by Amy Henwood
I was still on the ground—even if I wanted to move I couldn’t. I was frozen trying to process everything going on around me. The yelling had drawn attention and a group of by-passers circled the three of us like in a high school fight scene.
“At least I can take care of her; and not once did she protest to anything I did,” Jackson said back to Chase with anger running through his hot, amber face.
A punch from Chase was thrown at Jackson but he dodged it like a championship fighter.
“All these years and you still punch like a little girl,” he pointed out to Chase.
“At least I can get the girl.”
Chase swung for a second time at Jackson’s face, but this time Jackson caught Chase’s hand mid-flight. He pulled it down and planted Chase with one square in the nose. Instantly, Chase pulled back and brought his hands to his face, blood seeping between his fingers.
The group of innocent bystanders had grown, and the crowd made an array of sounds when the bloody punch was delivered. The men mostly cheered, while the ladies in the group either gasped or lightly screamed in horror. I remained motionless on the cement sidewalk protecting my knee.
“Just like a girl,” repeated Jackson.
“You bastard,” Chase screeched through his fingers.
Jackson threw another blow at Chase, this time to the side of his face where it was unprotected by his hands.
Word had spread through the mall or through the security cameras hidden above. A mall security guard burst through the crowd and entered the centre of our circle. He looked at me on the ground first and I shook my head at him, not wanting to get up.
“Break it up!” the security guard said at them, placing himself dangerously in the line of fire—bad idea. Chase was finally able to land a punch on someone and it wasn’t Jackson—it was the security guard’s cheekbone.
Security guard number two broke his way into the circle. This one was much larger in stature, like a hardcore football player, unlike the first skinny one. He took Chase from behind, towering over him like an ant. Chase tried but failed to break the hold.
The skinny guard shook off the blow and shuffled the growing crowd away. “Show is over folks,” he said. “Everyone can get back to their business.”
Football guard maintained his firm grip on Chase and escorted him into the mall, disappearing behind the closing doors.
Jackson removed me from the ground and hurried me into the backseat of his still running car, which had become visible as the crowd of people diminished. He didn't forget to get those dreaded crutches, and he hurled them into the front passenger seat before taking off with extreme force, the tires squealing against the pavement.
“What the hell was that?” I said with a high pitch.
“Don't worry about it. Just keep your leg propped up on the seat.”
“No, I will not. Not until you tell me what that was all about.”
“Shit, Scarlett. For once just do what you’re told!”
He was displeased with me disobeying his order. A normal person would be frightened and listen to anyone with a temper, but I was stupid and not even a fraction close to normal.
“No, I am not backing down. You tell me or else I am getting out of this car whether you pull over or not.”
“And what makes you think I am going to stop you.”
“Because you cannot stand to see me hurt, and me jumping out of this car would break you.”
He didn't respond, and I was able to feel a sense of defeat in him. My mission was complete, knowing he would tell me before the day was done, so I raised my foot onto the seat. It did feel good. It was much more comfortable resting elevated, but I was not going to disclose that to him.
I was sitting silently, refraining from talking to him, when I felt something. Not a physical something but an emotion—an emotion that didn't belong to me. I was overcome by the awareness of Jackson’s emotions. His head was blocked by the headrest of the car but that didn't matter. I was feeling what he was feeling. Filled with fury from Chase and frustration with me.
The car stopped moving and the ignition was switched off. A variety store came into view from the back window.
“Wait here and don't even think about leaving this vehicle,” he said, his tone rigid.
“Yes, sir,” I replied with a bitterness that got me the death look.
I had no reason to leave the car, having already threatened to pull the ultimate James Bond move of rolling out of a moving vehicle. Though unlike 007, I would cause myself some serious bodily harm.
I waited and watched. People got in and out of their cars and trucks with ease. I never realized how dependent I was on two working legs until one had become temporarily disabled.
Jackson returned to the car a few minutes later, carrying a bag of frozen peas.
“Did you forget to eat your vegetables today?” I said.
“Cut it out, Courtright.”
Did he honestly just last-name me? I didn't recall reciting my surname to him. Maybe he looked at my paperwork at the hospital when he returned it to the nurse. Regardless of him breaching my privacy, he last-named me. I had to fight back the urge to counter with a cat’s hiss.
He leaned around his seat and passed me the bag of frozen peas, probably resisting an urge to throw it.
“For your knee, smartass. It will help ease the pain.”
I didn’t counter with any additional smartass comments, because that was a brilliant move on his part. Softly, I placed the ice-cold bag on my knee, which was greeted by uncomfortable throbbing. I took in and released several deep breaths slowly, as the contents of the bag felt like one hundred pounds, compacting the swelling.
The car shifted into drive and left the parking lot in the opposite direction of home.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You want to know, right?”
“Know what?”
“You wanted to know what that was back there between that lowlife and me. Unless you changed your mind already,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” I said, and I kept quiet after that.
Traffic decreased as we drove further away from town. Buildings and houses that were crammed in started to space further apart.
We ended our journey in a deserted factory parking lot. Windows were boarded up, stained with rust from the perishing metal frames. The large, brown cinder blocks that made up the foundation of the building had begun to crumble from the absence of maintenance. The grass was long and littered with weeds and the asphalt was cracked beyond repair, filled with additional crabgrass.
Jackson opened my door. “Coming?”
I hesitated. Deserted building. Outside of town. No one to hear me scream. My imminent death was approaching.
“Well?” he said.
I'm not getting out of here alive, so I might as well get it done and over with, said one side of my brain, and the other was confident I was safe.
I removed the bag of thawing peas and left the car on my own free will, using the car to support me.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “Can’t we talk at my place?”
“It’s easier to show you this way with no distractions. No one to interrupt us; well, more importantly, interrupt you.”
“What are you talking about, Jackson? You are starting to scare me.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you want to show me?”
This.
“What is this?”
This.
He said again, standing a foot away from me.
My brows rose, my mouth inadvertently opened in shock. I fell back against the car for support. How is this possible?
Because you have been gifted with exceptional powers, Scarlett.
He said this to me while his lips stayed stationary the entire time. Most people would mistake him for a ventriloquist, as he was talking with his mouth shut, but his visible Adam’s apple didn't flinch.
“I can talk to spirits, but I can read minds too?”
I said aloud in shock.
Not exactly.
Then how? I thought.
Let me explain.
What is happening to me? I continued to clearly hear him with his lips sealed, but he could hear me too?
I wanted to jump backwards, away from him, but the steel of the car prevented me. Instead, I pushed my hips into the cold metal, wanting it to absorb me like a sponge. I inspected him closely while he kept his eyes locked on mine, never shying away.
“What are you?” I said aloud in a whisper.
“Not everyone is who you think they are,” Jackson said.
I remembered hearing that phrase before. “My grandma once said the same thing,” I said.
“She is a wise woman.”
Is? I thought, trying to keep my unsightly mouth from dropping to the ground again.
“Yes, she is,” said Jackson.
Oh my god, how does he keep hearing me? My barrier is up—no one can get through when its up. “What are you?” I leaned heavily on the car for optimal support awaiting the answer.
“I am not technically alive,” he said.
Thank goodness for the car.
“I’m dead—was dead,” he corrected himself.
I stared blankly at him and really wanted to run away from the scenarios.
I listed off every fictional character I could think of in my head, from television shows to movies. Vampire—no, he would be trying to drain my blood by now in this deserted parking lot. Witch—no, he would always be wearing black while trying to cast some messed-up spell. Werewolf—no, they turned at full moons and acted all weird leading up to the event and would not possess any special powers during their two-foot lives. Leviathan—no, not a large sea monster; I was really stretching the theories.
“I was sent here to protect you,” he said, breaking off my thoughts, knowing I was rambling off the possibilities.
“Why can't you just tell me that you’re a crazy person like me and we will leave it at that?” I wanted to cry. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
“I wish it was that simple. I’m already risking everything by exposing my existence to you.” He moved closer to me, and I couldn't escape him or the truth. “Telling you what I am and why I’m here would break my oath, causing me to diminish; but on the contrary, I am incapable of lying. If you were to ask me a specific thing, I have two options: I can avoid the question or tell you the truth. I cannot be punished for telling the truth if you ask the right questions.”
I placed my forehead on Jackson, the subject matter’s chest.
We first met when I had crashed on the ski hill. He had caught me from falling on the ground after dropping the plate and comforted me. He had pulled me away from Chase as he was restraining me.
“Protect,” I quietly said unto him and talked it out. “You protect me. Angels protect people.” I lifted my head to his. “Are you my guardian angel?” My voice shook.
“Yes,” he said.
A thousand thoughts raced my mind.
“Ask me anything,” he interrupted me, listening to my thoughts again. “Take it slow, one at a time,” he coached.
“How can you hear my thoughts? I can only talk to dead—” I trailed off. Are angels considered dead? “How did you know about my disability?”
“It is far from a disability. You hold a gift that many humans would love to have. You have the ability to communicate with someone that has passed on. You have the power to talk with your deceased grandma, no different than talking to her over the phone. Imagine the number of people out there that wish they had one last chance to say ‘I love you’ or tell someone they are sorry. You will never have to experience any more grief than someone would if their loved one moved across the country.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” I was starting to understand how he couldn’t lie but was good at avoiding having to answer.
“I know everything about you. I have been assigned to you ever since you were born. I have been close by your entire life, stepping in many times without you knowing.”
I kept focused on him. Now I was intrigued and needed to know more.
“When you were seven,” he began, “you decided that you were now old enough to ride your bike around the block by yourself. Your dad was reluctant, but he did finally agree.”
“I remember this.”
“You were halfway around the block—”
I cut in. “I fell.”
“Correct. Your front tire clipped the edge of the sidewalk, causing your mishap, and you threw your hands out in front of you, trying to break the fall.”
I shivered, recalling the sound of my arm snapping. “When I opened my eyes, a man was there. Aqua eyes, blond hair—” My hand covered my mouth, putting the pieces together, confirming my earlier thoughts that he looked familiar. “It was you. You took me and my bike back home. You left me on the front lawn alone.”
“Well, I sure as hell couldn't be with you when your parents found you. Strange man carrying you around the block—that’s a child kidnapping case waiting to happen.”
I searched my memory for additional traumatic and close call events, questioning his presence. “In high school, I slipped walking up the steps. It was your hands that prevented me from smashing my face on the concrete steps.”
He nodded.
Man. A man. He was a man when I was seven, a man when I was in high school, identical to the man standing in front of me.
“Do you age?” The more I learned, the more confusing it became.
“No,” he answered in short.
“If you don't age and have been around since I was born, then where did you come from?”
“I don't know.” I knew he honestly didn't know the answer. “What I do know is that we are here to protect.”
“Excuse me, we? There are more of you?” I am going to need to sit down.
He carried me to the front of the car, setting me on the hood. “Better?” he asked.
“Will you stop doing that?”
“Doing what?” he said with a snicker.
“Reading my mind.”
“Oh, but it’s so much fun listening to what you have to say up there.”
I shook my head in irritation with him. “I have spent the majority of my life working on a barrier to block out voices like yours from intruding my head. So how can you read my mind?”
“Each of us is given a special gift and mine is the ability to bypass those walls and break them down. No matter how hard you try, I will always be able to get through.”
Another piece of the disoriented puzzle shifted into place. “It wasn't me who saved the teen from getting hit by a car—it was you. My barrier was up, and you took it down. You are the reason his mom was able to contact me.”
He nodded.
As much information that I had absorbed, I had one question remaining. “How do you and Chase know each other?”
“You mean your boyfriend.”
“I never told you he was my—”
Jackson stopped me. “Remember,” he said almost dauntingly. “I know everything about you.”
“If that’s true and you knew I had a boyfriend, then why did you make moves on me?”
“Me coming onto you? Your thoughts were pretty vocal and clear. I only did what you wanted.”
“Well, you are going to have to learn that my thoughts are not for you to have.”
“My listening is what keeps you safe.”
He did it again. He was avoiding answering my question. “How do you know Chase?” I asked again.
“I think that is enough for today.” He remained tight-lipped on the subject.
“Jackson, tell me.”
“In time. I don’t want to scare you off yet.” He put his body between my parted legs.
His blue eyes looked into the depths of mine with his hands resting on my upper thighs. My heart rate picked up wildly. Urge grew to lean into him, my body connecting with his. My upper and lower lips
rubbed against each other. The outer edge of his face disappeared from my line of vision as he moved in closer. The tip of his nose pressed against mine. I inhaled deeply as his lips brushed my lips. Lightly, slowly, tenderly. Treating me like a porcelain doll. His hands slowly ran down my legs and I placed my palms on his lower back. His hand moved up my hips to my shoulders, narrowly missing my chest, cradling my face. I observed his lips spread open, and his tongue swivelled against my parted waiting lips. I opened them to invite him in, but he pulled away.
“We wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” he said.
No, I said in my head.
“That’s what I thought your answer would be,” he murmured softly into my ear.
“You promised to not listen to my thoughts.”
He grinned.
I need to be really careful what I think about around him.
Yes, you do, said the same male voice that had reminded me to pack my mittens, watch my step, and tell me not to do that ski jump.
12
Water dampened my hair as pellets of rain landed on my exposed face. The little sun that had been shining when we arrived at the deserted factory had disappeared behind the looming grey clouds. The precipitation was a gratifying presence, bringing me back to presumed reality. The light mist didn't last long, as it turned into a heavy rain, soaking us like we were dumped on by a barrel of water.
Jackson scooped me off the hood of the car and placed me onto the front passenger seat. I felt honoured to be upgraded from the earlier backseat ride.
Flakes of snow had fallen days before, presenting us with water a degree shy of freezing. The car heat on full blast did nothing to take the chill out of my bones. Having the wipers set at top speed was keeping the heavy rain at bay on the windshield, and I concentrated on keeping warm.
“You know, Scarlett,” Jackson said to me with his eyes focused on the puddling road, “you can try your hardest to keep your mind from filling with thoughts, but you cannot go the rest of your life thinking of nothing.”
“Then explain how to keep you out.”
“You can't, but I will promise you this: I will not intrude your thoughts unless you want me to.”
“Promise?” I was looking for reassurance.
