Reaction (21 page)

“But what if I have another reaction? What if there’s something else in my life I’ve made up from my reflection-dreams. I know it sounds bizarre, but he was real to me, Doc. That’s why I’m freaking out so much. We would actually have conversations.”

“Let’s talk about that. The conversations you were having with him. Did they feel different?”

They did. They felt exactly like a dream would feel. “Yes, they felt sort of like I was out-of-body; that underwater feel, like I was removed from the situation.” Now that I was informed, I could see the discrepancy so clearly. “But what about all the conversations I had with him?”

“You were conversing with yourself. Your own deep thoughts.”

“No, but he would say things way beyond me.”

“Inspiration. There’s nothing strange about that. And your subconscious thinks much deeper than your conscious does. It’s normal to have had thoughts that don’t seem yours at first.” I didn’t realize my head was shaking until he said, “Listen, I can assure you, Heather, now that your brain is aware, it will not let you make the same mistake again.

“And I can also assure you that you won’t be as tired anymore. Because your brain was working overtime when it was experiencing the reaction, it brought on tired spells. So, unless you continue to stay awake all night playing with your antiques,” he gave me a critical smile meant to brighten my mood, and it worked, “you should feel much more energetic.”

*******

Friday morning I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. I went for a short, brisk jog around my neighborhood and came home to Creed raking some end-of-autumn leaves from the yard.

“You’re just like your dad, obsessive-compulsive with dead leaves.”

Creed turned to me, smiling. But his smile fell as he watched me march up the sidewalk. “Did you go running?”

I searched my mind to determine what I might have done to make him upset. Did we have plans this morning that I’d forgotten about?

“Heath, next time you run, I want to come with you.”

Oh, the jogging. He was worried about my health, for no sound reason. Okay, so I did get run over once while jogging, and I did have a breakdown last week, but I was fine now. “You’re not always going to be here when I want to go,” I told him.

“When I am, I want to come.”

I shrugged. “Okay. Tomorrow morning at nine?”

“It’s a date.” He began raking again. “Aren’t you going to be late for school?”

“Not if I hurry!” I yelled, jumping down my stairs and then slamming my door shut.

Doc was right, now that the reaction was over, my energy was at one hundred percent. There was nothing that brightened a day better than good health after a bout of bad health.

Saturday morning I ran up the stairs and knocked on Creed’s door. He answered in his gym shorts, ready to go.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You hate jogging.”

“Who told you that?”

“You did,” I smiled.

“I’ve never said that in my life,” he answered, taking off at full speed.

Grinning, I closed his front door for him and followed his lead. “Creed!” I screamed down the road. “Wait up!” I might have been able to catch him had I not been laughing so hard. He was running full speed with his arms straight down, his bum shifted out, and his face lifted so that from behind I saw the top of his head; a ridiculous form I knew wasn’t his. He didn’t stop until he got to the end of the long block. I was still choking with laughter by the time I caught up to him. He had collapsed on some grass in a random front yard.

“That’s all I got,” he breathed out, lying down with his hands over his lungs.

I sat down next to him and ended my amusement on a sigh. “Me too, now that I have a side ache from laughing so hard.” He was actually breathing pretty hard, which made me start to chuckle again. “Nice form with the jogging. One of the sexiest trots I’ve ever seen.”

“What are you talking about? That’s how I run. Are you making fun of the way I run?”

I smiled wryly. He wasn’t fooling me. He wanted me to take it easy, and this was his way of seeing to it. Or maybe he really was out of shape. Either way, he wasn’t budging, so I decided to do sit-ups right there in the unfamiliar yard.

“Since you’re a wacko too,” I said after my first set, “I have to ask. Do you think I’m a nutcase?” I chuckled at myself. It sounded so nutty.

“It’s not funny,” he muttered. “Don’t ever freak out on me again like you did at school. I thought you were on your way back to the hospital. I don’t want to see you in another hospital gown as long as I live!”

“You don’t go to the hospital when you have an imaginary friend. Maybe the loony bin, but…” I made light of it. “But don’t worry. You’re still my best friend. He won’t take you’re place. You two are very different.”

Eyes helpless, his mouth pursed, showing off his lovable dimples. “Stop fooling around like that.”

“I have to joke about it,” I said, pushing through more sit-ups. “It’s kind of weird though, isn’t it? What were you thinking when it happened?”

“I was thinking how mad I was at myself for not making sure you were getting enough sleep and taking better care of yourself.”

Though I speculated over it, it wasn’t necessary to ask Creed why Nick was the one who took me home that day, when it would have made more sense for Creed to. After all, we pretty much lived under the same roof. And he was my best friend.

I didn’t think it was a pecking-order issue as much as a personality one. Where Creed allowed things to happen, Nick made them happen. A shocked Creed would watch, whereas a shocked Nick would act. And Nick acted, which I certainly had no complaints about. He healed me that night in ways no one else in the world could have. Not even Creed.

“I’m just glad you’re all right,” he added, standing up and reaching out his hand. “You really scared me.”

He hoisted me up and we walked home. I was glad I was all right, too.

What Doc said about reactions being normal, helped. But what comforted me most was my own rationale. I figured that my conversations with Professor weren’t much different from communication within dreams in general. Everyone has dreams where they talk to people, and, of course it’s really them talking to themselves. Yet no one considers that weird; it’s completely normal. So, how was my experience any different? Why was talking to someone in my dreams such a big deal? The only difference was that my brain didn’t peg it as a dream. But Doc said that part was all fixed, and I trusted it was.

The intriguing part was trying to remember the conversations Professor and I had, and my own advice to myself. I tried to remember specifics, with little success. Mainly what I remembered was the strength and assurance Professor had given. He’d told me…no,
I’d told myself
to trust my heart. And I obviously wanted the chance to fight for Nick since I made sure to convince myself that some honest competition wasn’t a bad thing. And even though I knew it was a rough situation, somewhere deep inside I needed to see it through.

I guess I was mostly pleased with the advice that I believed in myself; that in the end, I would do the right thing. And I still believed I would.

Problem was, I didn’t know what was right.

*******

The next day consisted of a visit with Bob. It was a challenge explaining to him what had happened to me. Not because the story was complicated; I was hit by a car, fell into a coma, and then pulled out if it. The complicated part was revisiting how it used to be when I lived and worked at his apartment building.

As I spoke with Bob about the time I got locked inside the office, and the time the power went out in the building and I tried to reboot the master switch but accidently turned off the back-up generator instead, and then the time I successfully rewired all the telephone and cable lines in the office, I couldn’t help but think of Nick. Nick was the one who busted through the stuck door to rescue me. He was the one who fixed the generator. And when he came to the office that night to check my cable line work, he was so proud of me. As I recalled, he didn’t wait for us to get to my apartment to show just how proud—but Bob didn’t have to know about that part.

My stomach did a little flip of delight as I thought about Nick putting the moves on me. Nick was so good to me during our relationship back then. He was always there, always loyal, all mine. To fully grasp how amazing our relationship, it took a three-year separation and another girl; a life-shattering mistake on my part. To appreciate and cherish loved ones now, not when they’re gone, was another life’s lesson.

When I left, Bob said I was welcome back any time, as an employee or a friend. “It’s hard to find help like you,” he’d said.

“Thanks, Bob. That means a lot.”

Chapter 10

“New shirt?” I asked, not familiar with the light blue long sleeve that showed the definition of his lean body in a most pleasing manner.

“No. Had it for a while.”

“Oh.” Duh. Nice start to a night of erasing all those years apart.

When Nick called, he asked about my visit with Doc and then said he wanted to go out. He’d pick me up at seven on Thursday night, and that’s the most of what I knew of this evening’s plans.

Being a passenger in the black monster wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. Paige’s territory quickly and easily became mine as I familiarized myself with the comfortable bucket seats and up-to-date console.

Nick’s sidelong glance came only after I’d rolled both front windows down from the middle of the dash, tuned the radio to a good song, checked out the seat warmers, and then finally settled in. Aside from the touch-screen radio controls, my favorite feature of the truck was, without question, the heated seats.

Nope, there was something even better than the heated seats: the faint sound of Nick’s voice as he sporadically hummed to a song. As I recalled, he never realized he was doing it; it was an automatic response to his busy thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long since I couldn’t rein my curiosity.

“What are you thinking about?” I wondered aloud.

He stopped humming and considered for a moment. “How does the seat warmer feel?”

“Best invention since the mattress!” I said enthusiastically.

I was smiling, happy to see his grin, grateful the night had just begun, thrilled to be with him again, intensely aware of him.

Because the windows were half way down, we heard the sirens as soon as they started. From the side mirror I saw red lights swirling behind us.

“Were you speeding?” He never sped.

Although he lifted his hand from the wheel and glanced toward the odometer, I had a feeling he knew he hadn’t been speeding. He’d already started slowing when he responded, “No.”

From the side mirror, I watched the officer park behind us and get out of the cop car. He walked to Nick’s side with a slow, casual strut that struck me as odd and somewhat careless for a policeman. What if we were packing or something like that? This wasn’t some Podunk town like Nevada City, after all.

Nick rolled the window down the rest of the way while looking out the front.

“How are you, Nick?” the officer replied in a way that asked more than his one question.

Surprised, I glanced over the same time Nick did, taking in a uniformed officer in his mid to late thirties, blonde, nice-featured save a small curve at the bridge of his nose, and wearing a staid expression.

Though Nick’s face was turned away, I knew something wasn’t right when he didn’t answer.

The cop went on, “Do you have your driver’s license and registration handy?”

Nick chuckled. “
Handy
?” The tone mocked the officer, which made me even more uncomfortable. Nick went on, “Why don’t you tell me why I’m talking to you right now instead of driving.” It wasn’t intoned in a rude or disrespectful way, but it wasn’t light or jokey either.

“Where are you off to?” the cop pressed.

“That’s not your business, is it?”

Oh, great. Our first date and he’s going to spend the evening behind bars.

“Poor manners, that’s not like you.” The cop glanced past Nick and looked toward me, reaching out his hand. “Hi.”

Because there was nothing I could do but try to smooth the situation, I reached back to shake his. “Hi, I’m Heather, Nick’s friend.”

“And I’m Maxfield, Paige’s brother.”

My hand stiffened in his.

“Nice to finally meet you, Heather.”

Keeping the proper tension but starting to feel the heat of my palm, I finished the handshake and let go.

He focused back on Nick. “I stopped you because you were swerving. Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

I was pretty sure he knew Nick didn’t drink, so he was obviously being a prick, and clearly because of me.

I could imagine the look Nick was giving him: calm, with a hint of unbridled violence. “Not tonight,” Nick finally said.

“No? No drinking? Partying? What about
little Miss Nevada City
over there?”