Through Her Heart (Mind's Eye Book 6)

by Deborah Camp

  Trudy watched Stuart from the corner of her eyes. He seemed to be concentrating on Levi, but he also looked a bit puzzled. This was too much for him to comprehend, she thought, and wondered if she’d been wrong to have him there. After a few minutes, he gave a little sigh and began observing the people around them as he continued to enjoy his sucker. Then he focused on his wiggling, swaying, swinging feet. Bored, Trudy thought with a smirk. He’s totally bored. When he finished the sucker, she rested one hand on his fidgeting ones and he jerked and looked up at her.

  “Want to make tracks?” she whispered, and received a frown of confusion. “Would you like to leave? Go back to the room and watch a movie?”

  He blasted her with a huge grin. “Yes!”

  “Shhh,” she cautioned, glancing around apologetically. “Quintara, we’re going back to the room. This is too dull for our boy here.”

  Quintara arched a haughty brow. “Very well.” She leaned close to Stuart. “But you’re going to miss the best part.”

  Undeterred, Stuart slid off the chair, ready to make his escape. Trudy grasped one of his hands and they made a quick and, hopefully, unobtrusive exit. Before stepping out of the meeting room, she looked back at the stage. Levi was deep into a psychic session, his eyes closed as an audience member stood near the stage and waited for him to make contact with someone on the other side.

  “What’s he doing?” Stuart asked as Trudy let the door shut slowly and quietly.

  “Talking to dead people,” she answered with a grin. She spotted one of their security guards. “Oh, hi, Dixie. We’re going back to our room to watch a movie.”

  The guard tried not to smile, but failed. “Yes, ma’am.” She pushed the elevator button for them.

  “Why does Levi like to do that? I think it’s dumb.”

  “Don’t be rude,” Trudy chided him. The elevator doors opened and they filed in. Dixie pushed the correct floor button and received a hateful glare from Stuart.

  “I wanted to do that!”

  “Stuart Atticus,” Trudy scolded. “Mind your manners. You don’t snap at people like that. Behave or we’ll skip the movie and you can sit your little butt down and listen to the rest of Levi’s presentation.”

  He leaned against the elevator wall and crossed his arms. “You’re not my boss,” he mumbled into his chest.

  “What did you say?”

  He stared at his pouty reflection in the stainless steel elevator panel. “And you’re not my mommy, either.”

  The doors opened, so Trudy kept quiet as she followed him down the hallway. He didn’t walk – he marched to the room, arms swinging like pendulums, and his rubber-soled shoes pounding the carpet. When they reached the room, he headed for the TV and turned it on, then began flipping through channels. Trudy gently but firmly took the control from him and switched off the TV. He glared at her.

  “You said we’d watch a movie,” he snapped.

  “I want to talk to you first, and I’d advise you to lose that stormy face and that mutinous attitude. I’m not your mother, but I am your foster mother and that makes me your boss, kiddo. So, what I say goes. No discussion. No whining.” She squinted her eyes back at him, mirroring his reaction. He faced front, refusing to look at her again.

  “Now, about Levi’s work,” she continued. “It’s important and nothing about it is stupid. Don’t ever say that in front of him or you’ll get an earful, believe me. You saw how many were there to listen to him, right? He doesn’t lie or try to fool people. He is actually in touch with those who are no longer with us.”

  “But why do people want to talk to them? They’re gone.” He threw up his hands. “Nothing and nobody’s bringing them back here.” Glowering at the gray TV screen, his eyes reddened. “It’s stupid. They’re stupid.”

  “Stuart, I want you to shelve that word. It’s an ugly word and no one deserves to be called it. You hear me? I do not want to hear that word come out of your mouth again.” She sighed, reined in her irritation, and soldiered on. “We thought seeing Levi work might help you understand what psychics can do to help others. Some people didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to their loved ones and they need to do that. Sometimes they have a child who ran away years ago and they want to know if the child is still alive. There are many, many reasons why we need to reach out to people who have crossed over. Levi and I are both using our abilities to assist the police in finding the man who killed your parents.”

  “When you find him, then what?”

  “He’ll be arrested, tried, and put in prison so that he can’t ever do bad things again.”

  He stared at his linked fingers. “What about me? What will you do with me?”

  She hesitated, eager to answer, but wishing Levi were here for this conversation. Should she wait, stall him, change the subject until later? Stuart glanced at her. Tears glimmered in his blue eyes, and her mind was made up. “Levi and I have been talking about that. We’re hoping that you’ll agree to stay with us and be part of our family. Our son.”

  He blinked and two fat tears rolled down his freckled cheeks. He lifted one hand and swiped at the wetness with the back of his wrist. “You can’t do that. I have parents. I’m their son.”

  Her heart cracked. “Stuart, your parents are gone.”

  “But I’m still theirs!” He stood, his body vibrating, and his hands fisted at his sides as he faced her. “I’ll always be theirs! You can’t t-take them away f-from m-me.”

  God! Why hadn’t she waited for Levi to be here for this! Stupid, stupid, she chanted, breaking her own stupid rule. “Stewie, we don’t want to do that. We couldn’t. They will always be part of you, honey.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and he tensed, ready to spring away from her, so she clamped down harder to keep him there. “Come here, Stewie. Come on. Don’t be like that,” she crooned to him. Muscles hardened in his face for a few seconds and she thought he’d jerk away from her, but then he sagged into her lap as if every ounce of energy had suddenly drained from him. She gathered him closer and hugged him. He pressed his hot face against her neck and hugged her back.

  “I want to s-see them again,” he said between hiccupping sobs.

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “I know, sweetie. I know. I so wish I could make that happen for you.” She let silence settle over them. This was the anger part, she thought, recalling what Levi had told her about the stages of grief. Stuart had been out of sorts for a few days, snapping and pouting. So much so that Levi had encouraged him to pummel the punching bag in the gym at home. He’d done so and it had actually seemed to be beneficial as he’d been more himself after that. When she’d first met him, Stuart had been oddly accepting of his parents’ demise, but Levi had explained that it was another part of grieving that most people went through. Some were angry at first and then finally accepting, while others seemed to accept their fate while denial and anger built inside of them until they could no longer contain it.

  “Maybe you could. Or-or Levi. He could l-let me talk to them and s-see them. I could tell them to c-come back here for me.” He pulled away from her to show her the bright hope in his eyes. “They would! I know they would! They didn’t want to leave me.”

  Tears splashed from Trudy’s eyes onto Stuart’s forehead. “Honey, of course they didn’t want to leave you, but they can’t come back here and we can’t bring them here for you to visit. You know that. It’s okay to cry and wail and beat the punching bag any time you feel like it. What happened was horrible and it should not have happened, but it did and we all have to find a way to live with it.” She dabbed at her tears and gave Stuart another quick hug. He rested his cheek against her chest and she imagined he was listening to her beating heart. “You shouldn’t go on without people who love you to look after you, Stewie. Your parents wouldn’t want that for you. Levi and I enjoy being your foster parents, but we would be so happy if you’d consent to allowing us to adopt you so that you would be part of our family from now on. Please, think about it. You won’t
be replacing your parents, but adding more parents to your life.”

  He was quiet for a long minute. His breathing hitched from time to time and he sniffled. Trudy rocked him back and forth on the bed, holding him to her as her mind spun like a crazy top. Had she said the right things to him? Should she have waited for Levi to speak to him? What was he thinking? What was he feeling about this?

  “You don’t have to say anything now,” she said when she couldn’t stand it another second. “We’ll talk about it again when you’re ready.”

  “’K.”

  “Later. Maybe with Levi, huh? So, you want to watch a movie now?”

  He straightened away and fastened his serious gaze on her. “Okay, you can be.”

  Trudy swallowed. “Can be . . . what? Your parents?”

  He nodded.

  Trudy squeaked as joy burst in her. Surprised by her own reaction, she giggled. “Thank you, Stuart.” Unable to resist, she kissed his cheek and then brought him flush up against her again. Her smile was so big it almost hurt. “Thank you, honey.”

  “You’re welcome.” He released a little sigh. “Trudy?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s one thing.”

  She held her breath and whispered, “Yes, Stewie?”

  “Do you really love me?”

  She swallowed the sob that throbbed in her throat and kissed the top of his head. “Yes, I do. Very much. Does that surprise you?”

  “Kind of,” he whispered. “You don’t have to or anything.”

  “Have to?” She inched back, confused by that. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not really family. Not your kid. It’ll just be pretend.”

  “No.” She shook her head and slid off the bed onto her knees before him. Taking him by the upper arms, she faced him, eye-to-eye. “This is not pretend, Stuart. We will be family. We will go to court and sign papers that will make Levi your dad and me your mom. For real. You will be our son. Your last name will be Wolfe.”

  He blinked. “But what about McFarland?”

  “Your name will be Stuart Atticus McFarland Wolfe,” she said, then rolled her eyes. “Wow. That’s quite a name there, Stewie! It’s like my name. I’m Trudy Louise Tucker Wolfe. Tucker was my last name before I married Levi. So, after we adopt you, your last name will also change.”

  “Oh. I see.” He nodded.

  “But, you’ll probably just go by Stuart Wolfe to make it easier.”

  His forehead puckered for a few moments before smoothing out. “Cool.” Then he glanced at the television. “Can we watch a movie now?”

  She grabbed the remote off the bed and placed it in his hands, glad to move from starkly serious to whatever escapism Stuart could find on cable TV. “Go for it, kiddo.”

  That night after putting Stuart to bed, Trudy left his bedroom door ajar. She dimmed a lamp in his room and turned one on in the living room area of the hotel suite in case he awoke in the unfamiliar space. Moving quietly to the bedroom on the other side, she closed that door behind her. Levi sat in an armchair near the windows, tie hanging loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned, the tails pulled out and wrinkled, his shoes kicked off, his handsome face in profile.

  “Are you thinking about Stuart? I should have waited for you when I talked to him about adoption.”

  A smile fled across his lips as he continued to stare out the window. “Sounds like you handled it just fine. I probably wouldn’t have been much help. I’m useless around crying women and children.” He lifted a glass of amber liquid and drank from it.

  “Is that from the mini-bar?” She slipped out of her robe and draped it over the straight-backed chair at the desk. The lacy hem of her green nightie tickled her upper thighs.

  He held the crystal tumbler up higher to allow moonlight to glint darkly in it. “Yes. Not bad bourbon.”

  She sauntered closer, wondering what mood he was in. Melancholy? Depressed? Worried about something? Something was up because he rarely drank the hard stuff. Without hesitation, she sat in his lap, smiling when he seemed surprised. She drew a fingertip along his rigid jawline and then tapped his slightly parted lips. “What’s going on, Wolfe? Want to talk about it?”

  He kissed her fingertip. “Stuart was bored with my presentation? Did he understand anything about it or was he shutting it out?”

  “He was fidgety because he’s seven. Does he understand? Yes a little. But when we discuss you talking to people who have crossed over, then he starts thinking about his parents. He wants them to come back to him.” She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. “It’s heartbreaking.”

  “Are we doing the right thing by him, Tru?”

  Her eyes sprang open and a dart of panic pierced her heart. “What do you mean?” She leaned back to get a better look at him and her panic ballooned. “You’re having second thoughts about adopting him?”

  “I feel inadequate and I don’t like the feeling. Are you sure this is what he wants? Like you said, he yearns for his parents and we can’t be them.”

  “We can’t be the McFarlands, but we can be his parents.” She curved her hands on either side of his neck and held his gaze. “Look, what is good parenting? It’s looking out for each other, giving instructions and examples of how to live a good and honest life, and loving unconditionally. We can do that, Levi. Don’t overthink this.” She let go of him so that he could finish off the bourbon and set the glass on the floor.

  “I know you can do it. I’m just not sure I can.”

  “You can and you will. He already thinks you’re super cool. He does,” she insisted when he scoffed at that. “He feels safe with you. He trusts you.”

  “When I noticed you two had already left today, I thought maybe he had to use the restroom. But then when you didn’t come back . . .”

  “Letting him see you at work was an experiment. Quintara and I both thought it might open his mind to what psychics can do. But we didn’t consider that he’s a boy. You weren’t blowing up things or emitting rude bodily noises, so he got bored. I knew it was only minutes before he’d be jittering in his seat like a Mexican jumping bean.” She didn’t like the way he kept looking at her throat instead of her face. “What else, Levi? Talk to me.”

  His sooty lashes lifted slowly until his dark blue eyes were revealed. “The thing is, babe, I was never a normal seven year old. I don’t know what he’s feeling or what’s normal or not normal. I was ticked off when you two left. My first reaction was that he should have remained in his seat, no matter what. Do what you’re told and keep your mouth shut. Obey. That’s what childhood was for me. If you disobeyed, you suffered the consequences. I don’t want it to be that way for him, but I don’t . . . I worry that . . .” He shook his head as his voice died away.

  “When you know better, then you do better. You know better, Levi. That was your initial reaction because that’s what was ingrained into you when you were young. But you just said that’s not how you want Stuart to be treated. We’ll figure out how our family will function and what rules we’ll enforce, what discipline we agree on . . . all of it. We’ll figure it out together. I’ll compensate where you can’t. Fortunately, I had a great childhood.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek. “And you’re a wonderful teacher. You’ve taught me so many things about myself, my gift, and how to appreciate who I am.”

  He had closed his eyes, so she kissed his eyelids. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” she whispered. “And you’ve got me.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. She meant to pull away, but his mouth felt so wonderful against hers, that she lingered to taste the trace of liquor on them and on his tongue.

  His arms enclosed her and his hands slid up her back to grasp her nape. His deep growl was answered by her moan as her body tightened with longing. She shifted in the chair to straddle him, her nightie riding up over her hips. Doubt didn’t look good on him, she thought as her kisses grew hungrier and her determination to lift him from his depression strengthened. She pushed her fingers throug
h his hair and rubbed her body against him. A smile tipped up her lips when she felt his instant response.

  “Why, hello there, sailor. Looking for a berth for that ship of yours?”

  His lusty chuckle made her laugh with him.

  “I want you,” she said, her laughter dying as her desire overtook her. Her next kiss was all heat and arousal. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and nipped and dropped open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone and the side of his neck. His arms tightened and she sensed that he was getting ready to stand. “No.” She jerked her nightie up over her head and flung it aside. “Right here,” she ordered, grabbing his belt and unbuckling it so that she could open his trousers. Her hand slid along his taut stomach until her fingers encountered the nest of springy hair and then the hard, hot steel of him. “This is what I need. You and this.”

  “Christ, Tru. What are you doing to me?”

  “Taking what I want,” she whispered and felt him shiver. She had him in her grip now in more ways than one. He was no longer depressed or doubtful. He had only one thing on his mind. Her.

  His mouth fastened on her nipple and she arched closer as tremors skated along her spine. He suckled her hard, bringing more of her breast into the hot cavern of his mouth. His tongue circled her nipple and flicked it. His teeth scraped it. Moaning softly, she rocked against him, needing him to fill her before she exploded. She rose up enough to guide him where she needed him, and then lowered herself onto him. He felt so good stretching her, spreading her, she almost sobbed.