by Dale Mayer
She could almost see the wheels in his brain turning. “Why?”
“Let me ask you another question.” He once again sat in front of the fire. “When you leave that room and come out to the rest of the house, how does that make you feel?”
“Originally it felt like I was escaping,” she said. “But now that I’ve been here longer, it feels like I’m venturing out.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “So, when you go back into that room, how do you feel?”
“Almost like going home. Going back to a nest or my cocoon,” she said. “But then I would think that about my bed.”
“Meaning that, because it’s your space, and that’s where your bed is, that’s to be expected?”
She nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
She watched him for another moment, and then, not allowing herself to hesitate, she asked, “And your brother, how did he find the all-white room? It didn’t bother his eyes like mine?”
“He found it still too much stimulation for his senses,” he said quietly. “He’s not tried it since, as he left soon afterward, although I think he could adapt to it if he gave it longer.”
“Right,” she said softly. “And that’s difficult too then. I presume he has …” She didn’t know how to say it delicately. “Difficulties?”
“You could say that.” Samson stood, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, staring down moodily. “I took him back to the mainland because he seemed to be so overstimulated here. I couldn’t get him to calm down.”
“I did feel that way when I first woke up because it’s like all my emotions bounced off the white back at me. So originally it felt like my fear was bigger, my frustration was bigger …” She shrugged. “And I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the only way I can explain it.”
“And now?”
“Like I said, it has calmed down. It’s much more peaceful.”
“So maybe, if I’d left him longer, he would have come to terms with it.”
“It’s possible,” she said. “Depends on why he’s overstimulated. If those feelings were reflecting back at him, then of course, it’s much worse. If he could get to the point where the room was peaceful, then it would become the cocoon. At that point he’d have to contend with the rest of the outside world when he stepped out of the white space.”
“Right.” Samson got up and went to the lab room off in the corner. He didn’t say another word, no explanations, just got up and left. But she could see him sitting in a chair, staring out the window, contemplating something. He was a very interesting man with a lot of secrets.
He fascinated her. She wanted to help him sort through it all, but she didn’t want to intrude.
Finally she stopped the movie. She picked up the laptop and took it back to the lab where it had been and plugged it in again. She left the room silently, walked to the double front doors, opened them and stepped outside.
A weird ping came from the back of the house. Instantly Samson ran toward her. “Don’t,” he cried out.
Startled, she stopped and turned to look at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t go out there alone,” he said. “Sometimes it’s a little more dangerous than other times.”
The odd ping was a warning bell. Probably set up for his brother who had difficulties. But now it also applied to her. She turned to study the surroundings, remembering his earlier words. “You said no one else was here. Yet I saw someone walking out here soon after I arrived. It would be odd for you to not know he was here. It’s not that big of an island, is it?”
“But other islands are close by,” he said. “And it’s possible someone could have come here and stayed out of my view. Although there’s no reason to do that. I do own the island. Plus, many animal predators swim from island to island.”
She frowned, thinking about it. “Only if they need food and if their primary source has disappeared. So then why would they come to an island? It’s relatively uninhabited.”
“Squirrels, groundhogs, birds and all kinds of small animals are here,” he explained. “I’ve seen carcasses, so I know some predators are out there.”
And then she remembered the shotgun he carried. “That’s why you keep a gun around, correct?”
He hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
“So why didn’t you forewarn me then? The first time I went out alone?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she frowned up at him. “It feels very much like you’re keeping something from me.”
He studied her for a long moment, and then he turned away from her, saying, “Come back inside.”
“You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?”
“No,” he said. “Besides, you’re keeping something from me, and you’re not telling me what it is either.”
*
He kept an eye on her from the corner of his vision. She appeared stunned at his comment. She truly didn’t understand. He wondered how long before she realized just how unique her rescue was. Had she herself called for that rescue? Had she called the dogs? Had she just cried out in pain, and somebody had answered?
He had so many questions, but he had no answers. And he desperately wanted them. His scientific mind said he needed answers. But she’d also filled him with more answers and maybe more questions about Jamie.
What if Samson brought Jamie back and kept him longer? Would he find that same transition she had? It was partly what Stefan had suggested. That worried Samson. Because his brother had desperately not wanted to go anywhere. He’d wanted to stay on the island. He’d wanted to be part of nature. Connected to the water as he always had been. Yet his behavior had become unmanageable, lashing out and hurting those closest to him.
Had Jamie contacted her? Samson wouldn’t put it past his brother to use innocent people to make his will known.
The world considered Jamie mentally challenged, on the spectrum with visible learning difficulties. Samson knew better. Jamie might be challenged, but his mind, his soul, operated on a much larger scale. Yet to explain that to the world around them was almost impossible.
Jamie was special—except when the elements overwhelmed him. Then he would scream like a banshee and lash out at anyone and everyone. It was a reflexive action, of course. But it still couldn’t be allowed. Jamie couldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone or anything. As soon as his fit was over, he was always filled with remorse if he’d caused damage.
But the last time his fit had been violent, and his other brother had been hurt. Samson couldn’t let that happen again.
He walked into his lab and closed the door. He knew it was rude, but he needed some space.
“She’s right, you know,” Stefan said from beside him.
He turned to study the glowing white figure. “I’m surprised you show up in this form all the time when it exhausts you so much.”
“If you would speak telepathically,” Stefan said humorously, “it would be a lot easier.”
“I’ve tried,” Samson said with a dismissive wave. “Jamie says the same thing to me all the time.”
“And he’s right. It would be a lot less effort on everyone’s part. And I think it would help Jamie.”
Samson looked down at his big hands, already clenched. “It would also give Jamie more control,” he said quietly. “You know I can’t give him that.”
“Maybe it’s not the control but the connection that he needs.” Stefan was fully and steadily calm.
That was the thing about Stefan. Samson admired him for his steadiness, his confidence, but it was also irritating as hell. The man always seemed to be in control. And Stefan always had answers—usually ones Samson didn’t like.
“I’m not always in control, nor do I have all the answers,” Stefan said, reading his mind. “But finding that perfect balance is the only place to find oneness.”
“Oneness with what?” Samson looked up. “With nature? With the animals? With myself?”
Stefan chuckled. “The more I do this, the
more I realize all of the above.” And, just like that, he was gone.
“Who are you talking to?”
Samson stiffened. Whimsy had opened his office door without knocking. He turned to look at the beautiful young woman standing in his oversize clothes. She looked like a six-year-old child in Daddy’s hand-me-downs. Yet anything but a child’s body was in there. He studied her for a long moment. “I just talk out loud sometimes.”
She shook her head. “No, I heard somebody else talking back,” she said, looking around. “I thought it was just the two of us here.”
She looked up at him with a quizzical expression, but only curiosity was in her gaze. He couldn’t believe it. How was it possible she could have heard Stefan? Then again, had Stefan a channel just for Samson, or did Stefan speak out loud in general terms for anybody to hear?
“As you can see I’m alone,” he said.
Baffled, she stared at the floor. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” Bewildered, she turned and headed back to the chair in the living room.
He knew it wasn’t fair to leave her thinking that, but what else was he to do?
Stefan returned a moment later. “She could hear me, which is great,” he said. “And, no, I wasn’t just on a channel to you. If she can hear any noise, then she could hear me.”
“Which just makes me sound like I’m off my rocker too. I don’t want her to feel like she’s in any danger at the hands of a madman,” he said in a harsh whisper.
Stefan nodded and faded before him.
Samson rubbed his temple. It was not what he’d meant. Stefan had come to Samson’s aid more than a few times. Samson had definitely not been a good host to send him away like that. He could feel Stefan’s laughter running through his mind.
“In that case,” Stefan said lazily, “I’ll come back and bug you some more later.”
Grinning, Samson returned to his work.
So many anomalies were here that nothing made sense. Strange wave patterns started out of nowhere and slowly rolled out to nothing. Samson had found no discernible pattern for when or for how long or for how strong. He had the data, but so far he couldn’t match it to a direct cause. Not earthquakes, tremors, major storms, volcanoes …
What he didn’t know was if these anomalies were getting more dangerous. Larger animals needed more food. That would greatly upset the island ecosystem. And there was already such an imbalance that it broke his heart to think of the marine life taking yet another hit.
His mind went back to Jamie and the concept of bringing him here again. Maybe after he got Whimsy safely on the mainland, he’d stop by and see how his brother was doing.
It hurt to see him medicated. That was the one thing about being here on the island—Jamie’s medications could be cut way down. And yet, so much more sensory stimulants were here. That Samson didn’t understand. He was emboldened by Whimsy’s reaction to the island surroundings, though. Maybe, just maybe, Jamie hadn’t been here long enough.
Samson bent his head to his work. That was what he was really here for. He would return to the mainland soon and hit the boardroom again. He’d been derelict in his duties these last few days with the woman here.
He found calling her the woman made it easier to distance himself from her. He absolutely adored her nickname, Whimsy. It suited her. It had never occurred to him that somebody would have a name like that. But it was sweet, and it was so her.
He forced his mind back to the work at hand. He’d have to start dinner soon and wanted to accomplish something first.
He glanced to the recliner to see her curled up with her head on the arm, fast asleep. He smiled. It was the best thing for her. She needed her strength to return to her world. And he needed his strength to let her go.
Chapter 7
The next morning Whimsy woke feeling marvelously strong and energized. She slipped out of bed, redressing but wrinkling her nose up at the same clothes she had to wear from yesterday, brushed her teeth and stepped out into the main room. She could hear Samson’s keyboard clacking.
She walked to his lab door to see him on a computer, but he appeared to be talking to somebody in a video meeting.
She stepped back, not wanting to disturb him, and headed into the kitchen, reached for a cup, pouring herself some coffee. She remembered his warning about not going outside. But it was so nice today, surely it was safe to just sit on the porch.
The door was propped open, and she grinned. He wouldn’t know she’d gone out. Therefore, she couldn’t get into trouble.
She sat out on the front porch steps, sipping coffee, watching the world go by. In this case, a squirrel. She watched it run across a rock in front of her, hop onto a tree trunk and race up to disappear in the foliage; then she spied a bird fly into a tree, while watching the waves break on the rocks below.
She gave a happy sigh, and, leaning against the porch post, curled her legs under her and enjoyed the early morning.
When his voice crashed through her peaceful space, she turned. “I know I’m not supposed to be out here, but it’s a beautiful day. The animals are so peaceful. The door was open, so, if you weren’t concerned about a predator coming in, I didn’t think I should be so concerned about a predator coming onto the porch.”
He stepped out and sat down beside her. “The predators aren’t always here. Just sometimes you have to watch out for them.”
She nodded. “I can understand that.” What she didn’t understand was how it seemed to be just a hot summertime afternoon when she’d been out before. “Can you sense them?”
“Me, not so much,” he said mildly. “But the dogs can.”
Surprised, she turned to watch King and Queen bounding toward them. “They’re out here all the time on their own?”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Sure. Why not?”
She frowned at him. “What if they get hurt? What if the predators come after them?”
The dogs shoved their faces into her hands, looking for her to pet them. She chuckled, put her cup down and gently stroked the two dogs.
“Aren’t you guys beautiful,” she said. “You have such a fantastic home here.”
“They come with me some of the time as I check out the island, but, if I’m not gone too long, they stay here. This is where they are happy,” he said. “I leave half of my world here and the other half back in Seattle.”
“I think the Seattle half would be a torturous trip.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes it is.”
She smiled and reached out, scratching the dogs.
One of the dogs stiffened, and the other one growled. They turned so they were facing away and stared out at the hillside.
Whimsy stood, straining her eyes to look into the distance. “What do they see?” she whispered.
“All kinds of things,” he said succinctly. “We rarely see any predators, but they’re out there.” He stood and reached for her coffee cup. “If you’re ready for breakfast, let’s go on inside.”
She glanced back into the hills and asked, “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“I already know … or have a good idea,” he said with a grim smile. “Let’s go back inside.”
He didn’t really give her much of a choice. He placed a hand on her shoulder and nudged her in and shut the door firmly behind them.
“Wait! What about the dogs?” she cried out.
He chuckled. “The dogs will be fine. They have their own door. If they wanted to come in, they would. You relax. Let’s get some food in you.”
*
He worried about her learning too much. He also worried about her learning not enough. Because, if she didn’t learn something, he wouldn’t learn from her. And it was all too possible she had information he needed.
She’d already given him an entirely different perspective on Jamie’s room. And what a concept that was. It was an interesting thing to note the reflection, something he hadn’t really considered. But it seemed like everybody in the psychology business w
as using white, and yet, now Samson could see Whimsy’s point. It would reflect back. That was why it was used in so many backdrops …
He didn’t know for certain what was out there. He had a good idea though. But, without Jamie and his help, it was much harder to find the truth. Or to communicate. Samson still didn’t understand how Jamie’s communication with nature worked, and that was enough to drive him crazy. But Jamie was a wild child and—medicated as he was—was no help to Samson.
In the kitchen he opened the fridge and took a look at what they had for supplies. He always kept a lot of dry goods on hand, but having a second person to feed had had an impact on his food inventory. There were still enough vegetables for a few days.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked.
“Food,” she said with hope, standing nearby. “I’m not picky. I just appreciate the fact that you are well stocked.”
“I’m a big guy, and I do like my groceries. I hate going hungry,” he said with a chuckle.
She nodded. “I understand. Not my idea of a fun time either. Do you still have eggs?”
He nodded and brought out the last dozen. “Looks like there might be enough for tomorrow too.” He opened the carton.
She smiled. “Good. If you want my help, please ask. I’m sure I can do something.”
He opened the cupboard with the bread, brought out a loaf of French, placed it on the counter and gave her a knife. “You can start toast.”
“I’d be delighted to.”
He watched as she sliced the bread into nice thick slabs and popped them into his toaster. In the meantime, he scrambled raw eggs and tossed some sausage patties into a pan. By the time everything was ready, the toast was golden-brown with the butter nicely melted on the top, and she looked ravenous. She already waited at the table, looking at him with hope.
He chuckled. “It’s good to see you have an appetite.”
“I have a big one here,” she said. “Maybe it’s because of the energy needed to heal. I don’t know.”