Designed with a Destiny (33 page)

“Then if what you’re saying is true, there
was nothing that we could have done to help Kennedy?” Alisha
concludes.

“Stopped her from going,” Lawrence quietly
says.

“If anyone should have stopped her, it was
me. I had a premonition or rehearsal dream that contained some
clues about dealing with emotional sponges,” I finally profess,
unable to keep it in any longer. All eyes turn to me, and I recount
my dream to them. Nobody says a word, but I can read the single
question on all of their faces, including Ronan’s—why didn’t I say
something to them before we went to Mexico City?

It’s been six days since the horrendous
events in Mexico City, and once again I’m woken by Cat, thrashing
around from a nightmare which I suspect involves a heavy dose of
violence and death by the way she’s trembling.

“Everything’s okay—it’s just a dream,” I
softly try to comfort her back to sleep.

“What time is it?” she groggily asks.

“1:11” I sigh, after rolling over to check
the clock on my side of the bed. I could have guessed as much. This
is the third night in a row that we’ve woken to find the digital
clock displaying the mysterious number sequence.

“Again?” Cat groans. Her hand reaches out in
the dark, finding mine beneath the covers.

“Sweaty palms and everything—must have been
a hell of a nightmare. What was it about this time?” I ask,
prepared to hear recalled fragments of a gruesome dream.

She furrows her brows and says, “It wasn’t
about Kennedy this time, it was about you and me.”

“And it was a nightmare?” I’m surprised, yet
intrigued at the same time.

“Yes—it was awful.” She pauses and stares at
me hard for the longest time, biting her lower lip as if
contemplating on whether to tell me. Finally she confesses. “I
dreamt that our feelings for each other changed. We were living a
normal life with jobs and a house, but we were falling out of
love—drifting further and further apart,” she says, sounding
ashamed—as if she has some control over what she dreams at
night.

“Cat is this about your vibrational
frequency again?”

“It’s freaking me out a little,” she softly
admits, I’m sure with some difficulty given the fact that she’s a
Designer supposedly without fears.

“It’s just temporary. Like Lawrence said,
you were affected the most by what happened in Mexico City, and now
with a lack of sleep…” I try and reason with her that it’s nothing
to be concerned about. I figured it was only a matter of time
before the topic of our mismatched vibrational frequency readings
resurfaced. Lawrence had been doing serial frequency readings on
all of us to rule out anyone else with emotional vampirism, and
picked up on our divergent results.

“Will you make love to me?” she suddenly
murmurs pressing her lips to my neck, catching me off guard with my
favorite kind of invitation. It’s been almost a week, and if left
up to me I wouldn’t let one day go by, so it surprises even me when
I don’t readily jump at her offer.

“You need to get some sleep, Lawrence wants
to hold a meeting on the bluff at sunrise again,” I remind her,
demonstrating what I believe to be a higher level of concern for
her own well-being. I feel her body tense beneath my arms and she
pulls her head back until she’s looking deep into my eyes. Her
silence and unblinking gaze is the first indicator that my reminder
is underappreciated.

“Sure,” she eventually whispers, scooting
her body to her side of the bed, as far away from me as
possible—which feels more like a mile away instead of three feet.
Before I have a chance to rectify the situation, she rolls over
facing the opposite wall, throwing an invisible barrier up that
keeps me from reaching out to her.

***

“Marriage 101—never turn down your wife when
she’s asking for sex,” Jason says, when I mention how I think I
might have offended Cat last night. I woke to find her gone at four
in the morning, and remotely searched the entire ranch before
finding her—eight miles up the road—jogging alone in the dark.

“So that makes it okay for her to put
herself in danger—cause me to worry?” I spin the conversation back
to the real issue of why we got in a fight, fully expecting him to
take my side. Cat caught me trailing a half a mile behind her, and
accused me of spying. Then when I reminded her that I could remote
travel to spy, she insults me by suggesting that I’ve probably used
the gift to spy on other women. The comment led to one of our worst
arguments ever.

“When women are horny, they don’t ask—they
take. When women have an emotional need to feel deeply
connected—they ask for sex,” he replies matter-of-factly, once
again insinuating that I failed to be there for her.

“Yep, he’s right,” Alisha chimes in,
catching the last part of our conversation. Like all the other
women in the group—including Claire—she’s dressed in a sweat suit
with her hair in a ponytail. They look like a bunch of matching
models preparing for a
Sports Illustrated
photo shoot. I
take a sip of black coffee and scowl at the two of them.

“Her emotional issue has to do with the fact
that she blames herself for Kennedy’s death—which is causing a dip
in her own electromagnetic frequency reading—which means we’re
temporarily no longer a vibrational match—which has her all weirded
out that our relationship will be affected,” I say, rolling my eyes
in frustration at such an absurd notion.

“So you thought it would be a good idea to
turn down the one thing that can provide her with the greatest
measure of reassurance about your love for her? That’s brilliant,”
Alisha says condescendingly, not giving me a chance to explain.

“Didn’t they teach you in medical school
that donuts are a terrible source of nutrition for pregnant women?”
I curtly reply, snatching the one she’s about to bite into out of
her hand. “Besides, you keep eating these and you’ll get fat,” I
add, as I shove the whole thing in my mouth and walk away—knowing
full well she’s been sensitive about her weight lately.

***

Nature breathing could possibly be the
healthiest addiction available to mankind—the effects mimicking the
reputation of popular street drugs. I’m not sorry for skipping
Lawrence’s group meeting this morning after first getting in a huge
fight with Cat, followed by a criticizing lecture from Alisha and
Jason. It was an impulsive decision to go for a run, but now that
I’m out here, I block all telepathic calls, and allow the animal
DNA within to dominate the moment. This equates to a forty-five
mile per hour sprint across an open plain which leads me over a
moderately large hill and into a steep valley that has a river
lined with old cedar trees. I feel an instant jump in my
electromagnetic frequency and the residual anger from Cat accusing
me of being a peeping tom vanishes. Taking my time, I walk along
the bank of the river until I come to a section blocked by large
boulders. It reminds me so much of my first date with Cat—a
motorcycle ride, helping her up to the top of the boulder where we
talked for almost two hours. I remember everything about that
day—what she wore, what she said, and what I felt. Looking back, I
must have known even then that she’d be a permanent part of my
life. Scanning the face of the boulder, I look for notches and
cracks, planning a potential route to get over to the other side of
it. A small part of me is being beckoned to keep moving up the
river, letting the landscape surprise me with obstacles that would
deter the average man, while an even larger part is being summoned
to go back—find Cat and make things right between us. Torn—I decide
to take the easy route and remote travel—giving myself a much
quicker birds-eye view of the area, thereby satisfying my
curiosity, yet letting me get back to taking care of business. The
woman’s body lying on the other side of the bolder throws a monkey
wrench into my plans, causing me to veer into the waist high, ice
cold river to get to the other side as quickly as possible.

***

“Natalie? Natalie can you hear me—it’s
Ronan,” I gently shake her shoulders trying to get her to open her
eyes. It wasn’t until I rolled her body over that I even realized I
was dealing with one of my own. Her hair tucked up in a cap and her
body caked with mud, lying face down—had it not been for the bright
red bandana over her neck, I might have overlooked her
completely.

“Oh god, my head,” she moans, reaching up to
rub the back of her head, then pulling a bloody hand away. I remove
my shirt and ring river water from it before placing it behind her
head to stop the bleeding.

“What happened and why are you out here
alone?” I ask, doing a lousy job at hiding my annoyance at women
doing dangerous, stupid things—for the second time in one day.

“I think I slipped from the top of the
boulder,” she says, squinting as she looks up at the rock towering
over us. “Where’s your escort?” she asks accusingly, without coming
right out and calling me a chauvinist.

“Do you think you can stand?” I skirt around
her question not feeling much like engaging in a debate with an
attorney about the disparity in genders, when there are more
important issues at hand. Reaching for a nearby branch, she hoists
herself up, immediately collapsing in my arms the second she tries
to bear weight on her right foot.

“Uh-oh—that isn’t good,” she says through
clenched teeth, wincing as she removes my t-shirt from her head and
ties it around her swollen ankle.

“
Hey if anyone hears me—I need some
help,”
I put out a telepathic distress signal and of course Cat
is the first to answer.

“
Ronan, where are you? We’ve been trying
to connect with you all morning. Are you okay?”
The strain in
her voice is obvious, and I’m quick to put her mind at ease.

“
I’m fine, but Natalie’s hurt—can you
have one of the ranch hands meet us with a vehicle at the
Xiochitlan de las Flores village?”
There’s a long pause before
she responds.

“
Oh—you’re with Natalie? I guess that
explains why neither of you have been answering our telepathic
calls. I’ll let the ranch hand know where to meet you,”
she
ends our telepathic conversation as abruptly as someone slamming
the phone down, then blocks the rest of my attempts to contact
her.

***

“Do you want to talk about it?” Natalie
finally asks after giving me time to stew as I carry her down a
freezing river to get around the boulders otherwise blocking our
path. We’re both soaking wet and she shivers, pressing her body
against mine for no other reason than to stay warm. I shrug my
shoulders and trudge on in silence. She asks just the right
questions to coax me in to talking, and before I know it, I’m
spilling everything, as I retrace my steps up the side of the
slope. After getting nowhere with Jason and Alisha, it feels great
to unload to a sympathetic listener, who agrees that Cat’s behavior
is unreasonable.

“Ronan, do you think that it was a mistake
to get married so young?” she tentatively asks. “I mean most people
just aren’t ready to settle down with one person at nineteen.” Her
comment makes me immediately think of Burke.

“My genetic enhancements have altered the
inherent evolutionary process. I’ve never really fit in to the
pre-defined developmental roles. In fact, I was always five years
ahead of my peers when it came to physical, social, and cognitive
development, and don’t even get me started on adolescence—I
bypassed it completely.” I recall with distaste the three years of
torture being amongst a group of high school students that for the
most part drove me insane. “Who knows, maybe my DNA engineering has
shortened my life span, and because I’m not meant to live very
long, I’m subconsciously condensing what would be considered a
normal lifetime of experiences in to a few decades,” I speculate,
chuckling at my own supposition. She looks up at me, her bright
green eyes full of concern.

“That’s terrible—don’t say things like
that,” she says, slapping my bare chest. Something about the way
her hand lingers there makes me stop. She looks as confused as me,
by the subtle sensation of warmth, and I quickly let her down,
letting her use my arm to balance on one foot, and taking a step
backwards to put a little distance between us.

“
Ronan what’s wrong with Natalie?”
Alisha’s voice penetrates my thoughts, to my relief interrupting
the disturbing visions flashing through my mind, that I’m trying
hard to ignore. I give her a rundown of Natalie’s injuries and she
confirms to not let her walk on her injured leg.
“We’re almost
to the village—can you get her down here or should I send help
up?”

“
Nope—I’ve got it. We’ll be down in
fifteen minutes.”
I reply to Alisha. “Get on and hold on
tight,” I tell Natalie. She obediently jumps on my back, wrapping
her arms around my neck, and I barrel full speed down the other
side of the mountain, not stopping until we arrive at the bottom.
Alisha, Jason, and Cat all step out of the waiting van and one look
at Cat’s face lets me know that she’s completely misjudged the
circumstances.

***

There’s never been a situation that I’ve
been more uncertain of than the one presenting itself to me now. I
have a wife that I love unmeasurably, whom after accusing me of the
unthinkable won’t speak to me, and the emptiness I feel is
excruciating. A wall of misunderstandings and accusations separates
us, and although we’re lying in the same bed, you’d think we’re on
opposite corners of the world with the distance I feel from her.
Finally, after agonizing over it for hours, I confide with Lawrence
in a telepathic conversation. He believes me when I tell him about
the incident with Natalie, speculating that Cat’s partially
responsible for manifesting a scenario she’s so intensely fearing,
and recommends meeting with both of us first thing tomorrow
morning. It’s not something I’d normally even consider without
talking to Cat first, but the way things ended tonight, I readily
agree. It’s only in the final hours before dawn that I actually
fall asleep, only to be awakened a short time later by the sound of
shower water running. Cat looks surprised when she comes out of the
bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and I’m already dressed, sitting on
the bed waiting for her.