The Healer: First Touch (8 page)

Jamie responded quickly to my action. He placed his knuckle under my chin, pushing my face to meet his again. "Don't you dare be embarrassed by your talents, Jacey Brindle. You are an extraordinary person." There was a sternness to the set of his jaw showing that he was serious about his statement, but his eyes were still soft with care and adoration.

My throat tightened again with emotion. I closed my eyes to fight back more tears. Jamie noticed my embarrassment but had mistaken what caused it. My pink cheeks were not from the feelings associated with my newfound powers. Relief flooded through my veins that Jamie wouldn't know what really had caused my discomfort. Taking a deep breath, I reopened my eyes. They were met by Jamie's smoky eyes again.

"Ya know, McMann, you really do have beautiful eyes." My lips broke into a lopsided smile.

"Really? I was wondering if this green would bring out their color." Jamie pulled out his t-shirt from his body to signify he was referring to the hideous, bright green of his running shirt. His face broke into a wide grin and he laughed loudly. I laughed timidly in response. We had managed to break the seriousness of the moment together. However, I was still feeling too emotional and my head hurt too badly to offer any more laughter than I did. I felt grateful for the Jamie I knew and loved. And for the first time, was rather grateful for my newfound talents, as Jamie called them.

"Hey, don't you owe me something?" I teased. My voice wavered still with emotion.

Jamie stopped laughing to respond. "What? I already said thank you." His voice sounded surprised but he was grinning.

"Didn't you say you were going to buy me something after the run?"

Jamie's eyebrows crinkled together as he searched his memory. "Oh yeah," he said when he had remembered. "You hungry for one of Jameson's gooey homemade cinnamon rolls?" Jamie raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, yes." I really wanted to lighten the mood surrounding us, so I was anxious to go eat the yummy rolls. I recalled the sweet, yeasty scent of Jameson's homemade cinnamon rolls from earlier this morning. My stomach growled.

"I guess so," Jamie said, glancing down at my stomach.

"But what about your head? Don't you think we ought to have it looked at?"

"What this hard thing?" Jamie hit his forehead with his hand. "It's fine." Pursing my lips together, I frowned in disapproval. "Really? It's fine. Remember? You fixed me." I still wasn't convinced. The injury was serious. There was so much blood. "Okay, okay," Jamie responded, laughing lightly and placing his hands out in front of him defensively. "I'll go get it checked out after we eat." The corners of my frown slowly turned up. "But can we do something first?"

"What now?" I whined. My stomach protested again, but a smile still played on my lips.

Jamie raised both his hands, his palms facing me. "Can we clean up a bit first? I don't think old man Jameson or his customers would care to see this." Jamie shook his hands back and forth for emphasis. I raised my own hands in front of me. Jamie's blood still covered them. What was once bright red, warm, sticky blood had dried, leaving red brown stain that tightened the skin of my hands. I didn't respond to Jamie. I couldn't. I was overcome with emotion again as I stared at my hands. The sight of his dried blood on my hands was a strong reminder of the seriousness of the injury Jamie had sustained. Without my powers, Jamie would have suffered a deep laceration requiring stitches, heavy blood loss, and a serious, maybe even life threatening concussion or head trauma. All the blood on my hands, Jamie's hands, and on his shirt and bandana was evidence to support that. But for my powers, I might not be talking and joking with Jamie at this moment.

I stared at my hands again with a new feeling of awe and wonder. My hands. What powers were contained in these two rather small hands? I flipped them back and forth, examining them. Other than Jamie's blood, they didn't look unusual or special. In fact, they looked the same as they did yesterday, last week, even a year ago. They were just ordinary hands. However, the powers contained in these hands, my hands, were anything but ordinary.

"Jacey?" I heard Jamie ask. "Can we?" He was still shaking his hands back and forth in front of me.

"Yeah."

Jamie carefully stood up, testing to make sure his balance hadn't been affected by his fall. He reached his left hand out toward me, palm up, offering for me to stand with him. Although I was sure I didn't need help to stand, I placed my hand in his anyways and he gently pulled me to a standing position. Once standing, I didn't let go of his hand. Jamie looked at our hands still intertwined. He looked up and smiled. In fact, he appeared to be beaming. My guess was that Jamie was very pleased that I continued to hold his hand. We were still holding hands as we entered the quiet house.

Oma was still sleeping. The only sounds were the grandfather clock clicking and the occasional hiss made by the coffee pot when steam managed to escape.

We walked to the little half bath off the kitchen. The bathroom was just large enough for us to both be in there at the same time and I reluctantly let go of Jamie's hand so he could clean up first. He used lots of soap and washed his hands briskly, scrubbing up to his elbows. After he had finished and dried his hands, he stepped away from the small pedestal sink, allowing me full access to wash.

I stepped up to the sink, turning the faucet to warm water. I placed my hands into the warm running water. The dried blood on my hands softened and began to wash away. The blood, Jamie's blood, swirled in the bottom of the sink before becoming trapped by the drain. I used lots of soap, scrubbing my hands and lower arms roughly until the soap turned pink with Jamie's blood. I turned the faucet to hot and rinsed my hands in the scalding water. Steam began to rise from the hot water, fogging the little oval mirror over the sink.

"Jacey," Jamie said, "I think you have the water hot enough. I'm pretty sure all the blood is gone."

"Oh, yeah, I guess you're right," I mumbled, shutting off the water. My hands were bright red from the hot water. I was surprised that I hadn't really felt it. After the heat associated with my power, the hot water only felt lukewarm.

"Ready?" Jamie asked.

"Yes." I reached for Jamie's hand with my own. I was confused by my strong need to touch him. I didn't want to let him go. Maybe it was because I had almost lost him moments ago. Or maybe it was something else entirely. All I knew was I needed to touch him. Jamie was willing to oblige, eagerly accepting my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. We walked quietly through the house and out the front door, still hand in hand. When we got to Jamie's Jeep, he stopped. Turning to face me, Jamie said, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm driving to Jamieson's. I know it's only a short way, but I've had enough walking and running for one day."

I nodded in response. Jamie opened the passenger door and waited for me to climb in. He closed the door behind me after I was seated. As Jamie walked around the vehicle, I pulled down the passenger visor and stared at the reflection in the little vanity mirror. I looked like the same girl that had stared back earlier this morning. The same mousy brown hair. The same freckles and square nose. But, I wasn't the same. An incredible, impossible thing had taken place only moments ago and I had done it. Ordinary, unspecial me.

Jamie's Jeep growled as he backed out of the driveway. I snapped the visor shut and stared out the front window. Jamie had his hand loosely on the stick shift between us. I glanced absently at it and placed my hand over top of his. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie smile again, but he never took his eyes off the road.

We rode the short distance to Jameson's in silence. The little town of Byron was busier now. Families were driving to church or Sunday breakfast. A few individuals were out walking their dogs. The sun was higher in the clear blue sky, the temperature rising. I had a feeling it was going to be warm again.

We pulled in behind Jameson's to park in the back lot behind the family-owned restaurant. As soon as I stepped out, I could smell the warm, sweet aroma of Jameson's cinnamon rolls. My mouth watered and my stomach growled again.

The little restaurant was packed inside, full of people enjoying Sunday breakfast. Enticing smells of fried bacon and blueberry pancakes mixed with the cinnamon of the fresh baked rolls wafting through the restaurant. We walked in and weaved through the tables that were placed too close together to get to the bar at the back. The bar reminded me of an old fashioned diner, the kind with a tall counter and stainless steel stools that swiveled. We found two empty seats at the far end next to the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. We didn't need a menu. We both knew what we wanted. But as a waitress walked past carrying plates of eggs and sausage with thick pieces of homemade bread, I wondered.

"What can I get for you, honey?" the waitress behind the counter asked, popping her gum. She took a wet rag and quickly washed the counter in front of us.

"Two warm cinnamon rolls with two large coffees to go," Jamie answered without hesitation. The waitress nodded curtly and turned towards the kitchen.

"To go?"

He nodded. "It's too loud in here to talk." It was loud. The patterned carpet on the flood did nothing to muffle the boisterous chatter of the Sunday morning crowd. And Jamie wanted to talk. I was hoping that Jamie wouldn't require an explanation for what had happened. He hadn't pressed earlier when I told him it was a long story. I sighed.

The waitress returned too quickly with the two large rolls in plastic containers. She sat them in front of us and turned to retrieve two large Styrofoam cups to fill with coffee. Over her shoulder, the waitress called out to us, "Decaf or regular, sugar and cream?"

"Regular," Jamie answered. "Do you want any cream or sugar?" Jamie asked, turning towards me.

"No, just black is fine," I answered quietly. I was suddenly not very hungry.

The waitress placed the cups in front of us. As she was pressing the lids into place, she said," That will be $8.48." She continued popping her gum.

Standing, Jamie placed a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Thanks. Keep the change."

The waitress smiled, placing the bill in the pocket of her green smock. We grabbed our rolls and cups of hot coffee and turned to begin the trek through the tables to the door. As we weaved through the tables, being careful not to bump anyone, a woman called out, "Yoo hoo, Jacey."

I looked up and two tables to the left of us sat Mrs. Tender and her family enjoying Sunday breakfast. She was waving frantically trying to get my attention.

Groaning quietly I answered, "Good morning, Mrs. Tender, Evie," I added with a curt nod of my head toward Evie. Evie rolled her eyes and went back to her plate of French toast.

"Is your grandmother going to be at church this morning?" Mrs. Tender asked in an attempt to make small talk.

"Yes, I assume so," I answered. "I'm on my way home now." I looked at Jamie, trying to give him a silent message to start moving towards the door again.

"And who is this?" Mrs. Tender called out in her high pitched whine. She nodded towards Jamie.

"Oh, this is my friend, Jamie McMann," I answered warily.

Jamie balanced his coffee and his roll in one hand and with the other extended towards Mrs. Tender to shake her hand. "Good morning, Ma'am, Sir," he added, shaking Mr. Tender's hand vigorously.

"Jamie McMann," Mrs. Tender repeated slowly. "You don't go to Byron High with Jacey and my Evie, do you?" It was more of a statement then a question.

"No Ma'am. I go to Countryside," Jamie answered.

"Hmmmm. Out enjoying another run, Jacey?" Mrs. Tender asked, shifting her gaze back and forth between us.

"Yes, Mrs. Tender. Beautiful morning for it," I answered quickly. I started towards the door again. "Well, we should be going. I don't want to be late for church. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast," I said, nodding towards their half-empty plates.

"Thank you. We will," Mrs. Tender said. "We will see you at church." I could almost see the wheels of her mind spinning in conniving circles. I wondered silently what gossiping words would be spread about me now. I nodded toward her in acknowledgement.

When we were safely out the door, away from the prying eyes and ears of Mrs. Tender, Jamie asked, "So, that was the infamous Mrs. Tender. I know where Evie gets it from now. Apple didn't fall far from the tree on that one."

I simply smiled at Jamie in response. We walked back to his Jeep and got in. "What's wrong?" Jamie asked, obviously sensing my growing apprehension.

"Nothing, really," I answered, picking at an imaginary spot on my leg. "I'm just concerned what gossip will be spread about me now by that woman."

"Gossip. You? Afraid of gossip? I don't think so," Jamie called my bluff. He knew me better than that. Although I was wary of Mrs. Tender and her daughter, I wasn't worried about them enough to truly affect me. Jamie was right that it was something more.

He was silent as we drove back to my house. I looked absently out the window again. Jamie pulled the Jeep into the driveway, placed the vehicle in park, and shut off the engine.

"Jacey, I want to talk about what happened today. I want to understand what happened." Jamie turned his body in his seat to face me. I didn't respond. I kept looking down, picking at the same imaginary spot on my leg. At this point the spot wasn't imaginary anymore. I was creating a red mark.

"Jacey, please look at me. It is nothing to be ashamed of. What happened was extraordinary, unbelievable." Jamie grabbed both of my hands, pulling them towards him. I still refused to look at him. "Jacey...please." His voice wavered. The sound caused me to look at him. Jamie's eyes desperately searched my face. They were darker when filled with emotion.

"There is just so much, Jamie. I wouldn't know where to begin. And honestly, I really don't have any explanation for what happened."

"Well, just start at the beginning."

I pulled my hands away from Jamie's and started to rub my face in frustration. "Jamie, I don't have time this morning to do this. I have to go to church with Oma. Mrs. Tender will make an issue over it if I don't now."