Remember Me (Weaver Series) (7 page)

“I’m not getting on that
crotch rocket thingy.” I stated firmly.

“And why not
?”  Kess said with a laugh.

“Because I am just not
.  Can’t you just focus on the beach and weave us there?”

“What fun would that be
?”  Now he was really laughing.

“I’m serious
.  I don’t want to ride on that thing.” I started backing up.  I’d never been on a motorcycle and I did not intend to get that adventurous.  My brain screamed hell-to-the-no.  If necessary, I would just go back inside and forget the whole thing.  I’d lasted this long without fully understanding my abilities, and I would continue to do so if need be.  I’d just have to find another means to locate Kalan too. 

“Look, all you have to do is hold on and lean when I lean.
” Kess had been trying to sound convincing while I babbled inwardly to myself.  “You will love it.” He added less than convincingly.

“I really don’t think I would love it,
and I would appreciate it if you would stop laughing.”

“Okay, another time then” he sighed and without a pause he was opening the door of a
n old white truck, pitted with rust.  “Is this more to your liking?”  He chided.  I rolled my eyes, and slid into the passenger seat.  Kessler started the engine and proceeded to tell me that it was a 1949 Chevy.  “I know!”  I snapped. 

“You should,
I pulled it from your memories.  “I could go horse and buggy if you prefer, or maybe we could just save the horse thing for the beach.  We could gallop along the shoreline later.”

“You’re a show
-off and a smart-ass, and you need to keep your city-boy butt out of my memories,” I said as we pulled away from the building.  I was beginning to like him less.  As he pulled out into traffic I listened as he praddled about…well, himself.  I’ve never been one to enjoy narcissism.  I realized that it was going to be a long drive.  Soon my mind wandered back to my Papaw. 

I
t was a humid morning and he was taking me to town in his truck.  We passed the cotton fields and the bridge that covered our bayou.  Country music droned softly on the radio...something about picking a fine time to leave.  I could smell the tinny scent of the truck mixed with peppery cologne.  I could see him in my mind so clearly. 
This wasn’t a memory that I directly recalled, it was more like just a weird flash of an old familiar time with him.  It’s funny how you can forget things and then something will happen that will trigger some long-forgotten memory like that.  Sitting in this old truck did that.

Kessler downshifted as we entered a tighter section in the canyon
.  The road was winding upward with each curve and I found myself feeling a little nauseous. 

“Don’t shut your eyes that will only make it worse” Kessler said, then added “
hang in there, we’re almost there.” At that moment, I could just see the line of the ocean over the edge of the road.  It was unbelievably massive and the truck was filled with the briny scent of the sea.  I breathed in deeply and smiled at Kessler.  “It’s amazing!”  I stretched to see more of the view, but the next turn took it out of sight again.

“Oh it is very amazing, but the ocean is impressive, I think you’ll like it too.”

“Shut up Kessler!  You really are full of yourself aren’t you?”

“I have enough to share if you are feeling empty.”
He said and took his eyes off the road just long enough to lower his sunglasses and wag his eyebrows at me.  I felt my face grow hot.  Being with this guy was like playing with a poisonous snake.  Memories of water moccasins dangling lazily from branches along the bayou passed through my mind.  How they slithered across the water in strange “s” shapes before disappearing.  I recalled being in a small boat, floating down the bayou, my Papaw reached back and shut off the little engine.  I was much younger, but I understood that he had something important he wanted to talk to me about.  Mamaw wasn’t coming back unless…

“
Be careful
,” whispered the voice inside my head.  I felt my insides turn to liquid and then tense.  His voice was like a drug that I was becoming increasingly addicted to.  I needed more.  I tuned out Kess and turned to look out the window, straining to hear more.  My heart longed for anything.  Just another word.  I wanted to tell Kessler to shut up, but my instincts warned me not to.

“
Stay focused Joey
.” I bit my lip and thought as clearly as I could, “
I am trying
” just hoping that he could hear me.  To my surprise, the voice responded clearly.

“
Y
ou have to try harder
.” I dug my fingernails into my palm.  The conversation in my head completely pushed Kess to background noise.

“
Am I doing something wrong
?”

“
No.  Just learn all that you can from him.  Not the other way around
.”

“Here we are
!”  Kess announced proudly as he pulled the truck into a parking lot that backed up to the sand.  He jumped out and came around to open the door for me.  The salt-water air filled my senses and made me smile.  I felt alive, and excitement coursed through my body like electricity.  I had not expected that reaction.  In an odd way, it felt familiar and comforting. 

“C’mon, you have never felt anything as amazing as sand between your toes
!” He took my hand and pulled me toward the beach.  Blankets and towels dotted the sand like colorful markers.  We passed a group of girls lying on their stomachs.  Their coppery skin glistening and I secretly wished I were less milky looking.  My skinny little chicken legs reminded me of the underside of a catfish belly.  Pale because they never saw the light.  My knee length cut-off shorts did little to cover that up.

Kessler stopped near a pile of stones and suggested that I take off my sandals
.  He insisted again that I had to “feel the sand between my toes to truly enjoy the experience.” I sat on a flat rock and tugged my sandals off, stuffing them in my bag.  Admittedly, the sand was not as beautiful as I had imagined it would be.  There were chunks of dried seaweed and groups of little hovering flies.  Discarded food wrappers and cigarette butts littered the rocks, and I had to watch where I placed my feet as we moved down further to the wet sand that was just short of the water.  I thought about changing the landscape to fit my expectations but decided it wasn’t worth it.  It was still beautiful and at least now I knew what it was really like. 

Despite the minor disappointment, I felt an ethereal charge course through my veins
as soon as my feet touched the sand.  It was like a switch had been flipped for the first time.  Under normal conditions, I will read the life events of one person at a time.  Doing anything more than that can become confusing.  It’s a bit like trying to watch a bunch of television shows all at the same time and keep up with the plots of each one.  Yet now I could read everyone around me all at once without a bit of trouble.  A boy scurried by to catch up to his mother and I knew that he was looking forward to a hotdog.  His little stomach was growling but he also planned to eat as fast as he could so that he could get to work on the world’s most perfect sand castle.  An older woman sitting beneath an umbrella with a book in her hands thought about visiting her sister in Iowa and calling her daughter for dinner.  She was lonely since her husband died.  Her despair filled me and I felt a wash of melancholy.  In a flash I knew the span of her twenty-two year marriage as if it were my own experiences.

Kessler bent down to pick up a small stone and
threw it toward the foamy water.  Finally he turned to me and smiled.  “Are you feeling it?”

“I feel so alive
!”  I squealed, and threw my arms up in the air.  I wanted to run, and jump, and twirl around in circles.  I also wanted to fix everything around me.  Kess laughed and chased me down the shore.  It wasn’t until his bowler hat flew off that he stopped.  I kept going until I was out of breath.  Finally I stopped too.  I had to bend over and gulp in air before I could even speak.

“Are you thirsty?”  He called out. 

“Definitely
!”  I hollered back. 

We sat at
an outdoor café and sipped ice-cold tea.  The wind had picked up again and the umbrella threatened to pull itself free.  I dabbed my French fries in catsup and watched as the people shuffled past us.  Each little group seemed oblivious to the amazing atmosphere around them.  I watched as people chatted casually, or strolled by on bicycles.  It was as if I had witnessed the scene in some other time.  I knew everything that each person was thinking, about to do or already had done.  In seconds I was changing things.  I reversed a car accident for a guy on roller-skates as he zipped past me, undid a proposal that would have resulted in an abusive marriage, stopped a child from hitting his sister and even filled a fisherman’s net somewhere out at sea.

“Joey, what you
are experiencing is an intensified enhancement of your abilities.” Kess said in an off-handed way.  He paused to shovel the last bite of a hotdog into his mouth and then guzzled the last of his drink making a slurping sound with his straw.  “Think of it like a missile that locks on a target.”

“I don’t understand
, why does the ocean do this to our abilities?”  I asked in a whisper.  I could feel adrenaline surging through my veins as I looked beyond him to the water.

“It’s not the sea, it is the sand
.  Or more precisely, the minerals.  It’s like food for our kind.  It nourishes our power.”  He said, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“So let me see if I got this right, the sand super charges my abilities to change things?”

“Okay, we need to back up and slow down.” He said with a sigh.  It was the first time he actually appeared irritated.  I leaned back in the plastic chair and crossed my arms.

“First of all, you are a weaver
.  You don’t just change things.  That makes it sound as if you are cheating on a math test or something.  A weaver is a highly regarded entity.  Like…well, like royalty.” He added with satisfaction.

“
Umkay, so I am a weaver, and I weave.  Are you satisfied now?”

“Getting there
.  You have a lot to learn.”

“So teach me Professor Kess
.  I am your humble student.” I said with a little too much emphasis on the word “humble.”

“Well,
first you need to stop weaving for a minute and pay attention.  Oh, and that proposal was a good call.” He smiled.

“You know what I am changing
?”  I asked.  I felt somehow violated.

“R
emember the threading.  You are wide open little girl and I can pretty much see everything you are doing right now.  I know exactly what you are going to do.” He turned and mumbled, “Before you do it actually.”

“I’m not a little girl
, I’m nineteen.” I snapped, instantly regretting the childish sound of my voice. 

“Yeah, that’s practically ancient
,” said Kess.  I looked down at the table, feeling stupid.  He was easily twenty-one, but he seemed far older.  Kess reached out and tugged my face up by pushing my chin up to meet his gaze.  “I’ll teach you.” His voice was something just a shade below tenderness.  I tried to recapture my composure as he smiled and sat back in his chair.  Damn my pale cheeks.  I just knew they were beet red.

“Close your
eyes, think of a large cloth until you can actually see it in your mind.”

“
What, like a blanket?”  I asked, feeling silly.

“
It is a weaver’s cloth.  Like a talisman if you will, but that’ll work.  Can you see it in your mind?”

I
concentrated on my bedspread at home.  “Yeah, I can see it.”

“Good
.  Now, put yourself under it mentally,” he said softly.

“Okay
.  I’m under it.” I giggled.

“
Focus Joey.  Now, try to weave.”  I concentrated on a lady standing in line with a large child at her knee.  His plump finger was pointing to the sign with pictures of ice cream as his feet shuffled anxiously. 

“You know what son, no more junk food for a while.”
The woman tugged him by the arm and left the line.  Truly, the little boy did not need another ice-cream cone, and she was going to get it for him if I hadn’t changed it.

“That was really good
.  I didn’t get anything until the end of your treadling.”

“The end of my what
?”  I scrunched my face.  Kess laughed and touched the tip of my nose (causing tiny sparks of electricity to shoot through my blood).  “You do have a lot to learn.  It is an old word of ours and it basically means the technicalities of your work.”

My mouth dropped open. 
“We have special words for our work?”  I’d never considered what I do to be work.  Although, there was no denying that it could be exhausting at times.

“Yes, there are many old words for our work, though they aren’t used as much these days.  There are some who would actually call what we do divine work.  Personally, I think of it as a
fine art.”  He gave me an impish grin, and stretched out his arms. “I mean, we control fate right?  Obviously, that is intricate work.”