Pushed

by Corrine Jackson

  The way Asher and my mother had explained it to me, other Healers didn’t absorb the injuries they healed. That special talent was a side effect of my Protector blood. A side effect I wasn’t ready to reveal to my grandfather yet. While he finished at the sink, I made a quick excuse and rushed off to find a bathroom.

  As soon as the door closed behind me, I turned on the faucet to wash away the blood from my cut finger. I scowled at my reflection. Ten minutes. I’d been here a whole ten minutes before using my ability. Asher would be pissed.

  Sighing, I set to minimize the damage by healing my finger. No hint of the injury remained when I returned to the kitchen, other than the usual cold that set in after a healing. The chair legs scraped across the floor when I sat at the small dining table and waited for my grandfather to join me. All of the camaraderie had been sucked out of the air and had been replaced by the awkwardness I’d expected.

  My grandfather’s shoulders curved forward in sadness or exhaustion, and he looked a little closer to his age. He carried two plates to the table and set one in front of me before sitting across from me. The table’s scarred wood surface shook when he planted his elbows on it and steepled his hands under his chin. Where I had my father’s blue eyes, my grandfather had obviously passed his brown eyes to my mother. She had never looked at me this directly, though, with a gaze that made me want to squirm.

  “I’d kind of hoped you were mistaken when you wrote me about your abilities, Remy,” he said finally.

  “You thought I lied?” I asked, offended.

  He shook his head. “No. I was just an old man wishing his granddaughter wouldn’t have to deal with this curse that tore our family apart. Go on and eat up.”

  I tried, but my appetite had disappeared. I hadn’t expected him to jump for joy at me being a Healer, but I didn’t know what to make of his disappointment.

  Eventually, my grandfather gave up the pretense of eating, too. He pushed his plate away and gave another weighty sigh. One huge hand rubbed his face.

  “So then, maybe it’s time you tell me what happened to my Anna.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Of course, he began with that question first.

  “My mother . . .” I started. I bit my lip. I didn’t have a lot of good things to say about Anna. How much did he want to know? Would it be better to lie?

  He seemed to sense my turmoil. “You don’t have to worry about my feelings, Remy. I’m old, but the ticker works just fine.”

  He gave me the ghost of a smile, and I decided to take him at his word. I launched into our story, starting with my earliest memories. We’d been poor, but things hadn’t always been terrible. My mother had worked a lot in those years, but when we’d been together, I’d known she loved me. I moved on to the year Dean moved in with us and the years that followed their marriage.

  My grandfather’s face tensed when I described the abuse Dean had subjected us to. It felt weird to be telling a stranger the horrible details, but somehow it seemed like my grandfather needed to know what had happened to us. I thought maybe my mother had told me about him so that I could be here with her father, confessing this. Anna had blamed herself for my grandmother’s death, and Dean had been her punishment and penance. Except she’d taken me down the rabbit hole with her.

  I left out the parts of the story where I’d taken on Anna’s injuries time and again. It was bad enough that Dean had beaten me, too. I told him how my mother had pretended not to know about me being a Healer, and that I’d found out what I was from a recording she’d made in the days before she died.

  At some point, I asked my grandfather if he had any coffee and he got up to make a pot. We moved to the living room, and I wrapped my cold fingers around the mug to warm them. It had grown dark out, and I curled up in a corner of the couch, tucking my feet beneath me.

  My grandfather sat on the other end of the couch, his face lit a warm amber shade by the floor lamp perched over his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, with a coffee mug hanging forgotten in his hands.

  “Are you sorry I told you?” I asked when the silence became unbearable.

  His mouth curved in a quick, sad smile. “Not a bit. It’s just a very sad story to hear, Remy. I’m sorry my anger drove your mother to that.”

  “You blamed her then?”

  “At first,” he admitted. “It was terrible, Remy. Watching your grandmother sacrifice herself to save me.”

  I didn’t have to rely on my imagination to understand how awful it had been. Dean had forced Asher and me into the same situation.

  He continued. “I loved your grandmother more than life itself. When she died like that, I . . . well, I grieved hard. I needed someone to blame and for a time, that person was your mother. By the time I realized the only people at fault were the Protectors, it was too late. Your mother had gone. Those bastards stole everything.”

  He practically spat out the word Protectors, and I dropped my gaze to my coffee, studying the dregs of the grounds. I’d been right to hide my father from him. Franc vibrated with rage even now, two decades later.

  “Hey,” he said. He tugged on the toe of my sock to get my attention. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

  He’d mistaken my upset expression for that of fear of the Protectors discovering me in San Francisco.

  “What makes you so sure?” I asked, curious. He sounded certain.

  Setting his mug on the coffee table, he relaxed back into the couch cushions. I swear he took up the space of two people and would make Asher and Gabe look small in comparison. I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to Franc’s size.

  “You’re not the only Healer around here,” he said.

  I sat up in shock. “There are more of us? You know where they are?”

  He nodded. “Of course. With the Protectors hunting them into near extinction, the Healers needed a place to feel safe. Rather than running and hiding, we’ve banded together. Joined forces, if you will.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? Wouldn’t a group of Healers draw more attention?”

  “You didn’t know about us, did you?”

  “No, but I’m not exactly in the know. I’ve been isolated for a long time.”

  “Not anymore, Remy. You have a family now.”

  For an instant, I felt guilty for not telling him about my father, stepmother, and sister. But what choice did I have? The lying thing sucked, but the protecting thing was in my blood.

  “What was my mom like before?” I asked to change the subject.

  My grandfather warmed to the question and launched into a dozen happy stories about the scrapes my mother had gotten into as a child. Obviously, he’d loved her a great deal. He’d doted on her, and they’d been close until she hit her teen years. I laughed along with him as he described teaching my mother to ride a bike, but I couldn’t help thinking how sad their life sounded. They’d always been on the run, moving from place to place, and never really letting anyone know them. My grandparents had held on to each other, but what about my mother? Never able to have friends or a boyfriend. Never able to share her life with anyone for fear she’d spill her family secrets. I thought her life must have been very lonely, even if she had been my grandfather’s golden child until that day she told someone their secret.

  Despite the kick of caffeine the coffee offered, my eyes began to droop eventually, and my grandfather showed me to my room. My suitcase rested on the bed, and I remembered what I had brought along with me.

  “Fran—” I stopped and frowned. “You know I just realized I have no idea what to call you. Grandpa seems weird.”

  “How about Franc with an option for ‘hey, old man’ when I begin to lose my hearing?”

  “Franc, it is.” His face split in one of those huge, gentle grins, and I smiled back.

  “Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “When Mom left, you were angry with her. Why were you still checking for the ad? How did you know she’d write you one day?”

  F
ranc swallowed and his eyes watered. “I didn’t know. I hoped. I checked the ads every week, and I hoped she would one day reach out to me. I prayed she had forgiven me. And when she didn’t contact me, I prayed it was because she’d found a happier life away from the Healers and Protectors.”

  And even though he’d prayed, he’d still hoped she would one day write him. What would our lives have been like if she had? We might have lived on the run, but at least there wouldn’t have been a Dean.

  I reached into my bag and pulled out the disk I’d recorded the night before. “You know that recording I told you about? The one my mother made before she died? I made a copy if you want it. I thought maybe you’d want to hear her voice again.”

  I’d edited out the parts that revealed I might be different from other Healers, but he didn’t have to know that. My grandfather’s smile had slipped, and I hesitated before holding out the disk to him.

  “I should warn you that there’s not much on here that’s happy. My mother was . . . not a sunshiny person.”

  Franc took the disk with an expression I couldn’t read. With a soft good night, he left, leaving the door open a crack. I wondered if he would ever listen to it. Sometimes I wished I’d never heard it, and I’d lived with her through a lot of what she described.

  After changing into my pajamas, I texted Asher with an update. He answered right away, as if he’d been waiting to hear from me. I hated it that I couldn’t call him, but I didn’t want my grandfather to wonder whom I spoke to. Soon, we said good night, and I closed my eyes, hoping tomorrow would be easier.

  I woke to my mother’s voice.

  She sounded muffled, as if she spoke from a distance. I sat straight up in bed, shoving my hair out of my face. It took a moment to realize her words were familiar. I could practically recite them because I’d listened to the recording so many times. She was describing her parents and what it had been like growing up on the road with them.

  We lived quietly, moving around a lot, and they did odd jobs. Mom was a housekeeper, and Dad a handyman. They tried to make things as normal as possible for me, but it was necessary for us to stay “off the grid,” according to Dad. I didn’t mind as a child. We never had much, but it was enough.

  Quietly, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the hall. A light shone downstairs in the living room. I wished I could spare my grandfather what she would say next. My mother went on to describe the day he’d shown up at her school and pulled her out of class. He’d been covered in blood and had just watched his wife die. He’d taken my mother on the run to hide her from the Protectors, but not before she’d seen her house burning down in the distance.

  My father did what Mom would’ve wanted him to. He saved me and made sure we stayed hidden.

  I teetered at the top of the landing, wondering if I should reveal myself, but something stopped me. I hadn’t wanted anyone to see me when I’d first listened to this recording.

  But he never looked at me the same way. I think he hated me.

  The recording continued, but I couldn’t hear her words anymore. They were drowned out by my grandfather’s sobs. The wrenching sound haunted me long after I’d tiptoed back to my room.

  My mother had blamed herself for her mother’s death. I blamed myself for my mother’s death. And now my grandfather blamed himself, too.

  It seemed blame was an endless thing with enough to go around for everyone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning at breakfast, my grandfather did not mention the recording, and I didn’t bring it up. Instead, he’d reverted back to the jovial man who’d greeted me at the airport. Last night might have been my imagination except for the dark circles under his eyes.

  “What would you like to do today, Remy?”

  He’d mentioned showing me around the city, and much as I wanted to do that, I had come here for a reason.

  “Do you think we could meet the other Healers you mentioned? I’ve never met anyone like me.”

  I didn’t have to fake my curiosity. I’d grown up learning to use my powers by trial and error. My mother hadn’t given me any insights until that damned recording, when it had been too late to help me. Even she hadn’t really known how my Protector side had affected my Healer abilities.

  My grandfather smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. There are a lot of people eager to meet you.”

  After cleaning up the kitchen, we hopped in his truck. I could have sworn I saw Asher in the rearview mirror for just a second. He’d promised to check in on me. We’d made plans for me to sneak out that night so I could see him, and I counted the hours until then. I had so much to tell him that wouldn’t fit in a text.

  A short time later, we left the hilly city behind and drove south on Highway 1. This time, I grilled my grandfather, focusing my interrogation on the Healers.

  “You said they’ve joined forces. What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Well, the Healers used to live by a creed where they traveled alone and changed their name often. The better to stay lost. After what happened to your grandmother, though, I realized that wasn’t working. Living apart made us easier pickings for the Protectors. I thought it was time we came up with a better plan.”

  I noticed that my grandfather used “we” when he talked about the Healers. He wasn’t like them and didn’t have their blood running through his veins. Marriage to my grandmother had obviously been his induction into their ranks if he considered himself one of them.

  “But how did you even find each other? If you’d all gone into hiding, where did you even begin?”

  “Easy. You’re family, all descended from the same bloodlines. Did you forget that? Just like your mother knew how to find me, Healers long ago established ways to find each other. A way to exchange news or keep each other informed about known Protectors entering an area. I used the old ways to find Healers who had tired of running for their lives.”

  “And they what? Live on a compound with electric fences and ‘Keep out, Protectors’ signs?”

  My grandfather laughed, shaking his head. “Geez, you take after your mother.” He snorted, giving me a sideways glance. “No, we don’t live on a compound. Most of the Healers have made a home here in Pacifica.”

  We pulled off the highway at a town that looked a little worn around the edges with buildings that had seen better days. Wedged between the shore and the hills, something about the area reminded me of movies set in the sixties. The houses were an eclectic mix of bungalows and ranch-style homes. Unlike San Francisco with its tall buildings, these structures squatted low to the earth. Despite how tired everything looked, the view of the beach made up for it as we closed in on the coast.

  In Blackwell Falls, the water only worked itself into waves when a solid storm hit us. Here the velvet blue ocean frothed and slammed the beach over and over again. An alive, wild thing, it stood up in eight-foot waves, daring the humans to come play. I sat forward in my seat, straining against the seat belt to get a better glimpse of the horizon.

  “That’s Rockaway Beach,” my grandfather said, noticing my eagerness. “I’ll have Erin take you down for a closer look, if you like.”

  “Erin?” I asked.

  “One of the younger Healers. She’s about your age. You’ll like her. I thought maybe you’d like to spend time with someone other than an old man.”

  We arrived at one of the bungalows lining the shore. This one was white with worn clapboard siding that needed a paint job. I hopped out of the truck and followed my grandfather to the front door. A girl opened the door at my grandfather’s knock and hugged him. When she noticed me, she turned slightly pink and dropped her gaze to the floor. Blond with brown eyes, she resembled my mother more than I did. It occurred to me that this girl could be a distant relative.

  “Erin, this is my granddaughter, Remy.”

  I waved at the shy girl. “Hey.”

  Her lips slipped into a quick smile and she gestured for us to enter. “They’re all here, Franc. Mom coul
dn’t keep them away.”

  They who?

  I didn’t have long to ponder that, as a wall of noise hit me. Inside the house, people of every age packed the living room and connected dining room. They sat on every surface, including the arms of chairs and sofas and the floor, or stood against the walls where they could find space. All conversation stopped and at least fifty people turned to stare at me.

  What had I been thinking listening to my mother’s advice? No way could I defend myself against this many people if they wanted to hurt me.

  I didn’t know I’d stopped moving, until my grandfather laid a hand on my shoulder. He bent at the knees to meet my eyes, which I’m sure had fixed wide in terror.

  “Hey, kiddo. Nothing to worry about here. We’re all friends.”

  Chill out, Remy, and try to act like you’re not dating the enemy. I took a deep breath and nodded.

  “I think maybe we overwhelmed her, Franc,” a slim blond woman said as she stepped forward. She held out a hand to me. “Hi, Remy. I’m Dorthea Angelini. You met my daughter, Erin, at the door.”

  I shook her hand and she introduced me to the others in the room. I didn’t catch a lot of the names—there were too many to remember. What I did notice were the other teens in the room, at least five of them around my age. Only two were female, including Erin. And the room held way more men than women overall.

  I stepped close to my grandfather and whispered, “I thought only women were Healers?”

  He frowned. “Your mother really did leave some gaps in your education. The men here are not Healers. Like me, they are the husbands, brothers, and sons of Healers. There are only eight Healers here, plus you.”

  Eight? After years of searching for them, he’d only been able to find eight Healers? What chance did I have of surviving?

  He pointed to Erin and the other teen girl, Delia, plus a younger girl who looked to be about six or seven. Chrissy, the child, slipped behind Delia when I glanced their way. Delia glared at me, her birdlike features sharpening in distaste like I’d invaded her nest. From there, my grandfather pointed out five other women, ranging from their early twenties to one woman who looked to be about thirty-five. If I took the room’s stats to heart, Healers did not grow old. Or reach their forties.