by Tefft, Cyndi
My God, my God
My heart is pierced, my foundation shaken
I’m pressing hard against the dam but it’s not enough
I can’t keep the pain at bay
The leaks are killing me, memories of joy stripped . . . away
I am not God, I am barely even me
Make me whole again, Lord
And hold me through the flood
My heart had bled onto the page as I’d written those words, agonizing over being brought back to life while he was still in between. He looked up from the journal and stared at me several heartbeats, his eyes resting on mine. The memory of our shared pain wound around us like a steel cord.
Finally he said, simply, “I love you.”
I love you, too. I echoed him in my mind and he smiled at me. Then we returned to our task, more focused and determined than ever to make this work.
Chapter 2
In the afternoon, I taught Aiden how to drive and let him practice on the back roads. The car had a manual transmission and Aiden was so not getting the hang of the whole stick shift thing. After about the fifth time he bunny hopped the car, I had to talk him down, telling him that I’d done the same thing when I first learned to drive. Of course, I didn’t have to learn terms like steering wheel, brake pedal and rear view mirror my first time out, so he was doing just fine.
The downside of the whole experience was that my transmission was getting thrashed. On the upside, I was learning some great new swear words in Gaelic. He kept at it and eventually learned to start and stop without killing the engine. I was ridiculously proud of him and had a fleeting thought that my dad must have felt the same way when he’d taught me.
We needed some supplies, so I asked if he felt up to driving to the store, about ten miles away. He looked like he was going to say no, but then mustered his courage and nodded. It threw me off a bit to see him so unsure of himself, since he seemed to have this supernatural confidence about him all the time. I didn’t know whether to egg him on or to treat him with kid gloves. So I did neither and just kept quiet.
The first few miles went smoothly, but when a semi passed us going the opposite direction, the muscles in his forearms tensed and his knuckles went white. I was afraid he was going to jerk the steering wheel and dump us in the ditch, but he kept it together, his eyes locked on the road like laser beams. Stress radiated off him in waves and I dared not say anything to break his concentration. The last few miles felt like an eternity.
Finally, he pulled into the gravel parking lot of the little grocery store and turned off the car. With a huge sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer.
“I’m sorry to put you through that,” I said, feeling guilty.
He shook his head and smiled, though I could tell the onslaught of new information was starting to weigh him down.
“It’s not easy, but I have to learn it. All of it. And I will,” he said. A glimmer of his former confidence shone in his eyes and my heart clenched.
“You’re doing great,” I said, as much for my own benefit as for his.
Once inside, I filled my cart slowly, allowing Aiden time to absorb the unfamiliar surroundings. I tried to remind myself that nearly everything in the store—from the Hamburger Helper to the toilet paper—was new to him. Trying to see through his eyes, I scanned the narrow rows, my brows knit together in concentration. Lines of boxed goods and canned vegetables stared back at me, standing stiff like soldiers ready for battle. And a battle it was, with the deck stacked against us.
As I let the situation really sink in, the walls of the little store seemed to contract, inch by inch, little by little, suffocating me. Hopelessness pressed me into the floor, the playlist of worry and fear stuck on eternal repeat in my brain.
It’s too much to learn in too little time. We only have until the end of the summer. We’ll never make it. Someone’s going to figure it out. Something’s going to slip.
Anxiety churned in my gut. I wanted to scream, to cry, to punch someone in the face over how freaking unfair this was. After all that we’d been through, why would God bring us back together again and yet make it so damn hard? He had the power to bring Aiden back to life, so it’s not like he couldn’t have filled Aiden’s mind with things of this time. It’s not like he couldn’t have made this easier.
Anger started to boil within me. I didn’t want to be pissed at God. He did, after all, give me Aiden, but there was no one else I could yell at, no other way to vent the panic that was twisting me into knots.
“Lindsey?”
I snapped my head around to see Aiden, holding a peach and frowning at me.
“You look ready to kill someone.”
I looked down at the box of instant rice in my hands, now mangled and leaking tiny white tears out the bottom. I threw it in the cart, ignoring the trail of rice on the floor.
“It’s nothing. I just... I need to get out of here.”
Speeding through the store, I tossed groceries into the cart, refusing to acknowledge Aiden’s concerned gaze, then emptied the contents onto the counter to be rung up.
Horror flitted across Aiden’s face when he saw the cashier. I heard him bite back something that sounded like “Holy God.”
Her short, purple hair had black spikes sticking up in the back, and she had both a nose ring and a pierced bottom lip. A tight orange tank top emphasized her large breasts, and tattoos covered both of her arms from shoulder to wrist. I caught him staring and coughed a little, hoping to distract him. He blinked a couple of times and his gaze dropped to my hand as I pulled a small box out of the bottom of the cart.
“Trojan.” Aiden read the label out loud. “What kind of food is in that wee box? Candy?”
So much for burying it under the other groceries, I thought. I dropped the condoms on the counter and studied the floor, my cheeks burning hot. The cashier’s boisterous laugh made me snap my head up and she gave me a knowing grin, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Yeah, candy’s just about right. But if you were planning on eating them, you should have gotten the fruit flavored ones. They’re my favorite.”
Too stunned to remember I could talk to him with my mind, I shot daggers at Aiden with my eyes.
Miss Purple Hair swept her gaze over his body and flicked her tongue over the silver stud in her lip. “Mmmm… I wouldn’t mind a taste of that candy myself, come to think of it.”
That was it. After all I’d been through—and had yet to go through—this chick leering at Aiden was more than I could take. Something inside me snapped and I just about leapt over the counter to claw that smile off her face. Aiden’s touch on the small of my back guided me back through the angry red haze.
Glaring at the girl, I hissed, “Just. Ring. It. Up.”
She shrugged like it was no biggie and took her sweet time with the rest of the items, never taking her eyes off Aiden. When she finally finished, I snatched the bags off the counter and stormed out. After I climbed into the driver’s side, I slammed the door, making the whole car shake with the impact.
“The nerve of her, staring at you like that! I should have kicked her ass.” I considered going back in, but Aiden stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“What the bloody hell is in that blasted box?” His voice was raised in indignation, having obviously not enjoyed being mentally undressed any more than I had enjoyed watching it.
“Protection.” I spat out the word more forcefully than I meant to, jerking the seat forward. I revved the engine and sped out of the dirt parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“Protection from what? Slow down, Lindsey.” Aiden’s voice was controlled but firm, and I reluctantly lightened up on the gas pedal.
But dammit, being angry felt good. It felt like doing something, instead of just waiting for the walls to crumble around me. Like maybe if I could just focus on one enemy at a time, I could take on the world and keep him safe.
The trees outside sped past as I reigned in my temper. I took de
ep breaths to calm the tremors inside. Aiden didn’t press, but I could feel his eyes on me. Finally, I pulled off to the side of the road and killed the engine. Turning to him, I explained the function and proper use of a condom. A muscle in his jaw clenched as his face registered understanding. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but sat looking out the window. Silence sucked the air out of the car.
I had no idea why he was upset, so I couldn’t even apologize. Was it because I got mad at the cashier? Peeled out of the parking lot? Embarrassed him by talking about condoms? What? Theories swirled in my head as I listened to him breathing, but nothing prepared me for what he said.
“Is bearing my child such a horrible thought to you, then?”
I choked on a semi-hysterical laugh until I saw the depth of hurt in his eyes. Instantly, all the frustration and anger I’d felt dissolved and I slumped down in my seat, deflated. Raking my fingers through my hair, I tried desperately to come up with the right response. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“I never thought I’d have children, Lindsey.” The tenderness and hope in his voice sliced through me. I sent up a silent prayer for strength and took a deep breath.
“Aiden, I don’t even know what to say. Of course I want to have a baby with you. Someday, but not now. Not now, when I’m still in school and you’re… you’re… I mean, you just… we don’t even…” I let out a frustrated groan. This was falling apart. It wasn’t the rest of the world that was going to do us in. We were doing a hell of a job of it ourselves.
He finally turned to me and nodded, his eyes a little sad. “You’re right. It’s selfish of me to even think of it. I suppose we don’t need to complicate matters any further just yet.” He touched my cheek, his fingertips whisper soft against my skin. “We’ll both have to make sacrifices for this to work, but we’re together now and that’s all that matters, aye?” The old confidence was back in his voice. I gazed up at him and nodded, my heart buoyed by his smile.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
I pulled the car back onto the road, feeling like we had one thing down but a thousand more to go.
Chapter 3
We spent the next two days holed up at the cabin, blocking out the world and reconnecting. The sanctuary of the woods wrapped around us like a cocoon, binding us tight against the uncertainty of our future. I continued teaching him everything I could think of, but at a less frantic pace. Aiden absorbed the information like a sponge, igniting a hope in my chest that grew with each passing hour.
Finally, the time came to break out of our isolated shell, mostly because he desperately needed new clothes. We drove about two hours to Spokane, the largest city close by, and hit the mall. I made him leave his dirk at home, which he absolutely did not want to do. I explained that no one carries weapons anymore and we could get in major trouble if anyone saw it. He relented but would not forego the small black knife in his sock that he called a “skeen doo.” He wrote it out for me on the journal and the Gaelic spelling looked nothing like the pronunciation: “sgian dubh.” I thought my French classes were hard, but Gaelic seemed downright impossible.
At the mall, we decided to mostly keep quiet and use our mental connection to communicate. He kept up a steady stream of questions to me in his mind and I dutifully answered him in kind. Strangers watching us must have thought we were pissed at each other for how little we talked. And there certainly were strangers watching us, at least when we first entered the mall.
Aiden looked the part of a character fresh from a Renaissance fair but had such a naturally regal air that people didn’t snicker. Instead, they gaped openly at him as we passed. I picked out some clothes for him in the men’s department and showed him the fitting rooms, which was a good test of the range of our mental connection abilities.
I wandered throughout the store, appearing to be looking at clothes, but was actually listening intently to see how far away I could get and still hear him. To my delight, there seemed to be no limit to the distance I could go. His thoughts were as clear in my mind as if he were standing right next to me.
I laughed out loud at his confusion over how to use a zipper and the saleswoman standing next to me gave me a curious glance. I smiled at her and moved on, telling Aiden to pull the silver tab at the top to make the garment open and close. When I made my way back to the fitting rooms, he came out and paraded his clothes before me for approval. I could tell he was uncomfortable, being so accustomed to the freedom of his kilt, but he was making the best of it.
Still hate the underwear? I asked with a mischievous grin.
He arched one perfect eyebrow. They’re binding as the devil, so I’ve no idea why men wear them.
I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. I think they’re sexy.
He grabbed me around the waist, bringing me close for a real kiss. Ah, well, you just answered my question then, didn’t ye?
I purchased his new wardrobe, which took a huge toll on my available funds, but I didn’t care. In his modern clothes, he blended in better with the rest of the shoppers and my body tingled with excitement at the progress we’d made. Wandering the rest of the mall with our hands linked, I started to enjoy introducing him to my world. I knew it was overwhelming for him, but he took everything in stride, asking questions only to understand, not to judge.
We came to a big toy structure crawling with children and he paused, watching the kids with a wistful smile. He gestured to a thin red-haired boy gleefully climbing the padded slide.
That one, there, he reminds me of my brother Willie when he was a wee lad. I’m glad ye got to meet him, if only for a moment.
My mind flashed to the scene at the castle when Aiden had taught his brother how to kill a man with a dirk. “Under the breastbone and push up,” he’d told Willie, whose face had drained of all color. A shudder ran through me at the memory, which seemed so far removed from the sweet, giggling child before us. My heart ached to be able to go back in time and save Willie, to make it all better. Instead, I offered Aiden the only hope I had to give.
Maybe we’ll have a red-haired boy someday. Not yet, but someday. Like your brother, like your dad.
He turned me to face him and his eyes held mine. The squealing of the children around us faded as the world slowed and all I could see was Aiden. He didn’t have to say, “I love you.” It was written all over his face. He enfolded me in his arms, his heart thrumming a steady beat against my cheek. Releasing me, he intertwined his fingers through mine once again and brought them to his lips.
We browsed the bookstore, ate lunch in the food court and went to a movie. The enormous screen completely mesmerized him and I found myself watching Aiden more than the film. His face was so honest, so filled with wonder at discovering this new world, that I couldn’t help but smile.
When we got home, he spent the evening writing notes in the journal while I curled up next to him on the couch with a hot chocolate, watching the fire and counting my blessings.
Chapter 4
The next morning, I decided to give him a break and we stayed home to give his mind some time to file away all the information he’d taken in. It was my turn to learn now, and we spent the day speaking French to one another. He was extraordinarily patient and gracious, complimenting me on my language skills and introducing new words and phrases, then quizzing me on them later. We went for a walk and came upon a patch of wild roses, growing in thick, pink swirls along the side of the road.
“Ah, les roses... elles sont belles, n’est pas?” he asked, then bent down to smell one.
“Oui!” I couldn’t think of the words in French, so I added in English, “I think they smell like candy.” Two teenage boys ambled past us on the road, kicking a pinecone back and forth. They gave us a cursory glance and moved on but just the presence of other people was enough for us to switch to talking with our minds.
To say that in French, it’s ‘Je pense qu’ils sentent comme la sucrerie,’ he said.
Right!
It was the ‘sucrerie’ I couldn’t remember. I smacked myself on the forehead and he laughed at me.
Peut-être une rose pour tes cheveux. He reached into the bush to pluck a flower for my hair. I warned him in my mind (and in English) to watch out for thorns but he interrupted me. Lindsey, you’re supposed to be speaking Fre—
“Ow!” I cried. Aiden jerked his hand away from the bush. My finger stung like something had poked me and I stuck it in my mouth, certain it would be bleeding. I didn’t taste any blood.
Aiden stared at me like I’d grown another head.
I quit sucking on my finger long enough to snap at him and said, “What? I hurt my finger.”
“How?” he asked with an eerie calm.
It felt like I’d pricked it on a thorn, but since I wasn’t standing anywhere near the rose bushes, that couldn’t be it.
“I don’t know. Bug bite, maybe. Why, what’s the big deal?”
He held out his hand, palm up. A small pool of blood had begun to form on the index finger of his right hand.
I looked down at my own hand, which still hurt a little bit. Same hand. Same finger. No blood. It wasn’t even red.
“I went to pick a rose for you and caught a thorn with the tip of my finger just when you cried out behind me.” Before I could stop him, he reached out and pricked another finger on the rose bush.
“Did you feel that?” he asked, his eyes intense.
“No, I didn’t,” I said, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. “Don’t poke yourself anymore. It was just a fluke. Like I said, bug bite or something.” He didn’t look convinced. “How do you say ‘bug bite’ in French?” I asked, hoping to distract him. When he answered, I grabbed his (non-bleeding) hand and pulled him along the path, wanting to put the roses and that freaky incident behind us.
