by Blair Drake
After a few moments something shifted. She wasn’t sure what, but her blood flowed better, faster, mingling with his.
As she watched, she could see his darker red, stronger blood flowing toward her. For all she knew, maybe he wanted to be more of a parent but didn’t know how. Maybe in losing her mother, Melissa pushed her father away, just in case she lost him too. Maybe because the pain would be too much for her. She had years of this kind of stuff with him. It couldn’t be analyzed in a half hour.
A gentle male voice said, “How about just accept it? Don’t analyze everything. Just open your heart, open your bloodlines, and rejoice he is there and responding to you.”
That made a lot of sense. Following the male voice’s suggestions, she closed her eyes and opened her heart. Using the same loving energy pathway as before, she felt the blood trail follow along, letting it flow easier, faster. Very quickly the blood mingled and joined with the energy so everything turned pink. She laughed. “It’s a good color for me, but I’m not so sure about it for you, Dad.”
She heard a distant rumble to her side. She opened her eyes to see him before her.
She gasped and smiled in joy. He sat in an office at a big desk, the blood flowing over his desk, onto his work documents, and onto his own hand as he sat in his chair opposite her, staring at the monitor. An odd expression was on his face, as if in some way, he felt her presence, her thoughts. He didn’t appear to be aware of the blood everywhere though, so maybe that was a good thing. She studied his face and realized how old he’d gotten when she wasn’t looking. He had gray hair on his temples and in his beard. Since when did he have a beard? Thin lines were at the corners of his lips and laugh lines at the edges of his eyes.
Her handsome still-young father aged beautifully. Sadness tugged at her. She thought about all the years lost between them. Years they were too busy with other things to mend the breach between them. She didn’t know what it was about but figured it had something to do with her mother. Everything always revolved around her mother.
She opened her mouth to ask and realized he didn’t know she sat there on his desk. She stirred and turned to look around, thankful he was alone. With the mess of windows on one side, it appeared to be a big corner office.
That should make him happy. Wasn’t that every businessman’s dream? But he didn’t look happy. He looked sad.
She shifted slightly so she could look at the monitor and see what he saw. She realized he’d minimized whatever documents were on his screen. There, staring at Melissa, was a picture of her mother and her as a little girl. Her father had his arms wrapped around them, and they all looked so happy. Tears came to her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. Maybe you did care after all.” she admitted. “All I’ve done is cut myself off from everyone. I felt so alone, so I isolated myself in an effort not to hurt so much. I thought by keeping the world away, I wouldn’t be hurt again. I know there is no logic to this, but it seems like that’s what I’ve always done to protect myself from further hurt.”
Throughout her conversation, he never moved.
She reached out a hand, the one connecting the two of them with a river of blood, and placed it on his shoulder. He jerked. She smiled at the warmth underneath her hand. He was of the 3-D world, so of course she could feel him. But his hand tethered to hers never moved; his gaze never changed. She shifted on the desk, watching as the blood flowed away and around her, never soaking the desktop, never drifting to the floor, never damaging the paperwork in front of him.
Did he know she was here? Hettie saw her, but Hettie was magical.
Still, she felt better about her father. Even knowing he had that picture helped.
Her spirit lightened feeling the exchange of emotions and that warm, caring energy between her and her father.
Her fingers closed on the talisman. She pulled it out and saw another light had brightened, but the one that brightened earlier was now flat. “Why?” she cried out. “I’m doing everything I was supposed to do.”
No answer came.
What was different this time was the fact she wasn’t getting the same kind of response from her father she had from Hettie. Although she was interacting with her father—she could see the blood flow from him. It was happening without his awareness.
Was that cheating?
She closed her eyes and groaned. “Do you always have to make it so difficult?”
How could she make this better? She turned to study the convoluted path the blood now passed over. She’d never considered placing her hand on his. Why? Fear of rejection? She slid over to the side, pulled his chair back, and watched as surprise passed over his face at the sudden movement.
He stood up and turned to look around, and she took that opportunity to throw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. Instinctively, his arms closed around her, but, since she had no substance, he was essentially hugging himself. She could hear his quiet swearing as he realized what he’d done and stepped back.
An odd look came over his face. He reached out with his hand in the space where he’d stood, his fingers slicing through her middle. Once again he reached out, as if sensing on some level someone was really there. He stepped closer and opened his arms. She grinned and stepped into his arms and whispered, “Hi, Dad.”
His arms clenched around her tight. She knew he felt something, even if he couldn’t see her. At the same time, tears came to her eyes. She didn’t know the last time she had a hug from her father, the last time he gave her one willingly.
Now it made her think of the icy tundra where she first arrived. Had she put an icy field between her and the world? It all seemed a bit far-fetched to her.
Being held in her father’s embrace, knowing that he probably felt like a stupid fool but couldn’t resist holding her like he was—yes, that was special.
Chapter 17
When someone knocked on the door to her father’s office, she instinctively backed out of her father’s arms. He dropped into his chair, pulling it up close against his desk. He glanced around with a hard frown and said, “Come in.”
A beautiful redhead walked in. She gazed at him adoringly and handed him a series of papers. “I need your signatures on these, please.”
He gave her a gentle smile and nodded. He grabbed a pen and proceeded to sign without reading the documents. Melissa studied the name tag on the woman’s coat: Angelique. It suited her.
She was probably in her late thirties. Although, as Melissa glanced at her father, the look in his eyes was very different than the look in Angelique’s eyes. Angelique might want something more, but her dad wasn’t interested.
Melissa thought about that. Her mother had been gone for over fourteen years. Had her father been alone that whole time? That had to be lonely. She’d never heard of him having another lady friend, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. She suspected he still pined for her mother.
Had he done what Melissa did? Had he built up a wall of ice around himself to make sure he didn’t get hurt again? How sad. She felt a chill as she stepped farther away from him. She connected a cord from his heart to hers. She stepped back again, relieved to see although the cord thinned as it stretched, it stayed attached. She smiled, closed her eyes, and sent herself back to the 2-D school knowing her connection with her father was there forever.
When she opened her eyes, she saw herself in Hettie’s office once again, which was silent except for Gideon snoring away on the Oriental rug in front of her. He was back. She dropped to the floor, reached out ,and touched him. He snored on happily. She stroked the soft fur, delighted he appeared to be the same. She on the other hand, felt very different this time—tired yet euphoric. She managed to connect to her father in a way she never thought was possible. Plus, she crossed the divide, emotionally and physically, to make it happen.
She pulled her talisman out to see the one light back up, shining bright. She had a lot more to go. For the first time since she left the rooftop, she felt the fatigue. Sh
e thought she would feel stronger, more energized, particularly if the talisman still worked.
Yet, the more emotional she got, the faster her energy drained. If she wanted to get home—preferably soon, before the talisman’s lights went out completely—she had to finish her quest.
She lay down in the hallway, uncaring how dirty the rug might be or when it was last swept, and, closing her eyes, thought about the relationships she needed to heal. She’d already contacted most of the kids who she knew at school. She also connected with an important one—her father. Of course, there was another who would hurt too much. As much as she wanted to heal that relationship, she was not ready to say goodbye.
Her mother would also be impossible since she was nowhere to be found. How did she make peace then?
The loss of her mother was Melissa’s central pain. All other losses compounded that initial one. And although she thought she was doing fine, apparently she was hiding the truth from herself.
Opening herself to more hurt wasn’t an easy step to take. How was she expected to do all this in such a short amount of time? Was that even part of this quest? Why couldn’t they ask her to slay a dragon or something equally doable? Could she bypass dealing with her losses and just accept she had to reach out and be friendlier from now on? She’d done a lot already, but getting to the next step seemed impossible. Her attempts to reach out seemed thin. She was coming from a position where she didn’t have experience in close relationships so lacked understanding of what she was looking for.
The voice in her head whispered, “You can do this. No one is ever challenged beyond what they can do.”
She snorted. “Easy for you to say. For me, close relationships aren’t something I understand. Support, happiness, friendship without judgment are supposed to be part of that. All I know is judgment.”
“But is this judgment yours?” And the voice drifted off silently.
She winced as her eyelids popped open with a jerk. “Am I judging others?” What a horrible thought. “I don’t think so. Why is this quest a painful self-examination? I hate this stuff. No one wants to analyze themselves.”
There was a slight snicker in her mind.
She raised both hands in mock surrender and groaned. “So because I was trying to avoid it, now I have to face it? Important and damn hard issues to tackle when I’m out of time.”
“Nobody said this was fair or easy.”
That was the male voice, slightly chiding her avoidance issues, and yet he was always there.
She rubbed her face and closed her eyes again. “I get that. Honestly, I do. And I get there’s something special about me or I wouldn’t be here. But none of this is easy.”
“It might not be easy, but it is worth it in ways you can’t even comprehend right now.”
Her eyes popped open. “I can’t even comprehend what real friendship looks like.”
“You did have one relationship that was different.”
This male voice was soothing, calm, very centered. She liked that about him. She snorted. “You’re right. There was one relationship, and look what happened. He left me. No explanation, no answer, just gone. So, I opened myself up, I gave it my all, and I guess I sucked at it. How is that a good example? What you’re saying is impossible. It’s like saying, Hey, you got kicked to the curb, so what? Get up and try again. That hurts so damn much to consider.”
That male chuckle rippled through her mind, making her smile in spite of everything. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh hell yes, it was that bad,” she said, upset he could make that judgment call. “You weren’t there. You didn’t feel how lost and alone I was. That wasn’t loss in the normal sense. It was like grieving for something I desperately wanted and gave my all to, only to get smacked across the face as if I were nothing. I meant nothing to him. You don’t get to tell me it wasn’t that bad.”
Now she could feel anger coursing through her. Whoever these people were, they judged her for her feelings. That wasn’t fair. “I get you’re sitting in some superior position, looking down on me, smirking. But nothing is funny about being in my position right now.”
She’d loved Luke with all her being. They were inseparable...until he walked away. Then she’d realized how fake their relationship was. She shook her head, seething inside. “This is not something you guys get to mock me for. It hurt like hell when I lost him, and I am still angry.”
The male voice came back sharp, cutting. “It didn’t need to be that way at all, but you wouldn’t open yourself up to anything else.”
Too stunned at the angry tone of the voice for a long moment, she stopped and reoriented herself. “What do you mean?” She bounced to her feet, Gideon protesting she woke him from three feet away. “What do you mean?” she cried out, full of anger and fear. “Are you saying I didn’t have to lose that relationship? That I somehow failed? That I could’ve done something to keep him?”
This time, not only was there no answer, but also a sense of someone else’s anger rippling through her...someone else’s loss. But she was too caught up in her own to sort it out. Because that thought—that she could have done something different in her life and hadn’t—was heartbreaking. If other people knew she could’ve done something, and they didn’t tell her, it was even more maddening.
“Hence, why this is your quest, your lesson. The actions you’ve taken are by choice.” His voice was harsh, cold, rough inside. “They’ve impacted others too.”
And he disappeared so suddenly, almost like a slap in her face, leaving her with a sense of finality. It felt as though he left her forever.
She quickly raced from anger to fear. “Are you coming back? Or are you leaving forever now too?”
Instead of anger she felt a sensation of warmth, like a hug. It wasn’t completely reassuring, but it was enough to reduce her panic a notch.
This just hurt so very deep inside her. She picked up Gideon, squeezed him tight, ignoring his meows. When the tears started, she didn’t know what to do but let them fall. She had so much pain locked up inside, so much loss.
This is not what she wanted, but if letting it all go would help her return home to those she cared about, she would throw it out in a heartbeat. She just hadn’t realized this was something she had to do. Who could? Had she not grieved as a child for the loss of her mother, or had she just stuffed all those raw emotions inside? She bawled for several long moments. Almost as quickly, her tears dried up, as if the container she’d been carrying around for a long time had drained. As she sat once more on the floor, taking deep breaths, her memories broke loose, filling her mind.
Her memories of when she’d been a child, standing alone in the living room, staring out the window, wondering if her mother would come back. All those years of longing for her mother finally turned to anger, and then a cold and cutting dismissal. So what if her mother hadn’t loved her? So what if her mother left, disappeared? Whatever. Her mother was just a bitch. If she didn’t want anything to do with the two of them, then fine. Melissa wanted nothing to do with her either. And if she’d died, then whatever.
As a child, she’d taken on the blame, thinking she was the reason her mother left.
The gentlest voice in her head whispered, “And yet it was never so.”
She took several deep cleansing breaths as she tried to sort out what that meant. “You knew her?”
“Oh, yes, I do know her.”
Melissa froze. “What do you mean, you know her? You mean, she’s still alive?”
She felt both fear and a hint of joy but also a deep, vibrating anger. “Are you saying she’s alive and she just wanted nothing to do with me all these years?”
The female voice in her mind spoke in a sad yet gentle tone. “Because she too is special, and we don’t always have a choice in how we deal with life.”
“You’re saying my mother has abilities? And yet she’s not here to help me get through this? And she wasn’t there for any other time in my life when I could’ve
used her guidance? I might’ve come into my abilities a long time ago, had I known.” She closed her eyes, feeling seething pain and disbelief take over her system. How could her mother do that? How could anyone do that to their own family?
“One of the reasons why she couldn’t let you know is you had to develop on your own, in your own time, in your own way. She also had to move up and help those of her own kind.”
“Whose arcane rule was that? And what am I if I’m not her own kind?” Melissa snapped. “I’m almost eighteen. Even though my mother left me when I was just three years old, I could’ve been working on this since I was like ten or twelve.”
“You showed signs when you were very young, and she was afraid she was affecting how you developed. That is definitely not allowed.”
“Why not?” Melissa cried out. “She had to know I would show signs, having half her DNA.”
“Her special abilities would have affected your development. In this case, your abilities are very different.”
“But how would anybody know that? I mean, you only see what I can do now. I don’t know what I can really do. It’s like taking a crash course now when I could’ve been a lifetime member. How is that fair?”
“It’s probably not fair, but it’s the system. She was struggling with her abilities while living with your father. She loved you very much. She also knew it would be very difficult for you if she stayed there.”
“Your explanation is very flawed. It would’ve been a whole lot easier if I had known.”
“What if your mother had abilities, and you didn’t have any? What if you were your father’s child and not your mother’s?”
“In theory I’m both of theirs, unless you guys have a unique way to reproduce I don’t know about,” she said sarcastically. “And skills are obviously not handed down between generations because you just said my mother’s skills are not my own. But, even without my own skills or a genetic duplicate of my mother’s, so what if I was disappointed not to have an ability? I would have dealt with it. But you just said my ability was seen early, so someone should have been there to help me with that. For heaven’s sake, I was just three.
