Mindspeak (13 page)

I gasped and turned toward the
house. I was much further away than I’d realized. I could only make out a small
patio light in the distance. I glanced over my shoulder. The figure gained on
me. I sped up.

When I reached the end of the fence
line, I cut hard to the left toward the house and hit a wall. I looked up into
Jack’s face. “Someone’s chasing me.” I spoke through heavy pants.

His head jerked up, looking in the
direction I had just come from. “What? Who?” He pushed me to the side and stood
in front of me.

“Do you really think I know who?” I
stood behind Jack and peered over his shoulder. Nothing. “I swear he was right
behind me!”

“He?”

“He. She. I don’t know.
It
ran like a damn gazelle.”

He grabbed both sides of my cheeks.
His palms lit my face on fire. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

“I don’t know. I was just walking
along the fence, when I heard a clicking sound, a lighter, I think. Across the
field, someone stood there, smoking and watching me. When I started to move
away, he moved toward me. When I ran, he ran.”

Jack dropped his hands. He looked
again in the direction from where I had come. I had no idea if he thought I was
insane or if he thought like I did—someone was watching me.

Chapter
Eleven

Dr. and Mrs. DeWeese worked the
crowd. I sipped my punch while trying to be one with the floor-to-ceiling
draperies at the back windows.

Growing up, I always did as I was
told. “Be a good girl and let Daddy work,” Dad would say. Or “Be a good girl
for your Gram while I’m away.”

So, when Cathy DeWeese informed me she
would handle the arrangements for a wake in honor of my dad, I nodded and said,
“Yes, ma’am.”

My soul ached as I scanned the
DeWeeses’ living room. It was packed full of doctors (some I recognized from the
recent dinner, some I didn’t), Wellington teachers, and friends of the DeWeeses’
who Cathy claimed loved my father.

I was skeptical.

When Dad had insisted I attend
Wellington under a new name at age eleven, I’d assumed it was to soothe his
fears that I would be killed, kidnapped or tortured for the top secret work he
did. Never in all the years that Dad warned me of the dangerous nature of his
research did I consider that
I
had been one of his projects.

That my name was changed to protect
my identity, not his.

Nor had I considered that his life
was in danger.

Now, he was dead.

And my identity? Not so secret
these days.

The Program—a program Dad insisted
I be a part of this year? Would it teach me about this controversial research?
Would it give me clues as to why my dad is now dead?

I watched the faces of the adults
scattered about the room. Were these people really Dad’s friends? I only
considered a small handful to be my friends—the very few classmates who even
knew who my father was, including Briana.

At least Dr. DeWeese and Dean
Fisher agreed to do it away from school. The fewer students who knew who I
was—or who Dad was—at this point, the better. I hadn’t even told Danielle, my
best friend, about the email I’d received. Most people knew nothing more than
what was reported in the papers—Famous Geneticist Killed in Strange Car
Explosion.

Wellington’s teachers gathered in a
small group in one corner of the room. Guests approached me, taking my hand in
theirs. They offered their condolences and wished me well. Dr. DeWeese and his
wife stood behind me at times like monkeys on my back.

I smiled and said “Thank you.” Like
a good little girl. When what I really wanted was to go for a swim. Or go back
to the nursing home where Gram lived. I wanted to escape this thing that had
become my life.

Jack stood with Danielle and Kyle.
They drank punch and spoke in whispers. I only imagined they were discussing me
and what I must be going through—attention I didn’t welcome.

I was just thankful Danielle knew
me well enough to pack me a bag of clothes, otherwise I would have been
standing there in my swim team sweats. Or worse, forced to borrow something
from my new guardian, who wore bright canary-yellow tonight. She claimed black
was “cliché.”

Danielle brought my favorite black
skirt, gray silk blouse, and a pair of heels that I wanted to throw across the
room. But why take out my grief on a lovely pair of peep-toes?

I shook my head, remembering how Cathy
DeWeese had buzzed around the house all day like she was planning a huge party.

Briana approached me slowly from
the left as Mrs. Crain, my biology teacher, walked away. She wrung her hands in
front of her and appeared to struggle to make eye contact. When she finally
did, I noticed her mascara smeared under her eye as if she had been crying.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lexi,”
she said. It sounded rehearsed, but her eyes were sincere.

“Thank you.” I had uttered those
words two-hundred-thirty-four times that evening by my estimate.

She bowed her head toward the
floor. Then suddenly she threw her arms around me. “I’m so sorry for
everything.”

I patted her back lightly and then
gently pushed her away, holding onto her shoulders. “It’s okay, Bree. It’s
still me.”

A tear escaped her eye, and she sniffled.
“I just don’t know what I would do without my parents. I mean,” she touched a
tissue to her nose, “my parents pretty much suck as far as handing out any kind
of love, but I at least have somewhere to go for holidays.”

“Thank you for that, Bree.”

She nodded and walked away without
another word.

Danielle raised an eyebrow in a
silent question from across the room. I answered with wide eyes and the release
of a long breath. I was definitely done with this memorial service. I didn’t
understand why Mrs. DeWeese insisted on having one. She’d said it was so I
could find closure. Except these people didn’t know my father. Not really. I
wasn’t going to find closure in a room of strangers.

As I tried to make my way to the
door, I was stopped by another hand to the elbow.

“Lexi, we are so sorry.”

“Dr. and Mrs. Wellington.” The
president of Wellington Boarding School and his wife were dressed in
conservative dark clothing. I allowed Mrs. Wellington to take my hand in hers.
Her skin was cool. “We’re sorry to see you under these circumstances,” she
said.

“Thank you.” Two-hundred-thirty-six.
“That’s very kind of you.”

Dr.Wellington placed a business
card in my hand. “If you need anything, anything at all, you’ll call us.”

“I will.” I smiled weakly. “Thank
you.” I lost count.

Jack stepped beside me and touched
my arm. “Good evening. Dr. and Mrs. Wellington. It’s nice to see you both. I
need to steal Lexi away for a minute.”

“Of course. Again, we’re sorry for
your loss, dear. Your father did amazing work. He’ll be missed.”

Jack led me toward the kitchen. Anita,
the DeWeese’s housekeeper, took a tray of mini quiches from the oven and slipped
me a sympathetic look. I only met her briefly over bacon that morning, but I
already liked her.

Jack and I continued out the back
door and walked around the DeWeeses’ swimming pool. I sat on a wrought iron
bench and bent over at the waist, breathing hard. “Thank you for getting me out
of there.”

Jack sat beside me. His leg pushed
against mine. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I can’t breathe,” I whispered,
burying my face into my hands.

He rubbed my back, up and down. His
hand burned like a hot iron through my silk blouse. “It’s going to be okay.”

I rocked back and forth, holding my
stomach. “No, it’s not. How can you even say that? Nothing is ever going to be
okay.”

My dad is dead. I never even knew
my mom. My grandmother doesn’t recognize me. I’m a freaking science experiment.
I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror.

Nothing was okay. And I was
definitely losing it.

“It might be a while before it
feels okay, but you will find peace again. I will help you figure this out.”

I stopped rocking. Jack’s hand
rested on my neck. His forefinger rubbed a spot just behind my ear. Everything
that had happened the past week made me not want to trust this golden-haired,
blue-eyed boy who showed up out of the blue one fall morning.

But breathing in his scent and
sitting with him by the light of the swimming pool, I wanted him to help
me—help me process the death of my father, help me find these journals my
father must have kept, and help me find purpose in this crazy life I was being
forced to face alone.

“You’re not alone, Lexi.”

“What, are you a mind-reader, too?”
I searched his eyes.

He tilted his head, and his lips
twitched. “My mother and father don’t know you, but they want to. And they want
to help.”

I stood and walked over to a
fountain, part of the DeWeese’s extensive landscaping around the pool. Jack followed,
standing directly behind me. I closed my eyes and remembered a time when I
would throw a penny into every fountain I came across, wishing with every ounce
of being for my father to come home from some European country. I dreamt of a
time when life was simpler. I prayed for that now.

“So, are we like brother and sister
now?” I asked. An exasperated chuckle escaped at the ridiculousness of the
question. “Now that your parents are my legal guardians, that is?”

His hands were suddenly on my arms.
He spun me around and held me firmly in front of him. I drew my head backwards
just slightly, stunned by the abrupt movement.

His furrowed brows further darkened
the intense look in his eyes. “I still have a lot of questions about us. How
were we created? Who all knows about it? What does this guardianship mean for
you or for my family? But hear me now.” He stopped talking and leaned closer.

I didn’t dare take my eyes off his.
Their intense blue met my green. I sucked in a breath and held it while I
studied the soft lines of his face. His warm breath feathered against my skin.
Just when I thought he was going to say something else, he closed the remaining
gap and pressed his lips to mine.

My eyes flew open. My hands lifted
and grabbed his waist, clenching the fabric of his shirt. Every instinct told
me to push him away. Instead, I closed my eyes and eased into the kiss.

A desire I had tried to suppress
erupted in the pit of my stomach and spread until it reached my face. My lips
molded against his, opening slightly and letting him in.

He released me, remaining close.
His eyes stayed locked on mine. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said against
my lips. “We are not brother and sister. Got that?”

I nodded, breathing hard.

His face softened. A gasp escaped
through his parted lips, and he backed away. “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through
his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Well…” He narrowed his eyes. “I
do know, but this wasn’t the right timing.”

“It wasn’t?” I asked all shy-like
and feeling a little disappointed at the sound of regret in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of
you. You know…” He waved a hand in the air. “With the circumstances and all.”

I wrung my hands, and backed up. “Well,
I’m glad you did.”

“You are?” His brow shot up.

“For the briefest of moments, I
forgot how devastated I was. I forgot how worried I was about my future. That I
didn’t have a home any longer. That there was no one left on this earth who
gave a damn about me or what happened to me.” And I forgot that I always did
the right thing, like a good little girl.

I looked away. The pool water
lapped at the edges of the steps.

He slid his hand under my chin and
directed my face back toward him. “Well, then, I’m glad I could help, I guess.”
A sly grin eased across his face, and up to his eyes. “I do believe you’re
blushing, Miss Always-In-Control.”

“I doubt that. I don’t blush.”

“Uh-huh.” His chest lifted and
lowered in a sigh. He brushed the back of his hand against my cheek. “Your
friends and I planned a little surprise-something in the barn. I’m supposed to
take you there… When you’re ready, that is.”

“What about the wake going on
inside?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips
with mine again. “My parents will understand that you simply got tired from too
much attention.”

Sounded reasonable. Of course, Jack
could probably have talked me into mucking stalls at that particular moment.

~~~~

Early the next morning, I lay back
against the pillow in the DeWeese guest room. The house was still dark and
quiet, but my eyes were opened wide, staring at the ceiling.

The “small something” in the barn
had been nice. Danielle, Kyle, Briana, and Jack attempted to take my mind off Dad’s
brutal murder with boarding school gossip and small talk.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose
and thought about the exact thing I couldn’t talk about with my friends the
night before—why was Dad murdered? Was I somehow in danger now?

I rolled over and stared out a
window to the fields behind the house. The sun was just beginning to peek over
the horizon. When my mind wandered to the kiss—the soft, soothing touch of Jack’s
lips on mine—I threw back the covers and got up. What was I thinking?

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in
jeans, a black sweater and bare feet, I crept my way downstairs and around the unfamiliar
house. I heard muffled voices and my name as I stepped down a hallway in their
direction. A light shone from a cracked-open door.

I eased forward. My hand brushed
against the wall.

“I don’t care, John. I don’t want
Jack anywhere near her. You’re not seeing this clearly.” It was Cathy, Jack’s
mom, and her voice was steeped in anger. Completely opposite from the bubbly
voice that greeted me the night we met.