The Sensitive

by Mary Coffin

  “That was close,” said Tibby. He looked to his side expecting Fynn to be standing there but she wasn’t. His heart skipped a beat as he looked around the shop. It was an art gallery and he spotted her standing near a wall, gazing at a painting. A man and woman were talking at the opposite end of the gallery and didn’t seem to notice them.

  Tibby walked over and spoke quietly. “Uh...do ya really think it’s a good time for this?” He glanced nervously at the two adults.

  Fynn didn’t respond. She was mesmerized by the painting and felt a deep longing to be standing on the bridge in the painting. Her fingers reached through the air, toward its surface. She detected the distant sound of music and tipped her head slightly, trying to hear it more clearly. The tingling sensation spread throughout her body, like blood pumping through veins, giving vital life force to all parts of it. The feeling started inside her body and spread outward, causing her to involuntarily shudder.

  Tibby noticed the distant gaze in her eyes. He waved his hand in front of her face, trying to break the trance-like state. “Yoo-hoo. Anyone home?”

  Finally she spoke. “Do you feel something when you look at this painting?”

  “Oh, yeah! Like it really moves me.”

  Fynn put her hands on her hips and gave him a sideways smirk.

  He held up both hands in a helpless gesture and grinned sheepishly. “Kidding...”

  She stepped behind him, put her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him a couple steps to the side so that he stood directly in front it. “Really look at it.”

  He observed the scenic painting of mountains. The lighting was subdued and the air was misty, almost foggy. A small amount of sunshine sparkled through the mist and shone upon a bridge that extended over a deep chasm and connected two mountains. The lighting was done in such a manner to show that one was leaving a dark, shadowed mountain to walk across the bridge to one that was lit up.

  As Tibby stared at the painting, he noticed an odd sensation in his body. Goose bumps erupted on his skin, as though gazing at the painting was waking cells deep within his inner core. He raised his arm and studied the little bumps on his skin.

  “Whoa. That’s weird.” He stepped back.

  “It’s called The Way Home,” said a woman’s voice.

  Fynn and Tibby had been so caught up in the experience that they visibly jumped.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

  They turned to look at her and realized they were the only ones in the store. Suddenly, they felt awkward and exposed.

  “It’s...it’s a pretty painting.” Fynn looked toward the door, hoping the flush she felt in her face wasn’t apparent.

  The woman stared at them. The look on her face changed and she intently studied their faces. “I don’t mean to stare. It’s just that...you look like...”

  Before the woman could finish her sentence, Tibby grabbed Fynn’s hand and pulled her out the door. They barely heard the woman shout for them to stop but they ran down the sidewalk and turned into a narrow alley. They crossed the next street and continued until they had travelled a couple more blocks.

  The following street was lined with tents and stands. People milled about everywhere. It looked like an outdoor market or fair of some type.

  “It should be easier to get lost in these people,” said Tibby as he glanced back from where they came.

  Fynn shuddered at the thought of being in the crowd. “Uh, I don’t know Tibby. Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

  “It’ll be okay. C’mon.” He walked away before she could object.

  They were quickly absorbed by the crowd of shoppers. Tibby kept an eye out for officers and other people that looked too long in their direction.

  When Fynn heard Cnāwan say to breathe, she realized she had completely forgotten about the cat. She also realized that she was tense and holding her breath. She started sucking in deep breaths of air and swallowed to keep from getting sick from all the churning vibrations. She tried to divert her attention with conversation. “So, did your body tingle when you looked at that painting?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “that was really strange. It was like some part of me was waking up for the first time.”

  “When I read the poem Mom gave me, I felt the same thing. Do you think that painting has something to do with the prophecy?”

  “I don’t know but we can’t go back there. That woman recognized us. She might have called the police already.”

  “Maybe we should leave town all together,” suggested Fynn.

  “Not yet. It would help if we could disguise ourselves better...maybe with hats and different clothes.”

  “Tibby...”

  “I know, we have no money but we’ll find a way.”

  “No. We’re being watched.”

  Fynn nodded slightly and shifted her eyes sideways to indicate where she wanted him to look. There was a man in one of the tents holding the sign, like the one she tore off the post, which had their pictures. The man looked at them and then back at the sign. Then he pointed and shouted. “Hey, you! Stop!”

  Suddenly, several people looked in their direction so they took off running. Being shorter than the majority of the crowd had its advantage. They moved quickly and got lost in the crowd.

  Tibby was in the lead and turned between a couple booths to head down a different street.

  Fynn grabbed his arm. “I hate to say it but we’re better off in the crowd.” She looked up and caught a glimpse of the man who was pursuing them. He was headed their way. “I have an idea.” Cnāwan looked up at her. Atta girl!

  They stood in place just long enough for the man to see them and then took off again. They walked fast enough to stay just ahead but still within his sight. At the end of a very long tent, Fynn cut to the right. Tibby and Cnāwan followed. At the back of the tent, Fynn saw an alley up ahead but instead she cut right again and walked more briskly along the back side to reach the opposite end. She hoped she had timed it just right.

  “Sceadu fæst!” She didn’t know how she knew the last word but it came out before her mind questioned it. She knew she was telling her shadows to be quick. The shadows scattered in three different directions. One of them ran down the alley and, as Fynn watched from the far corner of the tent, she saw the man run after it.

  “It worked,” she said to Tibby. They breathed a sigh of relief.

  Chapter 12

  _______________________

  Jon walked leisurely through the market, taking the time to visit with acquaintances while he looked for something he might like to buy for himself. It was a nice break from his routine and his mood was improving.

  The market was busy and he sensed excitement in the air as merchants carried out their business with customers. Crowds, as a whole, were energetic and tended to generate restless vibrations. He recalled a time when he was uncomfortable in these crowds. It took much practice before he could be in that swirling vortex of coarse energy without being affected by it.

  He stopped at a booth to admire the woven blankets. They were nicely done but he didn’t need one. He walked to the next tent and admired the fine pottery.

  “Jon, I haven’t seen you lately,” said the woman in the tent.

  He glanced up. “Hello, Sadie.” He had always admired her pottery and picked up a piece, turning it in his hand. He didn’t want to encourage the attraction she obviously felt for him so he didn’t engage her in conversation. She was a nice woman; attractive, too. He liked her gypsy spirit but he wasn’t interested.

  Sadie approached him, wearing a flirtatious smile. “See anything you like?” She brushed her shoulder against him and lowered her voice. “Maybe you come by my studio. I teach you how to make beautiful things.”

  He smiled back at her but wanted to create some distance quickly. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m just out for a walk today. It’s nice to see you, Sadie.” He
set the piece back on the table.

  As he stepped back out into the crowd, he heard a man shout. He looked around but didn’t see who it was. At the same time, he sensed tension nearby but couldn’t pinpoint the reason so he continued down the street.

  As he walked, he noticed that his body tingled, like it was charged with a new energy. He had experienced it before and learned, at one time, that drinking too much coffee quickened his heart beat and gave him a prickly sensation. But I only had one coffee. No, this feels different.

  He tried to pinpoint the reason for the feeling as he proceeded further down the street. It had been so long since he experienced it that he had forgotten what it was. He felt more alert, like he was being nudged to be on the lookout for something.

  In the meantime, he entered a large tent and started looking at the belts. He was only half focused on the belts, while he stood in a corner and tried one on. He kept glancing through the tent doorway, watching the crowd. It was as if some part of him told him to be aware, to observe and look for something different.

  A couple kids caught his attention as they passed by the entrance. They were focused and walked with determined purpose which made them stand out from the mingling crowd. A moment after they passed, a man walked just as brusquely several feet behind. Jon had the impression that the man was pursuing the kids. He was about to take the belt off and put it back when behind him, through the tent wall, he heard a language he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

  A girl’s voice said, “Sceadu fæst!” His heart beat quickened with so much excitement that he felt like he had ten thumbs while he tried to remove the belt.

  He glanced up and saw two kids enter the tent. They were the same ones that had just passed the entrance a few moments earlier. Once inside, they poked their heads back through the opening and looked out into the crowd, glancing in both directions. Jon finally got the belt off and put it back. He tried to act casual as he watched them walk to a hat rack and try some on.

  Suddenly, he saw the man that had been following them poke his head inside the tent and look around. In one fluid movement, Jon pulled out his wallet and dropped some money on the counter. Then he stepped over to the kids, put his hands on the back of their necks, in what appeared to be an endearing gesture, and said, “Those look great on you, kids. Time to go home now. Mom is waiting for us.”

  Fynn and Tibby felt the sudden, tight grip on their necks commanding them to move. The grasp was stern and not far from hurting. They hadn’t seen who had nabbed them but as they walked out of the tent, they saw the man that was pursuing them still looking around and tipped their heads slightly down so the hat brims hid their faces. At least it’s not him, thought Fynn.

  She was considering how to break away from their captor as he directed them through the crowd to an alley but she didn’t want to draw undue attention. She turned her head slightly to see if she could make eye contact with Tibby. It looked like he was trying to do the same. Then she heard the cat. You’ll be sorrrrry.

  Half way down the alley, Tibby was just about to kick the man in the shin when the man stopped and let go. He turned to face them.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you.” He smiled apologetically. Fynn noticed his eyes were slightly wet, like he was about to cry. “Where did you learn that language?” he asked.

  Fynn was suspicious and gave Tibby a fleeting look to read his reaction to the man. Tibby caught her eye for the same reason. She thought for a moment about what to say. Even if she felt like answering his question, how on earth could she explain that she learned it from an invisible cat that was really a woman? She still wanted to understand it herself.

  Jon sensed her apprehension and offered reassurance. He held up his hands. “It’s okay. You don’t need to answer. I mean you no harm.” He searched for the right words. “I know we’re strangers but the fact that you know that language means we’re not as much strangers as you think.”

  Fynn and Tibby glanced cautiously at each other, like they were unsure of whether to believe him or to run for it. They looked down the alley from where they had come and saw their pursuer walk by, still searching for them. Jon saw the man as well.

  “We can’t talk here. You’ll have to trust me when I say that I think we can help each other. Come on.” His voice raised a couple octaves with excitement. “Ben and Mel are going to be thrilled!” He turned and continued down the alley.

  Fynn mumbled under her breath. “Sure. Why not?”

  Chapter 13

  _______________________

  Jon burst through the door of Benjamin Boc Books. A woman was talking with Ben and they both looked up when the door opened.

  “Well, you must have found something to buy because you sure look happy.” Ben hadn’t noticed that two kids followed Jon through the door.

  Jon said, “Better yet, look what the cat dragged home.” He motioned with his hands to Fynn and Tibby. They removed their hats.

  Fynn heard Cnāwan. That’s actually funny, Jon.

  All of a sudden, they all talked at once.

  “You can see the cat?” Fynn raised an eyebrow.

  Tibby eyed the woman and recognized her as the one from the art gallery. “No, she’s going to turn us in!”

  Jon turned and asked, “What cat?”

  The woman asked, “Turn you in? What do you mean?”

  “Cnāwan,” answered Fynn.

  The conversations came to a halt.

  Jon looked like he had been punched in the face. “Cnāwan?”

  Fynn gazed at the cat sitting on the floor, in the middle of everyone. She purred and Fynn swore she was smiling. Then she heard: I’m enjoying this.

  “Okay everyone.” Ben held up his hands to stop the chatter. “Hold up.” He walked to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign in the window so the word CLOSED faced the street. “Let’s go in back and talk. I have a feeling this is going to take a while.”

  Tibby noticed the woman studying him and Fynn again. “I’m not going anywhere. She’s probably turned us in already.” He turned and grabbed Fynn’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  The woman stepped toward them. “No. Wait! I’m sorry that I keep staring at you. It’s just that you look so much like some people we know.” She walked closer to Tibby, who had stopped but was still holding Fynn’s hand. “You look like a younger version of Nathe Drincan. Actually, I can see Lois in you, too.”

  Tibby leered at her and let go of Fynn. “How do you know my parents?”

  “And you,” the woman said as she gazed at Fynn, “look just like Kay Cæge but you have Sully’s eyes.” When she pronounced Fynn’s last name, it sounded like kay-juh.

  Fynn corrected her, “Cage.”

  Ben said, “Actually, Melanie is correct but they probably changed it to Cage to make it easier.” He stopped and looked at his friends, a hint of a smile creasing his lips. Then his eyes landed on Fynn and Tibby. “Look. I know your faces are on the posters for the missing children from Happy Days, which means that both your parents have died. Am I correct?”

  Tibby nodded from behind suspicious eyes. Fynn looked down. “Yes.”

  “We’re sorry to hear that,” said Jon. He, too, looked down at the floor and appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Wow. We started out as eight. Now it’s just the three of us...plus you two.”

  Mel looked surprised. “I didn’t realize you were the two from Happy Days, honest. The girl had long...” Mel studied Fynn’s haircut through half-squinted eyes.

  Fynn shot Tibby a look and put her hand to her head. “Told you it was bad.”

  His lips pursed into a smirk. “Is that all you can think about right now?!?”

  Ben continued, “You have our word; the last thing we want to do is turn you over to the authorities. No, we’re glad that you’re here.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” said Jon. “How did your parents die?” He alread
y had an idea but wanted to hear it from them.

  Fynn hesitated briefly. “My mom got really sick. It was like she just ran out of energy to live. I think my dad died the same way but I was only three so I’m not sure.”

  “That’s what happened with my parents, too,” said Tibby.

  Ben, Jon and Mel exchanged concerned looks as the news sunk in.

  “Maybe if we had all stayed together, they would still be...”

  “You don’t know that Jon, so don’t go there,” insisted Ben.

  Fynn asked, “What do you mean that it’s just the three of you plus us two?”

  The room was quiet.

  “There is much to discuss but could we please take it to the back room so that we aren’t seen through the window?” asked Ben.

  Chapter 14

  _______________________

  Fynn and Tibby were still wary but agreed to talk in the back of the shop. Ben decided the best place to start was with introductions.

  “My name is Benjamin Boc. I’m the keeper of the book.”

  “The book?” asked Fynn.

  Jon frowned and appeared frustrated. “Didn’t they tell you anything? Geez, it sounds like they just gave up and tried to live as though they belonged here all along.”

  Fynn caught the stern look on Ben’s face as he motioned with his hand for Jon to calm down. Then Ben looked back at them. “Bear with us and we’ll explain.” He turned to the woman for her introduction.

  “I’m Melanie Craft. Either Mel or Melanie is fine. Through my craftwork, I help us remember. The painting you saw earlier...,” she looked uncertain, “...well, it’s one of the things we want to remember. We’ll explain later.”

  “I’m Jonathan Hieran. I also go by Jon. I’m the one who hears...” He looked down for a moment. “...well, at least I thought I’d hear it.” He took in a breath and looked at them. “Anyway, my name was originally Felan because I can also feel things – that are about to happen. But in honor of our friend, Emmett Hieran, who died after we arrived here, I took on his name and his role.” He saw confusion on their faces. “We’ll explain more later.”

  Ben nodded at Fynn.