do we have to stay?” She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had worn something warmer than a flimsy t-shirt. Then she checked the floor, expecting to see rodents, or worse, spiders.

  Angel ran her hand over one of the old wooden shelves. “Back in the day, this would have been called a root cellar—you know, a place with a consistent year-round temperature for storing vegetables, cured meats, stuff like that. Renni’s all into the whole back-to-nature thing.” She shrugged. “If you read some of his books, you’ll learn a lot.”

  “Right now, all I want to learn is how to get out of here. I’m freezing.” Ellie didn’t mention her fear of arachnids.

  Angel grinned and led her toward an old wooden door with a huge metal sliding lock. It looked like something that might lead into a dungeon. Angel pulled back the metal bar, then yanked on the door. Light flooded into the room, and Angel held out her hand, indicating Ellie should go toward it first.

  Ellie hurried past the thick door and was immediately greeted by warmer, drier air. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she blinked, trying to sort out what she was seeing. Left behind was the century-old farmhouse, and before her was a future like she’d only seen in movies. The floor was patterned with colorful stone tiles, and the walls were a blend of glass and metal and some kind of material that looked like sponge or foam. There were groupings of oddly-shaped furniture like exercise balls and wobbly stools, all with electronic devices attached. But not everything looked like business; the walls were hung with every type of drawing and painting, and sculptures and statues were poised at every turn.

  “Hey, slowpoke, let’s go.” Angel was striding ahead and beckoning Ellie to follow, but Ellie was too dumbstruck to move. One of the hallway doors opened up, and a woman stepped out. A rich, operatic voice, accompanied by dramatic piano music, spilled out into the hallway, until the woman pulled the door closed behind her again.

  “What is this place, Angel? I mean, where are we? Are we under the house? Or did we pass through a magic time portal or what?” After all that Ellie had seen in the last forty-eight hours, there was nothing she considered beyond reason at this point.

  Angel stopped and laughed. “No, no magic time portal, chica. This is just where we do our thing, ya know? Or one of the places, anyway.” She gestured toward doors and windows up and down the hall, “There’s music rooms and science labs and underwater habitats and space travel simulators and…”

  Ellie walked slowly toward her, looking from side-to-side, where glass-walled rooms allowed her to observe the Gifted Ones in action. She stepped up to one wall and pressed her nose against the glass. “What are these guys doing?” In the room, a young man and woman, dressed in Medieval costume, were acting out some sort of sword-fight scene behind a black metal grid, while several onlookers stood by furiously tapping on computer tablets.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s pretty cool. The gaming development arena.” Angel joined Ellie at the glass wall and pointed toward the actors. “See, those guys act out the scenes a bunch of different ways, so the other guys can figure out how to do the graphics and programming for maximum realism.” She pointed toward one part
icular onlooker. “That chick rocks. She wrote this program for me that creates simulations of all different kinds of attack scenarios, so I can really challenge myself and be prepared for anything. I’ve battled Huns, Aztecs, Vikings, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Oh, heck yeah. And it can even do creatures like grizzly bears, snakes, or dinosaurs.”

  Ellie turned to face her. “Dinosaurs? Is that really a good use of your time?”

  Angel grinned. “Nah, it was just fun.” She lowered her voice, “And to tell you the truth, Tyrannosaurus Rex kicked my ass. Those little bitty arms are so distracting.”

  Ellie was going to give that some thought, but she was startled by the sound of a modest explosion. Both girls turned to look down the hall where a door opened and purple smoke poured out. Angel sagged, “Not again.”

  “What? What is it? Is it poisonous? Do we need to get everyone out of here?”

  Angel shook her head and started walking that way. “No. It’s perfectly harmless. Just kind of messy. It was the same thing you heard last night in my room.”

  By the time they reached the smoking doorway, two adolescent boys had stumbled out into the hallway, choking and waving away the fumes. One of the boys was chubby with a heavy mop of brown, curly hair, while the other was a painfully scrawny Asian boy with some rather unfortunate acne. Both were coated in a bluish-purple powder, and when they pulled off their protective eyewear, they had big owl-white circles around the eyes of their otherwise purple faces.

  Angel approached the chubby boy and planted her hands on her hips. “Spencer Christian Landry, how many times I gotta tell you? No more experiments with that salty peanut stuff.”

  “Saltpeter, Angel, and it’s not dangerous. They put it in all kinds of foods—”

  “Just because they put it in food, doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. Just ask Chef Ren.”