Silence: Part Two of Echoes & Silence (29 page)

David pushed the shopping cart while I threw random bits in from the shelves. The paint, brushes and anything we needed had been buried by all the things we wanted. I matched the bed cushions to the paint, and David picked up a stack of packing boxes for all the loose bits upstairs. By the time we reached the stationary section—to stock up on pens and a new journal for David—the cart was full, but my thoughts were nowhere near lost in the mundane world of renovating. I was still floating around up there in the supernatural world—wondering how David did what he did to Doug, and if I could do that.

“You can do things you haven’t told me about,” I said, not really meaning to say it.

David looked up from the book blurb he was reading. “Huh?”

“What you did to Doug—” I nodded back in that direction. “You could never do that before, could you?”

He shook his head and put the book back on the shelf.

“How come you haven’t told me about it?”

“There’s quite a few things you don’t know.”

“Will you tell me about them?” I asked softly. “I mean, did you plan to keep it from me, or—”

“Of course I’ll tell you.” He drew me close to him and kissed my head. “There just hasn’t really been time.”

“Okay,” I whispered, satisfied, and moved out from his arms to grab a calligraphy set.

We walked along for a moment longer, adding a stapler and a roll of sticky tape to the cart, but despite the fact that we were out in public, I didn’t really feel like waiting until we got home to talk about his skills. “My powers haven’t really developed.”

“I know,” he said, without looking at me. “But mine only have because I already had the foundations there—with mind reading.”

I nodded solemnly. “You said you could teach me to instil fear—using the mind. Do you think maybe you could coach me with the telekinesis as well?”

His head whipped up quickly, and after studying my eager eyes for a moment, he smiled. “Really?”

“What do you mean
really
?”

“You’d want
me
to help you?”

My face contorted in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because… Mike was your teacher. Then Jason, and I just thought that—”

“You felt like I asked them because I didn’t
want
you?”

“Or didn’t trust me—didn’t think I was capable.”

Of course. It all sunk in then. Mike was my BFF; Jason was always more powerful than David; of course he felt inadequate—perhaps hurt that
they
were helping his wife—and he wasn’t. But he was half right. I
didn’t
think he had anything to teach me back then because, in truth, Jason
was
more powerful, and Mike was better at getting through to me—dealing with my tantrums and moods.

“I’m sorry.” I hooked my arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “That’s all I can say, because you’re half right. But I’m sorry I made you feel useless.”

“You’re forgiven.” He hugged me back. “And I would be more than happy to help you with your powers, my love.”

His arms felt so good around me. I breathed him in deeply and let it out slowly, holding on just a little bit longer than he did. When I finally let him go, he reached down and cupped my cheek, shaking his head.

“What?” I said.

“I don’t think I tell you often enough how beautiful you are.”

My lashes folded bashfully over my eyes.

“When you do that—” He smoothed his thumb over my lashes, “—even when your eyes are closing, I can still see the blue through your lashes.”

I smiled. “I wonder if our daughter will have blue eyes.”

“I hope she does,” he said, picturing her little baby face, so soft and pale, with a pair of big, bright blue eyes looking up at him.

I shook his thought out of my head. Talking about her, imagining her, thinking about her like a real thing, for the first time ever, made me feel unsteady—because her life was not yet a promise. It worried me to think about it all if there was still a chance we might lose her.

“I hope she has your eyes,” I said, ending the conversation.

“You’re right. That would be better.” David took the cart and started walking again. “At least then when she’s naughty, I’ll have a hope in hell of disciplining her.”

I laughed, but it stopped in a groan as we reached the front of the store and I saw the line going from the service counter all the way to the paint section. “Great.”

“I could ‘convince’ someone to let us in up the front,” David suggested.

“No, it’s okay.” I stopped him. “It’s a part of being human. It’ll be good for us.”

His shoulders drooped slightly. But he dutifully walked off to get the paint we’d been waiting on then, and when he returned, he stood beside me in the line and we waited patiently. Until five minutes passed and the second person in line still hadn’t been served.

“Don’t get queue rage, David,” I said, touching his arm as if that might calm him; it didn’t. “Fact is, the line
will
move—eventually. We just have to wait, like everyone else here.”

His eyes fell on the mountain of junk in our cart.

After a moment, he reached in, dug down deep, and drew out a wooden ruler.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your…”
Powers
, he added in thought, half glancing back at the woman behind us. She was engrossed in her phone screen though, so I doubt she’d have heard if he said ‘powers’ aloud.

“And how is a ruler going to help me? Ow!” I squealed when he smacked my bum with it. I rubbed the sore spot. “Why’d you do that?”

“I wanna see if you can snap it.” He smacked me again.

“Ouch!”

“Break it,” he said with a cheeky grin and smacked me again.

“Stop it.” I covered my bum with both hands. “People are staring.”

“Well.” He laughed, unfazed. “When you break it, I’ll stop.”

As it came toward my bottom again, I could almost feel it impact, even though it hadn’t struck. And it hurt. He hit pretty hard for such a loving guy. But I couldn’t concentrate—couldn’t exactly use my powers of telekinesis to snap it if I was trying not to get hit by it.

The ruler clapped across my sore spot again and this time, when I screeched loudly, everyone turned and looked at us.

“Jerk!” I slapped him.

David just laughed, bending to pick up a piece of the wooden ruler. “See?”

My eyes went so wide they could have swallowed David. “I did it?”

“You did.”

“But… I didn’t even try. How did I do that?”

“Because I’m just that good of a teacher.” He tossed it back in the cart. “And unlike my brother, I know how to get through to you. I don’t need to steal kisses to teach you new tricks.”

“New tricks?” I folded my arms. “I’m not a dog.”

“Oh, yeah? Then let’s see how you do when I up the ante.” He picked up one end of the ruler again and grinned at me, his wild, playful eyes filling me with worry. “Fetch,” he said quickly, and threw the broken ruler straight toward the head of an old lady standing at the front of the line.

My mind raced ahead of the flying object, and as quickly as I realised impact was inevitable, I tried to use my powers to stop it. And failed.

“Shit,” David said as he realised, but it was too late even for him.

We both quickly looked away as the old lady yelped loudly, holding the back of her head.

When I dared to take a peek, her accusing eyes scanned the stunned faces in the aisles and down the service line. David and I took a very sudden interest in our paint swatches, hiding our laughter as best we possibly could.

“I guess you’re not as ready as I thought you were,” he said.

“Might have been smarter to test that theory without assaulting the aged.”

When David laughed then, it was so sudden and so throaty he folded over and covered his mouth with a fist to hide it. And I laughed too, because he just looked so human when he did that.

***

David opened the trunk and stood back with his arms folded. “Go on,” he said.

“What?”

“Put the paint in the trunk.”

“You lazy sod!” I demanded, pushing past him to grab a can from the cart.

“Not with your hands,” he said, stopping me. “What kind of a man do you think I am that I’d make a pregnant girl load paint cans? Even
if
said girl can probably lift this car without breaking a nail.”

“Well…” I looked at him, then the cart. “What do you mean then?”

He tapped his temple, grinning impishly.

“Oh.” I bunched my hands together, scanning the parking lot. “But someone will see.”

“So?” he shrugged, his arms still folded. “They’ll never believe their own eyes. And if they do, we’ll just tell them we’re magicians—shooting for our new YouTube channel.”

Good idea. But, still, I wasn’t sure I should.

“Have you ever moved something by choice—aside from a pie?” he asked, winking at me.

“A few things. But nothing as heavy as a paint can.”

“My love, telekinesis can move
buildings
.” He leaned in and spoke quieter, one hand cupping my elbow gently. “The weight of something has no bearing on the strength of your mind, or its ability to move the object.”

“I know that, in theory. But—”

“You need to let go of the world as you know it, and imagine that the paint can is just a thought. There is no paint can,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Don’t move the can. Imagine it being in a place other than where it is now, and let your mind do the rest—don’t think about how or why it moves, just let it be.”

For some reason, that just felt like too much information all at once.

I decided to give it a go, even though I didn’t really understand what he meant, but when I tried, my hands sparked with blue.

“Wrong power, Ara.” He laughed. “Use your mind, not your Cerulean Light.”

“I’m trying.” I rubbed my head. “But I can’t find the place in my mind that I go to when I move things.”

He stepped a bit closer and tilted my face upward. “Have you got a headache?”

“I’m standing on pavement, of course I do.”

“I’m sorry.” He made a point of touching my wrist. “I know you genuinely do need that bracelet, but you understand why I threw it away, don’t you?”

I scowled at him.

“Come on.” He stepped back. “Move the cans and we’ll go get you a new bracelet now.”

I focused on the paint can—imagined it in the trunk—narrowed my eyes at it, spoke to it in my mind, but it sat there as though telekinesis wasn’t even a real thing, making me feel silly. “David, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He walked around the other side of the cart and picked up the can like it was made of plastic—light and easy to carry. “Think about where
you
want me to put it—where in the trunk it’ll fit best.”

I looked into the trunk; there was only one spot left, really—with all the other junk in there. “Okay. Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to do the ‘man thing’ and put it in the wrong place.” He walked around to the trunk and placed the paint can on my new cushions. I went to grab him and say, “Don’t you dare put that there!” but as I moved to stop him, my mind reached him first, imagining the paint being placed on the black carpeted base of the trunk instead.

David looked up in surprise as the can left his hands and jerked to the left, falling on its side—away from my new cushion. “Wow.”

“I did it!” I jumped on the spot.

“You did. And you’re strong, too. I couldn’t hold onto it.” He righted the can. “Want to try it again?”

“No.” I held my head.

“Are you okay?”

I pressed my temples firmly. “Why am I getting this headache, David? I didn’t use my Cerulean Light.”

“That’s normal,” he said, loading the other cans. “I get them too—when I’m doing something new. It’s because you’re using a part of your brain that hasn’t been used much—like developing new muscles; they hurt for a while after a workout.”

“So it’ll go away?”

He stood right up against me and swept my hair back, placing both of his cool hands on my temples. “Let’s see…”

I closed my eyes as I felt David inside my head. His thumbs massaged circles around my temples a few times, and after about five seconds, the pain lifted—like a light coming on and cloud moving away.

“Better?”

“Oh my God.” I tapped my head to make sure. “How did you do that?”

“I blocked your pain receptors.”

“That is so cool,” I said, watching him in awe as he closed the trunk and returned the cart to the bay beside us.

“It comes in handy,” he said casually, and as my eyes travelled past him for a spilt second to the other end of the parking lot, I thought I saw a familiar stride on a very tall and lanky guy.