The Healer: First Touch (3 page)

We trekked along the wooden boardwalk, me hopping on my one good foot and I began to apologize. "I'm really sorry about this. Thanks for helping me out."

"Sure. It's a good thing I was in the area." He smiled, keeping his focus on the ground before us.

"Yeah...about that. Were you....following me?" I asked. I knew I was being bold in asking the question but I had to know. He was following me, wasn't he? Why?

"I like to think of it as looking out for you. You know, like a guardian angel or something. Hey, watch your step," he warned as he nimbly lifted me over a missing wooden plank. "Someone really needs to fix that."

"Looking out for me? Why?"

"How much farther?" he asked, avoiding the question as we continued hobbling down the boardwalk. There were more people now, making the boardwalk much harder to navigate in our three-legged manner.

"Not much. A little less than a half of a mile to my house, I guess. We went a little farther in silence. I was having too hard of a time keeping up with him and concentrating on not falling to maintain any type of meaningful conversation. He seemed perfectly content to just support me the rest of the way home. Strangely, I didn't feel the need to fill the silence either. Mostly, I tried to keep my head down, watching the boardwalk below me so as not to inure my good ankle. But every couple of steps, I stole a glimpse at the stranger helping me.

I was still confused about how quickly events had changed. Had I really just imagined this man was following me, watching me from behind the trees? I thought back to the fear and panic I felt at the idea of being chased. It brought back the same scary feelings from the dream I had experienced last night and so many other nights before. I felt my heartbeat quicken as the fear surfaced again.

Almost as if he could sense the change in my physiology, he spoke again. "Are there always this many people out here on Saturday mornings?" His voice was so calming that the fear immediately dissipated.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Where were they twenty minutes ago?" I thought I said the last part low enough for him not to hear. In fact, I didn't mean to say it aloud at all. He never answered. Maybe he didn't hear it. I stole another glimpse at his flawless face. Was that a small smile escaping from the corners of his lips?

I tried to concentrate on the people around me. In front of us an older couple strolled hand in hand. Young kids tried to roller-blade past us, desperate to keep their balance as they stumbled over the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A young woman was briskly pushing her baby with a jogging stroller. With quick movements, we gracefully maneuvered around the others on the boardwalk.

"My house is just around that small sand dune and on the other side of street," I volunteered. We were getting close to home. I had so many questions to ask this stranger, but I didn't know where to begin.
Why was he looking out for me? Had he been watching me or was he just in the right place at the right time to help me?

I knew I should be wary of this man, maybe even frightened. Oma taught me better than this. I had no idea who he was. Furthermore, hadn't he been following me, hiding behind trees? But, there was no fear, no caution. I realized I wanted him to help me. I wanted to find out more about him. In fact, I found myself not just holding on to his hands for support. I needed to hold his hands like I needed my next breath. But who was he? And why did I feel this strongly about him?

Jacey, get a grip on yourself.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

"All right?" he asked looking at me, his eyebrows knotted with obvious concern.

"Sure," I replied, "Just a tad dizzy."

"I could carry you the rest of the way," he offered.

"Oh, god, No!" I cried. A nervous laugh escaped my throat. "I can walk. We're almost there anyway." I felt sad at the thought of being home. I didn't want to say good bye to him.
Why are you thinking like this? Snap out of it!

We followed the boardwalk around the last sand dune which shimmered in the bright sun. It had really begun to warm up and I was too hot in my sweatshirt now. The house was just across the street. We waited for a yellow car to pass, before crossing. With his help, I hopped up the little brick path leading to the steps to the front steps and sat down.

"Let's take another look at that ankle," he said sitting down next to me. He reached for my leg. Pulling my sock down slightly, he examined my ankle again. This time, he was very careful not to touch my skin. "Hmmmm...It's looking better. Put your hands right here."

He took my hands in his own. They were warm and strong. My own hands tingled from the contact. I looked at him, puzzled by his actions. Staring into my eyes, he whispered, "Trust me." He didn't have to say it. Strangely, I knew I already did. He placed my hands on either side of my ankle. Placing his hands on top of mine, he squeezed gently, forcing me to put pressure on my ankle. "Close your eyes."

I felt a warmth begin to surround my ankle. At first, it was soothing but the sensation became warmer and more intense. It felt as if the heat was coming from my palms and extending to my fingertips. The intensity of the heat began to burn and I tried to pull my hands away from my ankle.

"Not yet," he said in response to my movement. "Just a little more. Keep your eyes closed. Imagine your ankle healing, the swelling subsiding." I followed his instructions. Suddenly, the burning intensified to a sharp white heat that sparked from my palms deep into my ankle tissue. I gasped from the sharpness of the pain. And just as suddenly it was gone. The heat, the pain, all gone.

He slowly removed his hands from mine. Opening my eyes, I searched his face, for an explanation of what just happened. His blue eyes stared back, glittering with excitement. "What was that?" I whispered.

"How does your ankle feel?" he whispered back, his blue eyes staring intently.

I reluctantly turned my eyes away from his and looked at my ankle. The swelling was gone. I tested my ankle, moving it back and forth and up and down. I felt no pain. "What did you do to my ankle?" I asked, still moving it back and forth.

"I did nothing," he responded. "You did."

"What? I don't understand."

"Jacey, you have powers that you aren't even aware of yet. This is just the beginning for you. Soon, you will understand everything. I promise."

He stared intently into my eyes and I felt like I was falling deeper and deeper into their depths. I felt my head begin to spin and my vision became fuzzy. The ringing in my ears became so loud and persistent I could barely hear him speaking.

His excited words came quickly. "You have such powers. You were made to help others and in time, you will learn how. Think Jacey. Deep in your very soul you know this already. You know this is your destiny."

I faintly registered that he was holding my hands. His face was so close to mine that I could smell him again. But this time his clean, musky scent made me dizzier. The intensity of his eyes, the urgency in his voice, and the potency of his aroma were overwhelming.

The ringing in my ears was deafening. I wanted to close my eyes to stop the spinning and the noise. I did, and I felt myself slipping into darkness. Very faintly, I could hear him, calling my name as I succumbed.

"My name? How do you know my name?" I murmured before I was enveloped by darkness.

I opened my eyes and looked around. The pale tan walls of Oma Clare's living room. The old grandfather clock that stood as sentinel in the corner of the cozy room ticked away the seconds, while familiar family portraits on the far wall stared back at me. Oma's soft, colorful afghan had been laid out on top of me. Clutching the afghan in my hands, I sat up slowly, swinging my legs to the side of the couch so I could sit.
How long had I been sleeping?

"Ow," I moaned, pressing my fingers to my throbbing temples. I rubbed them in small circles, closing my eyes to shut out the pain in my head. "I'm going to need some aspirin," I murmured aloud.

A warm glow began to emanate from my fingertips. It was soothing, like a warm heating pad on aching joints. I continued to rub my temples and the warmth penetrated my skin and deep into my head, attacking and dulling the pain. I kept my eyes closed, pressing harder on my temples. Suddenly, the warmth increased, becoming more intense. My fingers began to burn, so I abruptly stopped rubbing. Snapping my eyes open, I stared at my reflection in the large mirror hanging over the fireplace.
What was that?
Again.

Memories of my morning run, flooded my mind.
It was this morning, right?
I looked at the grandfather clock and squinted to make out the numbers on the face. It was almost 2:30 in the afternoon.

Had I fallen asleep on the couch and had another dream? The run, the sprained ankle, the startling, strange warmth, and him...were they all just part of a dream?

Him. Where was he? I frantically looked around for him. Of course, he wasn't there.

With a frustrated sigh, I flung myself back on the couch. Curling on my side, I pulled the soft afghan around me and buried my face in its softness. I closed my eyes and tried to picture his face, the olive toned skin, dark hair, and dazzling smile. I lingered on the memory of his piercing blue eyes. No, he couldn't have been a dream. He was so real. I remembered his familiar, calm voice. I thought of his strong hands gently touching my ankle and supporting me as I hobbled home. I didn't even know who he was, but I knew that I wanted to see him again.

Sitting back up, I again looked at my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. I still had on my Michigan State sweatshirt and stretch pants from my run. It had to be real. He had to be. Despair gripped my heart and doubt filled my mind. How would I ever find him again? I didn't even know his name. My chest tightened and my throat became thick as tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision.

The Grandfather clock struck 2:30, chiming its little melody. The noise startled me out of despair and I angrily wiped away my tears. Crying wasn't going to help anything. I was stronger and more determined than that.

Standing up, I folded the afghan and left it on the edge of the couch. I walked into the kitchen, searching for Oma. She wasn't there. I found a note on the counter next to the sink. In her neat, small handwriting, Oma had penned:

Went to a craft show with Cathy. Will be back by dinner. Hope you enjoyed your run. Mrs. Tender said she saw you. There's plenty for lunch. Em called. Told her you would call her back.

Love you.

"Figures," I muttered aloud. I knew Mrs. Tender just couldn't help herself from gossiping about others. My stomach growled loudly, protesting my missing lunch. I opened the refrigerator and got out turkey, cheese, mayo, and lettuce to make myself a sandwich. I placed my sandwich on a napkin, filled a glass with tap water, and walked out to the front porch. On the way, I grabbed my cell phone and stuck it in my pocket.

I sat down on the first step of the little covered porch, set my water next to me and balanced my sandwich on my lap. I loved sitting out here. There was always so much to watch. Children played across the street, cars drove down the road, and neighbors worked in their yards. I often brought my homework out here. Oma always thought there were too many distractions, but I assured her I needed the distractions and fresh air to do my best.

But I didn't have homework today. I took a bite of my sandwich and searched the area within my sight. The neighbor children were tossing a baseball back and forth. Mr. Kuiper was mowing his grass. He gave a quick wave while pushing his mower across his manicured lawn. I nodded in recognition. I continued to eat my sandwich while I visually searched, but no one was watching me from behind any trees.

I was looking for him. Disappointed, I concluded he wasn't there. I swallowed my last bite and wiped my hands together, dusting the crumbs on the brick steps. Picking up my phone, I dialed Em's number. Emma Quarter was my best friend. We had been nearly inseparable since we were four years old.

The phone rang a couple times before she answered. "Hey, Em. I really need to talk to you."

"Sure, Jace," she answered cheerfully. "Whatcha been up to today?"

"Well, I went for a run this morning."

"Beautiful morning for that," she replied. "You should have called me."

"Yeah, it was great, but..." I was suddenly shy about sharing my morning experience or dream, whichever it was.

"Jacey, are you ok?" Emma asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Can you come over?"

"Uh, sure thing," Emma replied hesitantly. "When should I come over?"

"The sooner the better." I watched a small boy ride his bike on the sidewalk in front of me. He was so wobbly on the bike, I half expected him to fall over at any minute.

"What's going on?" Emma asked. I knew I was worrying her with my evasiveness. I wanted to tell her everything and have her help me work through all of this. But I was a little afraid of her response. I wanted her to tell me that everything I had experienced earlier was real and that she would help look for him. But that was just crazy talk.

"Jacey?" She asked, "What's wrong. I've never heard you like this before."

"I'm sorry. It's nothing, really." I quickly tried to reassure her. "I've just got a lot on my mind and I---" My voice trailed off as I stared at the hem of my sweatshirt.

"Jacey? What is it? You're really scaring me." Her voice filled with fear. "Is it Oma?"

"Uh....Can you just come over?" I could barely speak. I just continued to stare at my sweatshirt.

"On my way." And she hung up without waiting for a reply.

I kept the phone to my ear. Not because I was expecting to hear her talk. Not because I wanted to continue to talk to her. But because I couldn't move. I felt the color drain from face. My hands felt cold and clammy. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was and more importantly, who it was from.

A pin was attached to the waistband at the bottom of my sweatshirt. It was a beautiful, sparkling set of angel's wings. The pin was small, no bigger then my thumb. It was silver and multi-faceted stones filled each wing. It glittered and sparkled in the sunlight. I had never seen the pin before but I knew who it was from.