by Alice Ward
The oxygen was sucked from my body. I’d been sitting there this entire time, wanting so badly to kiss her and knowing it could push her away. Then, to my astonishment, she kissed me. She had touched the ugly part of me and not pulled away. Who was this ethereal angel? My entire life had been one long blur of black, ass-kissing resentment and in less than an hour, she had me ready to lay down my hard-earned life for her.
“Time to go,” she whispered, releasing my lips and bending into the chore of putting the remaining food back into the basket. I sort of rocked back on my feet in an amazed shock. She turned and smiled sweetly, snapping me back to reality and I leapt up and gathered the trash, dumping it in a receptacle.
“I’ll get that,” I said, pointing to the basket and blanket. I extended my hand and with a feather-light pull, she was standing and brushing herself off. I walked her to the car and installed her safely in the passenger seat before retrieving the remains of the picnic and popping it into my trunk.
I was quiet and thoughtful as I followed her directions to a small, well-kept duplex set back from the road. I pulled into the driveway and could think of nothing more to say than, "Thank you."
She nodded and that Mona Lisa smile appeared on her face. "I know. It takes a bit of getting used to. You will, though, Hawk. That much I promise." She already had her door open and was out of the car before I pulled on my handle. She waved and walked up the sidewalk to her front door.
I wanted to follow her. I wanted to kiss her on the doorstep. I wanted so much more.
Instead, I lifted a hand when she waved one more time before disappearing, feeling like a school boy on a first date. On the drive home, my cheeks began to ache. A quick glance in the rear view mirror proved why. A huge grin seemed to have taken up residence on my face. I massaged my aching jaw, but the smile didn't falter. I don’t remember ever smiling that much.
Even though it was dark, I saddled Diablo and rode to the boundary so I could look out over Carlos Acres. There was only a dim light on in the barn and just two upstairs lights at the big house. Something was different, and I wondered what it was. That’s when I realized. It was me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Liane
I drove home that evening with mixed feelings. I’d been brought up to be fairly submissive and reserved. That’s the way British girls were supposed to behave, and most particularly daughters of vicars.
I don’t understand why I felt so moved to touch Hawk’s cheek and then to actually kiss him. I just knew his energy was conflicted. There was a solid, intelligent, sensitive man inside what felt like a rather porous, dark shadow. The shadow felt less dense when he was close to me. This told me I was able to have some effect on him, compelling me to reach out and pull him closer.
He made it fairly apparent that he was interested in me. I knew that his appearance didn’t speak for the man inside, but perhaps Dad wouldn’t be able to see beyond that. I was an adult, however, and I’d done my best to look after him, but the time had come for me to have my own life.
I shared a duplex with Barbara and Dan Connor. Our units were side by side with garages to the outside. We each had small patios off the kitchen but were very different in how we lived. The Connors, while very nice people, tended to barbecue and party loudly with friends who drank too much. On my side of the privacy fence was my collection of trash to treasure outdoor furniture, chimes, a small water fountain and a variety of birdhouses. My rooms were much like my patio, filled with reclaimed furnishings I had doctored and decorated. I didn’t mind the eclectic look, or even that things were outdated. It just felt like an extension of my inner self, and that made it home.
I pulled into my drive and saw that the Conners’ house was fully lighted and heard loud music streaming out their opened windows. I sighed, knowing it would be a little harder to get to sleep. Just then, Dan emerged from his living room, a bag of ice cubes in his hand. He slammed the bag on the porch concrete several times to break it up and waved to me with a smile.
“Care to join us?” he called over, but I shook my head.
“Another time, perhaps, thank you, Dan. I’m rather tired and want to get some sleep.” I hinted but as good as he was, he could be a bit dense.
I went inside and closed all the windows against the clamor coming from next door. I was highly sensitive, and loud music and parties could easily overwhelm me. I changed into my nightie and sought out my headphones so that I might drown out the neighbors with some new age natural sounds. I slid between the sheets of my bed and tried to go to sleep, but Hawk was on my mind.
What a strange name, I told myself. It didn’t even sound normal — more like an alias. That gave me cause for thought. Ordinary girls might have steered a wide course around him, as handsome and mysterious as he was. There were too many things that didn’t make sense and too much that was borderline hostile about him. For me, though, I could see through the exterior and knew he needed a loving woman to trust and need him.
Perhaps one day he would tell me his story, but until then, I would be content with what was available. I learned when I was a child that it wasn’t important whether people told you they could be trusted. I already sensed it and just needed to trust my instincts. They’d never steered me wrong.
I knew I was ready to have my own life. I had taken care of Mom and had looked after Dad after she was gone. I’d gotten my education and given my share to the community. It was time for me. Time for finding a good man and starting a family. There had been a special kind of loneliness when my mother passed. She had been an empath too and understood how I thought and felt. She never made me feel like an outsider.
The few people in my life who knew about my gift handled it in different ways. Some heaped sarcastic skepticism on my shoulders and others steered clear entirely. I felt like a freak in a carnival. A few understood and accepted me completely. It could be a cumbersome gift. Often, I felt negative energies from others that indicated undiscovered ill health or deep sadness. What I felt could permeate my energy as well. For that reason, I tended to be a loner.
It was different with Hawk. I felt his darkness, but it was an energy that attracted me to him. He was like a window splattered opaque with mud. I felt the urge to wash away the dirt and let sunlight illuminate the person inside. It was more than a feeling, actually. I felt compelled to do so. I was drawn to him. He was as familiar to me as a lover who reoccurred in my warm and trusted erotic dreams. We had already been connected by an unseen force that was as natural as breathing.
I knew he felt it. He probably didn’t understand it. He may have even thought it nothing more than an animal need for companionship, perhaps breeding. His energy changed as he came close to me and I knew it felt good for him.
There was an aspect of my abilities that I’d had little experience with so far, but I sensed it was maturing quickly. I’d first felt it with my mother. It had been a winter night, the kind so bitter as to have no redeeming factors save the prospect of spring. A spring she wouldn’t see. She had been in great pain, beyond what the narcotics could cloud. Although her eyes and lips were firmly sealed against complaining, I sensed her pain and felt helpless. I knew she needed something pleasurable to focus upon.
Since we were both sensitives, we were linked in consciousness. I summoned up the picture of a hot air balloon landing in a springtime pasture, its colors vibrant against the blue of the sky. I mentally pushed the picture toward her, as one would wrap someone in a blanket. I knew when she received it. Her eyes remained closed with the vision, but her lips curled up at the corners, and she nodded her awareness. I patted her hand and kissed her cheek. For that moment, we were as one mind, and I was able to ease her pain.
The danger, however, lay in the reverse possibility. I began to feel her pain. First as a great weariness and then a burning misery that radiated throughout my chest. Regretfully, I let go of her and left the room, walking out into that bitter night to cleanse myself of her energy. I hoped I had left behind enough of
the balloon image to give her peace. She died two nights later, a smile still on her face. My dad took this to mean that she had seen Heaven in her path and that Jesus had come to welcome her. I knew differently.
I had the innate realization that I could do that at will, given that the recipient was somewhat aware. I believed Hawk had this, although he had no idea of it and probably couldn’t return it.
I turned over and over in bed, trying to sleep, but it was elusive that night. I did the only thing that brought me comfort. I slipped on a robe and slippers and went outdoors to the patio. I had hoped to release the restlessness to the sky, but the party next door was blocking me. Instead, I went inside, threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and left in my car to go to my dad’s church. I had a key to the back door and let myself in, headed for the organ. When Mom was ill, I’d often played throughout the night. It was an emotional release. One badly needed. Without release, I became overwhelmed, fearful, and anxious.
What I didn’t count on was that my dad was at the church as well. His office door opened, flooding the hallway with his lamp’s light. He came toward the organ, knowing it was me. I felt him approach and turned on the bench, rising to hug him.
“You can’t sleep again?” he asked simply.
I shook my head.
“What has you upset?”
I shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing, Dad. I’ve met someone, and he has many layers. I know he’s good inside, but he’s working very hard at hiding it.”
“You and your mother. You both always looked for the beauty within and blind yourself to the danger in discovering it.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” I teased him with a small smile.
“I suppose, but it seems to come easier to you, as it did to your mother. Often, she guided me when I couldn’t see it. This man, is he someone I know?” Dad was concerned and protective, as always.
“No, I wouldn’t think so. He lives a few miles from here, but I don’t know where. We’ve talked many times over the past few weeks, went on a picnic once. I’m drawn to him.”
“Be wary, Liane.”
“I will, promise,” I acknowledged and turned back to begin a piece by Bach. It was a driven, emotional piece and served to release the restlessness that kept me awake. Instead of returning to my apartment, I followed Dad into the vicarage and crept up to my bedroom there; the place I’d slept since I was a young child. It had comforting, simple energy and I was soon asleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Auggie
I waved goodbye to Dad and took my seat in the corporate jet Worth had sent to pick me up. I hated to leave Dad even though he assured me he was doing just fine and needed to get used to the idea of being alone. He said he and Margaret had many friends who were still there for him, and he’d never be lonely. I’m not sure if I wanted to believe him so I could get home to Worth and the kids, or whether I truly did. Regardless, there was only so much I could do for him there. Time would have to take care of the rest.
I buckled myself in, and the attendant brought me a pillow and cover. “As soon as we’re off the ground and leveled out, I’ll bring you a pot of tea and some sandwiches,” she said with a kind smile. I liked the way she looked and thought she was perfect for her job. She was professional, yet had a soft and loving face with eyes that seemed to invite confidence.
True to her word, once we were leveled out, she emerged from the galley with a pot of tea, beautiful china, linen napkins and a tempting selection of bite-size sandwiches on a small platter. Another platter held tiny cakes. She’d clearly gone to a lot of trouble.
“How lovely,” I commented and gratefully accepted the short cart of goodies. “You went to a lot of trouble for just me.”
“No trouble at all, Mrs. LaViere.”
“Oh, call me Auggie,” I urged her and she nodded in appreciation. I read her name badge. “Lily, why don’t you sit here with me and share this food? I’m not the world’s best flyer, and it would make me far more comfortable if I had someone to talk to.”
She hesitated, looking over her shoulder and then realized that I was her boss, not the captain. “I’d love to,” she finally said and took a small plate and selected a couple of the sandwiches. She poured our tea and handed me one of the linen napkins before taking one herself and settling into the seat opposite me.
“Have you always worked on private jets, Lily?” I asked, looking for something to talk about.
“Oh, no. Actually, I’m fairly new at it. Believe it or not, I’ve worked with horses all my life.”
My ears pricked up. “Really? Tell me about it.”
“Nothing very romantic, I’m afraid,” she began, “just a girl who grew up on a Thoroughbred farm in California. My dad had about thirty horses on the place. Some we owned and some we boarded or trained for others.”
“Why did you change careers?” I asked, curious.
She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the napkin. “Dad died last year. He had medical bills, the farm was all we had… well, you get the idea,” she finished.
“Do you miss it?” I asked, knowing that I would feel as though my leg had been cut off if I couldn’t be with horses.
“Oh, you betcha, I do,” she sighed. “I tried to find a job on one of the other farms we knew, but as you know, the industry is getting smaller and smaller, and I just didn’t have the resources to keep ours going, and no one else needed more help. So…” she waved her arm around the cabin, “here I am.”
I nodded and was instantly thoughtful. “May I ask how old you are, Lily?”
“Thirty-four. I know, I know, that’s kind of old for a new career. But that’s how it goes.”
“No, wasn’t thinking of you as being too old for anything. Do you have a husband? Children?”
She shook her head and frowned a bit, the glints in her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight streaming through the clouds into the smallish cabin. “Divorced and we never had children. Actually, I’m not sure I can. Riding accident as a teen. Until now it wasn’t an issue, so I’m fine with it.”
“Lily, I wonder if you have a break between flights coming up?”
She was confused. “You mean today?”
“Well, I meant like a couple of days’ layover before you leave again. Doesn’t matter when.”
Lily answered immediately. “Well, once we deliver you to Louisville, we’ll head to Cincinnati for our annual inspection on the jet, giving me four days off. Why? Do you need me to schedule you another flight somewhere?”
“No, nothing like that. You see, I have a Thoroughbred breeding, boarding and training facility, and I’m looking for a farm manager. I handle it myself right now. Well, with my children’s help, but they’ll be going to college in a couple of years, and I need to train someone to help and eventually replace me. I’m wondering if you’d like to come and be my guest for a couple of days and take a look around. No promises, mind you, but I have a guest cottage as well as a small hotel, and you would, of course, be my guest. Interested?”
Lily’s face brightened. “Interested? Are you kidding? It would be like going home again. How kind you are. Thank you and yes, I accept. As a matter of fact, I don’t have to ride along to Cincy. If you’re okay with my coming right away, I could accompany you to your house today.”
“Perfect!” I had a good feeling about Lily. We spent the remainder of the two-hour flight talking about horses and Thoroughbreds in particular. I was very impressed with her extensive knowledge. In many ways, her past mimicked mine, and although she was no longer in the industry, I could tell she wanted back in.
We landed and a limo was waiting. Lily joined me, and we drove from Standiford Field out to Oldham County to Carlos Acres. It was late, and I was tired. I took her directly to the hotel. They got her checked in, and I went home to see my family.
Worth greeted me at the door, having seen the limo leaving the hotel. “You bring home a lover?” I loved the smile that played on his lips when he teased m
e.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” was my cocky response.
“He better than me?”
“I don’t know, let’s do a comparison.” I took his hand to go up to our bedroom. Once there, I collapsed on the bed, arms outspread and kicked off my shoes.
“You look like you could use a foot rub.” Worth wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
“I sure could. Are you offering?”
Worth kicked off his own shoes and slid beneath my legs on the bed, taking my feet in his big hands. He began massaging my toes, his strong fingers rubbing each joint. It felt like heaven.
“Your dad?” he prompted.
“Ahh, well, as you can imagine. He waved me off, but I could tell he would be lonely. I don’t like the way lonely looks, Worth. Promise you’ll let me die first so I’ll never feel it?”
“Sweetheart, what a selfish thing to say.” He lifted my foot to bite my big toe. “What do you say we jump off a cliff in tandem. That way, the last guy who hits the bottom only suffers a split second?”
“Oh, don’t tease me. You know what I’m saying.”
“Yes, yes, I do, but you’re always so dramatic.”
“I’m dramatic? I would have settled for a subtle poison in our morning coffee, but nooooo, you want to pack up a car and drive until we find just the right cliff.”
We were silent a few moments as I enjoyed his strong fingers pressing into my arch. “Did you get along okay without me?”
“What would be the best answer for that?” he said. “I feel like it’s a trap. If I say we got along fine, you’ll feel unneeded. If I answer that we missed you, you’ll complain that you never get a day to yourself.”
My eyebrow lifted high. “My, my, my, aren’t we in a cynical mood.”
“Yes, indeed, my dear. That we are. Both of us. So, who did you drop at the hotel?”
