Mindspeak

by Sunseri, Heather

  “He can’t do that.” I reached out both hands and shoved the papers and newspaper clippings into an unorganized mess, stuffing them into the folder they came in.

  “He can. And he will.” He squatted in front of Gram. “How are you today, Mrs. Matthews?”

  “Why, I’m fine, young man. Thank you.”

  I stood, still turning and tucking the articles that didn’t fit neatly inside the folder.

  Jack’s knees popped and cracked as he stood. His smile mocked and infuriated me. “Gram already loves me.” He winked at me.

  “Well, she’s way too trusting.”

  My grandmother’s hand grazed my arm. “He’s a handsome young man, isn’t he?”

  Flames crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks. “Yes, Gram, but it’s what’s inside here that counts.” I pointed to my heart. “That’s what you always taught me, right?” Gram looked confused. Jack chuckled. “This is starting to feel a lot like stalking, Jack. Why did you come here?”

  “To save you from being confined to campus weekend after weekend.”

  Because that would suck, for sure. Dean Fisher had canceled all off-campus travel before when a student was in danger. Like the time Rachel Denton was held at gunpoint outside the local coffee shop and ordered into a car. Had she not screamed and gotten the attention of a bank security guard, she would have been kidnapped. Wellington students were rewarded with six weeks of campus lock down after that. We weren’t allowed to go anywhere until the FBI discovered who the kidnappers were.

  “And we have a date.”

  I hadn’t forgotten. I slid the folder of articles into my book satchel. “Was that tonight?” I batted my eyelashes. I wanted to know about Sandra Whitmeyer more than ever.

  He cocked his head. “Why can’t you just accept that there are people who want to help you? Besides, a date with me beats going back to school.”

  He had a point. “Oh, I don’t know, Jack. Maybe it’s because the people trying to ‘help’ me barged into my life a couple of weeks ago. All starting with your father punching Dad in the face.” I swallowed hard. “And now my father is…” My voice dropped off. I looked over at Gram. She didn’t even know Dad was dead. I didn’t want to chance upsetting her on the rare occasion she caught back up to normal time.

  Jack moved closer and reached a hand to my arm.

  “Don’t.” I stepped back.

  He followed. “Don’t what?” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay to be angry. To be upset. Have you even allowed yourself to mourn your father?”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I crossed my arms, hugging myself tightly. “How can I mourn him, when I don’t even know who he was to me anymore?”

  “What do you mean? He was still your father.”

  “He messed with my genetic make-up. He created a freak.” I pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ve got to figure things out for myself. I realize I barely had contact with Dad before his death, but I always knew he was there. Somewhere. Now?” I glanced down at Gram, who had nodded off. “I’ve got nobody. If I’m going to navigate through this life… If I’m going to figure out my big purpose, I’ve got to figure some things out about who I am. Where I came from.”

  “Those are some really big questions.”

  “Don’t you dare make fun of me.” I heard the hitch in my tone, and I internally berated myself for it.

  “I’m not making fun.” His tone warmed. “I promise I will never make fun of this situation. I get it. I’m the only person in your life who gets it.”

  My hands shook. He was right, but I wasn’t ready to surrender fully to him or anyone. “So much of what’s going on is coming at me so fast, and my questions are piling up unanswered.”

  He took another step and grasped my shaky hand in his. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.” He lifted a bag in front of him with his other hand. I hadn’t even noticed him carrying it.

  “That’s mine.”

  “Yes. Your roommate understands the importance of proper clothes for a first date. And judging by your jeans and sweatshirt, you were either trying to get out of the date, or you have so little experience you thought this was appropriate.” He pushed the bag gently into my chest. “Now, go change.” When I rolled my eyes, he leaned in close and whispered, “Look at it this way. You might actually enjoy our date. “

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  Jack glanced sideways. “You’re pathetic. You have zero patience.”

  I squinted, studying his profile. He was getting great joy out of keeping me in the dark about his agenda.

  It was a warm, fall evening. The sun sat low in the sky when Jack pulled into a small parking lot on University of Kentucky’s campus. He rolled down the windows and a pleasant breeze blew the scent of seafood through the car.

  “Sit tight,” Jack said as he turned the key and shut the car off.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Patience. Sheesh.”

  I leaned my head back against the headrest. Sunglasses shaded my eyes and hopefully hid the fact that I rolled them way back in my head at his order for patience. “Fine.”

  He got out and closed the door, eyeing me one last time before he pushed off and jogged toward the building and around the corner.

  A group of college kids passed by. They argued about being late for dinner and therefore late for the band they wanted to hear after. One of the boys slid an arm around a girl’s shoulder. “You know we’re late because you insisted on changing a fourth time.”

  The girl laughed and shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped.”

  A straggler ran to catch up to the group.

  I heard it before I saw it. The screeching of tires. People yelling. “Jerk. Watch it. You almost killed us.”

  I looked over my shoulder. A black Suburban with tinted windows slammed to a halt in the middle of the parking lot to allow the group to cross. Behind the wheel, a man shook his head and raised a fist.

  Fortunately, no blood was spilled.

  Jack was gone five minutes, and when he returned, he carried a large white bag, which he set in the back seat.

  He started up the car, and we drove off again. The wind blew wildly through my long hair, and the sun shone through my window. The heat against my cheeks was therapeutic.

  I gave up asking where we were going, but it wasn’t long before Jack slowed again and pulled into another parking lot. The University of Kentucky Arboretum.

  A black Suburban slowed as we turned, but continued past and turned at the next intersection. I started to tell Jack, but his touch to my arm distracted me.

  “Let me just say this.” He rubbed his thumb along the skin of my arm. “I know you’re having a tough time trusting me, or anyone for that matter. Can tonight just be about having a little fun away from school? You know… normal.”

  Normal fun, huh? His look was intense, but warm. Inviting. Someone I wished I could be close friends with. I glanced down the road again. No Suburban.

  It was America. It wasn’t like big black trucks were unusual.

  I met his eyes again. It would be nice to have a typical date like any normal teenager. “I’ll try?”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  Once out of the car, Jack grabbed my hand and led me across the street and through the entrance of the UK Arboretum. With an easy wave over his head to a woman at the information desk, he pulled me right past the visitor center. Employees of the arboretum sprayed water hoses on various plants as we passed. A lady said hello to Jack by name. He smiled easily at her, waving.

  I lifted a brow. “Come here often?” I asked.

  He stopped and turned to me. “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You really do have trust issues, don’t you? Close your eyes.”

  I stared at him a few seconds longer before I complied, closing my eyes one at a time.

  Jack squeezed my
hand. My stomach tightened, a feeling not unlike one I’ve felt before an important race. I allowed him to lead. He directed me when I needed to step up or down. We turned several times, walking on pavement, gravel, and then grass. Then we stopped. “Keep them closed,” he warned, but he let go of my hand, and I crossed my arms across my chest and breathed in the flower-perfumed air.

  A couple of high-pitched birds chirped to my right. In front of me, I heard the sound of fabric being shaken, like a sheet being tossed over a bed.

  I squinched up my face, wanting desperately to open my eyes. “Okay, I’m ready to see again. You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Okay, two more steps,” he whispered in my ear. I jumped at the closeness of his voice. His hand slid into mine and tugged gently.

  I walked two steps.

  “Open,” he said, his tone soft.

  I turned in a circle. The sun had faded. A couple of candles, sitting in hurricane vases, sat on two corners of a blanket. Everywhere I looked, high and low, roses bloomed. Pinks, whites, yellows, purples, reds—and all different shades in between.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “This is the Garden of Old Roses,” he said.

  I turned another complete circle. “It’s beautiful.”

  Jack removed food containers from a bag, and I stayed cemented to the spot where he left me. I didn’t think it was hunger making my insides twist into a fit of nerves.

  “Come on. Let’s eat.” His expression faltered. He jumped up and crossed to me. “Don’t do that.” He pointed at my face.

  “Don’t do what?” I asked.

  “You look scared to death. Stop it. This,” he said, waving a hand toward the quilt, lit candles, and food, “is nothing but a distraction. I just thought it would be nice to let you know you don’t have to grieve, discover your past, or decide your future tonight. And you definitely don’t have to do it alone.”

  He could have just told me that. I crossed my hands over my stomach. This was way too much. I didn’t know if it was because the grief of losing my dad was so fresh or the fact that I didn’t know who or what I was, but maybe a date was too much too soon.

  “Alright, that didn’t sound right.” He inhaled, letting it out slowly. “This is just dinner. A break from school, college applications and murder investigations. We don’t even have to call it a date.”

  I frowned at the words “murder investigation,” but quickly pushed the thought away. “Just dinner.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, you’re just showing me a little brotherly support?” I could work with that.

  “Don’t push it, Matthews.”

  I smiled and relaxed my hands to my side. He reached for one and pulled me over to the blanket. He opened containers of food, handed me a salad and a fork.

  Chomping down on a pecan from my salad, I eyed Jack, who lay across the quilt, propped up on his elbow. “Why here?” I asked.

  “Why the Garden of Old Roses?” he asked. He picked at a leaf that blew onto the quilt and tossed it off.

  “Why the arboretum? You’re obviously known here. Is this where you bring all the ladies?” Please say no.

  A smile crept across his face. I hated, or loved, the way it reached all the way to his blue eyes.

  “No.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re the first. I volunteer here. Part of the Cathy DeWeese home schooling curriculum last year.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always loved learning about plants and trees. Doing what it takes to make the rare ones grow—to nurture life.”

  When I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth, he resumed. “Take the Children’s Gardens, for example. Providing an environment for small children to learn the importance of life and taking care of our land.”

  Jack’s words continued to spill out. He sat up and moved his hands as he spoke. A heaviness swarmed inside my chest as I examined the curves and lines of his face.

  I didn’t even notice when silence fell around us. I was so lost in the sound of his voice and the rose-scented air. My eyes drifted to his lips. He hadn’t tried to kiss me again since that night by the pool. Would he tonight?

  Jack cocked his head. “I would love to hear what you’re thinking right now.” He smiled.

  Every muscle from my cheeks to my toes stiffened. I must have turned fifty shades of red before giving my head a shake to free the cobwebs. “Sorry. I’m just amazed at your level of excitement. You ever think about becoming a botanist?”

  Jack moved the food containers that sat between us off to the side and inched closer to me. “Yeah, actually. But then I realized I can love all this,” he waved a hand through the air, “and still become a doctor.”

  He lay on his side again and reached a hand to one of mine.

  “Right.” I studied the look in his eyes—a look that went way beyond that of a concerned brother. Or even a friend. He tugged on my hand, and next thing I knew I was stretched out beside him, facing him on the blanket.

  “Is this okay?” he asked, our faces inches apart. His breath warmed my face.

  My stomach clenched. I nodded. He leaned in slowly and touched his lips to mine, soft at first. When he pressed harder, an electric sensation shot straight through my chest to my stomach.

  His hand rested on the curve of my waist, his fingers exploring just at the hem of my shirt as he continued to kiss me.

  Slowly his hand moved to the small of my back and he brought me closer to him. I snaked my hand around his neck and slid my fingers into his hair. My lips parted slightly, enough to allow him complete access.

  Moments later, he pulled his head back just slightly and rested his forehead against mine. “I’ve wanted to do that every day since the night by my parents’ pool.”

  I breathed hard. I didn’t know what to say. Luckily, I didn’t have to say anything because my phone rang.

  I sat up and pulled my phone out of my purse. “I don’t recognize the number.”

  “Answer it,” Jack said, and I shrugged.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you have a nice visit with my mom today?”

  “Who is this?” Seth. The frightened tone in my voice had Jack sitting up and on full alert.

  “Who is it?” He stuck out his hand for the phone.

  The voice on the other end of the phone said, “I’m just a concerned friend, Sarah. Someone who doesn’t want you to end up like your father. Have you found the journals?”

  My hand shook. I dropped the phone on the blanket in front of me.

  Jack picked up the phone. “Who is this?” He shook his head. “They hung up. What did they say?”

  “He called me Sarah. Told me he didn’t want to see me end up like my father.” My voice came out shaky. “How did I get thrown in the middle of all this? I don’t understand any of it.”

  Jack grabbed my hand. “Come here.” He pulled me into his chest and hugged me there, smoothing my hair behind me. “Who calls you Sarah?”

  “Dad and Gram are the only two who have ever called me that. I’ve been Lexi since I entered kindergarten. And Lexi Matthews since I started at Wellington.”

  “It’s going to be okay. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” I laughed uneasily.

  He bent his neck, buried his face in my hair. “I promise to do everything I can to keep you safe.”

  “I know who it was that called.”

  Jack pushed me back a little. “Who?”

  I scooted further away from him so I could breathe and think. Did I really want to tell him about Seth Whitmeyer when Jack had been so reluctant to tell me about Sandra? I thought of Seth’s warning the day my father died—the warning that Jack was not who I thought he was, not someone I could trust.

  “Who was it, Lexi?” His tone had an edge to it.

  “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “I guess I deserve that.”

  “I’ll tell you how I know that Seth Whitmeyer was on the other
end of that phone call, if you tell me now what you know about Sandra.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How can you know about Seth Whitmeyer, and not know about Sandra?”

  My expression must have faltered, because Jack was quick to continue.

  “Oh, I get it. You don’t really know who Seth is either.” He pushed himself up off the blanket. He began putting things away inside a basket and folding the blanket. “No deal.” He stopped what he was doing and walked over to me. He reached out with both hands and pushed hair behind my ears. “We’re going to have this date. You’re going to forget about the Whitmeyers, death, The Program, and those missing journals. If only for an evening. We’ll deal with the Whitmeyers later.”

  “This is still all a game to you, isn’t it? This is my life, Jack.”

  A severe look passed briefly through his eyes. “Not a game. Very serious, but I’ve been living with some of this medical craziness a little longer than you, and I refuse to stop enjoying life while hoping all the secrets work themselves out. Because, let me be the first to tell you, as soon as one secret is revealed in our world, another secret peeks out from around the next dark corner.” Jack stood close. His breath touched my lips. “I would never choose this life for you. But no matter what we learn through all of this, you are a human being with a purpose. I told you I would find more information about Sandra. And I did. But now that I know more…”

  I intertwined my fingers with his. “You don’t like what you discovered.”

  Jack squeezed his eyes closed. When he reopened them, I recognized a certain fear in them. “Yes. I uncovered something. And no, I didn’t like it. But telling you about Sandra is telling you everything. Once you know, you will have a choice to make. And one of the choices available to you will be whether to walk away.”

  “Walk away?”

  “And I wouldn’t blame you. I want to on a regular basis. If you decide you want no part of this life, I will help you. Encourage you to do it, actually. New name, passport, money, everything you would need to start fresh somewhere else.”

  His words were a punch to my gut. “What are you talking about? You’re scaring me.” How could I possibly walk away from everything familiar to me? From Wellington. My friends. From Gram. I turned away from him, suddenly overcome with emotion.