The Line That Binds

by J. M. Miller

  “But your nose is bleeding?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fight. I’ve had a few recently. I just came to get some Tylenol for a headache,” I said, removing the tissue from my nose.

  “Hmm. Still getting headaches?”

  “Yes, some.”

  She popped the top off the Tylenol and handed me two pills before going to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. “I’m glad there were no serious injuries out there today. Were you involved or were you a bystander?”

  “I was involved. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed the new chick.”

  “Oh. I understand. Especially after seeing who else was involved,” she said, handing me the water. “I would assume that it also has to do with Stockton Estate.”

  I downed the pills with a gulp of water and took a breath. “I guess that’s a fair assumption. Not many people were excited when we moved in.”

  She slid into her seat, typed a few things on her keyboard, then swung back around to face me. “Most of the people who work there cared about Genie. They care for that property, too.”

  “I’ve heard.” I knew they cared for it, a hell of a lot more than they cared for me. I thought Ben might have started to care for me a little, though now I wasn’t so sure.

  She crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. Her hot orange acrylic nails were another vivid hint of her retro lifestyle outside of work. She rubbed the tips of her thumbs together, pursing her lips like she was debating something. “So, I’m curious, LJ, since we we’re talking about Genie. What have you decided to do with all of her well paintings?”

  “You know about them, huh?” I smiled.

  “Yeah, they’re something.”

  “They’re overwhelming. They’ve been relocated to the basement for now.”

  She laughed lightly. “I haven’t been to the property in … Well, it’s probably been since my mother died eight years ago when Genie graciously hosted a memorial service for her. And I attended Genie’s funeral, but I’d heard that the property memorial was employees and family only. Anyway, I was a teen when my mom and Genie first became friends. I visited the house a few times back then. After one of the visits, I asked my mom about the paintings because I thought it was rather strange to have so many. My mom said she’d asked Genie the same thing once and Genie simply told her that the well was a reminder of her lineage and also of the gifts it had given others. And the reason she’d painted it so many times was because those were things she could never forget.”

  I considered the information while I fidgeted with my fingernails. The lineage aspect was easy enough to understand; our ancestors were the ones who built the well and the estate. But saying the well had given gifts to others seemed odd. Unless she thought the well was for wishing, like I had when I first saw it.

  Wishing well.

  Oh, God. Everything happened after that day.

  And the voices. Did she hear the voices, too? Were they the gifts to others?

  “LJ?” Ms. Mitchell said, staring at me with wide eyes. She placed her hand on my knee.

  “I’m … I’m sorry. I spaced for a second. I don’t understand what she meant about the gifts to others. Did your mom know what she meant?”

  She leaned back into her chair and adjusted her vest. “Yes, actually that was the reason they became friends. See, my father was physically abusive. During his worst, my mother sent me to live with other family members because she feared he’d start hitting me, too. Unfortunately, even after everything he’d done to her, she never thought she’d have the strength to leave him. That all changed when she met Genie. Mom swore the change would never have happened without her, and that’s why she gave her the nickname. Genie joked around and credited the well a few times, but my mom said there was just something about Genie that was special.”

  A lump formed in my throat, solid and smothering. I breathed deeply, trying to recover my thoughts. “It’s wonderful that your mom was able to change. What did you think about all of it?” I asked, clamping my hands together because they started to shake. It was all real. Aunt Janine knew something.

  She shook her head and smiled. “All I know is I watched my mom transform overnight. To me, it didn’t matter what caused the change. I was just so happy that she had because she might not have lived otherwise. I was always appreciative of Genie. She cared about my mom enough to help her any way she could.”

  I nodded and returned her smile.

  “I’m sorry I have to cut this chat short, but I just wanted to let you know that your aunt was a generous person and if you’re anything like her, people will come around.” She stood up beside me. “You look okay to me, LJ, and I’m willing to bet that your dad is either already up at the main office waiting for you or he’ll be here soon enough. If those headaches and nosebleeds continue, you should think about seeing a doctor, okay?”

  “Sure,” I agreed.

  Ben wasn’t in the principal’s office when I got there, but Dad was. We sat in Mr. Trankon’s stuffy office for a seven-minute lecture about fighting and signed a few papers before we could flee to fresh air.

  “They have got to get that man’s air-conditioning fixed,” Dad said as we stepped outside. “I wonder if he does it purposely to make the guilty kids sweat.”

  I nodded at his weak joke. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have even mattered if his joke had been funny. I needed more information about the well and my mind refused to think about anything else. The only good news that came from Mr. Trankon’s sweat-box office was that everyone involved in today’s fight would be suspended for the entirety of next week. That gave me time. If Janine knew something, I needed to find out what it was.

  “Look, LJ,” Dad said with a sigh when we got into the Escape. “I’m not mad about this. I’m not going to lie; I was pretty pissed when I got the call. Since you had the car, I had to call Lloyd for a ride. When he told me we could carpool since he’d also received a call for Ben, I was a little shocked. But I knew you wouldn’t voluntarily be involved with something like this.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered, looking out the window, my thoughts only partially engaged in the conversation.

  He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “However, I can’t help but to wonder what’s been going on lately. First you’re spending time with Ben, then you’re sulking around the house, and now you’re in a fight at school. I can’t help but to think this has something to do with him.”

  “It doesn’t, Dad.”

  “I don’t want to ground you, LJ. I think you’ve been through enough. But I don’t know him that well. Do I need to worry about this?”

  “No. It’s not something you need to worry about. I’m the new girl, that’s all. I’ll be fine,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. I can hear people’s thoughts, their desires. How can I be sure of anything?

  “Okay,” Dad conceded reluctantly and didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride. I was grateful for his silence. My emotions were already wrecked, continually rehashing the fight wouldn’t help with what was really bothering me. The well. I got one answer today, but it only triggered more answerless questions. The well could’ve been the start of it all, but how did it even work? Why do I hear voices? Why can I grant people’s wishes? They flooded my brain so fast I wanted to scream.

  When we got back to the house, I ditched my stuff upstairs and went to the basement. I lined up a few of the paintings and stared at the black, white, and gray strokes. They only evoked more confusion. With the paintings so close together, the little differences popped out. All of the wells were nearly identical, but the changes in the trees were even more evident. But they were still merely changes in seasons. The numbers also meant nothing aside from an apparent sequence. And some of the numbers were missing. Ben’s house had one so maybe she had given others away?

  I paced before them, studying them, wondering if there was something missing.
I thought about my encounter with the well, comparing the image in my mind to the smudges of paint in front of me. Missing stones. When I’d seen it, the well had three stones missing. The paintings didn’t show any darkened holes near the well’s base. Given the location of the trees, I knew they were all painted from the same point of view. I looked closer, noting a few thinner lines of black along the stones. Words? Is there something written on the stones?

  After another few minutes of pacing in front of the paintings, I gave up and turned to the boxes. There had to be something in Janine’s junk. I moved and stacked a few boxes, digging deep into their paperwork, finding nothing.

  “Knock, knock,” Ben’s voice said quietly before his body appeared from behind the bookcase concealing the tunnel. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at me. His pensive eyes betrayed the light smile on his lips.

  “Hi,” I said, dropping a stack of papers into the box at my feet.

  He glanced around the room and noticed the way I’d lined up the paintings. His brows creased with a quizzical look. “What are you doing?” he asked, taking a few steps closer.

  The closer he got, the faster my heart pounded. I knew this conversation was probably going to end it all between us, but I wasn’t ready for that. How will he react to my truth? He’d probably think I was a freak. And I just might be, but I knew now that I wasn’t crazy. This is real. I couldn’t deny what was happening to me, no matter how much I wanted to.

  I cleared my throat a little, took a deep breath, and clutched my hands together. “I’m cleaning. It’s what I do, remember?”

  “When you’re stressed or anxious,” he added. He dropped his head and looked at his own hands before taking a few more steps toward me. “Do you want to come over and hit the heavy bag some more? I just did, and I’ve got to say it was almost as good as hitting Ryan.”

  I smirked. “Oh right, that’s what Panty Raider’s name is.”

  He chuckled and scrunched his face. “Panty Raider?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I know he’s that kind of guy.”

  “The kind of guy you’d let raid your panties?” He tilted his head and raised his brows incredulously.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I meant that’s what he probably expects from other girls. He never told me his name. I guess he just assumed I should know it already or something. Maybe I should’ve just nicknamed him Douche.”

  He grinned again, the concern falling from his gorgeous face. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could look at him without crying. Why is he torturing me with small talk?

  I backed up a little, hitting the wall behind me. I was glad to feel the concrete’s cool solidity against my bare shoulders. It was the support I needed to face him when I really wanted to run and hide. I hated to feel that way around him. Weak. I knew this situation involved so much more, but I used to be stronger than this. No guy had ever had a hold on me this way before, especially after knowing them for only three weeks. I shouldn’t care this much.

  “Ben, I …” I faltered, my words catching in my throat as his dark eyes locked with mine. They looked more profound than I’d ever seen them, as if they were harboring every possible emotion in their depths. His body moved fast, taking long, determined strides to close the distance between us, stopping inches before colliding with me. He pressed his hands to the wall beside my shoulders, caging my body, making my heart skip a beat and my skin burn so hot a sheen of sweat formed along my back.

  Before I could say anything else, his lips were on mine with passion so demanding it took my breath away. In that instant, I knew this wasn’t over. He wasn’t here to end things. This was something else entirely.

  I wrapped my arms around his body, clutching his back, fearing the capability of my own legs. His fingers ran through my hair, weaving into the strands to cradle my head. He bit my bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, stealing my breath again. His body pushed harder against mine, forcing me back into the wall like he knew I might fall at any moment. His hands released my hair and slowly traveled down my body, delicately studying every inch along the way.

  His lips left mine and trailed soft kisses along my jaw. “LJ,” he whispered. The air from his breath rolled over my ear, causing every bit of my body to shake. He kissed my neck as his hands gripped my hips tightly. In another swift motion, he leaned back, lifted me off the ground, and pressed me back against the wall. In response, my legs cinched around his waist and his hands cupped under my butt. I ran my fingers over the stubble of his jaw and spread them into his hair as his lips kissed their way up my neck. He stopped and took a deep breath, staring into my eyes again.

  Both of our hearts raced, each pounding its own chaotic rhythm hard enough to be felt by the other. I took a deep breath of my own and licked my lips while our eyes searched each other.

  “Damn,” he breathed out. His lips met mine again, though this time they were slow and unsure. This kiss was gentle and controlled, lulling my body.

  I wanted him more than anything. I loved the way I felt with him. But I still hadn’t worked out how to tell him about Sunday and I had no idea how he’d react. It had to be the reason he was here now. He needed answers and I wasn’t sure I had enough to give.

  With a sigh, he pulled us away from the wall and let my body slide down his until my feet touched the floor. “It’s hard to think about talking when I’m this close to you,” he said, backing away from me. He raked his hand over his mouth. “I could kiss you like that all day long.” He smiled though it fell quickly.

  I smoothed my tank top. “I want more than that,” I admitted honestly. It was true; I wanted so much more with him, but I needed to be honest about everything else too.

  He shook his head as he looked down at his feet. “We have to talk first,” he said, then began to pace. “I want more too. It’s just … I’m a worried you won’t feel the same after we talk.”

  LJ’s thin eyebrows wrinkled as she contemplated my statement. Her cute lips were red and plump from our quick tangle, making her look so unbelievably sexy. It had taken everything in me to stop touching her, to back away. But I had to tell her the truth.

  “I’m not too sure how you’ll feel either,” she replied.

  She knew something was happening, and I didn’t know how it was affecting her physically or how she was handling it emotionally. The whole thing scared me and I wasn’t the one going through it; I couldn’t imagine how she felt. I was such an idiot for avoiding her the last few days. I shouldn’t have let her to go through any of it alone. I wanted to be there for her, to be with her. Something was happening between us. Something strong that I realized I didn’t just want, I needed. I just hoped she’d still want me after she heard what I had to say.

  “I think you should go first,” I said, keeping my distance. I pulled two wooden chairs out from a furniture stack, set them across from each other, and sat in one. She stood behind the other, running her hands over the arch of its wooden back.

  “I’m not sure where to start so I’m just going to say it. I know you were freaked out last Sunday and I hope this doesn’t make it worse.” She backed away from the chair, looking at the well paintings. “I’m not crazy,” she said before turning back. She glanced at me and stopped behind the chair again. “I heard your voice. You didn’t actually say anything, but I heard what was in your head. It’s happened before with Gavin, but I didn’t piece everything together until it happened with you.”

  “You heard my voice?”

  “Your thoughts, I guess. Not all of your thoughts. I just heard you wish for the strength to let Harper go,” she said.

  The actuality hit harder than expected. I closed my eyes and dropped my face in my hands. I knew she had to have felt something when this all happened, but I had no idea that she was able to hear thoughts. I looked back up to her, dazed.

  Her hands trembled on the back of the chair as she considered my silence. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think there’s a sequence. I usually get a hea
dache with these intense high pitches. Then I hear the voices. It happens more often when I’m around bigger groups of people. From there, I’m pretty sure nothing happens unless I touch the person. If that happens, they get their wish and my nose bleeds.” She let out a long shaky breath, leaning her weight on the back of the chair.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked, hating the thought it could cause her more physical pain.

  “Not so much. The headaches are the only pain, and music helps to dull them. But I found out more stuff today,” she pressed on, her voice a little more stable. “Ms. Mitchell’s mom was a good friend of Aunt Janine’s. Apparently, her mom nicknamed Janine ‘Genie’ because she gave her mom the strength to leave her abusive husband.” She moved around to the front of the chair and finally sat across from me, twisting her fingers in her lap. “I have no idea how it all happens. I’ve been confused and scared. But today I found out what could be the cause.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine. “She said Aunt Janine credited the well on occasion. She also said that Aunt Janine painted the well pictures as a reminder of her lineage and of the people the well had helped.”

  I couldn’t believe the amount of information she’d gotten in such a short period of time. And from Ms. Mitchell? I knew about the friendship, but I didn’t realize it was that deep. I ran my hands over my knees and looked around the room.

  “You think I’m crazy right?” She stood up. “I know how it sounds. I would probably think I’m a lunatic too.” She paced again, shaking her hands out like she was frantically drying her finger nails. “It all started after the day at the well. I didn’t hear any voices that day, but I had a headache and a nosebleed. I’m not sure what else to think.”

  I stood and walked to her, stopping in her pace path. Her big eyes looked up at me, glossed from confusion and fearful tears. I pulled her body to mine and she laid her head against my chest and sighed.

  “I’ll understand if you don’t believe me,” she said, her voice shaking.

  “I believe you. I felt it,” I whispered into the top of her hair. Her body tension melted after my words. She was relieved. It felt incredible to calm her in my arms, though it made me feel like a cheap fraud.