Through Her Heart (Mind's Eye Book 6)

by Deborah Camp

  “You’ll talk to Trudy about my proposal?”

  “Yes, but we’re really busy right now, Althea.”

  “You always are.” A little scowl marred her regal features. “If you don’t want to help me with this, just say so.”

  He smiled at her. This woman had seen all his ugliness, embraced it and him, and guided him to a better, safer place where he could confront his demons and slay them, one by one. Then he thought of the boy – alone, living with strangers now, and dealing with abilities that probably baffled and scared him. “Of course, I’ll help, Dr. McClain. Let me talk to Trudy and I’ll get back to you before the end of the week.”

  Althea’s face brightened. “I knew I could count on you. You and Trudy.” She switched on her notebook and the screen cast a silvery glow across her face. “Let’s discuss you now. How have things been for you the past couple of weeks? You mentioned last time that you thought your father might have hired someone again to hack into your business and personal accounts. Anything else to report on that?”

  He shifted gears in his mind. “I think it was Chason Bolt poking around.”

  “Oh, the ‘psychic to the stars.’ The one you feel is trying to one-up you all the time.”

  “That’s him. There was a flurry of activity and then nothing.” He recalled his technical team’s reports. “All signs pointed to Bolt. He didn’t find anything, so he gave up. There’s nothing much to dig up about me. I’m an open book.” He grinned at her glare of chastisement. “Well, I am now.”

  “Uh-huh. Show me a man or woman with no secrets and I’ll show you an android.”

  He chuckled at her analogy. “Things have been rocking along pretty well. I did have a bad dream a couple of nights ago. Nothing major like the ones I’m used to. This one had to do with Trudy. In it, I arrived home from work and she was frantic. She said she had lost our baby and she’d torn up the place looking for it. I tried to calm her, telling her that we didn’t have a baby and that it was okay. She screamed at me and tried to hit me, slap me. I woke up then, my heart frozen in my chest.” He pressed his fist there, recalling the chilling feeling. “It was painful. She was so distraught. So hysterical.”

  “How long has it been since she went off birth control?”

  “Almost four months.”

  “She’s concerned that she won’t get pregnant?”

  He nodded. “No matter what I say, she worries that it won’t happen for us. Then she talks about beginning adoption procedures. But I think that’s premature. Yesterday she said that we should both be tested to be sure we’re fertile.”

  “I’d wait longer before taking that step, too. Four months isn’t all that long. Everyone is different. Some women get pregnant on their next cycle and some women’s bodies take a year or more before they conceive. There’s no set timetable. Does her anxiety make you anxious, too?”

  “Sometimes.” He rolled his shoulders against the tightening of muscles there. “I’m not as enthusiastic about parenthood as she is. It’s a huge responsibility.” He tugged at the Windsor knot in his tie. “How can I know if I’m ready for it? I might be a complete failure at fathering.” He scowled at Althea’s gently chiding smile. “Well, it’s certainly possible! I have no good reference points when it comes to parenting.”

  “Yes, you do. You haven’t lived in a cave, Levi. You’ve been exposed to people with children. You’ve seen them interact with their offspring. You’ve watched movies and television shows about families. You’ve read about good and bad parents. You know as much about it, if not more, than most childless people.”

  “But I don’t know if I have what it takes. The patience, the depth of feeling.”

  “No one knows for sure until they are in the situation. And those skills come with trial and error and over time. Every child is different, so there are no set rules or behavior patterns.” Her smile doubled. “We all have to wing it. Just jump from the nest and trust that we’ll figure out how to fly.”

  He ran a hand down his face. “Hell. That makes me break out in a cold sweat. To think that I could screw up a life. That I could be the reason another person needs to seek out a psychiatrist.”

  “Or that you could be the reason a person grows up to be happy and well-adjusted.” She arched a brow. “Mr. Sunshine.”

  He chuckled at her use of the facetious nickname he’d been given by a few people who worked for him. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

  “Good.” She typed something in the notebook. “So, let’s talk about how you felt when you came back home at age seventeen. Your mother was dying from cancer. Was she bedridden by then? Tell me about seeing her again after all those years . . .”

  Relishing her last bite of lasagna Wes had prepared for their dinner, Trudy sat back and patted her midsection. “He outdid himself,” she told Levi, who popped a bit of bread into his mouth. “I keep forgetting to get this recipe from him.”

  Levi took a drink of iced tea. “We have the chef, so we don’t need the recipe.”

  “I might want to make it one weekend when Wes isn’t here. Besides, Wes might not work for us forever. I want to be prepared in case he decides he’d like to embark on something different.”

  Levi shook his head, rejecting that idea. “Wes loves his job here. He’s not going anywhere.” He snapped his gaze back to her as an alarm rang in his head. “Why? Has he said something to you about leaving?”

  “No. Relax.” She tossed her napkin into her empty plate.

  He released a quick sigh of relief. Wes Statler had been his major domo for several years and was also a person he had come to respect, rely on, and trust.

  “So, you saw Dr. McClain. How’d that go?”

  “Good.” He sipped some iced tea, regarding her and trying to measure her mood accurately. He was the moody one in their relationship, but his wife had been prickly the past few weeks and he knew it stemmed from her disappointment over not conceiving the moment she’d stopped taking birth control. Granted, their relationship had progressed quickly from intense attraction to marriage within a year. So, Trudy apparently expected every milestone to happen with the snap of her fingers. He decided it was safe to step onto thinner ice. “You should make an appointment and talk to her about your . . . well, your anxiety.”

  “Anxiety?” She glared at him, her tone resembling the pop of a whip. “About what?”

  “You know.”

  “Obviously, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  He pushed aside his plate, making room to cross his arms on the table. “About not getting pregnant. Yet. You’re getting worked up over nothing. It will help if you talk to Dr. McClain.”

  She ran her fingertips up and down the condensation on her iced tea glass, clearly agitated. “I don’t need to. We’ve talked about it. I concede that I’m probably expecting too much, too soon. It’s just that I’m excited about having a baby. You know?” She scowled at him. “You don’t know. You’re not as ‘into’ it as I am.”

  “I talked to Dr. McClain about parenting today.” He smirked when he saw Trudy sit up, all ears now. “She stated the obvious. There’s no need to panic yet about not being pregnant and nobody knows how it will be to be a parent until it happens. You have to take it day by day.”

  Trudy rolled her green eyes at him. “You make it sound like serving a prison sentence. Why can’t you look at it as an adventure?”

  “Oh, I do.” Like walking a tightrope kind of adventure. He bit back the rest of that thought.

  “I was looking at adoption agencies online today,” she said, her tone going soft and whispery. “There are so many children living in group homes and with fosters, just waiting for someone to make them part of a family again.”

  He took a long drink of the tea, seeing his opening to discuss Stuart. “Dr. McClain is treating a young boy who is in a foster home. He’s psychic.” He smiled inside as her eyes widened and her kissable lips tipped up at the corners. “He’s seven. I shot the breeze a little with him while
we waited to talk to Dr. McClain.”

  Worry lined her brow. “What happened to his family?”

  “He’s an only child and his parents were murdered a couple of months ago.”

  “The McFarlands?” She covered her lips with her fingertips. “I read about them.”

  “Really?” He’d looked on the Internet after he’d left Dr. McClain’s office and had read a couple of newspaper articles about their murders. “Must have left an impression on you.”

  “Well, yes. Because it was horrible. And, as far as I know, there haven’t been any arrests.”

  “That’s right.”

  “That poor child. And he’s psychic? Like, how?”

  “He’s clairvoyant. He knew that the phone would ring several seconds before it did. He knew when someone was approaching the office. He didn’t seem able to read my thoughts, so I’m not sure if he has any other abilities.”

  “And he’s Dr. McClain’s patient. She must be treating him for PTSD, right?”

  “Yes. It hasn’t been determined what, if anything, he saw that night his parents were killed. He hid.”

  “From what I remember, some things were taken from the house.”

  “That’s right. Probably the usual stuff. Electronics and jewelry.”

  “But the murders.” She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. “Thieves usually prefer no confrontations. Makes me wonder if the couple recognized the thieves and that’s why they lost their lives.”

  “I spoke briefly over the phone this afternoon with Detective Myers. It’s his case and he hinted that it’s going cold.”

  “Now that you’ve met the child, you’re thinking of working on the case?”

  “More than that, actually.” He rested one hand on her arm, needing the connection. “Dr. McClain wants us to help her with the boy. She’ll deal with his trauma and we’ll deal with his ESP and help him understand it. Cope with it.”

  “You’d be okay with that? You don’t like working with children.”

  “Right.” He released a long sigh. “But it’s hard to deny Althea McClain. I owe her so much.”

  Trudy looked away from his probing gaze, staring into space. He tried to ferret out her feelings, but couldn’t. Was she interested or not? After a bit, she gave a small nod.

  “So, what do you think?” he prodded. “You want to do this?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Stuart. His friends call him Stewie.”

  That coaxed a small smile from her. “Stewie. He’s how old?”

  “Seven.”

  Her gaze swung back to his. “Like you when your parents sent you away from them.”

  He shifted as momentary uneasiness stole through him. She had a way of digging deep, seeing things others missed. He hadn’t allowed himself to compare his experiences as a seven-year-old to Stuart’s, but Trudy had made that link.

  “You’ll actually do this?” she asked. “Work with a child?”

  “Yes.” He meant to speak confidently, but the word emerged as a whisper. She was right, of course. He avoided cases that dealt with children. He’d told himself that he had agreed to help because he owed it to Dr. McClain, but Trudy saw through that ruse. It was the boy. There was something about him . . .

  “Good for you, Levi,” she said, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

  His foolish heart swelled at her compliment. This was a big step for him. He’d be smashing personal rules. Freefalling from his safe, little nest.

  “Okay.” She covered his hand with hers. “Count me in.”

  “Great. Dr. McClain will be pleased.”

  “When can I meet him?”

  “I’ll check with her. We should familiarize ourselves with the case. Get as much information as we can about what went down before we talk to Stuart.”

  “I agree.” She lounged back in the chair, propping one bare foot in the seat and resting her chin on her jeaned knee. “Once we get going on this, I can probably connect psychically with the murderer.”

  He nodded, having already considered that. “Yes, but Dr. McClain wants us to assist the kid in understanding ESP.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t always have control over that, do we? If I tap into the murderer’s mind, then I’m running with it. Same thing goes for you. I can’t see you standing back and not trying to connect with his parents to see if they could show you something that could reveal who killed them.”

  “Tru, listen. Our main objective has to be—.”

  “What? You’re actually saying that you won’t help find who killed his parents?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” he said, biting down on his irritation. It would be inhumane not to help when they could. “However, we’ve been asked by Dr. McClain to let the boy know that he’s not weird or nuts. He needs to understand what’s happening to him. That’s what we’ll concentrate on.”

  “Sure, I get it.” She drew circles on her knee with her fingertip. “We’ll help him deal with his psychic gifts and assist in tracking down who murdered his folks.”

  He shook his head, smiling at her. She grinned back at him, fully aware that she hadn’t agreed to his terms and had no intention of doing so. Whether he liked it or not, they were working on the McFarland murder case. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” he asked, at that moment thinking she was so damned cute that he believed he’d grab her and kiss her senseless.

  “Yeah. A little.” She wrinkled her nose at him and then released a giggly shriek when he lunged for her.

  Chapter 2

  She had to wonder if Dr. McClain hadn’t connected Levi with Stuart McFarland for more than Stuart’s benefit. Trudy shut off the laptop and rubbed her tired eyes. She’d spent two hours reading everything she could find online about the McFarland robbery/murders. Since yesterday when Levi had told her about the boy, she’d been unable to think of anything else. Her heart went out to the little guy. He’d lost his whole world! But she couldn’t help but compare him to Levi. Both had been barely out of babyhood when everything and everyone they knew and trusted had been taken from them and they had been cast out into a dark, confusing place where nothing and no one could be relied on.

  Levi had been reluctant to work on cases dealing with children – up until now – and she couldn’t blame him. He’d been led to believe that he was a bad seed, thanks to his poor excuses for parents – and he had been convinced that he should probably stay away from minors. He’d been uncomfortable and unsure around them. Gradually, through therapy and through Trudy’s steadfast love for him, he’d let go of the warped idea of who he was and of what he was capable. It had made her heart burst with relief and jubilation when he’d agreed to have a child with her and now he was taking on another challenge by helping Stuart understand his special gift.

  It was a giant step forward in his recovery and at just the right time. He needed to gain confidence around children so that he’d be in a better mind space about having one of his own. Connecting with Stuart, teaching him how to manage his clairvoyance, was exactly what Levi needed.

  And it might be exactly what she needed, too. Already, it was getting her mind off not being pregnant. She’d imagined that she’d conceive right away and have a big baby bump by Thanksgiving. At Christmas, she and Levi would be picking out names and turning one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery.

  So much for that. She rested her hand on her flat stomach and felt a twinge. Not the stirrings of life. Nope. Menstrual cramps. She’d started her period that morning.

  Her thoughts meandered to her lunch a few days ago with Darla Reynolds, Levi’s executive assistant and her new pal. Five months gone, Darla’s midsection had thickened and there was a definite baby bump. Over lunch, Darla had told her about shopping for maternity wear and names that she and Guy were batting around.

  “You know, you’re uncanny,” Darla had said, wagging a finger at her. “When I wasn’t even sure yet that I was having a baby, you said it was a girl and you’re right!


  Trudy had shrugged. “I’m ninety-nine percent accurate with things like that.”

  “Really?”

  “Actually, I’m one hundred percent accurate,” Trudy had confessed. “I can tell when someone is pregnant within weeks of conception and I can ‘sex’ the kid a week or two later.”

  “Do you think it will work like that when it’s your turn?” Darla had dimpled, her brown eyes warming with the thought.

  “I hope so. I think I’ll know when it takes. I’ll feel it. As for determining its gender? Yes, I think I’ll feel that, too.”

  “Your intuition is off the charts, girl.” Darla had leaned back in the chair and one hand had automatically rested on her stomach.

  That’s a “mother” gesture, Trudy mused as the memory faded. Women just did it. She’d seen it a thousand times. She’d felt a pang of envy during her lunch with Darla that had soured her mood. It was weird, but it seemed that everywhere she looked she saw pregnant women or women with babes in arms. She marked it up to being overly sensitive about her inability to yet conceive. It had been petty of her to allow envy to seep into her time with Darla. She needed to get over feeling sorry for herself and worrying so much about getting pregnant!

  Shoving away from the desk, Trudy stood and stretched, unkinking muscles and elongating tendons. Glancing at the wall clock, she realized she needed to get going. Having taken over some of the charitable responsibilities from Levi, she had a luncheon to attend on his behalf benefiting court appointed advocates for children. She expected to see Althea McClain there since the psychiatrist was on the board of CASA.

  She went upstairs to find Wes ensconced in the laundry room folding clothes and sorting items that needed to go to the cleaners.

  “I’m off to the CASA lunch. Should be back around three. Text me if you need anything.”