A Gift of Time (Tassamara) (22 page)

“Then?” she prompted.

“The first time was a while ago. It was dinner time and he was praying. And praying and praying. We all just wanted to eat. Mrs. T, she tried to interrupt him, but then it was like he was talking to God and hearing God talk back. It was creepy. So Travis said ‘a good God would let folks eat before the food gets cold’ and Mr. Thompson, he hauled off and smacked him. Knocked Travis right out of his chair.”

“That sounds frightening.” Deliberately, Natalya kept her voice soft, non-judgmental, hoping to ease the pain of the memories, but inwardly she was furious. That poor boy. Those poor children.

Jamie shrugged. “I guess. But he was real sorry after and Mrs. T, she cried and cried.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?” She made the words a question, although she was sure she knew the answer.

“No. Not that time.” Jamie looked away, seeming uncomfortable.

“It kept happening?”

“A few times, yeah.”

“You still didn’t report him, though.” Natalya kept her face and voice neutral.

“They would have taken us away,” he said. “Split us up. Travis and me, we’d end up in juvie or a group home. No one wants teenage boys and I’m almost aged out. Only two months to go. The M&M’s mighta been okay but they didn’t want to leave either.”

“M&M’s?” Natalya felt her lips twitch into an unexpected smile. The nickname fit the bouncy twins.

“Yeah, Mary always called ‘em that.” Jamie’s lips turned up, too. “She liked to tell ‘em they were made of chocolate, pure sweet all the way through.”

“She sounds nice,” Natalya said.

“She is. Real nice.” Jamie’s voice held a deep desolation. He closed his eyes, but not before Natalya saw the shimmer of moisture in them.

She waited again. The silence stretched between them but she made no move to break it.

Finally, Jamie swallowed and continued his story, his voice huskier. “Then, back in the summer, he hit Mac.”

Natalya clenched her teeth together as tightly as she could, refusing to let the words that wanted to spill out of her escape. Why hadn’t Jamie gone straight to his caseworker? The agency wasn’t perfect, but allegations of abuse were always taken seriously. And with multiple witnesses, the children would have been pulled out of the Thompson house immediately. “What happened then?”

Jamie sounded almost dreamy as he went on, “I don’t know when Mary knew about Mac. That she’s special, I mean. She can make a hurt stop like it never happened. But we all knew by then. It made it better, easier. But Mac can’t heal herself. So when he hurt her, Mary knew they had to go.”

At last, a reasonable decision. Except, of course, it apparently hadn’t been carried out. Natalya forced herself to relax her fingers. They wanted to clench into fists. “Why didn’t she?” Her voice was still perfectly controlled.

“No money, no job, no place to go. Same reasons she was there in the first place. But…” Jamie stopped talking, seeming reluctant to say any more.

“But what?”

“She knew a guy,” he muttered. “We… did a little job for him.”

“A little job?” Natalya felt a lump dropping into her stomach like a cartoon anvil and no amount of relaxation training could keep all of the bite out of her voice when she asked, “Let me guess, a not exactly legal little job?”

He nodded, looking miserable.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“You don’t know how serious the crime you committed is?”

“Oh, no, I know that. I just don’t know what happened. I think…” He stopped speaking and swallowed hard. “I think maybe Mary’s dead. She would never have left Mac for so long. Not if she could get back.”

Natalya pressed her lips together. She thought he was probably right, but she didn’t want to say so. “Tell me the whole story,” she said gently instead. He didn’t answer right away and she leaned forward, putting her hand over his. “Let me help you,” she told him. “All of you. Your brothers need help, Kenzi—Mac needs help, and you need help, too. I understand you’re in trouble, but you can’t get out of it by running away.”

He let his head fall back against the window. “We needed money. A lot of it. Mary—well, I don’t know what all she did while she was gone, but she didn’t want nothing to do with meth or molly. But she knew this guy. A big dealer. At least that’s what he said. He agreed to buy some weed from us. So we planted a patch in the forest and took care of it.”

“Round Thanksgiving, Mr. Thompson really lost it. Mary’d been keeping Mac out of his way, keeping her quiet, eyes down, do what she’s told, don’t make no waves. But he went off on how she was the spawn of Satan and everything bad that happened was because of her, because of her cursed blood. Mary took Mac and left, hid out in the woods. We took turns bringing her food. Mrs. T, all she did was cry, but she knew we was sneaking stuff out. She didn’t tell. But he figured it out.”

Natalya shivered involuntarily. Jamie sounded old beyond his years, tired beyond endurance. “He beat you,” she said flatly.

“To get me to tell where they were. And I did.”

The bistro was packed with people. Half the town filled the tables, stood in the aisles, held quiet conversations outside the front door. A steady stream of them stopped by Max’s booth, offering their words of concern and support.

“If there’s anything more I can do…” Meredith, the local realtor, squeezed his hand before moving away. Max’s smile of thanks didn’t touch the worry in his eyes, but he nodded his appreciation. Meredith held a pile of flyers in her hand, featuring photos of Natalya and Kenzi. All of the searchers had copies and she was passing out more. Volunteers would be taking them to the nearest towns and campgrounds.

“Still nothing?” Grace asked him in the momentary quiet.

He shook his head, mouth drawn into a grim line. “I don’t sense anything about her future. It’s as if there’s a blank space where my intuition about Nat should be. I don’t like it.”

She sighed and picked up her cell phone, then set it down again. She tapped the surface restlessly. “Probably shouldn’t call Zane again, huh?”

This time his smile crinkled the laugh lines around his eyes. “Not unless you want him to hang up on you. You know he said he’d call the moment he felt something.”

Grace looked away. “I know… it’s just…”

“I know.” Max turned to speak to another concerned friend.

“Oh, call him anyway,” Rose suggested from the seat next to Max. “Or not,” she added with a sigh when Grace ignored her.

Over the decades in which she’d been a ghost, Rose had learned to be patient. Time passed, events happened. There wasn’t much she could do about it one way or another. Ghosts were watchers, trapped in time they could never change.

Rose had never minded. She liked people, watching them and listening to them and thinking about them, and she loved the stories they told and the music they made and the beauty they created. As far as Rose was concerned, television—especially now when Akira’s magic box would let her see absolutely endless streams of interesting shows—was just as good as life.

Except she had changed this time, this series of events. The little girl had been safe because of Rose’s choices, because of her actions. And now she wasn’t anymore. Rose hadn’t experienced the emotion she was feeling in so long she almost couldn’t identify it, but it was unhappiness.

She didn’t like it.

Her tie to the girl was gone as if it had never existed. It had been since the moment Kenzi crawled out of the darkness and into Natalya and Colin’s company. But Rose had stayed with Kenzi out of curiosity and an affection that came from the hours they’d spent in the woods together. Now she bitterly regretted having left. If she’d been there… well, nothing would have been any different. Rose wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop whatever had happened. But at least she wouldn’t have been left in the same dark as all the other worried people in the diner.

Akira slid into the booth next to Grace with a weary sigh.

“You okay?” Grace asked immediately.

“Tired,” Akira said. “It’s been a long day.”

Rose pursed her lips thoughtfully. She glanced down at her hands, placed as they were in her lap. Akira didn’t like to be touched by ghosts. Spirit energy coursing through her burned and sizzled. Yet when she’d passed through Akira the previous day, Akira had shivered, but not complained. Rose knew her energy felt different lately.

“That it has,” Grace agreed. “Any word from Zane?”

Akira shook her head, eyes rueful. “He’s on a plane already, but the flight is fifteen hours or so, and they’ll have to stop to refuel. He’ll let us know as soon as he senses her.”

Grace nodded, her smile tired. She had all of that information already, Rose knew. She’d spoken to her brother no more than half an hour ago.

Across the restaurant, people were responding as Colin strode in. They called out greetings and questions and he lifted a hand to wave them all to silence. “No news,” he reported. “But we need a few more volunteers for the search parties. We particularly need people with access to small boats. If you can help, please report to Deputy Jayne down on MacLarren Road.” A dozen people immediately stood and headed for the door, as an anxious looking young woman entered followed by a teenaged boy.

Rose frowned at the new entrants. The woman looked familiar, although she couldn’t place her, but the boy looked almost more interesting. Despite the crowd at the bistro, he kept his chin tucked into his neck, his head down, as he crossed to the cash register.

“Sheriff,” the woman said with relief. “Joyce said you’d be here. Any word?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, Carla.”

With the name, Rose recognized her—the caseworker from the foster care agency.

“I have to file a report with the state,” Carla said, sounding apologetic. “Has Kenzi’s information been entered into the National Crime Information Center database?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The sheriff sounded impatient. “We did that immediately.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Carla apologized again. “I know you’re busy. I don’t want to interrupt you. It’s just—well, you know what it’s like. Ever since Rilya Williams, foster care agencies have to be hyper-vigilant about the possibility of children in the system going missing. The schools report absences to us, but…”

Carla kept talking but Rose had stopped listening. The boy, the one who’d been keeping his face hidden, had lifted his chin at Carla’s words, his expression wide-eyed. Was he shocked or scared? Or both?

Rose slid through Max and out of the booth, eyes intent on the boy. Akira, who had been talking to Grace about their hike and the find they’d made in the forest, turned to watch her go.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Rose said airily, waving away Akira’s curiosity. But then she paused. She was interested in the boy and wanted to see him from a closer perspective, but she had also wondered whether she might be able to help Akira. Maybe she should check that out. Feeling unusually shy, she said, “Ah, would you mind if I touched you?”

Akira flinched, her reaction clearly instinctive.

“Just… like an experiment,” Rose said hastily. “Just… to see.”

“To see what?” Akira asked. Grace and Max exchanged puzzled but accepting glances.

“To see if…” Rose started and then, impatiently, she reached out and put a hand on Akira’s shoulder.

Akira’s eyes widened and her shoulders dropped as the nervous tension that had been keeping her on her feet drained out of her. “Oh, wow,” she breathed.

“Good?” Rose asked anxiously.

Akira arched her neck backward, tilting her face to the ceiling. “I think I could run a marathon. Or sleep for a week, I’m not sure which.”

“But better?” Rose asked, still nervous.

Akira dropped her head and smiled. “Much, thank you.”

Rose’s relief was tinged with smugness as she moved away. She’d never deliberately infused someone with her energy before. It had happened inadvertently by the side of the road with Kenzi and one other time, but she’d never done it on purpose.

Of course, it probably wasn’t a good idea to do it too often. Akira had all sorts of theories about spirit energy and inter-dimensional particle motion—none of which Rose paid the slightest bit of attention to—but Rose did have enough experience with other ghosts to know sometimes they faded away into nothingness. She’d prefer not to have that happen to her.

The boy was ordering dinner to go. “I’ll take the special, thanks,” he muttered, his head down again.

Rose slid up next to him, squeezing in without worrying about how she moved through the people nearby. “Well, aren’t you a cutie,” she said to the boy. He reminded her somewhat of her friend Henry when he was young, with the same dark skin and lanky body. But Henry had had a smile that could light up a room and this boy’s expression was grim. He’d turned his face to her, so she had a chance to study him. But was he turning to her or away from someone else?

She looked over his shoulder to see who was behind him. Carla still spoke earnestly to the sheriff, who nodded, listening patiently despite the press of people waiting to speak with him.

Emma, at the cash register, said to the boy, briskly, “That’ll be ten dollars even.” He passed over a crumpled bill without looking at her.

Rose tipped her head to the side, examining him. He was looking straight through her, of course, but she didn’t think he was looking at anything beyond her. From his expression, she thought he might be listening to the conversation behind him.

“I’ve talked to everyone who works at the agency and all of them swear they didn’t reveal Dr. Latimer’s address to anyone. It would, of course, have been completely against procedure if they had, but I have faith in our people. If someone had made that mistake, I think, given the gravity of the situation, they’d admit it so you could investigate.” Carla’s hands were clasped in front of her, her tension showing in the lines of tendon.

“I appreciate your thoroughness, Carla.” The sheriff put a hand on her lower arm, giving her a warm smile, his southern drawl stronger than usual. “I admit, you’ve gotten out ahead of me on this one. You’re absolutely right, though. If Kenzi was the target, the question of how she was found is vital.”