Talent

by Annie B Matthews

  “You mean you’ve felt that before?” Kelly repeated, her face turning pale.

  Worried now, Libby shrugged. “Yes, with Mark. Why?”

  “Experimenting?” Jackson’s voice had her turning to face him. He seemed uneasy.

  She watched for a moment, frustrated by the silent communication that passed between the three of them. She quickly gave in to curiosity.

  “What experimenting?”

  Danny flicked Jackson a glance before turning solemn brown eyes on her.

  “It’s been heard of.” He glanced back at the pub, quieter now in the blue and red flashing light of the police cars. “You’re able to experience people’s emotions; others can manipulate them.”

  Libby was speechless as she considered that. Her mind refused the possibility. “That’s insane.”

  Jackson laughed humourlessly. “As insane as hearing others’ thoughts, or feeling their emotions?”

  He had a point. She frowned as she considered such a thing. It made sense that a talent the opposite of hers would exist. She thought of Jackson and wondered if there were also people out there who could put thoughts into other people’s minds, not just read them. Shuddering, she pushed the possibility from her mind. The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

  “Here.” Jackson held out another bike helmet and she threw him a startled look. She hadn’t dared wish she’d actually get to ride on the motorcycle. Even as she itched to get going, she felt that frustrating, compulsive reserve. Was it a good idea to be that close to him?

  “On the bike?” She bit her lip uncertainly. “I think-“

  “Try not to.” He muttered wryly.

  Helplessly, Libby glanced over to Kelly. She just shrugged. No help there.

  “Fine. Great.”

  “We’ll drop in at dad’s,” Danny frowned in the direction of the pub. “Let them know what Libby’s experienced. Maybe they already know something.”

  Kelly pulled a face. “If they did, they would have told us. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.” She reached her hand out to give Libby’s a quick squeeze. “Don’t get carried away on that bike.”

  “I’m not the one driving,” she replied wistfully. Yet.

  Jackson muttered something unintelligible as he tugged on his own helmet. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  The jacket he handed her was too big, but she zipped it up regardless before shoving on the helmet. She hesitated just a little when he sat astride the bike and gestured for her to climb on behind him.

  “I’ve never been on a bike.”

  He flipped the visor down on his helmet. “Just hold on and lean into the turns.”

  Right. She pulled a face at his curt tone, but climbed onto the bike behind him.

  She’d been right.

  It was too close.

  Warily, she wrapped her arms around his waist as he kick started the engine. The machine roared and thundered beneath her. She felt a moment’s alarm before he took off and then she could barely think at all.

  It was like flying. She knew he was holding back, but to her it seemed as though they sped through the streets like a flame. She’d never felt so exhilarated. It was impossible to do anything but feel. It was blissful just to feel, her own reactions, her own emotions. Holding on to the warm solidness of Jackson seemed a breeze, the most natural thing.

  When he pulled up at the end of her street, disappointment washed through her. It was a minute before she could trust her legs to hold her up as she climbed off the bike. In the sudden silence, she could feel her heart hammering and it was impossible hold back the grin as she dragged off the helmet.

  “Wow.” She ran a hand through her curls, noting that Jackson’s hair still looked perfectly tousled as he took off his own helmet. She doubted she looked as good.

  “Thanks for the ride home.”

  He swung himself off the bike as she shrugged out of his jacket.

  “Perhaps don’t mention the bike to your dad just yet,” he responded dryly.

  “Are you kidding? He’d go mental.” She gazed wistfully at the bike. “Could we do this again?”

  As his gaze fixed on hers, she rushed to explain. “I know you don’t enjoy being around me, but I could not think. I could definitely not think. At all.”

  He looked away then, shaking his head in exasperation. He didn’t speak but she knew he was irritated. She’d seen the expression on his face often enough to recognize it instantly.

  Stung, she flung out her words. “Well it’s hardly my fault, is it?”

  Stalking off towards the house, she was more than a little surprised when Jackson fell into step beside her, his usual taciturn self.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not your fault.”

  His words were contrite enough.

  Libby weighed up her options. She wanted answers, but she didn’t want to antagonize him. If Kelly had told her that Jackson needed to explain, then she had no choice and now was as good a time as any.

  “You have some explaining to do.” She figured he could choose the starting point, since she had no clue where to begin and he’d know what she’d been wondering about anyway.

  Jackson sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

  “Okay. Kelly explained how we can block people off. It’s more or less a choice for us, whether we listen in or not. I usually don’t, believe it or not.” He pulled a face. “Knowing what people are really thinking loses its appeal quick enough.”

  She watched him as he paused and she could tell he was deciding what to tell her.

  “Sometimes it’s not so much of a choice.” When he looked at her, he looked as pained as she’d felt on finding out about his talent. “I don’t seem to be able to tune you out.”

  Embarrassed, Libby tried not to think about this. “I’d say I understand, but I’d be lying.”

  He seemed to consider that, and then nodded. “You know, all that time you didn’t know about the talents I always tried to leave when…” He stopped, shrugged. “I did try to give you a bit of privacy.”

  “So that explains all those abrupt departures.” She grimaced. “I thought you hated me.”

  It occurred to her that he still might. She stopped as they reached her front door, biting her lip as she wished she could take that thought back.

  The flicker of the television was just visible behind the curtains. Her dad wouldn’t be expecting her back just yet – the fight had ended the night earlier than expected.

  “I don’t hate you.” Jackson said at last, shaking his head. “Look, it’s complicated and there’s been a lot for you to take in. I should go.”

  She took a step forward to stop him. “But there’s too much I don’t understand.”

  “You’re telling me.” He muttered it, the words barely audible. When he spoke again, she heard him clearly. “You’re exhausted. Sleep on it.”

  “You think I’ll be able to sleep?” She was incredulous.

  “You’ll sleep,” he repeated confidently. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

  “You’ll explain everything?” It wasn’t ideal, since she wanted Jackson to answer her questions now, but she nodded. “Okay...Okay.”

  He walked her to the door, keeping a careful distance.

  “I wish I could say I was sorry.” Jackson said quietly.

  She struggled to make sense of that and failed. He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “See you tomorrow.”

  As she went inside, shutting the door against the cold, she paused. Yet. He’d said not to tell her dad about the motorbike just yet.

  Curiosity leaped, along with an excitement that terrified her.

  Chapter Nine

  Libby lay in bed and listened to her dad moving around the kitchen. Saturday morning breakfast had always been family time, but she had been reluctant to keep pretending since her mum had left. She knew it was selfish of her, but she hadn’t been able to face him. Her mother’s absence was like a tear in the fabric of their live
s, and these weekend routines were bitterly painful.

  This morning she had no choice. She had to get up and eat before Jackson arrived, even if it meant facing her father.

  Libby showered and dressed quickly, not sure when Jackson would be coming to get her. She hoped it would be soon; she was as anxious to work out what had happened to her, and what would happen next, as she was to get out of the house.

  “Libby?”

  She all but ran down the stairs. Her dad was dressed, pulling his coat on.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The supermarket. We’re running low on a few things.”

  She knew he wanted to get out of the house. Who could blame him?

  “No problem. Can you get some stuff for sandwiches?”

  “Sure. What are your plans?”

  “I’m going to see a friend.” She read him carefully, but sensed nothing more than vague interest. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”

  “Keep in touch.” He reached out to ruffle her hair. As though her curls weren’t in enough disarray already, she thought in exasperation. “Have fun.”

  “Will do.”

  She smoothed her fingers through the curls on her way to the kitchen, wondering when Jackson was planning to get here. Breakfast would have been a good idea, but her stomach was jumping with nerves.

  The doorbell rang just as she was staring into the fridge, trying to find something that she could eat. Slamming the door shut, she ran through to the hall.

  “Hi.” She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face at the sight of Jackson on her doorstep. He wore faded jeans and a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. As usual, his hands were pushed into his pockets. Uncomfortable? Defiant? She couldn’t feel anything from him, as usual.

  “You look…rested.” He took in her outfit of jeans and blue sweater. She wore her hair loose for a change, the blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders. He frowned a little.

  “Please, stop with the flattery.” Libby rolled her eyes. “You make me sound like an ailing grandmother.”

  He didn’t respond, but she hadn’t expected him to.

  “Are you coming in, then?”

  “I thought we could go for a drive.”

  That suited her. The last thing she needed was to have her dad arriving home during this conversation. Grabbing a jacket, she pulled the door closed and checked the lock.

  Once inside the car, she slanted him a look.

  “Does Danny know you have his car, or did you steal it?”

  “Funny.” He started the engine. “Put on your seatbelt.”

  She did as she was told and turned her gaze to the passing scenery as Jackson drove out of town. She concentrated hard on what she saw, not allowing any other thoughts into her head. Rows of trees, maybe firs. Who knew these things? They didn’t have them in London, as far as she remembered. They passed a field or two of cows, not those black and white ones. Brown…were they the ones used for beef? Or were they Jersey cows? Libby was sure Jerseys were using for milking.

  She was racking her memory for proof of this hunch when the car turned into a side road, so narrow and overgrown that she hadn’t noticed it.

  Jackson threw her an amused glance. “Yes, they’re Jerseys. They belong to the dairy farm up the road.”

  Libby paused. “I thought so. Where are we going?”

  It occurred to her that having a guy she barely knew drive her into the wilderness probably wasn’t the smartest move she’d made. It was one of those stupid mistakes horror movie heroines made just before meeting a grisly end.

  She glanced at Jackson, saw the hard look in his eyes and realized her thoughts weren’t exactly flattering. When he stopped the car, she frowned. They were in the middle of the narrow track, hedges on either side.

  “Can you park here?”

  “I didn’t think.” His voice was rough as he put the car into reverse. “Sorry.”

  “What?” She turned in the seat as he started backing up the track. With a start, she realised he’d heard her thoughts. “Jack, it’s fine. Please.”

  Her hand on his arm had him stopping the vehicle again. His green eyes were steady on hers.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t return her smile, but drove on down the track. The trees thinned out and the track widened into a small paddock. She looked over the fields in interest as he parked the car and climbed out.

  “There’s a nice walk along the river,” he told her as she joined him at the front of the car. “No one comes here, so we can talk freely.”

  Nodding, Libby matched his stride as he made his way over the paddock. It hadn’t rained recently so the ground was dry. Even so, there was the chill of near winter in the air and the thick cloud cover suggested that it wouldn’t be dry for long. She zipped up her jacket, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” she began hesitantly. “You know, I really don’t like you knowing everything I'm thinking.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, though, is it?” She stared at the ground as she walked. “Is there nothing I can do?”

  “To stop me hearing you?” Jackson nodded. “Sure. You can learn to shield. Mum can help with that.”

  “Shield?” She mulled that over. “Is that not what I do already, to block out all those emotions that people insist on feeling?”

  His laughter was warm, rolled through her pleasantly. “Yeah, other people suck. Blocking keeps them out, shielding keeps your thoughts and feelings in.”

  “Ah. I guess there are a whole lot of technical terms I need to know.”

  “Not really,” he caught her gaze, smiled in a way that had her nerves jumping. “You’ll pick it up soon enough.”

  They walked in silence for a while. It was beautiful, Libby realized. The river was narrow, the banks green with moss that descended into the water. It flowed cleanly over the river stones, so clear that she could see the bottom. The path was bordered by evergreen trees that blocked more of the light, making it feel completely private. She was glad he'd brought her here.

  “Kelly says that there are thousands of talents out there. Is there a society or something?”

  Jackson laughed and she reddened a little in embarrassment. “No. Some we know, some we don’t. Sometimes we can recognize each other, sometimes not. Also, some people don’t realize they have a talent at all.”

  “How can they not know?” Libby was amazed by that idea.

  “Not everyone’s talent is as strong as yours,” he replied mildly. “Some people think they have a feeling that they refer to as their sixth sense. Sometimes telepaths only catch the occasional thought, and think they’re imagining it.”

  “Wow. You know, my mum gave me this book before she left, about different cultures and their beliefs in a sixth sense. I thought she just gave it to me because I like that sort of stuff, you know, but now I realize that she was letting me know what was happening.”

  “Possibly,” he agreed. “You like reading about the paranormal?”

  “More the cultural beliefs aspect. I want to be a social anthropologist.”

  At his blank look, she laughed. “You know, studying cultures, past and present. What makes social groups work, how people interact. It’s fascinating.”

  “I suppose you have an insight into that, being an empath.”

  She hadn’t looked at her talent in that light. The idea pleased her. “I suppose so. What do you want to do, after finishing school?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Stopping where a boulder blocked the path, he turned to gaze out at the river.

  “It depends.”

  “On?”

  “On a lot of things.” He smiled a little. “In an ideal world I’d want to study engineering.”

  “What would stop you?” She leaned against the boulder as well, watching him as he shrugged. When he didn’t offer an
answer, she didn’t push. She had other questions that needed answering.

  “Why can’t I feel you?”

  He jolted at her question. The reaction intrigued her, had her straightening. When he didn’t answer straight away, she stepped closer.

  “Jack?” She tugged on his arm until he turned to face her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  There was something, she was sure of it. He was hiding something.

  He swallowed hard, watching her warily. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Really?” She cocked her head to one side, her hands planted on her hips as she considered him. “That’s not what it looks like from where I’m standing. You’ve had free access to my mind for weeks, yet I don’t even get a glimmer of your emotions in return? It seems really odd, since I can sense everyone else. Even Kelly and Danny.”

  His face reddened and she stared in amazement. He was embarrassed? Why?

  Then it clicked.

  “You’re shielding from me.”

  The truth of it flashed in his eyes and she didn’t know whether to laugh at his obvious discomfort or be annoyed.

  “You are!” She crossed her arms indignantly. “That’s hardly fair!”

  “It’s…look, it’s not that simple.” He looked at her for a moment, sighed as she raised her eyebrows. “Okay. I’m shielding because I thought you had enough to deal with.”

  “Nice try.” She fought to keep her voice light, even as she battled frustration. “But since I was already dealing with emotions left, right and centre, please explain what difference yours would make.”

  “I wanted to give you time to adjust.” he replied, face unreadable.

  “And yet I still don’t believe you.” She tapped her temple. “Call it female intuition.”

  He muttered something unintelligible.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “Christ, Libby.” He threw his hands up. “Can’t you just take my word for it that you’re not ready to know everything?”

  That annoyed her. She didn't appreciate anyone making those kinds of decisions for her, as though she was incapable of choosing for herself. She hissed out a breath. He’d told her that he would explain this…thing between them, and now he was holding out on her. It was infuriating.