Out of Touch (39 page)

Aliana fell asleep in the passenger’s seat. Her hair was in her face and she snored a little bit. Seeing her asleep, Sarah felt only good things toward her.

The next morning, Sarah felt as light as she had in the helicopter. Aliana had held her all night. Somehow it had been simple, like kids at a slumber party. Sarah felt able to deal with the world again. Aliana stared at Sarah with the fascination they had shared the day they first taught each other dance and gymnastics.

They asked the hotel clerk if he knew any relatives of Daniel O’Reeley. He shook his head and sent them to the town historian.

The historian turned out to be a withered old man who sat by a fire even in the middle of summer. Sarah imagined him as the historians’ poster child. He bent over his books and said there was no O’Reeley, but some O’Rileys lived out by the gap of Dunloe.

When they finally found an O’Riley, she looked at them funny. She was a plump, motherly woman in a skirt and apron. There was no Daniel that she knew of in the family, but she asked them to sit on her porch while she made a phone call. She returned with penciled directions on a small square of paper. They should go to the fishing hole and talk to Nadine. The woman waved goodbye to them without further explanation.

Aliana navigated, and Sarah drove down several dirt roads until neither of them was at all sure where they were meant to be. But they came to what seemed a likely fishing hole with one other car beside it and a gray-haired woman looking out over the water. The woman wore a flannel overshirt, jeans, and boots. Her hair was short and curly, and up close, she didn’t look quite so old, maybe in her fifties or sixties.

“Are you Nadine?” Sarah asked.

“That I am, and you must be the two I’m s’pose to meet.”

“I’m Sarah and this is Aliana. We’re trying to find any relatives of a friend of mine, Daniel O’Reeley.”

“And why do ya’ wanna find them?”

“Well, he, uh, died. And one of his last wishes was for me to come here.”

“Di’ he say why?”

“Well, no. I was actually given the message after he died.”

“Was there anything peculiar ‘bout this Daniel O’Reeley?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really know him that well. I sort of rescued him from a car crash and then he sent me a nice letter and helped me when I needed help. But I don’t know why he—”

“Aye, ‘nother set of young, lost ones. Let me guess, you’re scuba divers?”

“No,” Sarah answered, pulling back a bit.

“It’s okay,” Aliana whispered, “She’s a teep, and she can talk to me.”

Sarah gulped and looked away from Nadine. She looked for others who might be hiding, in the nearby bushes, too thin to give much cover, or in the reeds poking up from the water, a chilly but adequate hide. As she looked, she thought, and she knew her thoughts made looking pointless. Her mind raced back to her relatives’ betrayal and being chased in Cambodia.

“Peace, child.” Nadine placed dry hands on each side of Sarah’s face and looked her steadily in the eyes. “I’ve already gathered you’re a mover and people have na’ been kind to you so far. But they weren’t your people, and we are. Promise you won’t betray us, and you’ll have no trouble here.”

Her voice flowed like water, and her touch cooled Sarah’s fear. Was this some trick like telepathy? What did she mean by “your people”? Did she know about the two kinds of telepath genes and that Sarah had a different kind than Aliana? And how could she not betray them if there were other’s here who could read her mind? What could she promise? Would she be asked to keep more secrets?

Nadine, still holding Sarah’s face, said “Hush, ya’
think too much and it pains me, but yer not the sort to run amok. Sit here by the water, and we’ll talk aloud.”

The three of them sat on rocks. Sarah found a smooth stone that fit the palm of her hand and tried to drain the cool and calm right out of it. Nadine began by asking their story so far. Sarah told all that had happened since she rescued O’Reeley. His name seemed like a joke now, and she couldn’t believe she’d never noticed it before.

In her telling, she tried to leave out details that would identify people, but knew it was hopeless. She wanted to regret ever coming to Ireland, but she couldn’t help wanting to know more about Nadine. Several times the gruff old woman said, “Finish your story an’ I’ll tell you some of ours.”

But when Sarah felt emptied, like she’d told and been questioned beyond all endurance, Nadine just turned to Aliana and said, “Now tell me ‘bout yourself.”

“She’s told you almost everything.”

“Not at all. Tell me ‘bout your parents”

“Well, they were Jim and Briana Sheppard. Both born and raised in Belfast; both claimed to be modern Irish agnostics. It was not spoken of directly, but I gather my mother was raised Catholic and my Dad was raised Protestant.”

“Wait,” said Sarah, “Are you doing something to make us talk?”

“Some fey enchantment you mean?”

“I don’t know why we’re telling you all this.”

“I’m doing nothin’ you don’t do yourself. We all burn with the energy. People react to it, especially our own kind. Now don’ interrupt your friend.” Nadine gave a curt nod and turned her attention back to Aliana. Aliana let out a small chuckle and continued her story.

“They were older when they had me, and the only grandparent I knew was my mother’s father. He’d been taken with Alzheimer’s; so I didn’t know him well. My Mum died of cancer when I was twenty and my Dad shot himself though the head a few months later. I took off for Thailand where I could support myself dancing and teaching.”

Sarah cringed at the sad story and that she’d never thought to ask. She wanted to reach out to Aliana, then realized how ridiculous her reassurance would seem with her thoughts spread out before her. Aliana reached over and squeezed Sarah’s hand, and Sarah went back to scanning the marshy edges of the fishing hole.

“Your parents ne’er told any stories about magic or special powers?” Nadine asked.

“No, they considered themselves strictly modern. Besides, I couldn’t do anything until Sarah did her thing to me.”

“Nonsense. Ya’ danced.”

Aliana smiled and nodded.

Nadine gazed at them both and then out at the water. Surface bugs skimmed along. Birds sounded in the reeds. Sarah tried to feel green the way she had the day before, but instead she just wanted Nadine to talk.

“Aye, so impatient. But yes, there are many of us here. Ya’ think ya’ know all about telepaths, that there are two kinds, and that you’re not like us. But if you weren’t like us, then we wouldn’t hear your thoughts, and you’d never be a mover.”

“There are other telekinetics here, ones like me?”

“Aye, child, you’re so self-centered. But yes, we have nigh as many movers as mind-readers, and some who do both. While the outsider’s mind-readers can hear more people’s thoughts, the movers are truly ours. There are those who calm the animals and those whose gift is to see our kind. But our gifts only work if we contact the energy now and again. We have our own ritual, but sometimes it happens accidentally to those pressed by water or air or earth. I ne’er heard of a mover pressing one so, but perhaps you were the first to try.”

“What energy? Is there a source? Is it finite? Can your mind-readers only hear those who touch it? And why are they called mind-readers and not telepaths or mind-speakers?” Sarah asked.

“So many questions. The Gaelic is ‘cluin inntinn,’ which might translate as ‘hear mind.’ Some say the energy flowed differently then, that all minds spoke to those who could hear. Ya’ need to make a choice before ya’ know more. Join us, and you’ll learn to control your thoughts, but you must promise to keep our secrets.”

“How can I promise to keep secrets before I know what they are?”

“Do ya’ only believe in promises you want to keep? Our secrets are not freely given. The cost is a promise.”

Sarah imagined an evil sorceress extracting such a promise. If this were a story, it would lead to something terrible, like a secret plan to kill Aliana. Then Sarah would be forced to break her promise to save her friend.

“Sarah,” Aliana whispered, “That’s a bit harsh.”

“Harsh to you or to her?” Sarah asked, feeling numbed by imaginary pain. Then she berated herself for speaking without thought, realized some of it had only been thought, and wondered how much of her pain came across telepathically.

“Do ya’ enjoy such thoughts?” Nadine asked.

“No, but my promise wouldn’t mean much without thought.”

“When you’re older you’ll admire despair less.”

In the end, they promised, and were sent off to an artist’s colony at the coast. By the time they reached the last road, the one “past the farmhouse with two chimneys” and otherwise completely unmarked, it was mid-afternoon. The road curved along a sheep paddock, becoming more and more dirt and less and less gravel until it veered right before the ocean and then dead-ended by the side of a partially paved courtyard.

Beyond the courtyard stood yet another rickety old farmhouse with numerous boxy additions. There were a few smaller huts and igloo-style piles of stone, some connected to the main structure by short hallways. The whole crazy construction was painted in earth-tones that looked like pottery glaze. The air stung with salt, and waves could be heard crashing just out of sight.

Sarah and Aliana stood by the car as a tall man approached them from the main house. He had curly hair like Reggie’s, but his arms were more muscular and his movements more rolling. At the back of his hair was a long, thin braid, and Sarah thought of how Reggie had always liked braids and wondered if he’d like to grow one. She’d gone on to thinking that Reggie would probably be jealous if he saw who they were staying with, when Aliana nudged her arm and Sarah realized the guy was probably a teep and could hear what she thought. Then he stopped and smiled at her with eyebrows that seemed to flex up at both ends, and Sarah was at once smitten and embarrassed. Aliana just giggled and they walked silently to the largest building.

Inside the door twenty or thirty people sat in a rough semi-circle. Most of them were young, in their teens or twenties. Most of them really looked like they could be artists. They wore distinctive clothes: all black, glorious hand printed patterns, flowing silks, or plush fabrics. They filled the large room to overflowing, each unique and yet part of the whole.

The room itself looked like it had been sculpted out of foam. Sarah had seen whole houses formed from foam blown into molds, but this one looked impossible, as if someone had switched off gravity while the ceiling was shaped and dried. Instantly she realized she could achieve the same effect, using telekinesis. She looked at the assembled faces, wanting to know who was also a teek and who had made the ceiling. A dark haired woman in flowing burgundy velvet over linen inclined her head toward the teenage boy next to her, then whispered in his ear. He smiled, then nodded toward Sarah, with a sweep of his hand he indicated that the ceiling was his work. Sarah gathered from the quick whisper that he wasn’t a teep. So why was everyone so silent?

A man dressed all in white stood in the center of the group. His hair was long, brown, and braided. His face looked solemn, maybe older than the rest. He stared for a moment at Aliana, then turned his gaze toward Sarah.

“Welcome to our house,” the man said. His accent was the strongest Sarah had heard so far, but trained, each word clear and distinct, like an actor in a play. “We are a group of friends who live together in openness and honesty. We hope that for a time you will be part of our household and we will all benefit together. But before there can be real sharing between us, you must be able to choose when to open your thoughts. So for the next few days, no one here will speak to either of you aloud or to Aliana mentally. Those who hear your thoughts will look at you to show they hear. We will react when appropriate with our actions. You may communicate with those who are not telepathic by actions or pantomime. This will at times be difficult for all of us, but when it is finished, you will be able to join us.”

Sarah thought it sounded like a cult. She mentally apologized for the thought. Still, it resembled initiation rituals that made people feel they’d joined something worthwhile simply because joining was so unpleasant. Anthropology was full of examples. Of course, it also achieved the mental silence the Thais coerced by slapping people or giving them electric shocks. Physical pain or mental humiliation? Electric shock was starting to sound pretty good.

Sarah looked up and saw everyone in the room staring at her, some looking rather displeased. She wanted to disappear, or more precisely, she wanted to not be heard, but she didn’t know how to do that yet. Her whole body tensed and her skin felt icy cold.

There were rustling and scraping sounds as people pushed back chairs and began to disperse. The muscular man who had brought them in motioned toward the door. Sarah realized she couldn’t learn anyone’s names until this silent phase was over. He looked at her and nodded, still with a mischievous bend to his eyebrows. Sarah and Aliana followed him back to the car to collect their luggage.

Much later in the day Sarah ran back to the room where she had left her belongings. She and Aliana were sharing the room with two other women, but at the moment it was empty. Sarah slammed the door and, finding it had no lock, she wedged a chair up under the door handle. Then she lay on the bed she’d been given and cried and kicked and hit her fists.