by PJ Sharon
Chapter 6
After Will’s revelation about his family situation, Sam had a few more pointed questions, but he quickly realized Will was dead on his feet and would be unlikely to give more than one word answers until he’d had some sleep. Will spent forever in the shower and nearly ran the well dry before he appeared in the doorway of the extra bedroom where I was putting fresh sheets on the bed. I’d already changed into my warmest and least revealing nightgown—a flannel hand-me-down from Aunt Beth—but I still had an awkward flush of heat rise to my face when he looked me over from head to toe, sparkling blue-grey eyes studying me intently.
I’d given him some of Sam’s night clothes and placed a full outfit on a chair for the next morning. My pulse accelerated when his lips curved up to reveal a slight dimple in one cheek. His wet hair, darkened, and brushed neatly back away from his face gave the impression that he was older than I thought. He still had an unshaven scruff of light whiskers on his chin and upper lip, but he was clean and smelling of almond soap from five feet away. Water dripped from the strands of hair that rested on his shoulders and ran down his bare chest. He only had on the cotton night pants I’d given him and an odd twist of my insides had me fidgeting with the ruffles on my nightgown.
“You should be comfortable in here,” I managed. “There are extra blankets in the chest at the end of the bed if you get cold.” Keeping eye contact was growing increasingly difficult as he continued to study me. I pushed my hair behind my ear and chewed the inside of my cheek. “Don’t forget to put more of the calendula salve on that cut before you go to sleep.” I handed him the tin, suddenly realizing I sounded more like a nurse or an innkeeper than I wanted to. Why his opinion mattered, I had no idea, but I wanted him to like me.
We passed each other closely in the doorway as I headed for the hall. He laid a hand on my arm to stop me and caught my eyes. “I guess I didn’t thank you for coming to my rescue.” His gaze fell to his feet. “I’m not very good at…well…you know. I’ve run into a lot of people who haven’t been as nice as you and your uncle.”
“I get it. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.” I pushed my hair out of my eyes and we both looked down at his hand on my arm. He let it drop and turned away. Before I shut off the light, I snuck one last look over my shoulder, and my heart leapt at the sight of a long scar across his back. It was pink and not that old, but it had been a deep wound, as if someone had dragged a hot poker across the skin tearing a path of destruction to drive home the point. I held my question despite the image of someone cruelly marking the flesh that covered his lean, muscled shoulders. I tried to sound reassuring, “Goodnight, Will.”
He yawned loudly as he climbed under the covers, oblivious of my concern. “Goodnight, Lily.”
The way he said my name sent unfamiliar warmth creeping up from down deep in my belly. I felt it rush to my cheeks, and my breath caught in my throat. I shut out the light, afraid he would see, but his breathing had already dropped into a soft rumble. I left the door ajar so a stream of light from the hall would illuminate the dark for him in case he woke disoriented in the night.
While I waited to hear Sam shuffle off to bed in his room below mine, and for the light to disappear from under Zeph’s door, I pulled out my mother’s journal from under my mattress, reading her words over again for the thousandth time.
Medical Journal of Doctor Hope Greyson
December 15, 2043
Something is terribly wrong with this pregnancy. I am exhausted and sick constantly. I’m growing weaker by the day. Since the Industry has taken over my lab, I dare not keep any further files on my comp unit. For now, I’ll have to handwrite my notes. It seems the new government has taken over many of the remaining cities since the virus destroyed so much of what we knew of our old way of life. I don’t know where it will all lead.
What I do know is that since they interfered with my research and experiments, there have been increasing deaths of EVO carriers. My own pregnancy was one of the first in their new trials; an advancement that was meant to enhance strength, endurance, and viability. When they found out I was pregnant, they insisted I be part of the trial. They threatened dismissal and my input into the program would have ceased immediately.
As unethical and unlawful as their threats were, I gave in. Carl was furious when I told him, but by then it was too late. I had already injected the new serum into the fetus. I could not let other women risk something I was not willing to do myself and I knew as my husband, Carl would never allow me to put myself and the baby at such risk.
But feeling what I feel now, growing inside me, I fear I was a fool to trust the Industry with my life and that of my unborn child.
Previous experiments showed promise. My first born, Celia, is perfect. She has been a delight for her three short years and has never been sick a day in her life. I understand the science behind how my team managed this feat, but she is all we hoped our work could accomplish and is nothing short of a miracle. If we are playing with God’s hand, I hope all of our future generations can be as pure.
I only hope that I can be here to protect her and this baby.
I closed the journal and wiped tears away. Reading mother’s notes left me with a bittersweet sadness that I couldn’t resist. The name Celia Greyson rose up on a distant memory. That was the name of the girl I would have been if the Industry hadn’t intervened and cost us everything. I tucked the spiral bound notebook under the mattress, hoping Zeph would never find and read mother’s last journal entries. He carried enough guilt about her death without knowing how she’d suffered.
Complete quiet blanketed the house, leaving me with only the sound of the generator humming, the pulse in my neck, and the scattered thoughts in my head.
After I was sure everyone had settled, I made my way down the hall to Will’s room, pushed the door open, and knelt down beside his bed, the hall light casting a long beam across the wood floor. His injuries would heal up fine on their own in a few days, but I was concerned about the instability in his shoulder and knew I could do more to help.
Sam would be furious if he knew I had used my healing abilities on Will, but how could I not do all that was in my power to help someone in need? Nora’s words played in my mind. “True healing takes place in the presence of love,” she’d said. And how often had she reminded me that “if we each do our part in loving one another and our planet, maybe we stand a chance.”
I opened my heart and inhaled deeply. Resting my hands over the front and back of Will’s shoulder, I barely made contact with his skin. He was sleeping on his side with his injured shoulder exposed to the night air. Despite the chill, his skin was warm and soft to the touch and I had difficulty focusing my power. I furrowed my brow in concentration and felt the heat surge to my hands.
Even in his sleep, he was resistant to help. His energy pushed against mine and then gave way as if he’d let go and fallen into a dream. When a soft light glowed from my palms in the darkened room, a rush of peace and joy ran through me. Using my gift brought a wash of emotion to the surface and bathed me in what I could only imagine was a state of pure love—like an angelic presence that worked through me somehow. I hated having to hide it from the world. It was the most beautiful part of me and at the same time it was my curse.
Sam, the one person I wanted to heal most seemed immune to my energy. It appeared that the genetic markers in Sam’s blood that made us family, also made him immune to my abilities. I had no effect on Sam’s cancer, but neither did Zeph’s abilities have any effect on either Sam or me.
I might not be able to heal Sam or fix Zeph, but I could help Will here and now. I let the heat flow from my hands and pour into his body. As much as I hated hiding, my efforts would have to remain a guarded secret. Every time I allowed healing energy to surface, I ran the risk of discovery and the consequences hung over my family like an ax waiting to fall.
I understood Sam’s concern for me. EVO kids like me and Zeph were valuabl
e to the Industry and we couldn’t risk them finding us. My hands lifted from Will’s shoulder. I gently brushed his hair off his forehead and examined the clean cut. Left to heal naturally, it would leave a deep scar through his perfectly arched brow, a tragedy I could not allow. The thought had me smiling in the dark and I checked it, aware that I should be having no such prideful intentions. I swallowed the mix of emotions that settled in my heart.
I took a minute to really look at him. I’d avoided studying his features earlier. Without his eyes capturing mine in challenge, I had the freedom to notice all the details. He was totally beautiful, and other than a few small scars and blemishes, his skin was clear. He had full lips and a straight nose, but his cheeks were a little hollow and his bones prominent from lack of nutrition. His eyes and mouth were softer when he slept. The hard lines and furrows between his brows disappeared, and he looked younger.
I placed my hand over the cut on his head. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, taking in his scent, absorbing his remarkable energy, and reaching out to all of the emotion he had buried down deep inside. My eyes stung and a tear rolled down my cheek as his pain filled me. A torrent of sadness and guilt, fear and loneliness, coursed in waves from his soul to mine. I had trained myself to stay out of people’s heads and hearts since it seemed to add to the depletion of my own energy and most people had dark corners that were best left hidden.
I backed out of his energy field, feeling as if I’d overstepped my bounds and invaded his privacy. Without further hesitation, I brushed away the residual energy that hovered like a dark cloud over his body. He was carrying so much pain and fear I couldn’t help but want to ease his suffering. I shook off the heaviness that wrapped around my heart. I’d accepted that healing was not about what I wanted, and that people had to want to heal. Will released a low groan and rolled over.
“Sleep well, Will Callahan,” I whispered.
I tiptoed back to my room and snuggled into bed, grateful for the warmth as fatigue crowded my senses. Energy work exhausted me and with all that had happened over the course of the day, my mind was ready to explode into a million pieces. I had learned to shield myself from taking on the pain of the person I was healing. With Will, though, I’d wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to understand him better—to know him and share in his sorrow. I had so much of my own, and after sensing his, I felt a kinship to him that I wondered if he could ever feel for me.
I dismissed the thought and drifted toward sleep, a tug on my heart as I thought of him leaving and another squeeze of regret as I thought of the man I had killed that morning. The joy I’d felt in healing Will and thoughts of his sharp eyes and handsome face faded into a haunting dream of him kissing me under a waning moon, followed by horrible images of blood flowing like a river and dead bodies lying face down in the ravine.